#Struggling to follow the reasoning of lectures in class I think was in general a common thing for her. Which I think is common in autism?

[imjustli]

I wonder how many of the "blonde (derogatory)" girls are actually just autistic

[3-2-whump]

Khaled’s Backstory, Part 1: The Way Things Were

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This backstory begins approximately two years (maybe give or take a few months) before the Eternal story actually begins. Thanks goes out once again to my amazing beta readers @whumped-by-glitter and @generic-whumperz

TW/CW: none, I think, but please let me know if I missed any.

Language Note: The Urdu and Dari words I used were learned through reading multiple language-learning blogs, culture blogs, Reddit, and of course, the ol' reliable Google Translate. If I misrepresented any of the expressions (which is extremely likely) please let me know as civilly as possible, because I'd rather know than not know.

 “A 32% in Urdu, a 29% in Social Studies, and a 25% in English?” a muffled voice sounded through the thick apartment door. The latch to the door clicked open and the door knob turned as a pair of four-year-old identical twins rushed through the meager opening. A ten-year-old girl soon followed them into the apartment, with her twelve-year-old brother right behind as he kicked off his shoes at the entrance. Their eldest brother, the thirteen-year-old, was still detained by their disappointed parents.

“But, I passed Math, and Science, and Islamic Studies-” the boy defended.

“Barely!” his father snorted. “How did you fail Urdu, of all things? The language you speak every damn day?!”

“Ammi, come on,” he whined, trying to gain sympathy from his mother, “don’t you remember the part where Mr. Khan said I was ‘the friendliest, most outgoing boy in the class’?”

“School is not a social club, Khaled!” A crashing sound outside their living room redirected her attention. “Haye Allah, that cat is back,” she sighed then marched quickly to the door that led to their balcony. The stray that knocked over her plants merely blinked at her as Khaled’s mum gave it a scolding to match the intensity of the one he received on the way home.

That left the rest of the tongue-lashing to Khaled’s dad. “You are the eldest brother, beta; you’re supposed to be setting an example for your siblings! What kind of example are you setting for them if you struggle to pass your classes?”

“An example they can easily exceed?” The flat glare from underneath his father’s bushy eyebrows made Khaled backtrack from his wise remark. “But Abba,” he tried, “You never had to learn this stuff and you turned out alright, didn’t you? You got a job that provides-”

“I ‘turned out’ alright?” Abba interrupted, voice raising on the precipice of his signature lecture. “I got ‘turned out’ of my home and my country, along with the rest of my family, because the beghairat koskhol Russians razed our farm to the ground!”

Ammi poked her head back in from where she was sweeping up potting soil and ceramic shards. “Abdul! What did I tell you about swearing in front of the kids?!”

“Zainab, they don’t understand me, it’s fine!” Dad yelled back.

Yes, we do, Khaled thought. Most of what he knew of his father’s language was nearly entirely expletives. He listened through the rest of his father’s lecture before accepting his punishment with all the dignity a thirteen-year-old could summon. Grounded for two weeks, no football with his friends, only study and sleep? Harsh, but it could be worse, Khaled reasoned.

“Bhai! Bhai!” the twins squealed at him, snapping him out of his thoughts. He looked down to see his little sisters Besma and Zara tugging at his shirt. “Come play with us!”

“They want to play newscaster, and they insist on having an anchorman,” Ayesha said with a smile. She was the third sister, and the middle child of the family.

“Well, what about Yusuf?” Khaled asked, referring to his little brother and the second eldest child. “You heard Abba, I need to study!”

“I’m the weather man, obviously,” Yusuf announced.

“He can’t be the anchor man and the weather man!” Zara said.

“Come on, bhai,” Ayesha coaxed him, steering him towards the living room/impromptu play area. “Your grades aren’t going to get any worse if you miss one study night!”

“Well…fair enough,” Khaled laughed.

-

After dinner, Khaled hung around outside the apartment building, watching his dad fix up the old motorcycle and occasionally handing him the tools he’d need.

“I’m sorry about my grades, Abba,” he muttered.

“I know, beta.” His father reached out a hand behind him, holding a wrench out to Khaled. Khaled wordlessly took it and put it back with the other instruments in the tool kit.

“I’ll try harder, I promise,” he vowed.

“You do that.” Abba unfurled from his crouching position in front of the motorcycle and sighed, a contented little smile on his face as he wiped his brow. “Now, do you want to take this thing out for a test ride? Make sure I fixed it up properly?” he suggested.

Khaled raised a skeptical brow up at him. “But Abba, you and Ammi said I’m grounded, remember?”

“Yeah, but as the man of the house, I unground you, just for tonight, okay?” He swung his leg over the seat of the motorcycle and kicked up the kickstand. “Come on,” he said invitingly, patting the seat behind him.

Khaled beamed ear to ear as he climbed up onto the motorcycle and held onto his father’s waist. He buried his face in the man’s broad back and melted into the smell of sweat, motor oil, and cologne. The motorcycle started up, revving to life under Abba’s hands. He couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of him as they peeled out into the street.

They whizzed down the fluorescent city streets, glowing every color of the rainbow under the dark velvet of the moonless sky. Khaled waved to drivers and fellow motorcyclists as his dad weaved in and out and around and through them.

They eventually ended up at their usual destination for late-night father-son outings: at Port Grand, sitting on a bench looking out at the waters, each one with a skewered kebab in hand. The shadows of cranes loomed over the horizon, marking the dock yard where Khaled’s father worked during the day. But at night, the port –no, the world –was theirs.

“What if I can’t do it?” Khaled asked.

Abba had just polished off his kebab, and now had a mouthful of meat to chew. Khaled looked down at his own bare wooden skewer and began fidgeting with it. “I mean, what if I still fail next term?” he elaborated. “I am trying, really, but what comes easily to Tariq or Muhammad or Imran does not come easily to me. What if I end up failing no matter how hard I try? Then what’s the point?” he asked.

That monologue gave his dad enough time to chew and swallow his mouthful. He wiped the grease from his lips and his beard with the back of his hand, then collected Khaled’s empty stick from his hands. “Khaled, you can do so much more than you think you can,” he started. Sincere, deep, dark brown eyes met the boy’s own. “You are my son, and we Bakhsh men are tough, yeah? You can do it, and you will do it, because Bakhsh men always do it.”

The way he said it so confidently and certainly, like he believed in him, made Khaled want to believe in himself too. “Yeah,” he murmured, smiling warmly.

Abba mirrored the smile back as he rose from the bench. “Now, don’t tell Ammi we went out for these, or she’ll have my ass,” he said, waving the kebab sticks around before he threw them away.

Khaled giggled, but gave his dad the thumbs up. Their father-son time would stay between themselves, just like Abba’s father-son time with Yusuf last week, or his father-daughter time with Ayesha the week before. As they rode back home and returned to the apartment at far too late at night, Khaled never realized that this would be the last father-son time he’d have.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @defire @phoenixpromptsandstuff @scumashling

[187days]

Day Twenty-Six

"Miss M keeps it real!" -one of my ninth graders

I don't know exactly what said ninth grader was referencing at the time- I heard the comment in passing as I was walking up and down the aisles- but I am pretty straightforward with my students about what I'm teaching, my expectations, all that. Plus, I have a tendency to speak pretty frankly. So, yeah, I guess I keep it real.

I'm taking it as a compliment.

The reason I was walking up and down the aisles was to check on students' progress on their Culture Projects. They're in the middle of drafting, and I think it's going really well. I've even had some minor breakthroughs with students who've struggled with research-based assignments, so that's awesome. And, since students were using their time well, and I didn't have to redirect them often, I was also able to actually sit and proofread some finished drafts as they day went on.

In APGOV, I taught a lesson about federalism, which might sound like it wasn't very interesting, but it totally was. First, I lectured on how and why the balance of power between the national and state governments evolved over time, calling on them to explain some of the SCOTUS cases that had contributed to that evolution (research they were assigned to do last class), among other things. I fielded questions, too (about the growth of the bureaucracy, implied powers, why the shift towards cooperative federalism became more pronounced after WWII...) Then they read an article about the basics of fiscal federalism, and I gave them an example to refer to: our district's use of ESSER grant funds. That's public information, and it's relevant to them, so that actually generated quite a bit of conversation.

After the bell, I quickly prepped a few things for tomorrow, then headed to a Leadership Team meeting. That's when I learned, from the admins in attendance, that it was a fairly dramatic day in the building, a handful of Incidents they had to deal with. That's one byproduct of the staff shortage. The growing frustration with the amount of cleaning we all have to pitch in and do is another. That dominated the conversation, initially, but then we did what we'd actually gathered to do: set the agenda for the next faculty meeting.

Mrs. T and I walked out together afterwards, chatting about our recent experiences. It's strange that they're so different now, but I'm glad that her new role isn't affecting our friendship. I admit that I did worry about that a little.

At home, I turned my cell phone back on to a flurry of texts from my politically-inclined friends about the Speaker of the House, which was followed up by a Google chat from one of my GOV students, telling me she'd yelled for her dad to turn on the news when she heard about it, and she's becoming a politics nerd. I said that was excellent, and we'd be discussing it tomorrow.

Rewriting lesson plans to seize the teachable moment? Heck yes.

[tylerrnol]

I am google

Say hypothetically you're into music, or maybe you're a writer. Shots in the dark. You need to leverage the things you like to do and use them to meet some new people. :)

I will say music is easiest because writer activities are more involved, but that's fine too, and I'd argue most writers need writer friends. But anyway - music.

For friendship: look up venues your local bands are playing at (you can find show flyers on instagram generally, especially for the little/hardcore/underground venues). Look at the ages of the band members; their audiences often match. (This does not apply to bluegrass/Americana or jazz.)

Don't know any local bands? No problem, go to your community arts center website, find the name of a group that's played there, look them up on instagram, find out who they follow and so on until you find a cool spot or a band you're interested in. What also works is looking up openers at larger (not stadium, obviously) venues and going to see one of them when they headline a smaller room.

Then you must go to a show. Musicians are big losers and often insecure (I'd know) so you can tell them good job and it'll make their week. If you get nervous to talk to people on your own, simply fake it until you make it. Be chill, be kind, help people carry shit if they're struggling. Try to not care so much if you can manage it. Really this is like speed dating without romance - you'll never see them again if you don't want to.

Alternatively, take a class at a local university. Non-degree tracks exist. You can take almost any class you want to.

And if the class you want comes with requirements? Email the professor. They're nerds and just want people to like the same things they do. Literally that's it; they're so stupid with knowledge that it's actively ruining their lives. Think about classes as a long-winded info dump because if it's a college course, that's pretty much what lectures are.

What really got me talking to people was the slow realization that most people are pretty nice. You're not going to click with everyone, but there's nothing wrong with being open to befriending people (WITHIN REASON). And if you don't click? That's totally cool! Nobody's for everyone.

Anyway this is a novel and it's my bedtime. I hope that helped, and if not, take this as a sign from the universe that you'll be all right. You'll make friends. You may even choose some family along the way, who knows?

❤️❤️❤️ thank you, Google

you give me hope.

[scarsforsupper]

Maybe a hc or drabble where the reader playfully makes fun of Viktor’s accent. :))

Your accent... Its beautiful

Viktor x gn! reader (wc: 1.7k) (unchecked n unrevised)

once again i apologize for the hiatus T_T as a thank you for 200+ followers i post agen!! also first time to finish a req in one sitting B) also im sorry i couldnt make it into full on playful making fun bc im scared itd get offensive T_T xori 4 d shitty quality em rustee

Viktor was born into a family that has long traveled to different places ever since the first generation. Due to the constant moving and adaptation, his ancestors started picking up accents originating from the ‘ethnicity’ of the place and society they were born into. He ended up being born with a unique accent—Slavic being the most accurate description, as did one of his parents, the other hailing from a different ancestry. Spending his childhood in Zaun, his accent inevitably left peers and adults alike staring at him; sometimes even mockery. The way he pronounced his vowels usually were weaker than his consonants, periodically making him sound aggressive—or angry, at the most.

Now this was a very ironic idea, as should one take a glance at Viktor, with the cane and his gangly stature, most would think that the man is incapable of inflicting physical damage. Which was true, but for a different reason. Viktor saw no use for violence at all—he grew up with a very loving mother, and even though other kids would pick on him for needing a cane to walk, he saw no use for the execution of physical harm. It was as if it was innate in him to look for other solutions, only resorting to violence when absolutely needed.

When he received the letter from Councilor Heimerdinger, he had never felt so ecstatic and proud. Should he accept, he is expected to attend his first-ever class in the prestigious Academy of Piltover, where everyone there is always in the noble pursuit of greatness.

--------------------

You were late for class. Your first day of college.

Stealing a glance at your pocket watch, it was 7:56. You hastened your pace even more.

“4 minutes left?” You switched from a brisk walk to a hasty jog.

Loud yet quick footsteps echoed throughout the corridor as your eyes struggled to catch up with your pace, pupils scanning over the section plates above the doors. You were assigned to Lecture Hall no.3 for Advanced Mechanical Engineering, all students were, until the professor divides the room into separate sections.

There were two courses for Mechanical Engineering: General Mechanical Engineering and Advanced Mechanical Engineering, which you were in. The Academy sorts out the students’ best interests by examining their knowledge capacity and, if applicable, past inventions or innovations.

“Three!” Slowly pushing the wooden doors of the room which turned out to be bigger than you thought, at least more than half of the seats were occupied, leaving a few unoccupied.

You decided to sit near the edge, a few 6 rows from the front.

‘Better than none.’ Shrugging, you sauntered over towards a vacant seat, still slightly panting as you lowered. Only after you placed your satchel down were you able to realize how sublime the Lecture Hall was.

The walls appear to be made of wood; strips carved by what only an intricate hand can create. Large, quadrilateral glass panes dominated the opposite wing to the doors, allowing a view of what seemed to be the garden square of the academy. Sunbeams pierced through glass panes, illuminating what the candle-lit chandeliers hanging from above cannot. It was a scenery straight from a storybook.

‘Who knew things like these actually exist, but then again, as expected of the land's greatest academy.’

Abruptly, your daydream was blocked by a torso, someone had occupied the seat next to you.

Chestnut brown locks were neatly combed, parting slightly to the right, ends flitting upwards. He had a light complexion, but that’s not what’s special about it. Most white folks appear pale but he was glowing. Like he was appealing to challenge the sun itself.

He was skinny, but not sickly skinny. Sitting down, he placed his belongings atop the table, allowing you to catch sight of his hands. Fingers long and elegant, you could bet your life that his penmanship was as refined as he looked. The veins underneath bulged through every gesture, giving him an even more masculine appeal.

The man must have felt your stare on him, turning to look at you with curiosity albeit a tad bit of animosity within—having people stare at you in the underground never meant anything good.

As your eyes drifted upwards towards his face, the two of you shared a brief moment of eye to eye contact. You quickly averted your eyes pretending to look at something else, slowly turning your head back.

But you couldn’t stop thinking about it. About his eyes.

Oh, they were the most beautiful hue you have ever seen in all your years of existence. They were literal precious topazes, but even the gem itself can never measure up to the beauty of this man’s eyes.

This man’s…

‘Get a grip Y/N! You don’t even know his name!’

Viktor stifled in a giggle, he found you adorable for some reason. He didn’t feel the need to protect himself around you—something just told him that you weren’t that type of person. He chuckled now.

You were deep in your thoughts when you realized the room had ushered down collectively. Was the professor there? ‘There’s no one though?’

Suddenly, a lilting voice resonated about the lecture hall.

“A pleasant morning, my dear students!”

The professor was either tiny as hell, or haven’t entered the room because craning your neck apparently wasn’t enough for you to see him.

“My name is Heimerdinger. Please do call me Professor Heimerdinger, or professor for short! I am the Dean of the Academy, and the assigned instructor for this course.” Mutters and whispers were heard as students tried the name for size.

“I believe a few of you here had only just arrived,” his voice was sing-song like, “thus, I will give you a minute to settle down, my dear children!”

‘Where the hell is he!?’

Heat and blood started rushing to your head in frustration when a soft tap on your shoulder broke your stupor to spot the speaker. You turned to see that the man from earlier had been the one to take your attention.

You sat back and let him speak—but he didn’t. Instead, he pointed over to his 11 o’clock. You followed the direction of his glance, craning your entire torso slightly towards his seat, and there you saw the tiny professor that your eyes had been hunting so ferociously a few moments back.

Mouth forming an ‘O’ shape, you tilted back into your seat, muttering a soft ‘thanks’ towards the man.

“Oh by the way, what’s yo-“

Just as you were one step closer to knowing the mysterious man’s name, the professor announced once again.

“As I have introduced myself, you must introduce yourselves to the class as well! After all, it is very important for us to know each other. Do state your name, age, and you’re all set! Feel free to throw in a few fun facts about yourself too.”

The professor gestured to the girl in the far east of the room, signaling her to start the introductions. There were few too many seats before your turn, so you figured you could use this time to familiarize yourself with your block mates.

Minutes flew so quickly that you haven’t even remembered at least 10 names when it was your turn to speak.

You were the first to speak in your row, ‘Curse this,’ you stood and began to present yourself to the class.

“Hello. My name is Y/N, 21 years old. I enjoy the arts as a side hobby.”

Professor Heimerdinger smiled, “Welcome to the academy, Y/N.”

The sound of a huff was heard, accompanied by a careful thud of metal hitting the floor as the man to your side rose from his seat. It was the first time you saw his cane.

“Good day to you all, I am Viktor.”

‘Viktor…’

“I am 22 years of age, and I do love tinkering with various objects and writing notes in my free time.”

Sitting down, Viktor stretched his leg beneath the table, when a sound of astonishment reached his ears.

His voice was deep, husky in all the right places. Thicker yet so clear with emotion.

“Your…voice… no your… your pronunciation? Is that what you call it?”

His brows furrowed, “I think you mean accent.”

“It’s so cool—I mean its- It’s so beautiful and it's like listening to a reading only it’s in premium version-“

Viktor had never had anyone complement his accent. The least offensive one was a ‘weird,’ and that’s the least, mind you. To have someone compliment it was a whole new world to him, thus he didn’t know how to react.

He stayed silent, not a word erupting from his mouth.

“I- I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me. I’m sorry, Viktor.”

'No, no.. it's okay... I just-' Why couldn't he say anything!?

That was the first time you said his name, and although it had such a good ring to it, you hated the reason you were saying it.

A few more students left to introduce themselves, nearly 10 minutes have passed after your turn.

Feeling the fatigue from running in the hallway, you bowed your head to take a power nap when Viktor suddenly murmured.

“It’s okay. And, thank you.”

Slowly turning your head, him scratching his neck as he stole short glances at you, the corners of your mouth started to turn upwards, he could literally see the shine in your eyes.

Shooting a smile at him, he held in a chuckle, averting his gaze to anywhere but you, ears turning pink.

“Do you guys really pronounce consonants like you’re angry?”

‘Wow. That set the mood.’ Viktor rolled his eyes playfully.

“Yes but not. We are not angry.”

“The way you roll your ‘R’s’ is so unique.”

“Or so I’ve heard.”

“I wonder how you guys assign your word stresses.”

“The same as you guys.”

“Oh! Also, when you say ‘note,’ try to loosen your tongue, so people won’t misinterpret things.”

He answered, “Thank you for the advice, but, eh, I do not believe it is still possible for me to change the way I pronounce certain words. Were I still a child that may still be possible.”

“I understand. I’m Y/N by the way!” You held out your hand to him, feeling extremely giddy that you had already made a friend.

“You told the entire class earlier,” he rolled his eyes again playfully—he’s rolled his eyes too many times in one sitting already, “but I’m Viktor.” With a smile, he shook your hand.

[lutawolf]

Hi Luta! (I think this is what you mean by being addressed to a Dom, please correct me if I'm wrong).

I'm the one who made the question about Payu loving Rain. I'm so sorry my ask pissed you off, I meant no disrespect whatsoever.

I discover your blog when I was looking for info on Love Sky/PrapaiSky. I did read your blog and planning to continue reading not only because I find it very interesting but to educate myself on this particular subject I know nothing about it. I have some questions but decided not to ask afraid it came the wrong way. So I decided to ask a simple one which it came off very wrong and I'm sorry about that.

I'm a very sexually shy person, so shy that I took a Sexuality Lecture Class to open up more. But I'm a very open minded person when it come to people way of lives, as long as it's between consensual adults. That's why I like your blog because it's new and informative for me; I like to educate myself by reading and thought your blog was a good one. But because of me being shy and not knowing anything about it, I decided to ask the question Anonymous, not to tell you you're wrong believe me. I almost send you a private message instead. Also, I guess to protect myself too and I think I did right this time because your answer almost made me cry because that is just not the person you think I'm.

Love In The Air is the second BL I watch and after reading your blog I decided to re-watch with a different point of view.

Consider this message my sincere apology for any offense and I won't ask you anything else to avoid any misunderstanding. But I would like to continue following your blog.

Sorry for the long message, I do hope you read it. Thanks!

Hey and Thank You,

I appreciate the apology and I'm sorry that I nearly made you cry. I won't apology for what I said or how I felt. As addressing me is covered several times on my blog. I understand that I have vanilla followers and I respect them as much as fellow kinksters. I will ignore not being addressed because of that but then I only have what you say to go by. I did ask other people prior to answering you, so I hope you can see why I misunderstood what you were saying. That being said, I don't like hurting people who meant no harm. And to be honest you now sound like a sub so I really don't like that I hurt you. I mean I'm a sadist but even I have lines.

You can honestly ask me anything. You can even disagreeing with me. As long as you address me because that automatically tells me that you respect me.

I have no issues with you following my blog but I am very sexually explicit. I'm a very sexual being and am unashamed by that. Please understand I don't mean any disrespect towards you. I believe everyone is on their own path. I just want you to be prepared because I do speak graphically and explicitly.

As to your previous question. Yes, I truly believe Pay is already in love. Generally most Dominant males know within a short period of time if they've found the "one." They're use to making decisions quickly without questioning themselves. They know themselves better than most other types of people. The love a first sight is a trope for a reason, because it can and does happen.

You brought up the bet. Literally it's the way a Sadist would flirt. Sadist are people who enjoy giving pain. This can also be emotional discomfort. Jumping out and scaring my husband is forplay for me. No joke. Watching Rain struggle to figure things out is a turn on for Payu.

Hope this explained things for you. Again, any question is welcome no matter how confusing as long as it doesn't include sexual assault and you address me first.

💜💜💜

[jonah-aesthetic]

That One Pt.1 I Jonah Marais  

Jonah Marais X Reader / Ivette X Daniel Seavey 

Plot: Since high school Jonah had a thing for y/n but never thought it was time for them. Now in college after a failed dare Jonah can’t help but throw himself into her life.

Word count: 6.4K

Author’s Note: This is nowhere near to finish so I’ve decided put them into parts. It’s has a lot of best friend content. A few POC characters, links to photos, and not much Jonah as I wanted there to be. 

Rating: 16+ 

Part 2

-----------------------------------

The city was bursting with life and colour outside your favourite coffee shop. Vehicles slowly worked through the downtown traffic, many people weaved through the crowed sidewalks. The smell of coffee beans and baked goods was one of your calming scents, like honey or lavender. 

Turning your head. The tall barista clad in a black shirt and a green apron made hos way to you. Holding your iced coffee and cookie in his hands, it was almost like you had a six sense for the beverage. You could feel the happiness start to spread to from your veins as if you could already taste it. You easy got bored on tastes if consumes often enough, but you know you could never get bored of this beverage. 

“One Iced coffee, and a gingerbread cookie.” The barista’s soft brown eyes reached yours as he set both items on the table. “Thank you,” you said clutching both forms of happiness in my grasp. “Can I get you anything?” His question towards your Hispanic best friend sitting across from you. Ivette politely shook her head. “No, one coffee was enough for me. Thank you.” At her response I started at my third coffee. 

“No problem, just give me a shout if you want another one.” you didn’t dare look at him, but you knew his eyes were on you as he said those words. “Don’t worry, she will. This one is a coffee whore.” the words were a playful attack. 

“Ivette!” you warned, 

“Those ones are a good flavour, aren’t they?” The barista, Trey as you read from his black name tag. Says before walking away.you threw a glare at her, “You know I’m studying for the up coming finals. asshole!” 

“Oh come on! It was the perfect time to tease your tense ass. You’ve had that nose of yours in that text book all week end.” She shrugs her shoulders like she did you a favour. 

“I know you don’t understand with that hefty trust fund of yours. But I can’t fail this, my entire future depends on it.” your voice soft when you explained it to her. 

Her dark eyes shifted from yours to the table, her features softening. Silence washed over her bright laughable personality and you could felt the guilt rise. “I-I’m-you could always ask for financial help, we’ve been friends since Kinder.” Her voice softer now, she knew your dad always struggled with his work for years now. Yet sometimes she forgot, it was easy for her. 

“I don’t wan’t to feel like a burden and you to feel like I’m only friends with you because of your family name.” 

“why would I? especially when you’ve only asked for iced coffee and you always paid me back. Not to mention you still wear that apple watch I got you three years ago.” Glancing down at the smart watch circling your left wrist with a clean white band. She was right, Ivette just got you the newest version on your last birthday. 

“This one holds valuable memories, like a relic.” 

Ivette laughs “I’m sure it does, dork.” 

Before you could say something you caught her eyes flick to something behind you. With a small twinkle in her eyes and a twitched of her lips you knew it was rather a somebody. “predator coming this way.” was all she whispered. 

His Cologne wafted over you as you sense a masculine presence loom over you. almost Alpha male like, straight out of a fucking wattpad book you read last night. Finally looking up, your breath caught in your throat. You knew the male who was already staring down at you, a wolfish grin set to you like you were his next prey, his next target. 

“Jonah” You acknowledged him, 

“Y/N? Is it?” his voice deep as he slides in next to Ivette, letting out a yelp as he pushed her with his hip aside. Folded hands setting on the table top, fingers decorated with a couple rings. A leather jacket cover his squared shoulders, silk button down underneath. one or two buttons undone, caramel chest exposed. Bright determined green eyes locked on you, light brown curls framed his face perfectly. 

“We have classes together.” The comment monotone. 

“Right how could I forget.” The smile sly, 

“You asked Marais, now continue.” Not a change in your tone as you stared back at him. Ivette choked out a cough and Jonah sent her an un-pleased glance. 

“Anyways, my boys put a bet down.” His eyes switched behind you, following his gaze you say all four of them watching intensely. Sipping coffee as if this was their only entertainment. 

“Not surprised.” you murmured under your breath, taking a sipping out of your coffee. Most of the sugar and cream washed out the original bitter taste of it. It was definitely an addiction, one you weren’t getting rid of soon as it calmed your nerves in the presence of him. 

“For your number. a little immature if I do say so myself.” This one knew how to play his games, you’ll give me that. But you weren’t naive, never had been. 

“No, thanks for the offer.” You voice condescending towards him. His expression slightly less predatory, You were getting to him.

“Interesting.” His eyes searching for any faltered emotion, 

“The only thing that’s interesting is that you think you’re worth my time.” His wolfish smirk faltered, shock showed with surprised eyebrows. 

“You don’t think I am?” His voice didn’t change. 

“The only reason you interrupted us was because your little boys over there, dared you to get my number. But Knowing your reputation, that’s a waste of my time. Now will you excuse us we should be heading back.” Your voice sharp as you jabbed at him with each word. 

“Damn your bite is brutal.”  Jonah was amazed at the dish you served him. 

“Only to the ones who deserve it.” 

“I’ll see you around Y/N.” He winked , watching him get up you spoke again. “Oh and tell Jack I want his number.” You didn’t want it but you knew that would get under his skin. he only answered his a vicious glare and a growl. 

Your eyes flicked back to Ivette, a proud smile upon her red lips. “That’s my girl, but dang that one is hot as hell. I would’ve caved, even if it’s just a quick fuck.” You laughed, she wasn’t entirely wrong.

---------------------------

Your focus set on the lecture in front of you, taking in all the information your professor was giving you. Tapping in notes on your beloved laptop, another gift from Ivette. Another one you had tried giving back multiple times, yet she had avoid you like the damn plague. Only making you fall into current and take yet another generous gift  

Advanced English was one of your top classes, you’d let yourself lack every now and again. Not for too long but a big enough break to let yourself relax and light a candle. 

The creaking sound boomed through the room as someone pushed open the door. Mr. Delton was use to the average late comer, not giving his attention as he taught the lecture in depth details on the subject at hand. 

focus. focus.

Yet your eye caught a glimpse of milk chocolate curls, bouncing as he half jogged up the steps, light shift inside them making them lighter. He held his jet black mac book and an English text book in his arm. Wearing a white t-shirt rolled up at the sleeves a few inches. Revealing all the ink that scattered across his skin. Black jeans and browning converse at his feet. He was perfect save the acceptation of a purple bruise blossoming on his cheek right below his eye. And a red split through his bottom lip, Both going to get worse as the week continued. 

Bruises that hadn’t been before. 

Staring for a little too long he felt your prying eyes, his wolfish green eyes connected with yours. a flash of a smirk, you swore you saw him tear his cut before you forced your attention back on Mr. Delton. 

You heard his every step from behind you, coming closer and closer. Now right behind you, hearing him take a seat. Dread entered your blood stream and you wished your heart to stop thumbing so fucking loud. Feeling embarrassed as if the student next to you could hear it. 

a small hum from your phone arouse, you debated on it. The hovering presence of Jonah lurked stronger, yet you still fished it out. 

Trey:Hey! was wondering if you wanted to get coffee after class?

Trey the barista from the cafe, the image of him popped into your mind. Dark chestnut skin, a beautiful contrast against your own skin tone. Mahogany coils framed his face, chocolate brown eyes. And those god blessed features. 

You remembered how abruptly he stopped you as you and Ivette started for the exit. Giggling as he walked straight into a table and shattered a coffee mug in the process. He asked for your number, with a pink blush upon his cheeks. Genuinely surprised at the offer you gave it too him while you gave Jonah a glance. Green eyes threatening. 

“The barista boy?” his breath fanning against your neck, making goosebumps rises and a shiver run down your spine. You’ve forgotten about that one with the slight distraction of Trey. Your phone slipped from your finger tips as you let out a loud yelp. Mr. Delton halts his lecture and the thud of your phone echos through the entire lecture hall. 

Embarrassment flows through you again, sinking into your chair as every single person glares down at you. Swallowing hard as you felt your throat began to tighten. You knew you looked like a deer in headlight. 

“She’s not feeling good, I told you to stay in your dorm today, Babe.” His voice loud enough for others to pry in. Bound to talk about you and Jonah later on, torturous gossip. you could already here it. You’d bite back and decline his words if you weren’t for this unfortunate situation. 

Jumping over the chairs he helps you gather your things ushering you out. Everything in his arms both your belongings and his. You were beyond grateful that lecture was the reaching the end. As soon as the heavy door clicked your spun towards him, “What. The. Fuck!” Anger rippled from you in waves. 

“What no thank you Jonah for saving me from embarrassment?” His tone mocking towards you, God! you swore you could slap that dumb smirking of his fucking face. Adding to his bruising face, he deserved it. 

“You are so infuriating!” You yell, feeling it vibrate harshly against your throat. 

“What can I say. I like playing with my food.” Fuck those green eyes. Fuck that stupid smirk. 

“Fuck you!” was all you managed to say as if you could feel the stream burning off you. whirling away from him you continued down the wide hall of the university. If you stared at his taunting expression any longer you’d hit him. 

“Come on! I’m not that bad.” Fake pouting like a child. Remembering he had a hold on your notes. You sighed whirling back around, heading back for him. Glaring Jonah down as you dragged the fire behind you, not a flicker in his demeanour. You swore his smirk grew as if he found amusement in your anger. 

“You are, not to mention you put a target on my back. So thanks.” You say with a humorous smile on your lips. head slightly tilting as he furrowed his eyebrows, perplexed. You rolled your eyes at him, “You called me ‘babe’ as if we’re together..” you mimicking the motion of puking your breakfast out. He shook his head and chuckles. “..And if you haven’t notice you’re Jonah Marais, girls fall at your feet. Now they’re be slicing my head off.” You crossed your arms over your chest. 

“Yet you don’t” His eyes trailing from you head to toe trying to read your body language. The anger stopped abruptly as if his words were like a bucket of water. 

“You’re hot..” His green eyes darken at the confession, his teeth biting his bottom lip. “.. but you treat girls like conquests and you just a waste of my time, Jonah.”  Dark green becoming dull green, He watched as you reached from your laptop, supplies, and phone. Letting them slip from his grip as they fall into yours. 

“If that’s what you think,” Were wrong about him? Or was he trying to bait you? Honesty with the genuine expression you didn’t know what you believed now. 

“Bye, Jonah.” You say softly before leaving him there,

“I’ll see you around, babe.” Taunting again,

“Fuck you.”  You raise your left are and flip him off, 

“Only if you want too.” You roll your eyes at his response. 

----------------------------------

With the pass few days your mind was drowning in piles of work. Still studying for those finals, they were coming faster then you had the time for. You were comfortable with the the amount of information cramped inside. Yet you still felt the need to be confident with the facts, as if you could teach the damn course yourself. There was no time for mistakes, not now.  

Jonah Marais 

There you were in the quad, sitting at a table far from everyone else. textbooks and random pages with notes on them splayed over the top. Not an inch on blue table insight. Phone on air plane mode as you listened to your trusted early 2000s playlist. vaguely bopping your head to the beat of the songs, mouthing the words, your foot tapping the cement. 

Jack nudged Jonah with a tatted elbow, head whipped down to him. a noticeable scowl written on his face, not too happy to have his thought wonder from you. “What do you think shes listening to?” Words catching in his throat as he coughed “Who are you talking about?” 

“The girl you’ve been staring at for the last ten minutes, I’m kinda shocked she hasn't felt you stalking her.” Jack’s brown eyes gleamed honey in the sunlight, a joking smirk upon his lips as he watched Jonah stutter, “I-I wasn’t.” He tried sounding convincing, but the taunting look on his best friend’s face told him otherwise. 

“I’ve never seen a girl get under his skin the way Y/L/N does,” Daniel pipes in taking a seat in the grass with his beloved guitar. 

“I’ve never seen him get humiliated like that. Was a treat watching you get rejected in a cafe.” Little Zach chimed in, cackling like a hyena. 

“Enough!” Jonah barked out, turning a few prying eyes.

“Awe is Jonah getting mad that we’re teasing him about the girl he’s been pining after of years? Poor thing.” Corbyn’s voice is very condescending towards him. Sending All the guys into a full blown laughing fit. Jonah only glared at his band mates, of course they knew about y/n. The only girl who has never fell at his feet.

They went to high school together, never colliding groups through the years. Back then Jonah had every girl he wanted. Until one day in junior year he saw her, Actually saw her. At the time he didn’t know your name, she wasn’t one who cheered at band gigs. Wasn’t one to catch him in the halls and ask if he had any plans for the night. Jonah would remember a face like that, trust me. 

He admired you through the art room’s door, open ajar. An old paint brush in your hand, chipping black paint on the handle of it, years of use wearing down on it. A palette of colours resting in your other as your focus was deeply upon the canvas. A lion roaring with immense detail laid upon it. Anyone looking at it could tell that lion wasn’t roaring out of fear or grief, but pride. The roar of the king, he was memorised by how in depth her detailing was. 

Sliding through the door like a mouse, his attention went to the board. Spirit animal was written for this weeks assignment. Jonah was intrigued by you and your spirit animal. You had to think of yourself as a lion for a reason and he wanted to find it.That lion. 

Glancing towards you he drank you in, from your soft hair to your wore in vans. Lost in the painting, you never felt his hovering presence. Taking a step towards you he halting, this wasn’t the time for her. he could feel himself saying deep down. She’s a lion, you’re not ready for her not yet. With that he slipped back out into the hallway. 

He started noticing her more as if she was a ghost before spotting the lion. Never talking to her but watching from afar. 

“Let’s rehearse, that’s what we came her for.” Jack says, Jonah felt relieved at that taking his seat in the grass. He was playing a dangerous game with his heart. Jonah knew that but he wanted her, but he didn't know how to make y/n his. A struggle he wasn’t familiar with, she was something else entirely. 

“Let’s start with Lotus In.” Daniel says, starting with one of their newer songs. Attention on the guitar in his lap he began, fingers dancing with strings like they belonged there. Jack took in a breath before letting the lyrics flow from his lips. 

Y/N

Jonah glanced over towards to you again, wondering when Ivette and her pack of Richies swarmed you. A ghost of a smile on your lips as you continued your conversation with her. 

“Tell me you’re coming to the party this weekend.” Ivette’s voice drowning in sugar, knowing  there was a high chance you were going to decline. “I just have a lot of things to do, like study and cram in some sleep.” You whined at her as if you were a injured puppy. 

“Come on girl! you’ve been studying your soul away.” Julie, one of Ivette’s friends spoke up. Her voice soft as silk when talking to you like you were some seven year old. you fought the urge to roll your eyes an sigh at her, all of Ivette’s more fortunate friend treated you in this manner. You never brought it up because you knew she loved the company of them. 

“There’s this dress in my closet I don’t wear anyone, it’s last season.” Julie offers, Irritating boils in your blood as you saw the pity ooze out of her like you were some charity case. 

“ I was thinking about going shopping for one instead.” The words spill out of your mouth before you could think. You didn’t have the money to splurge on a dress at the moment. But you felt the need to prove yourself to her, to prove you were one of them. One who could spent a grand or two in a day without trouble. But you Weren’t one of them. 

“I got you a gift, Actually.”  Ivette cuts through the conversation like a knife. Placing a chunky box atop the table over your textbooks and notes. You look at her seeing a knowing glint in her eyes, she knew. She knew that you struggled in her world with her parents and her friends. 

“You didn’t have to.” You say to her, 

“Stop being so modest, open it.” Julie urges you, it took everything in you to not reach over the table and smack her. Engaging in a conversation with her was like talking to a chihuahua. A Beverly Hills Chihuahua. 

A small reassurance from Ivette you began to remove the lid of the black box. Revealing crisp white tissue paper, spotting a vague green colour underneath. Picking various pieces out your eyes gazed upon a gorgeous forest green silk dress. Grasping it in your fingers you were mesmerised by it, lifting it up you saw it in all it’s glory.  

“Wow, I think I’m in love with it.” You spoke, 

“Me too, where did you get it?” Julie pipes in, gazing at the dress as if it was hers.  It was a split between casual and formal, short and body-con-like. an open back with the straps criss crossing over and tying in the front. 

“You wouldn’t of heard of it, it’s main stream.” Was all Ivette said watching you adore the dress in your hands, 

“Are you coming to the party now?” Julie’s voice still sickly sweet, 

“With a gift like this? yes absolutely.” A smirk etched onto your lips still in love with the dress. Ivette scanned Julie’s expression an noticeable sneer reaching towards you. She tried covering it with a grim smile, attempting to keep the jealousy at bay.  

“Jonah is going to love that dress.” Ivette squeals, you drop it at the mention of his name. You praised to the gods you kept your emotions in check. Wanting to play along with Ivette and her game with Julie, “I’m sure he will. It’ll match his eyes perfectly.” you chime in finally, glancing over at Julie who could no longer keep her expressions at bay. 

---------

Ivette began to slid the key into her door. Click. Turning the knob she opened the door revealing her generous apartment. Guiding you in, your hands holding the box that contained the dress she gifted you. A life saver against Julie and her lifestyle. 

She throw her keys on the counter and they landed on the floor with a clang. “I saw the way Julie got under your skin, you had this uncomfortable look settle in your face.” Ivette says, jumping onto her couch with an exaggerated sigh. Taking it in like she hasn’t been there in five whole days. 

“I’m-it’s just Julie talks to me like I’m some little kid, or your younger sister.” I say sitting on her wooden coffee to face her, connecting eyes she looks lost. Like you said your dog ran away. You don’t have a dog. 

“Where’s all this coming from?” Propping herself on her elbow, concern etching her features. You shrug looking away at your feet, “Forget it, um. Where did you actually get the dress?” You ask not ready to say what you wanted to, knowing Ivette she’d run to the ends of the earth for you. God knows what she’d do to Julie and Julie was her friend. 

“Okay, we’ll set it aside.Talk about it late.” Her voice soft and calming. you were grateful for her understanding, she never pushed and waited till you were ready. 

Looking at her with gratitude, reaching her hand for yours she squeezed. Comforting warm pressure against your skin. Growing up with no siblings and only having Ivette as your best friend almost felt like having a sister. 

“It’s thrifted fifteen dollars,” Ivette beams, 

“Okay I’ll take it.” You say in return, 

“I know how you hate my expensive gifts. Even though I’ve been giving them for years. I love gifting them to you because you appreciate everything I give you, you even try to give them back.” Ivette lets a giggle slip past her lips, 

You hug her, arms wrapping around her neck like your life depended on it. Instantly she did the same taking you into her embrace. “I Just don’t want to feel like a burden.” You whisper into her shoulder, 

“You’re not and you’ll never be, You’re my best friend.” She hugs you tighter to her body.

“I love you Ivette.” A warm smile spreads across your lips, 

“I love you too, now lets get you into that dress before you make me cry.” Her voice strained knowing she felt the same, “Okay.” You say before both of you started giggling. 

Letting go you hopped off the couch grasping the box in your hands. “I’m really grateful for the dress.” You say looking down at her, smiles reaching your ears. 

“Stop, just stop. Go put on the dress and I’ll pick out a pair of heels.” She shushes your constant, pushing you towards her bathroom. 

The dress was gorgeous by itself, but on you it was phenomenal. Silky green fabric pooling around your upper thighs, hugging your body in all the right places.The lacing in the back was complicated but you eventually got the hang of it. Tying it in the front, at least that’s how you thought it was suppose to go. If it wasn’t it still managed to look better this way. 

Walking out of the bathroom you heard an intake of breath. “God that dress is a girls dream.” Ivette beamed at you with the brightest smile. Feeling a blush creep up your neck you spotted a pair of heels in her hand. As well as a gold necklace dangle between her finger tips. 

“I’m in love with it.” You admit with a dreamy sigh.

“Jonah will love it as well.” She teases, handing me the shoes and a few pieces of jewellery. Grasping them you sigh, “Can you just let that go, it happened almost a week ago. Plus I asked Trey to meet me at the party.”  You inform her, taking a seat on her bed and began to fasten the heels’ strap onto your ankle.

The heels were black and velvet with a chunky heel, barely having any foot coverage. Only having a thick band over your black toe nails and a strap around your ankle. You didn’t dare ask where they were from in risk of giving them back. You were working on that right now. 

“The hot barista with Delicious chocolate skin?” Ivette basically melted speaking about him, letting out a giggle you nodded. “God you’re so lucky, he’s fine as fuck.” 

“I know I saw him,” you said pride embedded in my tone, collecting the dainty butterfly necklace in my hands. Struggling to get in to clasp, a few tries before I got it. Matching dangle gold earrings, which were easy enough to not mess up. 

-------------------------------

Ivette’s car was wrapped in rose gold crome and was apparently a bitch to keep crisp and clean. Pulling open the passenger’s door you slid in, wasn't too long before the vehicle roar to life. Music pounding into your back with the windows rolled down. This was a party not a wedding so you both never bothered with intense makeup, leaving your hair like it was. 

“I told Julie we weren’t going cause you came down with the chicken pox.” Ivette said turning the music down, you whipped your head towards her. “You do realised we just saw her less then five hours ago right?” A laugh vibrates in your throat. 

“She fucked with my best friend, you think I’m just going to stand by? Absolutely not!”  

“She’ll be there.” I stated looking at her, raven black hair tangling in her silver hoops. A devious smirk spreads on her red lips, “Oh I know,” You shake your head and roll your eyes playfully at her. She only laughs in response. 

-------------

The stench of alcohol, nicotine and sweat has entered your nose almost making you sneeze. Party in full swing, music so loud you swore you saw the floor boards lift up. Taking a step back you thought of hailing a cab and studying for the night. Hand grabbing your arm, you look to Ivette. “It’s time you enjoy yourself, those books aren’t going anywhere.” She speaks into your ear making sure you heard every word. You sigh in defeat she was right, you let her drag you into the night you will definitely regret.

Dragging you through sweaty an intoxicated people, mustering up apologies along the way. Reaching one colossal of a kitchen, a massive house like this was mostly definitely a fraternity house. There was always this pristine a polished look of them, but this one was familiar. One you’ve been to many times before for weekend parties. 

It belonged to Jonah’s band, they liked to call themselves Why Don’t We. As in why don’t we just start a band, you’ve heard the story many times. Ivette had an on and off relationship with their drummer Daniel Seavey.  You had nothing against him, Daniel was a rare stallion with the heart of a golden retriever. Ivette was always the one to pull away from him scared of giving her entire self to him. He was a drummer after all. 

“Babes what beverage is to your calling tonight?” Her voice soft against the shell of your ear. Glancing at the island prepared with every alcoholic drink you could think of. “Surprise me.” You respond with a soft smile on your lips, “The moment I’ve waiting for.” She teases separating from you to craft your drinks. Giving you the prefect opportunity to check if you received a text from Trey. 

You hadn’t. 

Anxiety starting to arise, where was he? 

“Where’s your boy at?” Ivette brushed into you holding that playfulness towards you. Shrugging you shoved your phone into your dainty purse, “I don’t think he’s coming.” voice crumbling, well you didn’t know for sure if he was coming or not. But it was well over an hour when you were suppose to meet. And there was not a single message from him. 

“Here mama drink up.” Ivette places a lime green cup into your hand, the colour coding for single. Tapping cups together in a cheers she counted down “1..2...10″ you rolled my eyes as Ivette skipped eight full numbers. Pulling the pink cup to her lips, taken. Which usually meant she was talking to Daniel again. She chugged the contents. 

You followed, it was bitter. Burning along your throat as you gulped every last drop of it. The percentage was most likely 60 vodka and 40 coca cola. Your alcohol tolerance wasn’t weak but it definitely wasn't strong either. Taking the cup from your lips you coughed. “How was it?” Ivette asks with hopeful puppy dog eyes. You shook your head at her, “I’m never letting you pick again.” 

“Perfect! now it’s time to dance.”

You barely had time to put the plastic cup down, before she was yanking you to the massive den. Into the heart of the party where the music was the loudest and most of the people had been. Cluttering together as if there wasn’t enough space for everyone. 

Your mindset switched as soon you had a taste of the liquor, enjoying every moment as if you did this often. Hand in hand with Ivette as you danced together, bodies close together Feeling the music flow through you as if it was in your blood. Singing the lyrics of an older 2000s song that you knew like the back of your hand. 

Jonah Marais

Music vibrated the walls almost shaking the frames off. Jonah leaned against the railing on the upper level of the house. Having full view of y/n tangled in Ivette Daniel’s girl. Sweat gleamed over her chest as red, blue, purple. yellow, and green lights flashed throughout the house. A blissful smile on her lips and hair plastering her skin. Unquestionably intoxicated by the alcohol she was given. He rarely got to see her like this and began to enjoy the sight of such a gorgeous girl. 

Feeling the presence of a feminine shadow he never took his eye off her. Pressing into him he sighed looking at her, hazel eyes sizing him up. “Hey Jo.” She purred, “Jasmine.” He greeted her in a bored tone she never detected. 

Jasmine was one of the many girls he got lost in through his time here. Jonah knew her body as if he saw it every day. He knew what pleased her and what didn’t, her save words and breaking points. But he didn’t know Jasmine not the way he wanted to know y/n. All Jonah knew was her body and he was getting bored of it. 

“You said you’d be mine for the night.” He voice seductive and slightly pleading, 

“I say a lot of things.” Tone still bored hoping to brush her off. 

“Yes you do.” She hums and begins to press her body into his, feeling every curve of her. Breasts, stomach, hips, and the pulse of her core. Didn’t take too long before her kiss reached his neck. Soft and slow thinking this would release the beast within. Hold her against the wall, bodies pressed together. Instead Jonah shivered in disgust as her hands reached for his belt teasingly. 

“Jasmine, this is a party not your sex chamber.” Daniel’s voice dripping in authority causing her pull away as if Jonah burned her. Relieve washed over him, eyes still on y/n as she grinds against Ivette. Her hands firmly holding her waist, acrylic nails embedded in the green dress. He began to wonder what that view would look like on him instead. 

“Cock block often?” Jasmine scowled at Daniel, 

“Think of it more as a rescue.” Daniel’s voice plain also bored with the girl in front of him. 

“It’s okay to be jealous.” Jasmine purrs again. Can this chick take a hint? Or do I have to form words to make her leave? 

“Not tonight, if you’ll excuse us we have some band issues to discuss.”  It was a quick excuse to get rid of her. It worked as she said a quick bye to Jonah who ignored Jasmine. Hearing her storm down the hall in her heels that clicked behind her. 

“I have no idea why you keep that one around.” Daniel sighs taking the abandoned spot beside Jonah. Elbow leaning against the banister supporting the rest of his body. “I don’t, she crawls back like a wounded deer.” Jonah replies not caring the way he talked about her. 

“Yet here you are still fucking her.” Daniel bites at him not liking the way Jonah drowned himself when things got hard. 

“On occasion.” 

“That’s even worse,”

Jonah looked at his drummer, between the twinkle in his icy blue eyes and Ivette’s blush pink cup. He knew they were talking again, she had this effect on him that no other girl did. “I have a plan and I need your help.” I devious smirk plays onto Jonah’s lips.  

Y/N

Your skin glistening with sweat, the adrenaline in your veins overlapping the pain in the core of your feet. Friction of the straps began to form open wounds, yet you didn’t notice in the bliss of the night. Smiling like an idiot as your body danced with Ivette’s, your best friend. 

“We should take a break.” Her voice strained, 

You nod, not wanting to sound like a dying cat with your sore throat. 

“Okay good, because i’m exhausted, I don’t know how you do it!” She shouts taking your hand in hers, guiding you away from the crowed bunch. 

“The alcohol seeping through my bloodstream.” Your tone in a duh manner like it was the most obvious thing in the worlds. Feeling the way the liquor took effect on your mindset, little hazy yet blissful and happy. 

“Lets get some water in you. okay?” Ivette’s voice holding concern, brushing your hair back like an older sister. “Yes mom.” you sigh sarcastically, with that both of you are off to the kitchen. 

Littering with a couple people not as much as the den. Talking and laughing, enjoying each other’s company. Making the memories they’ll have keep until they don’t want to. 

Again Ivette hands you a lime green cup, but this time the substance in side wasn’t brown. But transparent with no wrenched stench this time, water.  “Drink up, babes.” Ivette says, bringing her own pink cup to her lips. Hers contain the fizz sound of her favourite pop, Root Beer. 

“What would I do without you?” You ask feeling the adrenaline fade from your body. The feeling of complete blissful ecstasy drain to a more content happiness.

“You’d most def--” 

“Ivette.” Her name rolled off his tongue like a purr, like it was meant for his lips. Cutting or conversation quick she whirled around at the sound of his voice. Her breath shuttering at the sight of him. 

Daniel stood in from of her in all his proud glory, his blue eyes fixed on her and only her. They smiled at one another, his cupid’s bow extending. “Daniel.” She acknowledged him. Glancing at me she widened her eyes for quick second trying to keep herself together. Blue eyes shifting he tilted his head at you, “Hope you were having a good time.” 

“I was, thank you Daniel.” you say to him before finally taking a sip of your water. Cold sliding down your throat the perfect refreshment after the hour in the den.

“Always, y/n.” his voice smooth as he averts his attention back on Ivette. “Got time to spare me a dance?” Daniel extends his hand towards her, waiting for the acceptation.

 “Sorry, Daniel but I’m y/n’s ride.” Both flicked to you at the excuse she put on the table. You gave he a tight lipped smile not saying a word but you knew she got the message you wanted to get across. 

“I know that’s why I have Jonah, he’ll drive y/n when she’s ready.” Daniel threw a thumb behind him. Looking past Daniel you spotted him, Jonah leaned against the counter across the kitchen. Wolfish grin on his lips as he was sipping out of a lime green cup. It couldn’t of been Corbyn could it? No, cause that would be to much to ask for. 

Connecting eyes with Ivette, you saw pleased in the browns of her eyes. Not for you to let Daniel take her but to say you didn’t feel comfortable with Jonah. You remembered the times she was completely and utterly happy with him. Saying that he was it, he was home. He was this amazing person for her but she was fucking scared. 

You mentally apologised to her before saying anything, “She’s yours, I’ll be fine. Daniel trusts him, I trust him.” You forced the words to sound normal for his sake. Deep down you wanted to puke for saying those words, but it was for Ivette. “He’s a good person, he’ll get you home in one piece.” Daniel says before whisking your best friend from sight. 

“I’ll get you back of this.” You swore you heard Ivette seethe, nonetheless you smiled after them. Wasn’t too long before you felt his presence loom behind you. Great here we go, it was a risk worth taking at least that’s what you told yourself. 

“Hey, Babe.” 

----------------------------------------

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed this piece. 

Which was your favourite part? 

Don’t be afraid to message me if anything offended you with my POC characters. This is a safe space for everyone and I want to make it right!

Taglist:  @jonahlovescoffee​

[blancheludis]

@whumptober2021 Day 6: Bruises

Fandom: Batman Characters: Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth Tags: Hurt Tim, Injuries, Hiding Injuries, Self-Worth Issues, Protective Bruce, Lack of Communication, Bruce Tries To Be A Good Dad Words: 3.264

Summary: “Master Timothy, what is that?”

That is a bruise the size of Tim’s head spanning over the right side of his ribcage. A few ribs might be cracked but he can breathe fine when not training and it is good practice to avoid being hit in weak spots.

“I’m fine,” Tim says and wonders why anyone even bothers. In his parents’ house, being fine was a requirement and nobody had the time to keep asking about it

---

Pain blossoms through Tim’s chest as Bruce’s fist hits right where he bruised a rib the week before. Just barely, he manages to swallow a yelp and lets himself fall with the momentum, rolling over the floor to get back to his feet a safe distance away from Bruce.

Safety, of course, is an illusion with Batman after him, who has speed and strength and long years of experience on him. Bruce does not come, though, but stays where he is.

“Everything all right?” he asks, never letting his fists fall but looking at Tim with concern.

“Of course,” Tim replies with a grin he does not feel. It is hard enough to breathe. “Should have seen that one coming.”

Bruce nods and advances again. That is something Tim can rely on. He might not be used to people stopping to ask about his well-being, but the rules are the same wherever he goes. Be the best he can be at all times and appear perfect on the surface. The focus just shifted to include physical prowess as well as school work and social encounters.

Training is a gruesome affair. Tim needs every bit of it he can get but he has not had a chance to catch his breath in weeks.

Tim does not mind Bruce’s high expectations nearly as much as he sometimes did his parents. He is learning to be someone better than himself, after all, someone who can make a difference. Heroes do not stop just because they have some bruises.

He has still a long way to go until he can call himself a hero, but the lack of lectures makes him think he is being a passable Robin.

Rolling back on his feet, Tim makes sure his stance is steady as he raises his fists back up. He does not have to wait long for Bruce to come at him again.

This time, he makes sure to guard his right side more.

“I’m fine,” Tim says again when they are finished training for the day, and wonders why anyone even bothers. In his parents’ house, being fine was a requirement and nobody had the time to keep asking about it.

---

Tim flinches when he comes out of the bathroom and finds Alfred in the middle of his room, freshly laundered clothes in his hands.

It is too late to turn around and cover his bare torso. He has also learned by now that Alfred misses little, so Tim’s only chance is to be as casual as possible.

True enough, Alfred zeroes in on Tim the moment he notices his presence. “Master Timothy, what is that?”

That is a bruise the size of Tim’s head spanning over the right side of his ribcage. A few ribs might be cracked but he can breathe fine when not training and it is good practice to avoid being hit in weak spots.

One of these days he has to get good enough at fighting to stop being a liability. Until then, he will walk around with a few aches.

“Oh, that,” Tim says with all the cheer he can muster. “I tumbled off a roof.” And took several hits and kicks in the general region, too slow to properly defend himself. “I meant to ask for some bruise salve.” The lie falls easily from his lips, even though Alfred deserves better. It is just hard to forget that Alfred’s loyalty lies with Bruce and Tim really, really does not want to give anyone reason to complain about him.

Tim is not necessarily afraid of Bruce changing his mind about the adoption. He knows that is a definite possibility because Bruce does not have time for freeloaders, even though he never said so in as many words. It would suck, of course, because he is quickly getting used to Alfred’s warmth and proper meals and the way the house brightens when Dick comes to visit on the weekends. It is not the kind of family he has seen on tv, not even the kind he pretended to be with his parents during parties, but it is one he feels comfortable in.

No, what he fears is not being allowed to go out as Robin anymore. He already is nothing but a pretender, stretching to reach Jason’s level. He has looked up to Robin for so long he can hardly believe he has been let into this house and actually wore the suit.

Good things do not just happen. He has to work for them, has to constantly increase his efforts to stop anyone from noticing how inadequate he actually is. His parents prepared him for that, at least.

“Come,” Alfred says and gestures at the door. His stern look promises bandages and ice packs and a lot of questions that Tim does not want to answer. “I’ll help you with it.”

“Not necessary, promise,” Tim says and walks pointedly fluid, taking care not to show that his hip has been aching, too. “It barely hurts.”

He brings the bed between them, where he is further into the room’s shadows. Alfred notices too much, but Tim has learned to twist that, to put things in a light that better suits him. He does not actually like manipulating Alfred, who brings him hot chocolate and cooks his favourites on good and bad days, but if he gets benched he will not get better and then he is already halfway out of the door.

“It looks fresh,” Alfred says and stares at him rather than the discolouring. Too perceptive for his own good.

But Tim frowns and makes a show of prodding the bruise, breathing through the pain. “Must be the light. It’s only a little sore.”

He looks up just in time to see Alfred’s face smooth over from blatant concern to something far politer. “It’s all right to ask for help, Master Timothy.”

Is it, though? All the evidence Tim has gathered over the course of his life points to the opposite.

So, he grins and says, “I know. I’ll let you know if I lose a limb.” That is probably not even a lie because he has no idea how he would hide that. And, just because he desperately wants to stay Robin, he will not put others at risk just because he cannot let go of a pipe dream.

Alfred straightens, his lips pursed. “Don’t joke about that.” He puts the clothes down carefully on the bed. “Now, let me get the salve for you.”

Tim breathes out in relief once Alfred is done and hurries to put on a shirt. His blunder would not hold up a single second if Alfred had gotten any closer to him. Thanks to having been with Bruce for so long, he knows all about Bruce.

Then again, he knows all about lies, too. Perhaps Alfred thinks that Tim is doing well enough to deserve a second chance if he lets Tim’s lies pass. He knows better than to let his guard down, though.

 ---

This is the fourth time this night that Tim has stumbled over his own feet and now he almost fell off the rooftop, too. He really needs to get a grip on himself.

Tim pinches his hip, right where a new bruise sits. The pain wakes him up a little, but the blurriness in his vision does not vanish completely.

Bruce stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong with you?” His tone is low and a little restless, so Tim knows his patience is running out.

“Nothing,” he says with all the brightness he can muster, then winces inwardly. He is obviously messing things up, so he should not also pretend that he does not notice. The only thing worse than a fool is a fool who thinks he is helping. “I just stayed up late studying for a test.”

He should have studied. That would have been a better use of his time than thrashing around in his bed, wide awake while trying to sleep. But he passed out in English class the day before and while his teacher did not remark on it, he knows he is walking a thin line.

Bruce’s voice drops deeper still, which is never a good time. “You should have said something if you needed to stay home.”

“No, I didn’t,” Tim bursts out quickly. This is the last thing he needs. Staying home means not learning anything. Worse, Bruce might realize he is better off without this Robin and start looking for a replacement. “I’m just a bit tired.”

“You’re slow,” Bruce counters, shaking his head with what can only be disappointment. That is a definite strike. “That’s dangerous for both of us.”

Tim’s fingers dig deeper into the bruise. The words and pain together are enough to banish the sluggishness for now. Nothing but a reminder of one’s own uselessness to awaken the spirit.

“I’m sorry,” he says and makes sure the words are clear, even while he cannot quite meet Bruce’s eyes.

Bruce’s hand tightens briefly around Tim’s shoulder. It could almost feel like encouragement if not for him saying, “Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

It is a good thing that Tim is a self-made insomniac. He is used to running on too little sleep. Usually, though, nobody was around to see him struggle. Now, he has to up his game because Bruce does not miss much. His parents, though, were good teachers in that regard. He will manage.

Stretching his limbs, Tim tries to ignore the heaviness weighing them down and does his best to be alert and helpful for the rest of patrol. Bruce does not complain again, so Tim guesses he does a good enough job.

 ---

As the ground rushes up to meet Tim, he follows instinct to curl up and brace himself for the fall. His arms protect his head and his ribs protest only mildly at the shock of impact. As he rolls, though, he hits something with his left knee, knocking what little breath he had left right out of him. He feels it bending the wrong way, the ligaments screaming for a long moment until everything snaps back into place and he comes to a standstill in some dank alley.

Tim lies there, just breathing, cataloguing the new bruises forming. The by now familiar pulsing in his ribs is joined by a more insistent stabbing sensation in his knee. That is the leg that was already messed up before. He thinks of all the things that might have gone wrong. Snapped ligaments, broken bones, luxated knee cap.

Unwilling to get up just yet, he just lies there. Once he moves, he has to deal with this, has to get up and put weight on his leg and decide how to hide this. Ribs are not essential and mere bruises are easy to ignore. Somebody is bound to notice, however, if he starts limping around.

With a sigh, Tim sits up and carefully pulls his left foot towards him. It hurts but not so much that he cannot manage. Nothing looks obviously broken, but it still feels wrong and Tim suspects he ruptured some ligaments. Which is unfortunate.

“Robin, where are you?” Batman’s voice comes to life in his ear. These days, he is always impatient, Tim has been that much of a disappointment.

He sighs, allowing himself another moment of weakness before he pulls himself together with ruthless efficiency. So much for having some time to collect himself. “I’m on my way.”

It is slow and painful, but Tim manages to get out of the alley and towards their rendezvous point. His movements are neither steady nor very fluid. Climbing the roof to meet Bruce is out of the question.

Before he can think about a way around it, Bruce speaks in his ear again, “What happened?”

Tim closes his eyes. Everything was going so well. He was managing things. If he had gotten a minute longer, he would have figured something out.

“I fell and – I hit my knee.” Admitting that alone makes the ache worse. He is not supposed to fall. Jason surely did not tumble off roofs left and right just because he was tired. “Nothing’s broken, probably, but –”

“Why didn’t you call?”

Tim knows how quickly Batman can move and still he flinches away when the dark shadow appears before him suddenly. Even if he were to fell, reality would probably rather bend than give Batman bruises. He barely catches the concerned look on Bruce’s face before he is kneeling down in front of Tim and prods his knee. Tim braces for pain that never comes for Bruce’s hands are more careful and gentler than he would have thought possible.

He does hear the small sigh Bruce lets out. “Let’s get you home so we can have a better look at it.”

Ice rolls down Tim’s back. He is here to be useful and, really, the one thing he really should avoid is being a liability. Robin exists to help, not to hinder Batman from doing his job.

“You don’t have to cut patrol short,” Tim says, desperation creeping into his tone, although he knows better than to show weakness like that. “I can get back on my own.”

Bruce stills, and Tim is so distracted by having done another thing wrong, that he barely hears Bruce saying, “You’re hurt.”

What does that have to do with anything other than Tim being a burden? “It’s not so bad,” he says. “Please?”

“T- Robin.” The almost slip has Tim’s heart missing a beat. Is this it? Is Bruce taking the suit away already? But then Bruce continues “Patrol can wait. You are more important.”

Now, that is a novel thing. Bruce even says it like he means it. Tim is aware that he is staring.

“I can manage,” he insists because he does not know what is happening and he hates when he is not prepared for something.

“I know,” Bruce says but it feels like they are talking about two very different things.  “But you don’t have to.”

 ---

All of Tim’s failings are laid bare. He has a bandage around a cut on his arm he had forgotten about the moment he got it. His ribs are taped. The x-ray of his knee is open on the screen behind them. A small crack runs through his knee cap, although, once he was done with his examination, Bruce declared that the ligaments are probably intact.

Tim is a wreck and he is not even thinking about the plethora of hurts he has gathered. No, Bruce does that thing where he collects himself before a difficult conversation and Tim knows how that will end for him. His usefulness definitely does not outweigh his faults.

“You were hiding injuries from me,” Bruce finally says. His gaze is heavy on Tim, who finds he cannot meet it.

“I didn’t,” he protests, despite knowing that particular fight is lost. “You noticed the knee right away.”

A shadow flickers over Bruce’s face as he likely notices the implication that Tim would have definitely hidden it if he could have. And will try to do so again if he is given the chance.  

“What about your cracked ribs?” Bruce’s voice is brimming with displeasure. “Or the extensive bruising?”

Well, the ribs have not really gotten better since Tim does not manage to let them rest. But the bruises have almost faded. And the new ones he has gotten are not quite as big.

“They aren’t bad,” he says because they are not. Bruises do not immobilize him or turn his brain to mush. He can still learn.

But Bruce leans slightly away from him as if to distance himself from Tim’s denial. “I did some of them.”

He almost sounds guilty, but Tim is quick to reassure him. “During training. I won’t learn if you hold back.”

Tim has problems ironing out his own faults, but he will not let Bruce blame himself for things Tim should have kept from happening.

“You won’t learn if you don’t take proper care of yourself,” Bruce argues with a quiet insistence that leaves Tim confused. This is not quite the lecture he was expecting. “If you’re too injured –”

“I’m fine,” he interrupts. And he is. There really is no other alternative.

Bruce sits back, realization dawning on his face. “So, every time you say that you mean the complete opposite?”

No, he does not. It means he is working on it. It means that he is doing his best no one else will find the cracks in his composure.

“Don’t throw me out,” Tim blurts out, sounding small and nervous and hating it. Robin has to be strong, an asset, not a scared kid. Nobody wants a child around.

“Tim.” Bruce inhales audibly and reaches out as if to pull him in but stops the motion just before he actually touches Tim. “I’m not going to throw you out. Even if you chose to stop coming out with me at night. You don’t have to meet any conditions to live here.”

That is a lie if Tim has ever heard one. Life is built on conditions, and who cannot do their part has to leave – or gets left behind. That is the first lesson he has ever learnt.

“But you need a Robin,” Tim says. With a tremble in his voice, he adds, “A capable one.” Deep down, he knows that is not him. But it is so hard to let go of this stupid dream.

Now, Bruce’s hand bridges the last inch between them. His skin is warm, a comfort Tim is not sure he deserves, but he leans into it anyway.

“I went for years without a Robin,” Bruce says without a hint of accusation. “And your well-being is so much more important than me having someone to chatter with on patrol.”

He sounds like he means it. Worse, Tim wants to believe him, perhaps more than he wants to keep wearing the suit. For years, he waited for his parents to come home for good or to take him with them at least. But he was never enough to keep them close. He just does not come first for anyone. He should not come before Gotham’s innocents.

And yet. That is the thing with dreaming. He has been offered a hand and now he wants to conquer the very heaven. Be helpful and cared for? Hope is a dangerous thing, but being unable to let it go might just be another failure of his.

“You don’t chatter,” Tim says because that is easier than to acknowledge what else Bruce said.

Bruce smiles and that is warmer even than his hand. “No, I don’t.” He quickly grows serious again, although the warmth stays. “You need to tell me when you’re hurt. And you need to take breaks.”

Tim nods. Anything to keep Bruce like this. Still, he says, “But I’m doing fine.”

Once again, Bruce sighs, but his expression never changes. “We’ll make sure you do,” he promises. “Now, let’s get you upstairs before Alfred has my head.”

He does not let go of Tim, helps him up the stairs, still so very gentle. And Tim, of course, vows to be better. But perhaps being better does not always mean hiding.

He has gotten a second chance, so perhaps he will try things Bruce’s way this time. Mostly. At least until his knee is all healed up. And then, he will see what happens.

[yoosungisbabie]

bodyguard - day two

jumin x mc

rating: T

prompt: failures / {fights}

warnings: attempted kidnapping and general angst

word count: 2,176

ao3 link

[ ko-fi | paypal ]

Jumin is usually rational, but that night was different.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

She took a deep breath through her nose, feeling a smile naturally spread on her face as she looked up at the sky. The sunset was painting a beautiful picture overhead, and the sight made her wonder why she hadn’t gone out more often.

But the answer came as soon as she asked herself the question, and it made her lower her eyes back down to the sidewalk. Jumin’s building was only half a block away, but going home so early seemed like a waste at that point. The weather was so nice, and being able to just go out and enjoy herself was a luxury she’d forgotten to indulge in.

Just as the doors to Jumin’s building came into view, she saw someone walking towards her from the corner of her eye. She glanced in their direction, seeing a man about her age smiling politely. He didn’t seem familiar, and it took her two glances at him to realize he was approaching her.  

“Mrs. Han, right?” the man asked, taking his hand from his jeans pocket to reach out to shake hers. She smiled warily, unable to feel the full giddiness that should’ve come with the name he’d used.

“No, not yet,” she chuckled, shaking his hand and noticing how firm his grip was. She didn’t recognize him, and she glanced back to the doors of the building, hoping she would be able to see the doorman but finding her view of him blocked.

“My apologies,” the man smiled, giving her a once over as she turned back to him. She held her purse tightly to her side, smiling and beginning to walk towards the building once more.

“It’s alright. Have a good night!” she said politely, choosing not to ignore the way chilling goosebumps ran along her skin at the look in his eyes.

“Wait,” the man called, catching her hand and making her head whip back to look at him. She quickly pulled away from his grasp, crossing her arms over her chest and raising her eyebrows.

“Are you busy?” he asked, and she narrowed her eyes at him, feeling her stomach filling with fear.

“I’m expected upstairs,” she replied curtly, nodding once and moving away but keeping her eyes on him. He frowned, stepping forward to grab her forearm tightly.

“Don’t think you’ll be making it,” he spoke, making her heart painfully skip a beat. Her eyes shot to his, and the intimidating look on his face made her want to scream. But she steadied herself, widening her stance and beginning to pull against him. She was about to raise her hand to strike when another hand attached to the man’s wrist, gripping it forcefully and making him pull away almost immediately.

She turned to see who’d stepped in, feeling her heart soar when Jumin was standing beside her. His dark grey eyes were severe, and his gaze was locked on the man as he cradled his wrist.

“I suggest you leave,” Jumin spoke firmly, stepping forward to block her from view when the man glared at her. “For your sake.” She peered around her fiancé’s arm as the man began to walk away, letting out a quiet sigh of relief.

The man uttered something under his breath, and though she could barely make it out, it was clearly aimed to provoke Jumin. She almost ignored it, assuming that he would as well, but he took a large step in the man’s direction. Her eyes widened, and she reached forward, wrapping both of her hands around one of his.

“Jumin,” she called softly, watching as he glanced back with a startling fire in his eyes. “Let’s go inside,” she pleaded. He turned and stared as the man walked away and laughed to himself.

It took a few moments, but Jumin’s hand finally relaxed beneath hers, his shoulders dropping slightly as he turned back to her. The anger in his expression had dissolved into something else, something aimed at her.

But she quietly led him inside, keeping her hand locked with his as they rode the elevator up to his penthouse. She could feel the weight of his unspoken words for her hanging in the air, and she could easily guess what he would have to say.

She’d gone out that afternoon without any bodyguards, and although she hadn’t told Jumin beforehand, she’d planned to tell him that night. Having him catch her in the act was the last thing she’d wanted to happen, so the lecture she’d already been expecting evolved as she anticipated it.

He pulled his hand from hers when the elevator doors opened, walking just in front of her as they passed the security guards and entered the penthouse. She followed quietly, closing the door behind herself and watching as he quickly took his suit jacket off, throwing it onto the chair in the corner and rolling his sleeves up his forearms forcefully. She quickly regretted not saying something sooner, but she took a deep breath, hoping that they could be rational and talk it out calmly.

But she considered what she’d already seen from him as she removed her coat and shoes and knew that things wouldn’t work out quite like she hoped.

“Darling,” he called, his voice tight as he drew her attention back to him. He’d crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze focused directly on her.

“I’m so…” he started, sighing sharply and pinching the bridge of his nose. “So disappointed in you,” he finished, pressing his lips into a tight line as she felt herself frowning.

“Why?” she wondered, hoping he would explain it slowly and give himself time to calm down.

“It’s a simple task to ask along two bodyguards, even one, but you didn’t,” he said, uncrossing his arms and placing his hands on his hips as he held her eyes expectantly.

“I’m sorry, Jumin,” she breathed out, tilting her head and moving a few steps closer. “Having someone always watching me is so much different than what I’m used to,” she admitted, seeing his eyes narrow in confusion.

“I just wanted some time to myself,” she shrugged. He scoffed quietly, surprising her as he raised a clenched fist and pressed it against his mouth. They’d had a few disagreements before, but he’d always been able to keep his calm. She’d never seen him so out of control.

“There are ways for you to achieve that without compromising your personal safety,” he debated. His eyes were searing into her as if he’d be able to change what happened with just a look. “Do you understand what would have happened if I hadn’t been there?” She took another step towards him, speaking up quickly.

“And I’m so glad you were. But I know how to defend myself,” she told him calmly, seeing on his face that he was anything but convinced.

“Do you? I don’t remember any mention of previous self-defense classes,” he replied sourly, making her heart twinge.

“No, but--” she breathed out, hearing him laugh once and lean towards her.

“You were completely defenseless and vulnerable,” he retorted, interrupting her and making her mouth fall open slightly.

“Jumin, please calm down,” she said gently, wishing her heart would stop pounding against her ribs so that she could continue to think clearly.

“I am calm,” he said quickly, the volume of his voice contradicting his statement. “I see no reason why you even need to leave this building in the first place.” She felt her eyebrows pressing deep into her forehead, her hands shaking a little as she stared in disbelief.

“Jumin,” she called again, wishing that her voice would have been enough to assuage him. But his eyes only widened, a silent challenge for her to try and refute his statement. She straightened her shoulders, not shying away from his cutting stare.

“You can’t keep me locked in here,” she reminded him. They both knew he’d struggled and was still struggling with possessive thoughts and behavior, but hearing him voice those thoughts with such finality worried her.

Jumin raised his eyebrows at her, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned down to be at her eye level.

“Can’t I?”

Tears gathered in her eyes as she waited for him to say he’d been joking, but he didn’t.

She let out a shaky breath, finally breaking away from his sharp stare as a few tears fell.

“I’m going up to the roof,” she whispered, moving to grasp the door handle and sighing out when she heard him take a breath to speak behind her. “With a bodyguard.”

She closed the door behind herself quietly as he watched her leave, his heart beginning to ache terribly when he realized what he’d done.

Jumin’s eyes were locked on the door as he replayed what he’d said to her over and over again. The more his words were repeated in mind, the more he couldn’t imagine himself being the one who’d said them. His head was spinning, and his thoughts felt like an uncontrollable wildfire. He’d never felt so intensely emotional.

As he stared down at his hands, watching them tremble slightly, he focused on slowing his breathing. He took a deep breath in, wondering where his rationality had gone and how it’d disappeared so easily.

He glanced back to where he’d last seen her, imagining her in the garden on the roof with tears in her eyes. The very thought made him walk to the door, pulling it open and rushing to the elevator.

The cool, evening air felt nice on his skin; he hadn’t realized the heat that had flooded into his face, both from anger and then from embarrassment. He dismissed the bodyguard that was waiting by the elevator, seeing her sitting on a bench at the other end of the rooftop with her back to him.

He was sure she could hear him coming, and he felt the frown on his face deepen as he grew closer. He watched as she reached up to wipe a tear from her cheek, making the ache in his heart deepen to know he’d been the one to cause her to cry alone.

“My love,” he said softly, reaching forward as he sat down beside her to brush her shoulder.

“Please don’t touch me right now,” she spoke suddenly, making his hand flinch away from her. Her request hurt him a lot more than he would have expected, and he fought against the lump that was forming in his throat as he ran his hands along his thighs.

“Please forgive me,” he whispered, watching her hair blowing in the gentle breeze and wishing he could see her beautiful face. “I knew this would be hard and that I would need time to learn, but hurting you was not something I ever expected or wanted,” he told her, seeing her head tilt down towards her lap.

There was a heavy moment of silence before she sighed and turned to look at him, her eyes red and teary. He wanted to reach out and dry her tears, but he respected her request and kept his hands clasped tightly in his lap.

“I know you just want to protect me,” she said, reaching up to wipe a fallen tear from her cheek.

“Yes,” he said immediately, making the corner of her mouth lift in a partial smile. She searched his eyes as her eyebrows drew together.

“But you have to remember that I’m my own person as well,” she told him, and he nodded in understanding, repeating her words in his head so he wouldn’t forget.

“I don’t want to trap you. Please forgive me,” he pleaded, seeing her begin to nod in response.

“I know,” she breathed out, giving him a small smile. “I know you’re trying, and I appreciate that.”

“My emotions got the better of me,” he sighed, seeing her tilt her head. “I...didn’t know that could happen,” he said, making her let out a small giggle that lifted a weight off his shoulders.

She reached forward, taking his right hand and holding it in between the two of hers.

“I’m sorry. Truly…” he said, watching as she rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb. Their hands were cold, but he felt them begin to warm as they pressed together.

“So am I,” she said, looking up at him and drawing his gaze. “We can both do better, and we will,” she smiled, lifting his hand to her lips and pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to the back of it. The simple gesture made his heart palpitate warmly, a smile naturally spreading across his lips.

“Okay?” she said, searching his face as he felt complete devotion and adoration for her spread through his whole body. He knew in that moment that he wanted to cherish her properly and completely to ensure that he never made her feel trapped again.

She could see the resolution in his eyes, squeezing his hand between hers and knowing that everything would be okay.  

~~~~~

thank you all for reading! this one was a rollercoaster for me eeee. i hope you enjoyed! i would love it if you let me know what you thought! <3

[whentherewerebicycles]

hi! i wanted to say i love reading your reflections on teaching, and in general i really look up to/am inspired by your thoughts regarding education and academia. if it's not too much to ask (completely understandable if it is, in that case please disregard!) i would love to get your advice on college related things?

i had pretty significant academic struggles throughout grade school, and ended up dropping out of college after a year. i would've graduated this may, so lately i've been considering going back and finishing my bachelor's. but i've been waffling on this decision because of 1) anxiety about having to drop out again, and 2) some confusion about what i actually want to study. i guess i'm wondering, is it worth it to start from scratch? my struggles were mostly about mental health stuff & difficulty keeping up with coursework—i loved being in the classroom, working with professors, learning from other students. i like being challenged intellectually, but if i have issues with followthrough, is there a way to work on that??? i know these are Big Questions, lol--whether they are answerable or not, cheers and thank you and i hope you are doing well these days. <3

hey! happy to give my thoughts, for what they're worth. you know your situation better than i do so the specifics may or may not be relevant, but i can give some advice just based on seeing lots of students pass through four-year programs!

i've worked with a number of students who took time away from college and came back to finish later. i took a year off myself in the middle of college for mental health reasons, though my school allowed you to take a two-semester leave of absence for any reason (so i always had the safety net of knowing i could come back without having to reapply or start over). in my experience, time away is almost always a good thing. sometimes people just really need that break from the stressors of the college environment! but more importantly, i think people benefit from having a few years' experience living and working in the world.

even though it can be intimidating to come back to college as an older student, i think older students or nontraditional students who took time off and came back tend to underestimate how much more confident and assured in themselves they'll be once they're back in the classroom. working out in the world for a while, even if it's not a job that you especially love or feel is relevant to your long-term goals, tends to help you build more trust in your own ability to get stuff done, manage responsibilities, and be an adult person in the world. in your time away, you've probably grown more than you think, and you may find that some of the things you struggled with at 18 just don't feel as daunting anymore. or they might feel daunting, but you also have more experience talking and working with other people, and you may feel more confident in seeking out & using your college's various academic success resources.

have you considered a two-year college as a possible next step? one of my advisees this year was an adult student who went to college for a year, dropped out, served in the military for four years, came back to do an associate's degree, and decided he liked school enough that he wanted to transfer to our university and finish his degree. (now he's going on to do a phd next fall!!!!) he's one of the most passionate advocates for community colleges i've ever met, and he's stayed actively involved in our local CC community & now mentors recent transfer students at our university. he's talked at length about how CCs are this amazing way for students to explore their interests without having to take on the huge price tag of a four-year degree, within a learning community that's much warmer, more responsive to student needs, and more accepting of the diverse paths that lead people to & through higher education. i wonder if you might consider taking a semester or a year of courses at your local CC, to dip your toes back in and see if you're still feeling energized by the experience.

you might find that some of the courses aren't intellectually challenging enough, but this might also be a wonderful opportunity to create the kind of learning experience you want to have. i was a full-time community college student for a year during my year away from yale, and while i'm sure i was just INSUFFERABLE in many ways, i had a prof in my Western Civ course who was really generous with his time/energy and met with me outside of class to help me figure out how to make the papers into something that i found really exciting and challenging to write. so the class kind of became what i made of it, and i got to read some stuff (dostoevsky!!!) that sent me down all kinds of interesting unexpected rabbitholes. the former CC grad i mentioned above was an extraordinarily bright student who would always go to office hours and ask his profs for more recommended readings, and he ended up becoming a TA for one of his courses and helped them redesign basically their entire intro humanities curriculum as a student advisor. so your CC experience can absolutely be what you make of it. and even if your profs can't give you that kind of support, you could practice doing it for yourself, setting little challenges for yourself either focused on the intellectual aspects ('I'm going to read and cite two scholarly sources in this paper, even though it's not required') or on developing strategies for effectively managing the workload ('I'm going to schedule a writing center appointment on Thurs, so I have to finish this paper two days before the deadline—and then I can devote my weekend study time to practicing for my Spanish test').

CC would be a slightly lower stakes environment for you to try out college again— lower-stakes both in the sense that it's cheaper (so if you decide you don't want to continue, you're not out as much money / don't feel compelled to go on to justify the debt you've taken on) and in the sense that the workload might be more manageable for you as you readjust to academic life and build systems & structures that work for you. as you probably have gathered from this blog, i am a HUGE believer in doing lower-stakes things many times over to build your own confidence and your trust in yourself, and then gradually scaling up the difficulty. by the time you reach the hard thing, you've already built up this strong image of yourself as a person who can handle challenges (and you've also had the chance to identify areas where you struggle & experiment with developing workable solutions).

if a two-year college isn't something you're especially interested in, i think it's definitely possible to start a four-year degree again. if that's the path you choose, i would strongly recommend reaching out to students in some of the degree programs you're tentatively interested in. people are almost always happy to share their ~wisdom~ (see: this ask response, lol) and most people love being asked for their thoughts on the pros and cons of something they know well. so you could get an honest sense from students of what the program is like, what the workload is like, and how useful or engaging people find the required courses for the degree. but also know that it's pretty normal to take courses all over in your first year or two (you have the advantage of having done a freshman year before, so you probably know this!), so you might just want to plan to try out a bunch of different things, with the goal of narrowing your focus by the end of your first year, or midway through your second.

i would also HIGHLY recommend spending lots of time familiarizing yourself with the resources your university has to offer. learn everything you can about the kind of mental health counseling and support they offer to students, and see if there are things you can set up in advance for yourself before you even step foot on campus. for instance, our university offers individual counseling, but they also have free groups that meet every week or two around different topics (coping with stress, students in recovery, etc) that are led by a counselor. check out your university's writing center or peer tutoring centers, too, and set up a standing appointment once a month or once a week or whatever, to bring in something you're working on—so that you know that every week, you're going to talk with someone about what's going well and what you're struggling with in your assignments.

you might also want to look into your university's services for students with disabilities office, as they can help you figure out if you are eligible for various kinds of accommodations or additional support (extra time on exams, notetaking services, recorded lectures, etc). i know you mentioned that you've dealt with academic struggles in grade school, too. if you think it's possible that there may be underlying learning differences that are affecting your academic work, it might be worth seeing if they can help you find lower-cost testing, so you can get a diagnosis that qualifies you for additional accommodations and university support.

many schools, esp large public universities, also have resource centers and mentoring programs for students from specific demographics who may benefit from additional structure and support in their early years of college. my university has a variety of resource centers and programs for students from low-income backgrounds, first-gen students, students who transferred from community college, etc. you don't have to take advantage of ALL of these resources, but proactively establishing a support network long before you need it is a really good way to set yourself up for success. and even just doing the research will probably help you feel more confident in your capacity to 'follow through', since you'll know that you're going into this with your eyes wide open AND with a detailed plan for what to do if you run into some of the same obstacles you encountered the first time around.

speaking of detailed plans: i find it helpful sometimes to do IF-THEN exercises with students when they're stressed about something on the horizon or unsure about whether they can handle some new challenge. IF-THEN is just what it sounds like: 'IF this thing I'm nervous about happens, THEN I'm going to do X, Y, or Z.' what i like about this exercise (i use it with myself too aha) is that it acknowledges that sometimes the thing you're dreading DOES happen. sometimes the professor you emailed for an extension says no. sometimes the TA doesn't understand why you're confused about the assignment. sometimes you don't have time to finish the reading before class. sometimes you overschedule yourself and you have to pull an all-nighter to finish two papers on the same night. scary things, confidence-shaking things, happen all the time, but they are rarely fatal! and there can be something really powerful about acknowledging and naming the thing you're concerned about, and then generating a few next steps you could take, should the thing you're dreading come to pass. i could see you doing something like this as you start thinking about the things that tripped you up last time, or made it difficult for you to balance the workload. if X happens, then what could you try next? giving yourself a few options means that you already have backup plans, too, which can make the whole situation less terrifying. if this happens, i might have to try this, or this, or this, and those things might not be the most fun or the easiest to do or the 'best' thing academically, but they'll get me through this difficult moment mostly in one piece, and once i'm through it i can look back on it and learn from it, or adjust the structures i've built for myself moving forward, to reduce the chance that X happens again.

PHEW!!! sorry this got so long but that is just the RISK YOU TAKE when sending me anons 😅 i hope that some of this is helpful to you, or at least sparks some useful thinking for you, even if it's not all directly applicable to your situation. i would say that if you love learning and find being in the classroom exhilarating, then you should absolutely go back to college! but that doesn't mean you have to go back right away, or that you have to go back and do it exactly the same way you did the first time. there are lots of possible paths to higher ed, and there's no particular rush—college will always be there, if it's something you decide you want now or at some future point in your life. i would also just reiterate again one of the core Themes of This Blog, which is that the brain is NEUROPLASTIC, and that humans have a truly astounding amazing capacity to change, grow, and learn new things (including new ways of getting around old obstacles or working through old challenges). just because you struggled the first time doesn't mean you are doomed to repeat that pattern. if you can spend some time thoughtfully reflecting on what you found most difficult to manage the first time through, you are better equipped to make plans, design new structures for yourself, and build the support networks that will help you thrive in college.

[actualbird]

nobody asked but here i analysed polygon’s “unraveled” and bon appetit test kitchen’s “gourmet makes” and i think they are similar and use three key story elements to their success | a 1.9k word long analysis by an unhinged creative writing fresh grad trying desperately to use their degree to connect two dots

If you asked me who my favorite internet celebrities are, I would not hesitate for a second to answer. Brian David Gilbert from Polygon and Claire Saffitz from Bon Appetit Test Kitchen. They’re awesome! They both host popular YouTube webshows about video games and cooking respectively, two things I am terrible at and don’t do very often. And yet I am enraptured by every episode of their shows. Why? How?

My thesis is this: Polygon’s “Unraveled” and Bon Appetit Test Kitchen’s “Gourmet Makes”, while wildly different shows on many levels, are extremely similar in how they use three key story elements very, very, well.

These three story elements are 1) Plot, 2) Character, and 3) FAWWIEOT (it’s an acronym, I’ll explain it later, I promise)

Let me start with the first and most basic story element these two shows wield amazingly: Plot.

Plot is, in simplest terms, what “happens” in a thing. This is what you’ll find on a movie’s Wikipedia page summary, the details of what went down, the events that took place, the things that occurred. There are many different types of plots because there are many different types of stories, but one of the most basic kinds of plots is very clearly illustrated by something called Freytag’s Pyramid.

Freytag’s Pyramid is a very simple plot that is moved forward by a non-negotiable in many, many stories: conflict. All is well, the line is straight, then a challenge arises and things start to escalate. At the climax, a decision or a group of decisions are made that leads to a de-escalation of the conflict, bringing things down until we are back at a flat line and the conflict has been resolved.

Every single episode of Gourmet Makes can be plotted onto Freytag’s Pyramid

Nearly every single episode of Unraveled can be plotted onto Freytag’s Pyramid too (with the exception of some, like a number of the categorization episodes, the Kojima name generator)

I know what you’re thinking. “So what if Gourmet Makes and Unraveled fit on some funky pyramid? What does that mean?” Well, dear reader, it reveals to us just one of three reasons why these shows are so enjoyable.

Freytag’s Pyramid is basic as shit, and yet it is one of the first plot structures taught to fictionists because people, up to this day, like it. Why? Because Freytag’s Pyramid fulfills two very important desires that we, as humans, love. 1) The desire for there to be a problem and 2) the desire for that problem to be resolved. It scratches our eternal itch to want to watch shit go down but doesn’t leave us up on a cliffhanger, it gives us our catharsis.

Gourmet Makes gives you the entertainment of watching Claire struggle with her task. Then Gourmet Makes shows you Claire slowly and surely rising above the challenge (notable in literally every episode of Gourmet Makes). Unraveled makes you watch BDG work himself up into a frenzy trying to do something stupid, but then Unraveled shows the payoff of...of watching BDG do something stupid, but this time towards some kind of resolution (very notable in the latest Unraveled “How to increase your stamina with terrible video game tactics”).

It is clear to me that Gourmet Makes and Unraveled both use plot in a way that gives viewers satisfaction. But what keeps them coming back for more?

Well that leads us to the second story element: Character.

People love Claire Saffitz and BDG.

Don’t believe me? Look through the tags of literally any gifset of either of them. Here, I did it for you. Here’s some tags for Claire:

And here’s some tags for BDG:

It’s pretty obvious to see that these two are well loved, but why? It’s not just because they’re both good looking, it’s because Claire Saffitz and BDG, with how they are presented in their shows, are good characters.

Claire Saffitz in Gourmet Makes isn’t scripted. She brings her own human frustration, determined hard work, and joyous glee to the show and it makes watching the show all the more enjoyable. BDG in Unraveled, however, is scripted, but he brings to the table his chaotic performance and ‘off the shits’ lecturer energy that brings the viewers in. Regardless of their differences, Gourmet Makes and Unraveled are similar when it comes to character because of one thing: they actually have characters.

What am I talking about? Well, for a period of time on the internet, people in the cooking media sphere and the video game media sphere settled for video content that was divorced from who was presenting the information. Videos like the ones from Tasty where everything was filmed top down and you only saw two hands perfectly putting ingredients into a bowl. Videos like the myriad of video game walkthroughs or video essays that are presented only by a disembodied voice who also seems allergic to actually having fun. This is content that hinges on the fact that people like seeing cooking or video games and that the presenter will mostly just be a background thing.

Bon Appetit Test Kitchen and Polygon both did not want to succumb to this style of presenting information. They both made the decision to bring their presenters into their video content, highlighting their respective presenters’ personalities, quirks, and styles. This is evident in all of Bon Appetit Test Kitchen and Polygon’s video content, not just Gourmet Makes and Unraveled. Do I watch Bon Appetit's show It's Alive because I want to actually make foccacia? No, it's because I love how Brad Leone  mispronounces words and makes me laugh. Did I watch "Fixing Anthem’s boring mech’s with ballsy design" because I actually give a shit about video games? No it's because I love how Pat Gill jokes about fake testicles and also I think he's hot.

The fact that there are actually characters for us on screen to see, makes Gourmet Makes and Unraveled good shit. We’ve got a plot with clear conflict, but that means nothing if there are no personas for us to root for. Gourmet Makes and Unraveled gives us these personas. They give us Claire Saffitz whom we want so desperately to see smile and succeed. They give us Brian David Gilbert whom we want so desperately to see go a little bit crazy. They give us people to connect to, and that often bridges the gap to viewers who honestly don’t give a shit about cooking or video games. Viewers like me who just keep coming back to Gourmet Makes and Unraveled because of the fact that these are characters I care about, these are characters who I want to see smile after finally nailing the recipe or slowly take off their suit as they tell me shit about Zelda I don’t understand.

Gourmet Makes and Unraveled utilize plot in a way that makes these webshows satisfying, and they use character in a way that makes these webshows accessible and keeps people invested.

But they go further.

This brings us to our last story element, not exactly a common or rudimentary one, but an important one nonetheless: Fucking Around With What Is Expected Of Them.

(I know there’s probably a legitimate literary term for this, but sue me, quarantine has kept me stuck in my house since March, so I may have forgotten the exact words I learned in class. FAWWIEOT will have to suffice.)

The gist of FAWWIEOT is that stories have been around for fuckin ever, and because of that, there are clear patterns and tropes that stories follow. FAWWIEOT is the recognition of those patterns and tropes, using them, but finding a different outcome or flair to make themselves special, to make themselves stick out. Kinda like when you’ve got a fic on AO3 tagged with ‘friends to lovers’ but also tagged with like, I dunno, something completely random like ‘character is also a dragon’. Use the tropes, but do something different. Give the audience something they already know, then throw in something new to make them remember your content specifically.

Gourmet Makes and Unraveled FAWWIEOT (I’m using the acronym like a verb now, this is my post, I’m allowed to) very purposefully using an important technique: Flaws.

The standard trope of a cooking show is the chef easily talking to the camera as they perfectly put the ingredients together. All the food comes out perfect on the first try and everything is heavenly and wonderful. Classic cooking shows like Barefoot Contessa (hosted by Ina Garten) and Everyday Italian (hosted by Giada de Laurentiis) followed this pattern, and it made for good television.

But who fucking watches television these days? Everything is online now, and the internet is vicious. If you aren’t interesting, the internet will throw you out to the gutter. So how did Gourmet Makes set themselves apart?

By showing you that things aren’t perfect after all. Gourmet Makes shows you every trial that Claire tries, they show you her successes, but also her failures. They show you when she gets tired and hopeless, they show you when she bounces back and tries again. Gourmet Makes made a cooking show that was flawed, and people loved it.

And what about Unraveled? The design of Unraveled, from BDG’s suit and mug to his presenting style, key us in to the fact that we are watching some sort of lecture. Some kind of educational performance. Personally, this makes me think that Unraveled is FAWWIEOT-ing academia and basically any other media where an “expert” talks at you.

The standard pattern of experts talking to you are basically like TedTalks. You have somebody very well versed in the topic trying to explain to you something, showing you their hypothesis, their process, and their findings.

Unraveled FAWWIEOTs expertise by making BDG research the most crazy shit like OSHA regulations or the Geneva Convention, make the wildest hypotheses like ‘Monster Energy in the morning will be a good idea’ or ‘Sonic is blasphemous’, and then, ultimately, completely unravel himself. The expert in Unraveled isn’t an all knowing being who is always right, he is flawed (and loses his marbles, more often than not.) And we love it.

FAWWIEOT-ing is key because of how it gives us a pattern we know, and then does something new. Novelty is important on the internet, and Gourmet Makes and Unraveled have made a name for themselves on the unique way they Fucked Around With What Was Expected Of Them.

Gourmet Makes and Unraveled are two of my favorite webshows on the internet as of now, and there are many reasons why, many reasons I didn’t include in this post. What I wanted to do here is to highlight how these shows use story elements to be good content because at the core of these videos, even if they aren’t literary fiction, they are good stories. Good stories with a plot that satisfies us, with characters we can see and love, with new twists that keep us on the edge of our seats.

Good stories make for good content, and Bon Appetit Test Kitchen and Polygon have me as a subscriber for as long as they continue on this road.

Thanks for reading!

(Read my other Polygon-adjacent analysis essays at actualbird.tumblr.com/tagged/nobody-asked-but

If you have any suggestions or ideas for more Polygon-adjacent analysis essays I can write, send me an ask!)

[chickenfreeblog]

chicken i'm a teacher and i feel like a lot of the advice given to teachers for how best to support students with adhd comes from the neurotypical community. things like chunk information into smaller parts, give frequent breaks, use fidget toys, etc. and maybe that's all good advice (??), but is there anything you wish teachers would do differently? things that would give your brain the best chance of learning?

oh man this is such a good thoughtful question & one that i hope every teacher thinks about, but i know it’s tough so i really appreciate that you are!! i think the ones you gave are pretty good practical tips, honestly? i’m hoping other people will jump in because i just have my experience to speak from.

a couple things that i would say that are less... concrete but just stuff i wish my teachers had known:

- the formal dx isn’t everything / don’t assume that kids are neurotypical

i know there’s a lot of paperwork and stuff around these issues for you guys, so this can be a little tough to manage. one thing that happened to me though and that i hear a lot from friends is just like..... it’s hereditary, and also there’s a lot of stigma around being neurodivergent, especially in older generations? i know my mom really pushed back against anyone that suggested that i had adhd, because she has the exact same symptoms and was kind of like Why Are These Teachers Using This Parent Teacher Conference To Call Me a Big Freak. i know other parents that just think it’s too weird to have an nd kid and basically picked any possible weird workaround over getting an actual diagnosis. i think a lot of teachers kind of look at formal dx as a way to separate kids who are lazy but normal from kids who have “real problems,” and that can get really super gnarly if you’re, y’know, a ten year old whose parents just don’t believe in the idea of adhd for whatever reason.

- don’t assume that kids aren’t trying?

i know there’s totally just some kids that need more motivation for whatever reason, but...... i think the flipside is that..... you can also just put a ton of pressure on a kid who is genuinely trying super hard? i think a lot of teachers have a little bit of an idea that there’s a series of magic words that they can say to properly motivate a kid, and then presto, they’ll follow directions and be Fixed. and definitely they mean well!! but also i think you can really easily make a kid shut down if they’re trying their absolute hardest & none of the adults around them are perceiving it at all? it honestly was pretty traumatic to want to be good at school So Badly and still have every adult be constantly like okay...... we need to talk about why you’re lazy and don’t care and why you’re shitty at this, actually. i think my best teachers just really had a sense of humor about the fact that i was going to misunderstand stuff or forget deadlines and that it wasn’t a matter of them teaching it badly or me not caring to learn.

- if you figure out how to work with one kid with adhd..... congratulations you figured out how to work with one (1) kid with adhd

this is something that autistic people have talked about a lot, but i think it also really holds true for adhd? my partner and i always make each other a lil crazy because despite having Same Guy Disease we have uhhh completely opposite needs. jay’s dyslexic mcfuck and he wants verbal instructions and someone to talk to basically every waking minute or he’s like I’M BORED I NEED TASKS NOW!!! IMMEDIATELY!!! I’M POKING THE WORLD WITH A STICK. DO SOMETHING. whereas i..... cannot interpret verbal instructions worth one good goddamn and if you give me strict instructions and deadlines with no wiggle room i’ll simply get claustrophobic and die. like my ideal school situation is someone gives me a textbook full of problems and they sit in another room and never speak to me unless i have a question. genuinely. i know there’s some skepticism in ed about learning styles, but i do think for people with Sensory Stuff that just being... more thoughtful about how information is delivered and how they’re receiving it can really help? a lot of adhd people really struggle with written info or verbal info, and if you’re relying 100% on one option it’s... kind of impossible for them to Do School in any real way.

- just have a sense of humor / support kids if they figure out a way that works for them?

i kinda mentioned this earlier, but i think a lot of people fall into the trap of thinking that they can motivate every kid into doing things The Right Way, and then a lot of kids just shut down instead? genuinely the teachers i got along with the best were the ones that just.... kind of sat back and accepted that like, i was not native to their environment and wasn’t going to be able engage with stuff the way they envisioned. i took the same math teacher for three years of high school because at one point i just started ignoring her lectures & doing homework during every class. instead of confronting me about it she just was kind of like “weird!!! not technically a sin though!” and we?? got along great after that? like literally better than i had ever gotten along with a teacher until then. i didn’t even know you could go to math class and not cry! amazing. i won’t say i was ever super great at math, but i went from being the kid getting Fs on every single test and never turning in homework to being a pretty reliable B+ student. she totally could’ve gotten offended in that situation since she was trying dang hard to give an interesting lecture, but having her just kind of go “weird! okay” and not be like Callout Post: This Child Is So Annoying made such a huge fucking difference for me (shoutout to ms. butler thank you for letting me graduate high school etc etc)

let kids see other life paths without judgment

kind of in line with the motivation thing, but i think like.... yes kids with ADHD can absolutely thrive in academics, but also make it clear that it’s not a catastrophe if it’s not a good environment for them? there’s so much rhetoric around “you have to do well in 1st grade so you can get into harvard and be a lawyer” or whatever, and i think kids who struggle pick up on that more than people realize. i remember really genuinely feeling like there was straight up not a future for me if i didn’t find a way to just like.... get a new brain??? and i wish i’d had positive role models for the idea that like. you can have a cool interesting life even if you’re very bad at sitting in a lecture!! it’s fine!! maybe you can’t be an astronaut or whatever but it’s still worth trying to graduate and see what’s out there

OKAY my two practical tips: let kids wander the fuck around AND also. start a knitting club

okay this is just for me but lmaoooooooo my elementary school teachers thought i was gonna SIT STILL??? and THINK???? at the SAME TIME???? i don’t even do that as a 25 year old. please. you know those bikes that like power electricity generators? that’s what a hyperactive brain is like. if they’re not moving they’re just not doing anything. 

also yeah knitting club. you gotta. my 4th grade teacher sucked so bad on every single front listed above and she hated me soooooo much but she did teach me how to sit through a 30 minute meeting without crying. fucking around with string and sticks IS adhd culture probably. idk.

[moonscriptsx]

The Pros and Cons of Falling in Love (M)

SUMMARY: World renowned bestselling author, Kim Namjoon, has always been praised on his philosophical outlook on the many trials and tribulations of life, but when he decides to tackle a certain topic, he finds himself in a rut full of writer’s block. As a last minute decision, he decides to take up his best friend’s, Kim Seokjin, offer and agreed to speak to his writing class about the ups and downs that come along with writing. While helping out his friend, he managed to find the resolution for his writer’s block; falling in love.

GENRE/WARNINGS: Author!Namjoon, College!AU; Fluff, angst, and smut all in one, with an inexperienced!Joon and a (somewhat) fem!dom.

WORD COUNT: 18.7k.

A/N: I’m baaaaaaack! *throws confetti* After a few months and whatever-the-fuck happened to my old blog, I’ve resurrected from the deleted blog grave and have come back. I will be slowly (but surely) re-uploading more of my works as time goes on! This is the first of many. Enjoy loves!

There was a moment in time when Kim Namjoon was on top of his game; he was able to sit in front of his computer and write like there was no tomorrow, marking down every idea and thought he had dwelling in his mind. He pumped out three novels, all bestsellers, and was adored by the general public for his genius visions and elaborate words that managed to capture the feelings of the person reading the book. He was labeled as a prodigy, considering he had only been nineteen years old when he had published his first novel, and though he’ll deny it, that had been the reason for his constant stress. Living up to the expectations that other authors and the public had put on him caused a strain, ultimately leading up to his lack of inspiration and writer’s block.

It’s been two years since he’s published something else and as the days pile up, the stress upon the man builds even more. Countless nights and days are filled with him staring blankly at the blank document occupying his screen, his brain completely empty of anything he could remotely use as an idea to run with. His methods of writing have seemed to fail him this time around, and now he’s stuck with nothing -- and he hates it. The more he stares at the blank screen the more he becomes frustrated, the now twenty-three year old feeling as if he’s never going to be able to write anything else. The constant pressure has him medicating in ways he probably shouldn’t, bottles of alcohol and packs of cigarettes littered next to his desk has his friends worrying for his health, though they have yet to say anything. When Namjoon is stressed, he doesn’t take lightly to those who try to help him. His words become blunt and striking, venom laced in his tone as he curses at them, thus leaving him to push away those who had reached out to help.

There was another downfall, however, one that Namjoon has acknowledged as his weakness; Namjoon had never been in love.

While many authors or writers have a muse by their side, encouraging them and supporting them consistently, Namjoon had no one. All of his life he had his nose buried in books, the man opting to study up on writing techniques and broadening his craft as opposed to going out with his friends and experiencing the things most kids his age would have. Sure, he’s kissed a few people, but that’s the extent of any form of intimate contact he’s come encountered with. In college he was too busy writing his novels to let any sort of romantic relationship happen, though he did have a few dates who had struck his interest -- but he couldn’t find a spark with any of them when the time had come to actually getting to know them. He was a man who sought out someone who could give him the mental stimulation, someone he could actually hold an intelligent conversation with, and while those he went out on dates with weren’t exactly not intelligent, they still lacked what he had been looking for.

The loneliness stacked upon the stress and frustration was making Namjoon start to regret choosing this field of work, and he was desperate to get out of the funk that plagued his life for far too long -- so he decided to change it. Starting from now he’s going to scan through any and every piece of literature, he’s going to look around him and turn to the world to find the inspiration he lacked -- but his plans seemed to take a different turn when he had reluctantly agreed to host a seminar at his Alma Mater for inspiring authors and writers like himself, and he found himself inching closer to the source of his inspiration.

Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, you huff in annoyance as you weave in and out of the students who cluttered around the lecture hall, silently cursing at those who stood in the way of your seat. It had been a rough morning; your alarm decided to ring twenty minutes later than you had set it, causing you to clamber around clumsily while you tried to gather everything you needed. You left your dorm with sopping wet hair and - if it hadn’t been for your roommate who called you out on it - you would’ve left with mismatched shoes. A large cup of coffee and another twenty minutes later, you had managed to make it to class on time, but even that doesn’t diminish your visible annoyance and irritation for the unfolding day.

Plopping your bag onto your desk, you lean back into your seat and rub your temples, the oncoming headache making you dread the day even more. A small snicker from beside you doesn’t falter your attitude, not even when your friend leaned over to place a concerned hand on your back.

“You alright, (Y/N)?”

Hana’s soft voice filled your ears as she rubbed your back soothingly, aware of your - very - irritated stature. Your gaze landed on her soft features, a small smile painted across your lips as you shrugged your shoulders.

“I will be, hopefully,” you admitted. “It’s been a rough morning.”

Hana nodded, the girl silently understanding your annoyance.

“You’ll be fine,” she smiled. “We’ve got a guest speaker coming today so we won’t have to do much work, thank god.”

Her words set you at ease, your shoulders slumping back into relaxation when you realize that you were able to sit back and enjoy today’s class without having to scribble endless nothings onto paper like usual. Hana giggles as she watched you sink back, her head shaking as she turns back towards the front.

“I feel you on that one, (Y/N).”

Your gaze scans around the room, eyes falling on the different pairs and groups that littered around the class as they talked amongst themselves. It was always fascinating to you when it came to observing others; you took note of their different mannerisms and gestures towards others, making mental notes of the people who have confident body language and those who consider themselves superior to others.

You snap out of your daze when the professor strolls happily into class, his hands clapping as he gains the students’ attention. The idle conversations fizzle into the air as everyone piles into their respective seats, the patient professor looking more than excited as he leaned against the edge of his desk. A pleasant smile is painted across his lips as his gaze swept over his students before he’s opening up to speak.

“As you all know, we have a special guest coming today,” he said happily. “Not only is he a bestselling author, but he also happens to be a very good friend of mine, so I expect you all to give him a respectful and warm greeting when I bring him in, though you’re all adults so I wouldn’t expect anything less, honestly. I’m going to go fetch him from the hallway, so talk amongst yourselves.”

And with that, he exits.

Namjoon is nervous -- no, scratch that; he’s fucking terrified.

It’s not that he’s nervous speaking in front of crowds, he had always been comfortable talking to those who were genuinely interested in his craft, it’s that he feels like he’s lying to these students. His friend had whole-heartedly invited him to drop knowledge and tips for his aspiring students in hopes that they would follow the path Namjoon did, but the latter felt like he was putting up a front. How was he supposed to give pep talks to a bunch of people who are trying to get to where he’s at in his life when he can’t even bring himself to write another fucking novel? How was it fair that he pretends he’s been busy working on more books when that’s the furthest thing from the truth.

Namjoon could feel his hands shaking as he watches his friend emerge from the classroom, the bright eyed professor grinning happily at his friend as he claps him on the back.

“You ready, Joon?” He asked, making Namjoon suck in a harsh breath.

“Truthfully?” He sighed. “No.”

The man’s face falls at that, his head cocked to the side as he shot his friend a concerned look.

“What do you mean ‘no’, Joon?”

“I feel like I’m lying to them, Seokjin,” Namjoon huffed. “I’ve have writer’s block for the past year, I haven’t been able to write anything -- and you want me to give an inspiring speech to these kids who could probably teach me a thing or two.”

Seokjin rolled his eyes at his friend’s words, the man shaking his head as he gripped Namjoon’s shoulders.

“Listen to me, Joon,” he said, his gaze piercing. “I don’t want you to think that you have to preach that the world of writing and becoming an author is easy or that it’s a breeze. I invited you here because I know that you’re the one person who will inform them of, not only the good things, but the struggles as well. Writer’s block is something that everyone will come across at least once or twice in their lives, Joon, and I want them to realize that that’s okay. I want you to be honest with them, I want you to not hold back.”

Namjoon pursed his lips, still hesitant.

“Isn’t that kind of discouraging them?”

Seokjin shook his head.

“Absolutely not,” he denied. “It’s setting them up for the reality of the situation. You can’t expect to just pump out novels constantly - there’s a lot of work that goes into it, and sometimes it isn’t pretty. I don’t want them to go in with high expectations only to end up disappointed.”

You mean like I did... Namjoon thinks to himself.

Letting out another sigh, Namjoon’s shoulders slump in defeat, a moment of silence slipping past the pair before the author nodded his head, reluctantly agreeing to go through with the lecture. Seokjin beamed with delight before he gives his friend an encouraging pat on his back.

“You’re gonna be great, Namjoon,” Seokjin affirmed. “I’ll be by your side if you need me to fill in anything you can’t.”

Opening the door to the classroom, Seokjin gestured for Namjoon to walk in first before he followed his friend inside. The daunting number of students has Namjoon swallowing the lump that formed in his throat as he tries to hurriedly collect himself. Seokjin plops down comfortably onto his chair, his eyes motioning for the author to take his place at the front, before Namjoon slowly treaded to the front. The curious glances of the students doesn’t help his cause as he anxiously taps his fingers against the desk.

“Hello everyone,” he said, voice slightly unsteady. “Some of you may know me, others may not, but I go by the name of Kim Namjoon. I’m not sure what my friend, Seokjin, might have said about me beforehand but I’m a published author. I’ve written three novels, all bestsellers -- not that that matters or anything.”

A nervous chuckle escaped the author as his gaze shifted around the room, a sheepish hand rubbing the back of his neck as he cleared his throat.

“You know -- not too long ago, I was in the same position as you. I was nineteen when my first novel was published, and I can honestly say that it was the best time of my life. When you spend most days and nights working on something consistently, it’s always nice to have your efforts acknowledged, right? To say I was over the moon when my book got picked up would be an understatement -- but I’m not here to talk about my own personal accomplishments.”

Taking a step closer to the students, Namjoon’s gaze turns fierce, his posture straightening as he glanced around the room.

“As you all know, it’s not easy to come up with a firm idea or plot to run with all the way through. If any of you are like me, you’ll most likely trash any kind of idea that you think isn’t good enough or that won’t capture an audience -- and while that is what you have to take into consideration, I want to make it clear that, at the end of the day, it’s what you want when it comes to your writing. Sure, the public’s opinion matters and sure the critics can make your break you, but you will never get anywhere unless you fail at least once.”

The clearing of a throat echoed around the room and Namjoon’s gaze falls on a burly student with his hand half raised.

“Have you ever failed, sir?” He asked, making Namjoon’s eyebrows shoot upwards in surprise. “I mean -- no offense to you or anything --”

“None taken,” the author chuckled. “If I’m being honest… It took me quite some time to get my first novel published. Like I said, I was nineteen when someone finally decided to pick it up, but I finished it when I was eighteen, barely done my first year of college. Not many publishers want to take a chance on young kids who think they’re the next best thing.”

A hollow laugh escaped the man as he shook his head.

“I was lucky enough to have someone take the chance on me, but that’s only because I was headstrong, not willing to give up -- and that’s what I want to stress to all of you. Just because someone turns you down or tells you that you’re not good enough, I want all of you to keep pushing. Perseverance is something that is imminent in a field like this; if you really want it, prove it.”

The student nods in acknowledgement, silently appreciative of the man’s advice as he sunk back into his seat, intent on listening.

“I’m not here to preach, honestly, nor am I here to try and discourage you from evolving and moving up the ladder to becoming a published author. I’m just a firm believer in tough love, I don’t want any of you going in with these unrealistic expectations of the writing world, thinking that it’s easy breezy, when - in fact - it’s the hardest industry to crack.”

Seokjin nodded in silent agreement from behind the desk, his gaze locked on his friend as he ushered the author to go on.

“There are so many factors that go into writing something, let alone a novel. Not only do you have to be inspired to write something, you have to take into account how the flow of the message is, how the readers are going to relate to the characters, and how the whole plot is going to play out. You can have a beginning, middle, and end, but it’s how it’s delivered that really makes the story. Sometimes there are people who put too much in the middle and end up cramming nothing but nonsense in the end, or there are people who don’t exactly specify anything from the beginning to the climax of the book and it just gets so confusing and complicated that it makes readers lose interest. It’s really a tedious job, but I’m going to lie -- it’s stressful.”

As Namjoon drawled on about the pros and cons of the writing world, you can’t help but find yourself completely enthralled by him. The way he spoke, the way he worded his lecture, the intelligence that rolled off of him was inspiring in itself, and you were hooked from the first word he uttered. Your gaze scanned along his face, your eyes drinking in every detail and feature on it, silently memorizing it as he walked around the front of the room. From beside you, Hana gently nudged your side, your gaze curiously landing on hers as she smirked.

“He’s quite the looker, isn’t he?” She giggled quietly, making you nod.

“That’s for sure,” you murmured.

Almost as if he had heard your voice, his gaze landed on your face and you felt your breath hitch momentarily. A small silence falls over the classroom as the author holds your gaze, an eyebrow quirking in question, before he’s opening his arms and gesturing towards the whole class.

“Any questions?” He asked. “I’m willing to answer anything.”

As if someone had pressed a button to activate the students, dozens of hands rose up high into the air, Namjoon chuckling at the response before he starts calling on people.

You sit quietly in your chair, listening to the different questions being asked, and while you had some of your own, you opted to stay quiet.

Being an aspiring author, it certainly was a bit discouraging. While you had many ideas and plots brewing within the back of your mind, you never knew how to start them or even had a clue on how to bring them to life on paper. Professor Kim had always praised your papers in class, admiring your thought process and the way you had laid out your ideas and rebuttals for term papers, research papers, and essays. Those had all come naturally to you, it was when you had to come up with a plot or idea yourself that you didn’t know where to begin. There were so many things that you had wanted to say but trying to find the words was the hardest part.

You were constantly inspired -- but you didn’t know how to act on it.

As Namjoon spoke, Seokjin (who was perched behind his friend at the desk), leaned forward to gain the author’s attention.

“Joon,” he called out, making the other man turn around to look at him. “The other day one of my students, (Y/N), was asking about writer’s block…”

You felt your breath hitch at the sound of your name, all of your classmates eyes finding your face and you suddenly felt the urge to slide down and hide.

“Is there anything you could touch on about that?”

Namjoon stands still for a moment, his teeth gently tugging at the flesh of his lip as he tries to find the right words to say.

“Writer’s block…” He murmured, turning back to the class. “Like I said before, it’s inevitable to not come across it at least once in your lives. For me -- that period of time is right now. For the past year, I’ve been trying to find that spark of inspiration that can help me write another novel… And while it’s taking me quite a long time, I’m certain that my muse will come to me eventually. It’s nothing to fret over, though it is a pain in the ass, but it will all work out in the end.”

Seokjin nodded, content with his friend’s answer.

As the class drew to a close, the professor stood up to take stand next to his best friend. A gentle, friendly hand is placed on the author’s shoulder which makes Namjoon turn towards his friend.

“Thank you for coming in today, Namjoon,” Seokjin grinned. “Both my students and I appreciate it.”

Despite his anxious start, Namjoon was now at ease, a warm smile painted across his plump lips as he gazed around the room. The looks on the students’ faces made him feel more relaxed, especially knowing that they had feared the same things he had when he was in their position. It was endearing, really, especially when they had all personally thanked him after class.

As the group filed out one by one, Seokjin’s eyes followed each and every one before they landed on the one person he wanted to pull aside personally -- you.

“(Y/N),” he called out, making you freeze momentarily. “Can you come here please?”

Hana glances cautiously at the scene before she pats you reassuringly on your back and walks out. Despite the instant panic that flared up inside of you, you made your way towards where your professor stood with his friend. Adjusting the bag on your shoulder, you stand in front of the pair, a slight feeling of intimidation emitting off of them as Seokjin smiled warmly.

“Namjoon, this is (Y/N),” he introduced, making the authors gaze fall on you. “While I personally don’t like to single out students because I think they’re all brilliant, I will admit that (Y/N) has something special when it comes to her writing.”

Your face flushed at his words, Namjoon’s eyebrows shooting upwards as an impressed look crossed his features.

“Oh really?” He asked.

“Absolutely,” Seokjin affirmed. “I haven’t read anything that’s moved me in a while but her writing managed to do that. I have a few of her essays and papers if you would like to read some?”

Shock crossed your features at your professor's words, your jaw clenching as you fight to let it drop open.

“You really don’t have to, profess --”

“Oh, I insist, (Y/N),” Seokjin waved his hand dismissively before turning towards his friend. “You won’t be disappointed, Joon. I promise.”

Your face is flushed bright red as you watch your professor walk to his desk to scramble around to find your papers. The muted sound of rummaging around becomes static noise as your gaze falls on Namjoon, your heart speeding up when you met his eyes. His plump lips are parted as he scanned your face, a glint of intrigue hinting that he wanted to say something, and you held your breath as he spoke.

“This might come off pretentious,” he said, sheepishly. “But have you read my novels?”

Biting down on your lip, you guiltily look down at the ground as you shake your head.

“I actually haven’t gotten around to that yet,” you admitted. “I’ve been so preoccupied with getting my things done for school that I haven’t gotten to read anything new since I started college.”

Namjoon nodded, a quiet ‘ah’ escaping him.

“I understand,” he smiled. “It’s hard to be able to do anything remotely on your own will when you’re swarmed with work and papers.”

At that moment Seokjin pops up from the desk, a handful of papers in his hands as he smiled brightly.

“Found them!”

Both you and Namjoon turned to see your professor scrambling to his feet before he’s handing the stack of papers to his friend, which the author graciously takes from him.

“I’ll make sure to read through these tonight,” the author grinned, his gaze falling back onto you. “Hopefully we can talk again soon?”

You flush once again, your head nodding as you try to find your words.

“Y-yeah,” you agreed. “We’ll talk soon.”

Offering you a wide, dimpled grin, Namjoon nodded before he said goodbye, your eyes following his stature all the way out the door as your mind tries to comprehend what in the hell just happened.

“Wait, he gave him your papers?!”

Hana’s mouth is slacked in shock as she stared, completely flabbergasted, as you recall the events to her. A humble shrug of your shoulders makes her let out a squeal of excitement, her hand reaching over the table to grab yours as she grips it happily.

“(Y/N) that’s awesome!” She said, grinning widely. “That means a bestselling author is going to read your stuff! Do you understand how many doors this could open for you?!”

You scoffed at that, the cynical side of you coming to light as you deny any sort of recognition that you could gain from this.

“I highly doubt that, Han,” you retorted. “If anything, he’s going to put them aside and never read them. I mean, would you want to read someone’s papers who has yet to read your own novels?”

Hana rolled her eyes at your words.

“Not everyone is able to read every single novel that’s published, (Y/N), and you said yourself that he understood --”

“He could’ve just been saying that,” you said, cutting her off. “He probably didn’t want to be rude.”

Hana shook her head as she leaned back against the booth, her hand leaving yours as she gripped her coffee cup.

“I’m just saying,” she began. “Anyone who’s actually willing to take the papers and offers to read them instead of blatantly turning them down speaks volumes to me.”

Hana smirked then, her gaze turning smug as she glanced at you.

“Besides,” she chuckled. “He’s not exactly the most horrible looking guy, (Y/N). Maybe he thought you were cute.”

A loud laugh escaped you, your head tilting back as you registered her words. That definitely was not a possibility in your case. What successful author would want anything to do with a college student who is barely scraping by?

“You’re funny, Han,” you laughed. “That would never happen.”

Hana whined, a pout crossing her lips as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“It is possible!” She cried. “I mean -- look at you! You’re fucking beautiful!”

Shaking your head, you dismiss her words as you reach for your coffee cup to take a sip, the conversation between the two of you dropping completely.

The harsh burn of whiskey runs down the column of Namjoon’s throat as he downs the rest of his glass, his eyes burning holes into the screen in front of him. A blank document stares back at him, the blinking cursor taunting him each time it animates. It’s half past one in the morning and Namjoon can feel the frustration begin to overflow as he growled lowly before slamming the lid of the laptop down.

This was his nightly routine lately; staring angrily at the blank document that taunted and tortured him, cackling that he can’t write anything. Every time he thought he had something, the moment he would begin to type, the thought was gone and replaced with the block that has been invading his brain for the past year. It’s frustrating, it’s annoying, and Namjoon has had enough of it.

Reaching to the side of his desk, he grabs the bottle of whiskey and fills his glass back up, the buzz from the alcohol making the man’s body begin to heat up as he chugs down another glass. The silence in his apartment is heavy, a loneliness basking from it as he looks around the dimly lit study. Papers are scattered around him, some crumpled and balled up while others are torn, and Namjoon makes a mental note to find the will to clean up soon. His eyes cast towards the other papers littered next to his laptop, curiosity getting the best of him when he sees a name scribbled at the top of one of the papers; (Y/N).

Pushing his books to the side, he reaches for the papers given to him earlier, the man completely intrigued by the writing his best friend had recommended for him to read. The perfect marks at the top tells him that Seokjin really did appreciate this piece, that it was good enough to receive not only an A+ but also his friend’s approval -- which was hard to come by. Seokjin was tough on his students, he wanted them to be the best they could be, so he wasn’t going to give just anyone a remarkable grade.

Namjoon plucks through the different titles; a term paper, a research paper on the fundamentals of writing, another term paper, and a story -- but it piques the author’s interest.

The Pros and Cons of Falling In Love.

Tossing the other papers to the side, Namjoon’s gaze falls on the cover page of the story, his eyebrow quirking in question as he scanned the page. There were several paged attached - 250 to be exact - and he couldn’t deny the curiosity that swirled within him as he opened to the first page.

Pro #1: The electric shock of the first meeting.

It’s the feeling of one electric current surging through another. It’s the butterflies that erupt in the pit of your stomach the moment skin to skin contact is initiated, the fastening of one’s heartbeat the moment their eyes meet the other’s. It’s a mutual attraction, a sudden nervousness that you’re going to fuck up as soon as you open your mouth -- but then the calmness steps in. The easiness of talking to someone, of getting to know the stranger that you had only met moments before. The attraction is locked in and ready to move to the second step, or in this case…

Pro #2: The pure excitement and nervousness of the first date.

He swore that he was only going to read a little bit of it, but by the third paragraph, Namjoon was completely hooked. His eyes drink in the words, his heart feels the emotions poured into the characters, and by the time he reaches the climax of the story, there’s tears streaming down his face as the love story unfolds before his eyes. He can feel the love between them, the pain of heartbreak, the desperation of not wanting to lose the other person -- he’s moved, so incredibly moved, and he’s sobbing by the last page. The vulnerability that’s portrayed from both sides is almost too much for him, the raw emotion from the words scattered on the page has Namjoon applauding the efforts of your writing.

It’s half past three in the morning when he finally falls asleep, tears dried on his cheeks as his empty glass sits next to him, your story still embedded in his mind as he’s lulled off to sleep.

Wednesday mornings were always uneventful for Seokjin. His classes didn’t start until the late afternoon which left him some much relaxation time in the early morning hours. Although he didn’t have to be in his classroom until about eleven, he still made a point to show up between eight and nine, opting to use that time to grade papers that he had left until last minute. In the solstice of his classroom he lets himself get swept up with the soft hum of his stereo, the music calming him down as he marked paper after paper. But today seemed to be a different day compared to the others.

As Seokjin was wafting through the different essays, the door to his classroom burst open and he’s met with a disheveled Namjoon, the former’s eyes widening in alarm as he straightens up in his seat while his friend walks towards him. Seokjin opens his mouth to say something when Namjoon plops down a paper in front of him, his gaze falling on the large stack before he catches sight of the title. A small smirk formed on the man’s lips as he casted a knowing glance towards his friend, amusement clouding his features as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“So you read it, huh?”

There’s a fierce look in Namjoon’s eyes, his lips pressed into a thin line as he points at the stack.

“She needs to publish this,” he breathed. “I -- I honestly have no words as to how fucking incredible this is.”

Seokjin chuckled at his friend’s state, the man completely amused at his reaction.

“I’ve been telling her that for months, Joon. She won’t do it.”

“Why not?!” He asked incredulously. “This isn’t just writing, Seokjin, this is fucking art! I don’t think I’ve ever read a story that has made me feel this way in such a long time.”

Seokjin stayed quiet, instead opting to watch his friend frantically speak and drone on about your paper, his amusement never faltering.

“Honestly, I can’t believe that a college student wrote this. It’s beautifully written, you can feel the emotions from the characters, and it leaves you wanting more with every god damned chapter! How does she not want to publish this?!”

“She doesn’t think it’s good enough.”

Namjoon blanched at that, his mouth falling open as his eyes widened in disbelief.

“What?!” He shouted. “How in the hell does she not think it’s good enough?! I mean -- there are a few minor things that can be fixed but other than that it’s pure perfection!”

Seokjin’s smirk widened as he leaned back into his chair, another chuckle escaping him as he shook his head at his friend.

“Then tell her that, not me.”

Namjoon frowned, his pacing coming to a stop.

“I don’t know where she is or how I can reach her -- and besides, isn’t it a little weird if a complete stranger is looking for her?”

“You’re not a complete stranger,” Seokjin dismissed. “She already knows that you were supposed to read her stuff, so isn’t it fair to her that you tell her directly what you think of her writing? Don’t you think she deserves that?”

“I mean -- I guess --”

“She works in the school library every Wednesday, I’m sure she’s there now.”

Seokjin didn’t even time to blink before Namjoon was out the door, his head shaking with amusement at his friend, all-the-while hiding his secret knowing grin.

The quiet solstice of the library is something that always seemed to relax you, the aura sending an almost euphoric feeling aflame inside of you -- though that could just be because you’re surrounded by the plethora of books, which was another form of relaxation for you. It was the feeling of having a book in your hands, the smell of the pages, the mental stimulation sending you into a euphoric bliss. Each and every book that lined the shelves were different; though some had similar plotlines, the story contained within the pages were completely different -- and that is what set them apart from everything else in your life. You lived a predictable life, every move or thought that someone made or had was something that you could point out before they had even done it. With books, every page had you itching to know more. You clung to every tidbit of information, forming hypotheses and ideas that could possibly come next as you turn the page. It kept you on the edge of your seat -- and you loved it.

The tips of your fingertips run along the spine of the books littered along the bookshelves, your gaze falling on every title as you searched for a new book to read. As the second semester dwindled down and Christmas break approaches, you can feel the stress begin to simmer, your free time opening up right before your eyes. As you begin to lose yourself in your thoughts, your subconscious had seemingly taken you towards the ‘K’ section of the books -- low and behold, your fingers had landed on the author of the books you had never gotten around to read.

Kim Namjoon.

Curiosity mixed with genuine interest runs through you as you reached up to grab the first book that had his name on it; The Fundamentals of Life. Chuckling quietly to yourself, you turn the book over to read the synopsis on the back cover, your eyebrows raising in surprise at the topic of the book.

From the ages of five to twenty-five we’re taught to go to school, to find something that speaks out to us, to reach for the stars and achieve that goal we’ve kept hidden away for so long. Life is one big lottery game to some, a challenge for others, but it’s what keeps us going, and like everything else in this world, it’s got some rules and regulations that we’ve somehow adapted into our everyday lives -- and those rules are called ‘The Fundamentals of Life’.

You were so wrapped up reading the synopsis that you didn’t realize the presence that stood by until you saw a pair of black boots standing next to you, your head snapping up to catch sight of the smiling face of the author of the book himself. His wide dimpled smile made your face flush slightly, more-so because of the fact that you were reading about his book, and you bashfully slide the book back onto the shelf before you’re turning back towards the man.

“Sorry,” you apologized, grinning sheepishly. “Can I help you with something?”

Namjoon nodded, the smile never faltering from his face.

“Yes, actually,” he rubbed the back of his neck as his gaze fell everywhere but on you. “I was wondering if we could talk about ‘The Pros and Cons of Falling in Love’?”

Your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach at his words, panic beginning to rush through you as you try to find the words to say.

He hated my story… Oh shit, am I ready for this criticism?

“I-- I, uh, yeah --” You stuttered out, deflecting around him as you went to find a table to sit down at. “We can sit here.”

Namjoon followed quietly, your story still clutched tightly in his hands as he watched you sit down at one of the tables in the back corner of the room. Much to your surprise, you took the seat next to you instead of across from you -- though that might have been because he didn’t want to talk too loud and disturb the others who were studying for their finals.

As he sets your paper down onto the table, you can’t help but let the apprehension grow, your hands nervously twisting in your lap as your gaze dropped to the floor, not daring to look at him.

“So, uh -- what did you thi --”

“I think you’re brilliant.”

Your head snapped up at that.

“W- what?!”

Namjoon’s smile transitioned into a wide grin when he catches sight of your shocked expression, a quiet chuckle escaping him as he nodded.

“You’re brilliant, (Y/N),” he reaffirmed. “I was just speaking to Seokjin about this but I honestly, genuinely, haven’t read anything that has had the affect on me like your story has in a long time. The way you depict the character’s emotions, the way you write -- it’s fucking beautiful, (Y/N).”

Your mouth had fallen open slightly by this point, your mind completely flabbergasted that a fucking bestselling author was praising your work.

“I -- wow,” you breathed out. “Thank you.”

“No -- thank you, (Y/N),” Namjoon said, gently placing a hand on your arm. “You opened my eyes to a completely new world, something that I - myself - have yet to, uh, experience.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at his words, confusion swirling across your features as your head cocks to the side.

“What do you mean?” You asked quietly.

“While I did come here to tell you how much I enjoyed your book, I also came here to ask you a -- um -- rather personal question…”

You stayed silent, nodding for him to go on.

“I’ve never been in love,” he confessed. “And from the sound of your story, it seems as if you have… And I was wondering if you could -- uh -- teach me or tell me what it’s like when you are in love?”

Another wave of shock crosses you as Namjoon looked down towards the floor, subtle shame and embarrassment running through the man as he avoided your eyes. Your eyes scanned over him as he looked away from you, your gaze drinking him in, before you’re letting out a quiet sigh.

“I’ll do it,” you murmured, making Namjoon instantly lift his head, a bright smile painted across his plump lips as he looked at you.

“Really?” He asked, making you nod.

“It’s a tricky subject,” you pursed your lips. “But everyone deserves to experience -- or at least get to know -- what real love is.”

Namjoon had never been more grateful.

Pro #1: The Electric Shock of the First Meeting

You could’ve never been prepared for the loud shriek that had escaped Hana the moment you told her what was going on, the bubbly blonde all but tackling you with a hug out of happiness.

“That’s amazing!” She squealed, making you groan.

“Han, you’re gonna pop my eardrum --”

“I can’t believe you and the hottie author are going to be seeing each other!”

“Don’t say it like that, it sounds like we’re dating --”

“But you practically are!” She squealed once again, making you wince with pain. “He asked you about love, (Y/N)! Of all things -- love!”

You inwardly groaned at her words, your hands coming up so you can rub your temples out of frustration.

“He’s never experienced it before, Han. He deserves to at least know about it.”

The wide grin on the blonde’s face doesn’t falter as she plops down onto the grass next to you.

“But still!” She beamed. “He asked you!”

You shook your head, denying any romantic affiliation she had conjured up in her brain as you laid down, your back against the crisp grass as you gazed up at the clear blue sky. Your mind was racing as Hana’s words finally registered in your head, the damage of the whole situation finally beginning to settle within you.

What if I fall for him during this whole thing? You thought to yourself. What if he falls for me? Is this considered a date? Why do Hana’s words keep getting the best of me, god dammit.

Closing your eyes, you cleared your mind of all the thoughts that added to your stress, all-the-while secretly hoping that at least one of them comes true…

Pro #2: The Pure Excitement and Nervousness of the First Date.

Your fingers tap against the cover of the coffee cup, nervousness filled your body as your gaze scanned the quaint shop. You were supposed to meet Namjoon here, the first telling of the story being today, but he was ten minutes late. You weren’t anxious about him not showing up, in fact you had secretly hoped that he would forget about it -- not that you didn’t want to help with… whatever this was, it was just… Namjoon is a published author. He’s received more awards for his works than you could ever dream of, he’s highly intelligent, and he just reeks of supremacy of this field. Not to mention he wasn’t bad looking -- and by that you meant you had to keep yourself from swooning over him every god damned time he walked through that door.

Before you had personally met him, you could recall a few times when Professor Kim had brought up the author in one of his lectures. He always talked about his friend with such respect and admiration, it was almost cute, honestly. There was a special brotherhood bond between the two of them that you couldn’t help but admire. You had always assumed that Seokjin had just hyped him up, that he really wasn’t as great as he was made out to be, but the moment he opened his mouth and spoke that day in class, you were proven to be wrong -- he was more.

While you hadn’t known him that long -- keep in mind, it’s only been a few days -- there are just certain people who come into your life and make a strong impact in such a small amount of time; and Namjoon is one of them.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you hadn’t noticed the chair in front of you being pulled out from the table, the bleached blonde man smiling brightly at you from across the table. It wasn’t until he was snapping his fingers in front of your face did you finally snap out of it, a deep red blush flushing across your cheeks as your gaze settled on him.

“Sorry,” you apologized. “I was caught up in my thoughts…”

Namjoon hummed softly, his own coffee cup nestled between his hands as he sent you a curious glance.

“What were you thinking about?”

You.

“Just about the things I should tell you,” you lied, deflecting your gaze downwards towards the table before you’re lifting your coffee cup to your lips. The burn of the drink serves as punishment for your lie.

“We don’t have to get into that right away, you know,” he mused. “I’d like for us to get to know each other first -- just so we can get a fair judgment on each other’s character.”

You quirked an eyebrow at his words, somewhat surprised by his forwardness.

“We could definitely do that,” you agreed. “Would you like to go first?”

Namjoon grinned, his long slender fingers tapping against his cup in an unknown rhythm.

“Well, as you know, my name is Kim Namjoon,” he began. “I was born in Ilsan, I grew up with my mother. My father died when I was young so I don’t really have much recollection of him. For as long as I could remember, I’ve always wanted to be a writer. My mother would always read books to me when I was younger so I’ve constantly had different pieces of literature in my life, which is probably what sparked my love for reading in general. I was too preoccupied in school to actually pay attention to those around me, meaning I’ve pretty much lived a life of solitude -- apart from Seokjin, of course. I met him when I was a freshman in high school and haven’t been able to get rid of him since.”

A deep chuckle escaped the author as he shook his head at the thought of his friend.

“I wouldn’t have it any either way, though. Aside from my mother, he’s been an incredible support system for me. But, anyways -- my favorite color is black, my favorite food is meat - literally any and all kinds - and, this may be shocking to you, but I’m a fan of rap music.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, your eyebrows shooting upwards in surprise as you grinned widely.

“Rap music, huh?” You asked. “If you don’t mind me asking, why is that?”

Namjoon shrugged nonchalantly as he lifted his cup to his lips to take a sip.

“Much like books, rap - to me - tells a story. Granted, most mainstream rap isn’t exactly the most, uh, literary based, but there certainly are a handful of rappers who really know how to tell their own personal story through their lyrics. To me, there is nothing better than listening to someone who has passion within the field they work in, and most rappers definitely accentuate that with their words -- which I find quite commendable.”

An impressed look flashes on your features as he speaks, your head nodding in acknowledgement as you take a sip of your coffee.

“Wow,” you said quietly. “That’s actually quite impressive, if I’m being honest.”

The grin never leaves Namjoon’s face as he leans forward to rest his arms on the table, his gaze locked on yours as he nods towards you.

“Your turn.”

You blink as you stared at him, the proximity of him making your breath hitch in your throat and you’re positive that he’s well aware of the affect he has on you -- especially when you can feel your cheeks begin to heat up.

“I -- uh, well I’m (Y/N),” you stuttered. “There really isn’t much to me, if I’m being honest. I grew up just like everyone else -- though, like you, I’ve taken a liking to books much more than other people have. My parents were always busy so they didn’t really have the time to read me books but that didn’t stop me from reading them myself. My grandfather actually bought me my first book -- The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. He told me that that was his favorite book growing up and he passed it down to me in hopes that I would like it as much as he did, needless to say, I was pretty much obsessed with it.”

A quiet laugh escaped you at the recollection of the memory.

“I carried that book everywhere; at school, at the store, to family parties. It never left my sight,” you paused, your gaze dropping to look down at the table as you hooked a piece of your hair behind your ear. “He passed away about a year before I started college, but before he did, he told me to pursue the one thing that made me the happiest it could. When I was younger, I had a journal -- but I wouldn’t write diary entries or anything like that, the book was actually for me to be able to write down poems. My mother is actually a published author, she has had many of her poems published and has also won a few awards for it, as well. I guess it runs in my family but I believe that my love for writing stems from my own inspirations and genuine intrigue for the field. And - I guess - I would like to be a published author one day but as for right now, I enjoy writing for me.”

Namjoon let a smile grace his lips, a bright twinkle in his eye as he looked at you.

“That’s what makes you special,” he muttered. “When you’re able to write for yourself, you know that this field was made for you.”

“You think so?” You asked quietly, making Namjoon nod.

“Absolutely,” he affirmed. “It takes a whole lot to be able to write for someone else, but when it comes to writing for yourself, that’s true passion.”

Silence falls between the pair of you as you both divert your gazes towards something else, not having the courage to look into one another’s eyes. You can feel your heart beating rapidly in your chest, Namjoon’s words beginning to resonate in your brain, and the blush from earlier begins to cascade along your cheeks once again as you silently lift your cup to take a sip. The warmth of the coffee shop helps set you at ease, the faint smell of the coffee beans almost making you feel at home, and you can’t help but look around at the other customers.

Namjoon, on the other hand, was lost in his thoughts.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can spot the distant look on the author’s face. His plump lips are pressed into a thin line, gaze casted downwards towards the floor, and his fingers are fumbling with the cardboard surrounding his cup. He’s quiet, almost too quiet, and you’re certain that he’s going to say something -- and he does.

“You know,” he began quietly, eyes still focused on the ground. “I’ve been on a few dates before. I’ve been in the company of quite a few people, but none of them ever really stood out to me.”

You stay quiet, your silence urging him to go on.

“I think my main problem is that I crave too much mental stimulation,” he admitted. “I know everyone bases their ideal types on looks and such, but I honestly couldn’t care less about that. All I want is to have someone who can understand how I’m feeling and to be able to talk about the things I love most. Sure, it’s nice to just have someone by your side, but I’m the type of person who needs to be able to have an intelligent conversation with a partner.”

You nodded in agreement, a heavy sigh falling from your lips.

“I’m the same way,” you said quietly. “My last boyfriend, Jace -- the one who I wrote the story about, he was fun -- not that there’s anything wrong with that. But the more I spent time with him, the more I realized that we were two completely different people. He was more about living the adventures of life; not being one to deal with responsibilities, not having a care in the world, always making impulsive decisions. He was a free spirit. For the majority of the time, he brought me out of my shell and showed me so many things that I had missed out on, but at the end of the day, he wasn’t the one for me. We went our separate ways after high school but there was a moment in time when I was in love with him. I don’t regret any of it, to be honest, I just wish I had known that he wasn’t the one for me earlier on… That way it wouldn’t have hurt as much as it did when we parted ways.”

Namjoon hummed softly, his gaze finally lifting from the ground to shyly meet yours.

“Do you think I’ll ever be able to experience love?”

You don’t hesitate to answer.

“Absolutely.”

Whenever someone is called to see the professor after class, the worst is always assumed. While you knew that you were one of his favorite students, you still couldn’t help but worry when Professor Kim called your name before you could walk out of the door after class, a striking fear of being in trouble and losing your scholarship a prominent thought in your mind. But Seokjin didn’t harbor any sign of being mad; in fact, he wore a bright grin on his face as he sat comfortably in his chair.

“Miss (Y/N),” he greeted brightly. “How are you doing, is everything going well?”

Adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder, you nodded curtly.

“Yes, everything is fine,” you said meekly. Seokjin chuckled at the tone of your voice, his hand gesturing towards one of the seats.

“Don’t worry, dear, you’re not in trouble. Have a seat, I want to talk to you about something.”

Timidly you shuffle to the seat he pointed towards, your bag falling to the ground as you nervously twiddle your thumbs in your lap. Seokjin’s smile never faltered as he leaned forward in his desk, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Namjoon came to me yesterday looking for you,” you sucked in a breath, awaiting his next words. “Did you speak to him?”

You nodded. “Yes, he met me in the library.”

Seokjin beamed.

“Good, good!” He said happily. “He was genuinely moved by your story, (Y/N). I don’t think I’ve seen him that happy about a piece of literature in a long while, it was definitely a sight to see.”

A wave of heat rushes to your cheeks at his words as you bashfully looked down at the desk.

“Thank you, sir,” you murmured, causing Seokjin to laugh.

“Call me Seokjin, dear. After class is over, the formalities are over and done with,” a smug smirk formed on his lips then. “Besides, I think you’ve made my friend quite happy, and any friend of his is a friend of mine.”

You swallowed the lump that had formed in the back of your throat before giving him another curt nod. The mischievous glint doesn’t escape Seokjin’s eyes as he lets out a soft chuckle, his finger pointing towards you.

“You know,” he mused. “I think both you and Namjoon would make a great pair. There are certain traits that the two of you share, and though it might just be my wishful thinking, I think you could both benefit something from one another.”

His words stunned you to silence; you blink once, twice, a third time, before you’re sputtering nonsense.

“I -- Sir --”

“It’s alright, (Y/N),” he grinned. “Things like this take time so you can’t deny anything yet. But if the two of you keep hanging out at that coffee shop --” he paused, sending you a knowing smile. “Something great can come of it.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything, even as he dismissed you the words he had said still resonated deep within your brain. You didn’t believe him, hell -- you had just met the guy! -- but you also couldn’t dismiss the way your heart sped up at the thought of it.

Heaving a deep sigh, you make your way out of the building, Seokjin’s words still rumbling about in your mind.

“So do you have writer’s block too?”

Your gaze lands on Namjoon who’s sat across from you, his coffee cup between his hands as he takes a sip. You shook your head, brushing a piece of hair out of your face as you lean back.

“Actually, I don’t,” you laughed quietly. “I think I have reverse writer’s block, to be honest.”

The man’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion.

“Reverse writer’s block…?”

“I have ideas and a bunch of inspiration to write something but as soon as I got to type, I can’t figure out how to word it. I try and try again but nothing is ever good enough for me.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “So you know what you want to write about but you can’t find a way to bring it to life?”

“Exactly.”

Namjoon pursed his lips, his fingers idly drumming against the table as he wracked his brain for any advice he could give.

“Have you ever tried to actually think about the plot?”

Your head cocked to side, trying to decipher what he meant.

“Meaning…?”

“When I wrote my first novel, I played out the whole story in my head. It’s sort of like a movie; you imagine the characters coming to life and you watch them act out every scene you have plotted. That way you can figure out what you want to put in the beginning, the turning point, and the ending.”

You stared blankly at him, your hand idly clutching your cup as you begin to nod.

“That’s… brilliant actually.”

Namjoon grinned, a sheepish shrug of his shoulders turning the man bashful.

“It’s just something that helps me,” he admitted. “I don’t suppose you’d know any advice for writer’s block?”

“I probably know as much as you do,” you laughed. “But we’ll find something that’ll inspire you. I’m sure of it.”

You watch as he sighs, your eyes raking over his face as he lifts the coffee cup to his lips, Seokjin’s words suddenly floating back into your mind as you look at the author. Just the sight of him was enough to get your heart racing, the organ pumping loudly in your ears as it beats rapidly. The increase in speed has you shifting uncomfortably in your seat, your mind not ready to admit any sort of attraction you had towards this man. Instead you take a hasty sip of your coffee, silently hoping this damned feeling goes away.

Con #3: Denial of Feelings

“This is so exciting!”

Hana’s squeals make you instinctively cover your ears as you grimaced at the high pitched noise.

“Han please --”

“No, I will not quiet down, (Y/N)!” She shrieked. “He’s so smitten with you! How are you not freaking out right now?!”

You shrugged, even though you felt your heart leap at her words.

“It’s not like that,” you deadpanned. “It’s strictly professional between us.”

Hana scoffed at your words, her eyes rolling as she sends you a look of disbelief.

“Bullshit!” She laughed. “What the two of you talk about - dating and such - is certainly not professional. Especially when he’s opening up to about his ex flames or whatever they are. He likes you, (Y/N). Just face it.”

Running a hand over your face, you can’t help but let out a groan as you faceplant onto your bed. You could already feel a headache coming on - whether that was from thinking about the situation you were currently in or from the high volume of Hana’s shrieks, you weren’t quite sure, but you knew you needed to sleep.

“(Y/N), if his best friend is literally pushing you in his direction and openly voicing his opinion that you’d make a great pair, it’s meant to be.”

You can’t help but snort at that, your head lifting from the bed as you shoot her a dismissive look.

“That tells me nothing, Han. One person’s opinion doesn’t determine fate’s course.”

Hana shrugs, the bubbly blonde sending you a knowing look as she climbs into her own bed.

“I’m just saying,” she mused. “You’ll see it eventually.”

Rolling your eyes, you drop your head back down onto your pillow.

“Whatever, Han.”

Pro #4: Getting to Know the Person on a Deeper Level

As the months droned on, you found yourself growing closer and closer with the author. The more you hung out with Namjoon, the more Seokjin’s words stuck in your mind. Every single look or gentle brush of a hand ignited something inside of you; you suppressed it, however, not making it known or noticeable to the author in fear that the feelings were not reciprocated -- and that was something you had always feared when it came to expressing your feelings. The worst thing in the world is having someone you deeply care about not give two shits about you.

You tried to keep your distance. Even when he had decided to invite you over to his place (which was, despite the mess, fucking beautiful) you kept your distance from him. Instead you focused your attention on the empty bottles of whiskey and crumpled up pieces of paper scattered around the living area. While others might have depicted this type of lifestyle as toxic, dangerous almost, you understood where the man was coming from. When you spend your life doing something that you genuinely love and cherish, all the while spending every waking minute working on something just as precious to you and that inspiration stops -- it’s not a fun feeling.

Those on the outside wouldn’t understand what it’s like to sit and wait for something to spark that inspiration back up, to sit and wait for what seems like a useless cause. Writer’s block is something that could make or break someone; you either keep going and try to find something to pique your interest or you give up on it entirely. Namjoon had mentioned in his lecture that what you need the most in an industry like the writing field is perseverance -- and he’s not wrong.

He’s never wrong...

The crisp autumn air whips past you as you quickly follow Namjoon down the path he had led you, your body shivering underneath the light jacket you had stupidly chosen to wear, all-the-while mentally cursing the author out for leading you to a place that nowhere near being heated. Dead leaves crunch beneath your feet as he reaches behind to grab your hand, successfully pulling you up to get to the spot that he had wanted to show you.

‘It’s my secret spot,’ he had said. ‘I go there when I’m at a loss for inspiration.’

You felt honored that he had wanted to take you there, especially since you had a spot of your own back home -- but not even that could’ve prepared you for the beauty that was placed in front of you.

As you reach the spot, you couldn’t help but inhale the salty air, the melodic sounds of the waves crashing against the shore instantly putting your mind at ease. The sand crunches soundly beneath your feet as you walk across the beach, your gaze set on the rising sun across the horizon. It was breathtakingly beautiful; the way the dark blue early morning sky ignites into vibrant pink and orange hues, almost as if the sky was on fire. It was calming, a serene sight to witness, and you can’t help but plop down onto the sand as you stare at the beauty unfold.

Namjoon lets out a quiet chuckle as he watched you sit on the sand, the author not far behind you. He rests his elbows on his legs as he stares ahead, a comfortable silence drifting between the pair of you as you stare at the colorful horizon. The colors reflected off of the crisp blue ocean, the three hues intermixing and creating one big colorful hue. It certainly was a sight to see.

“I found this place when I was writing my first novel,” Namjoon began quietly, eyes still trained on the horizon. “It was this exact spot that inspired me to write it; the story about a young boy finding his way through this crazy thing we called life. He often took it for granted, thinking that he was so much bigger than world, that he was destined for things greater than everyone else. Well… he was certainly proved wrong when he was able to witness something as magnificent as this.”

You hummed softly, shifting your position in order to find a more comfortable spot.

“I need to read that book,” you murmur, distracted by the view. Namjoon chuckled.

“Actually, it wasn’t the book I was talking about. That boy was me.”

You turned towards him at that, an eyebrow quirked upwards in question.

“But you just said --”

“I said this view is what inspired me to write, but what I said about the boy… The one I wrote about -- that was me.”

You stayed silent, waiting for him to go on.

“In my twenty-three years of living, there were so many things I had taken for granted. When I was younger, I thought I was the next best thing when it came to writing. I was beyond my years, as my teachers put it, and I let all of the praise and admiration get to my head. I was fueled by everyone’s fascination with -- not just me -- but my writing as well. I constantly attempted to outdo myself and, nine times out of ten, I managed to… But the more I locked myself up in my room and typed away at my laptop, the more I realized how fucked up it was that I let people get to me like that. Writing isn’t supposed to be a chore or a job, you’re not supposed to write because people or waiting and anticipating your next piece of work. Writing is supposed to be for yourself -- it’s supposed to be because you love it.”

Namjoon continues to stare ahead, his fingers twisting together as he lets out a humorless laugh.

“When I discovered this place, I realized that I had been doing it all for the wrong reasons. Sitting here on this beach, getting lost in my thoughts, it’s therapeutic to me. The serene setting, the peace and quiet… I always feel so inspired here -- and nowadays, it’s starting to feel like I’ve used up all of the magic it’s offered to me.”

“What makes you think that?” You asked quietly. Namjoon shrugged.

“I’ve been coming back here since the beginning of the year, which was when the writer’s block first happened. Each time I come I think that maybe - just maybe - this time it’ll lift, that I’ll be able to find that spark again. But it doesn’t happen.”

“That doesn’t mean this place has lost its magic, Joon,” you murmured. “Maybe you’ve grown used to this kind of inspiration. Maybe you need to find a new place, something that can offer you an entirely different scenario.”

Namjoon hums softly.

“Maybe…”

Another silence drifts through the air and you can’t help but lean over to him, your chin resting on his shoulder as you look up at his face. Namjoon peered down at you, a small smile gracing his lips - dimples prominent in his cheeks - and he lifts his arm so he can wrap it around your shoulders, effectively bringing you in closer towards him.

“You’ll find inspiration soon, Joonie. I’m sure of it.”

“Whatever you say, (Y/N).”

Con #1: Waiting Around for the Person to Call or Text

The next week was full of nothing but stress; day after day you were swarmed in books, empty coffee cups, and crumpled up pieces of paper as you try to cram for your midterms. Six finals, one term paper, and the urge to pull each strand of your hair out was enough to make your roommate schedule an intervention -- though you had heavily protested the idea of the moment she had brought it up. But here you were, sitting cross-legged on your bed with a carton of ice cream while The First Wives Club plays on the television.

Hana sits on the other side of the room on her bed, her eyes every so often shifting from the TV to you, a playful smirk painted on her lips as she leaned back against the headboard of her bed.

“How’s Namjoon?” She asked, quirking an eyebrow. You shrugged in response while shoving another spoonful of ice cream into your mouth.

“I don’t know,” you muttered. “Haven’t talked to him in a while.”

Hana looked at you incredulously, all-the-while shaking her head.

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

It does...

You frowned and turned your head to look at her, feigning a confused look.

“No..?” Your voice was soft, the fake confusion never faltering. “Why should it bother me? He’s busy.”

“But you guys are pretty much dating…” Rolling your eyes, you scoffed at her words.

“We’re not dating, Han,” you countered. “We’re just friends -- and even that is putting it loosely.”

Hana’s expression is unreadable, though her eyes tell another story.

“You do realize that he pretty much asked you to show him how to fall in love,” she pointed out. “Which means that, along the way, he’s going to end up falling in love with you.”

Her words make you choke on your ice cream, your eyes widening in shock as you look at her like she’s gone crazy.

“Woah, woah,” you coughed out. “That’s definitely not what I’m doing!”

Hana shook her head at you, a quiet laugh escaping her.

“Sure it’s not,” she replied sarcastically. “All I’m saying is that when you’re in situations like this, it’s very much likely for one person to fall for another.”

Yeah, I fell for him...

“And I’m saying that he’s definitely not going to fall for me, Han,” you retorted. “If anything, he’s already got someone in mind that he wants to fall in love with.”

“Yeah,” she paused. “It’s you,” she chuckled.

Rolling your eyes at her remark, you opened your mouth to defend yourself once more when the buzzing of your phone pulled your attention, your gaze locking on the screen as Namjoon’s name flashed.

“Speak of the devil,” you muttered, making Hana’s eyes widen as she clambered off of her bed and onto yours.

“See!” She shrieked, playfully hitting your arm. “Answer it!”

There’s always a moment of hesitance when it comes to answering phone-calls. It’s the nervous feeling in the pit of your stomach that automatically ignites whenever your ringtone goes off, a moment of panic that triggers in your brain because what the fuck am I supposed to say? But then it’s as if something clears out all of that negative energy and substitutes the panic for impulse -- which is what makes you press the green answer button.

“Hello?”

There’s a brief silence on the other line, but then Namjoon’s voice is filling your ears and you can feel your body relax immensely.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he chimed. “I’m not bothering you, am I?”

You smiled at his polite demeanor, all-the-while pushing an overly excited Hana away from you as you push yourself up from the bed.

“Not at all,” you replied. “I’m actually taking a brief break from burning out my brain with all this studying.”

Namjoon chuckled, the sound making your heartbeat increase and you subconsciously yell at it to stop.

“Ah, I understand all about that,” you can already picture those damned dimples protruding from his cheeks. “Well, anyways, I was calling to see if you wanted to hang out or something? I’m not exactly in the writing mood tonight and I’ve been dying to go out for a drink or something…?”

You inhale sharply through your nose as you sneak a peek towards Hana -- who, by the way, was furiously nodding towards you in encouragement.

“Yeah,” you agreed quietly. “I’ll come out.”

You can practically see the grin on Namjoon’s face as his voice filled your ears once more, a harsh blush coating your cheeks as you run a hand over your face.

“Perfect!” He cheered. “I’ll meet you soon, yeah? At the pub?”

You nodded, regardless of whether or not he could see it.

“Sounds good.”

The moment you hang up the phone, Hana doesn’t waste any time in pouncing on you, her cheers filling the dorm room as you groaned loudly.

“Please let me do your makeup!” She begged. “I wanna pick out your outfit too, (Y/N)!”

“Han --”

“Please!” She begged again. “I just want you to go out looking nice!”

Sighing in defeat, you collapse into her grip and reluctantly let her take the reigns.

“Fine…”

And yet again, you were nearly deafened by the high pitched shriek emitting from your friend.

Con #2: Experiencing Jealousy Over Someone Who Isn’t Yours (Yet)

Pro #6: The Realization of the Intense Feelings

It had been a while since Namjoon had drank in a place that wasn’t his apartment. While he did enjoy the comforting four walls of his place, he had to admit that actually going out for a drink with others was far more fun than staring at a fucking blank screen. It gave him more opportunities to find the inspiration he was lacking, something that he was determined to finally put to rest. As he makes his way into the bar, he can’t help but feel at home within the company of the quiet bar. For a Thursday night it was fairly packed, but there’s definitely not as many people as there would be during the weekend -- which Namjoon is incredibly grateful for.

Taking a seat at the bar, he doesn’t hesitate to order himself a drink -- whiskey on the rocks -- while he waits for you. It had been a whirlwind of events since the day he met you and he has yet to entirely process the way he feels about you. Sure, he’s convinced there’s at least some kind of spark between the two of you, but Namjoon hasn’t ever experienced the true meaning of feelings; he’s confused as to what is going on inside of him, perplexed by the complexity of the emotions that he had always heard Seokjin drone on about.

When his friend would boast about the girls he was with, Namjoon was always half-heartedly listening. Most of the time it would go through one ear and out the other, but he always paid attention to the important details. Though you hadn’t exactly touched on the basis of what it was to be in love, he definitely heard enough about it from Seokjin to know that it’s supposed to feel like you’re the only two people on earth, that nothing else matters except the person who holds the true reign of your heart. Namjoon, though he would never admit it out loud, subconsciously seemed to yearn for that kind of love, a love that was so intense and fulfilling that it consumed him.

But at the same time, he was afraid.

He feared the vulnerability that came along with falling in love, let alone expressing his own feelings. Most of it is due to the fact that - once again - he has yet to experience such a thing, but he’s not really one to open up to others easily. But with you, it felt different for him. The common interests and similar mindsets between the two of you has seemed to put him at ease, the author finding a sense of comfort whenever he’s in your presence. He’s open minded and the feelings or fears that he would usually keep away would roll off of his tongue without a second thought, and even though that scared him - he would much rather express them to you than to anyone else. Even Seokjin.

As Namjoon sips on his drink, his gaze fell on the door to the bar, a wide dimpled grin forming on his lips when he catches sight of you walking through the entryway -- and fucking christ, have you always looked this beautiful? You were dressed in all black - something of which he did not mind one bit - the silk dress clinging to your upper body while the black tights clung to your legs, chunky heeled ankle booties adorning your feet and elongating your legs to the point where Namjoon had no idea where they began and where they ended. You looked stunning, and the author takes note that you - in fact - had always been this beautiful.

You catch his gaze the moment you walk through the door, the bleach blonde author looking more than handsome as he leisurely leaned against the bar. Adorned in a black and white checkered button down and black skinny jeans, his hair was pushed off of his forehead and styled back, and you swore that he had gotten more handsome since the last time you saw him. Offering the author a small smile, you take a seat next to him at the bar and rest your elbows on the counter. Namjoon’s gaze makes a small wave of heat appear on your cheeks and you have to break your gaze from his, not wanting him to catch sight of the blush coating your cheeks.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he greeted, grinning widely. You smiled towards the ground.

“Hey, Namjoon,” you said politely. “Did you order a drink?”

The author nodded, his slender finger pointing towards his glass.

“Sure did,” he chimed. “I was going to order yours but I wasn’t sure what you liked…”

You sent him a small smile, your head nodding towards him in acknowledgement.

“It’s alright,” you brushed off. “We hadn’t really discussed what kind of alcohol we preferred. Although… assuming from the amount of empty whiskey bottles in your apartment, I’m going to take a wild guess and say that that’s your drink of choice?”

Your teasing tone makes Namjoon chuckle, the man bashfully looking towards the ground before his gaze rests on you once more. You, on the other hand, turned towards the bartender to order yourself a drink.

“Cherry vodka and sprite, please.”

You can faintly hear the deep chuckle resonate from Namjoon, your curious gaze falling on his dimpled grin as he looks at you. Raising an eyebrow towards him, you can’t help but let a small smile grace your lips.

“What?” You asked, making Namjoon shake his head.

“Nothing, nothing,” he grinned. “I just didn’t peg you as a vodka girl.”

You mirrored his grin at that, a quiet laugh escaping you as you shrugged.

“It tastes good,” you admitted. “I’m not a fan of really hard liquor. I like the sweet and fruity stuff.”

“That makes sense,” he hummed softly. “Most people like drinks that resemble themselves.”

You give him a look mixed between surprise and confusion.

“Are you saying that I’m sweet, Mr. Kim?”

Namjoon smirked, his body leaning closer towards yours.

“Possibly,” he mused.

You can feel your heartbeat increase at the close proximity of him, the smell of his cologne hitting your nose, and you can feel yourself melting into his ways. For someone who had zero experience with girls, he was surely confident when it came to flirting. Then again, there was a mutual comfort between the two of you. It was natural, almost like you had known him for years, and you certainly weren’t complaining about it.

Gripping the cherry in your drink, you hold it out to him with a quirked eyebrow.

“Want it?” You asked, making Namjoon reach out and take it.

“Do you not like cherries?”

“Eh, not really a fan,” you admitted.

Namjoon feigned shock.

“Perposterous!”

The two of you laughed at his antics while you idly stirred your straw around to mix the drink, another blush coating your cheeks as you take a sip of the drink. The natural air between the two of you sets your mind at ease, a breath of relief coming from you when you realize that you don’t have to pretend with him. When you were with Jace, you felt like you had to act like a completely different person whenever you hung out with him. He was the outspoken type and you thought that you had to stoop to his level of immaturity and obnoxious nature in order for him to notice you -- and while it did end up catching his attention, you weren’t comfortable pretending to be someone you weren’t.

The more time you spent with the author, the more you began to realize the similarities between both yours and his personalities. He understood you in ways no one else ever could, the strong passion and admiration for the field that both of you work in sealed the deal.

Casting a glance towards the man, you can’t help but examine his features. Sure, you had noticed the obvious things like his dimples and his plump lips but you never took the time out to actually look at him. You can feel your brain internally memorizing every curvature and point marked on the man; his slightly puffed out cheeks, the subtle point at the tip of his nose, his sharp jawline. He really was handsome, that you will admit. But aside from his looks, it was his intellectual nature that drew you in. The pure intelligence that was buried within the author’s brain never failed to impress you; he was smarter than most (a fact he had revealed to you whilst talking at the coffee shop), and he always managed to pay attention to the small details within everyday things.

He was brilliant, he was kind, and he was yours.

...Wait -- what?!

The feeling of panic rushed through you within that moment and you tore your gaze away from Namjoon’s face, the sound of your heart pounding wildly in your ears as your brain goes into overdrive. Namjoon definitely was not yours -- nor did you want him to be. You were just helping him out, teaching him the ways of how love works and what it feels like when you’re with that person. Under no circumstances are you - or him, for that matter - supposed to feel any sort of romantic feeling towards one another. You were simply friends helping one another out.

You were so caught up in your inner turmoil that you hadn’t noticed Namjoon looking at you with a curious gaze, his head cocked to the side as he gently places a hand on your arm.

“Are you alright?”

His deep, velvety voice that filled your ears only fueled the chaos within your brain, your heart beating rapidly now as you turn back to face him. Plastering a fake smile on your lips you nodded your head furiously.

“Y-yeah!” You choked out. “Why wouldn’t I be?!”

Namjoon sends you an unsure look, the author - no doubt - knowing you’re lying. But before he could open his mouth, another voice beat him to speaking first.

“Hey there, handsome.”

Both yours and Namjoon’s eyes focused on an older woman standing next to him, a sickly feeling rushing through your stomach as she eyes the author up and down. Namjoon, who doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, smiled politely at the woman as he nods in acknowledgement.

“Hello,” he greeted.

You can practically feel her undressing him with her eyes and you bite back a scoff as you turn back to your drink, irritation filling you up as you gulp down the alcohol.

“I saw you from across the bar and I couldn’t help but come over here and tell you how incredibly handsome you are,” her voice is sickly sweet, the sound churning your stomach even more. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Namjoon chuckled.

“Shouldn’t I be the one buying you a drink?”

You gritted your teeth at their exchange, your gaze shooting deadly daggers towards the woman as she places a hand on his arm.

“You’re too sweet --”

“Too bad he’s here with me,” you shoot back, plastering a fake smile on your lips. The woman gives you a look of disdain, her nose turning up into the air.

“I see,” she replied curtly. “Are you his girlfriend?”

“She’s not my --”

“As a matter of fact, I am.” Namjoon’s eyes widened at your words, the man’s body turning towards you as he looked at you completely flabbergasted. “So I would appreciate it if you left my boyfriend alone, thanks.”

The woman sends you one last dirty look before she finally drops her hand from Namjoon’s shoulder and walks away, a string of curses being muttered under her breath while you smirk in satisfaction. An uncomfortable silence shifts between the two of you as you down the last of your drink, your blood pumping loudly in your ears as you feel the anger begin to dissipate, devastation in its wake as you reach to grab your jacket.

“I think I’m going to head out,” you muttered, making Namjoon look at you.

“What?” He asked, following you as soon as you stood up.

Sending him a small smile, you slip your jacket on and grab your purse.

“I’ll see you later, Joon.”

The man can’t utter one more word before you’re out the door, the chilly winter breeze serving as a punishment for the lack of control you had over your feelings. Your brain is screaming at you for the stunt you pulled in there, the devastation of the events beginning to unfold, and you can’t help but mutter under your breath. Your heart, on the other hand, is commending you for standing up for your feelings. Despite the willpower to conceal them, your heart overtook your brain in that particular moment and you were torn on how to feel about it -- either Namjoon could totally hate your guts right now for killing his flirting game or he could be thankful…

...It seemed to be the latter because not even a minute later, you could hear your name being called.

Namjoon was breathless by the time he made it by your side, his eyes wide and plump lips parted as he panted for air. Your heart seemed to awaken again at the sight of him and you cursed the organ for contradicting your feelings, not wanting them to show anymore.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, still slightly breathless. “Did I do something?”

You let out a humorless laugh, your head shaking as you shove your hands into the pockets of your jacket.

“Not at all, Joon,” you affirmed. “I’m just tired. All of the studying for finals has me completely wiped out.”

Namjoon frowned at that, his eyes searching for something -- anything.

“Then why did you agree to come out tonight?”

You fell silent at that -- though you did have your doubts about coming out with him tonight and it was heavily influenced by Hana, there was a part of you that was aching to be around him. It’s funny how fast feelings that you’ve suppressed can come into light, the subconscious thoughts of your mind ruling out any good judgment that you had possessed earlier. You wanted to be around him, you wanted to be with him -- but the cynic inside of you ruined any chance of you actually going for it.

Bottling up your emotions, you sucked in a deep breath before holding your head up high and offering him a small smile.

“Goodnight, Namjoon.”

You had barely managed to walk a step away from him before his footsteps could be heard, the harsh crunching of leaves beneath his feet echoing around the silent air.

“(Y/N)!”

His hand wrapped around your arm before he stands next to you, his steps gradually falling into place with yours.

“At least let me walk you home,” he begged, his deep brown eyes pleading. “It’s not safe for you to walk around at night by yourself.”

“I’ll be fine, Namjoon --”

“Please.”

His voice fell to a quiet tone and you could feel your heart clench as your gaze lifted to meet his, a heartbeat passing between the folds of silence before you’re slowly nodding your head.

“Okay…”

There’s a tension between the two of you as you walk side by side, Namjoon’s arm brushing yours with every step of the way. You can feel your heart racing at an uncomfortable speed just by having his presence near, the annoying butterflies fluttering wildly in the pit of your stomach as you try to calm yourself down. Namjoon is silent the whole way to your dorm, the man not daring to look in your direction. His hands are shoved within the pockets of his leather jacket, eyes straight forward ahead, and you can feel your heart crumble at the crestfallen expression on his face.

As you approach your dorm, you stop in front of Namjoon and turn towards him to send him a small smile.

“Thank you for walking me home,” you said quietly, making Namjoon nod.

“No problem,” he smiled back. “I just wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

“I appreciate that,” you murmured. “Goodnight, Joon.”

As you turn towards the door, you can still feel his presence from behind you, the light clearing of his throat making you turn back to look at him as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Are you sure there wasn’t any particular reason as to why you came out with me tonight?” He asked quietly. “Or as to why you jumped down that woman’s throat?”

You pressed your lips into a thin line at his questions, your heart screaming to tell him the truth -- but you couldn’t. The intense feelings you held for the man in front of you were something beyond anything you felt for anyone before - even Jace - and honestly… it scared you. It scared you that you had managed to fall hard and fast for a man you’ve only known for few months, that he had managed to wiggle his way into your sealed shut heart. So you pushed away your feelings and put on a fake smile.

“I came out because I like hanging out with you,” that wasn’t necessarily a lie… “And that woman was up to no good, Joon. She wasn’t looking to have an intellectual conversation with you, she was looking for more… intimate things.”

Namjoon blinks, but he doesn’t say anything. You give him one last pained smile before you’re waving at him.

“Goodnight, Joon. Get home safe.”

...Yet you still hadn’t managed to move inside.

“You feel it too, don’t you?”

The hand you had on the doorknob froze as he spoke, your heartbeat speeding up immensely as Namjoon steps closer to you. You don’t move and inch, not even when you feel his hand on top of yours, the warmth creating an electric shock that wracks your body. He’s quiet, lips not uttering one word, but you can feel his hot breath cascading along your neck, the sensation emitting goosebumps to flare up on your flesh. A shiver knocks through you and you can’t help but let your lips part when you feel the plump flesh of Namjoon’s lips brush against your skin.

“(Y/N),” he whispered, an arm loosely wrapping around your waist as he pulls you into him. “Please… Be honest with me…”

You can feel your self restraint beginning to break, the emotions that you had fought off for months were free now, the wall you had put up completely crumbling into pieces as you sink into his touch.

“I feel it,” you breathed out, eyes closing as you relish in him. “God, Joon, I’ve felt it for months.”

That was all he needed to hear.

Turning you around in his arms, Namjoon cups your face and pulls you up to him, his lips crashing onto yours without a second thought. The frustration and denial you had tried to convey towards your feelings were gone, completely diminished by the pure, raw emotions you felt towards this man. Your lips move against his in a slow, languid dance, and surprisingly - or at least for someone who lacks experience - he’s magnificent. His lips are softer than you imagined they would be, but there’s a hidden passion behind his kiss. He’s taking his time, almost like he’s mapping out every movement you make, trying to decide his own move.

You can feel your breath hitch when you feel your back press against your door, Namjoon’s hands moving from your face to rest on your waist. You’re lost in him, completely mesmerized by the man, and you can feel the oxygen leaving your lungs -- but you don’t care. He’s addictive, his pillow soft lips calling out to you in more ways than one. But you pull away, a ragged breath escaping you as you pant quietly, fighting to catch your breath. Namjoon, on the other hand, takes it as his cue to move his kisses elsewhere. While you rested against the door, his lips found purchase along your jaw, his tongue sweeping along your skin, the sensation making you shiver beneath him as you lace your fingers through his blonde locks. He’s mouthing at your flesh, sucking softly on your skin, and you’re crumbling even more - your body completely craving his touch, each and every part of you calling out for more.

Tugging softly at his tresses, you let out a quiet whimper when he reaches your neck, his mouth suckling on a spot that has you arching into him.

“Joon,” you murmured. “If you don’t stop now, I’m going to end up dragging you into my room.”

Your words have Namjoon smirking against your neck, his tongue swiping along your collarbone before he nips at it playfully, earning himself a quiet yelp from you.

“What if I don’t want to stop?” He asked, making you draw back from him.

“Joon seriously --”

“I am being serious, (Y/N).”

Lifting his head from your neck, Namjoon has a dangerous glint in his eyes as he gazed down at you, his hands moving up to cup your face once more.

“I like you,” he reiterates. “I want you, I want to be with you.”

You sigh softly as you relish in the touch of his hands.

“I don’t want you to think I’m trying to take advantage of you…”

“How are you taking advantage of me when I want it to happen?”

“We’ve had drinks, Joon --”

“So?” He chuckled. “I’m not obliterated, (Y/N).” Gripping your face, he pulls you closer towards him. “I want you to show me what it feels like to be loved, I want you to show me what it’s like to feel wanted…”

His mouth reattaches itself back to yours as soon as he finishes speaking, only this time it’s not closed. The tip of his tongue prods against your lips and you hesitate momentarily, wondering if what you were doing is right; but then he’s murmuring sweet nothings against your lips, his hand gently caressing your cheek, and you melted instantly.

Reaching out a blind hand, you fumble with the doorknob before the two of you are stumbling into the room. Pulling away from his lips you call out for Hana, only semi-aware of her absence as Namjoon mouths hotly at your neck, his hands unzipping your jacket until he’s sliding it down your arms. Reattaching your mouth back to his, you’re pulling him towards your bed whilst helping him shed off his jacket. The moment Namjoon is pressed against the bed, you’re breaking your mouth from his and attaching your lips to his neck, the man beneath you instantly pressing you closer to his body.

Your tongue runs along the skin connected to his neck and collarbone, the spot seeming to be a sensitive one for the author considering the moment your mouth latched onto it he lets out a deep growl. You smirked against his flesh, his sounds egging you on as you continue to nip at the skin. You can feel him begin to harden beneath you, a low whimper escaping the man when he feels your hands run underneath his shirt, his hips bucking up into your touch as you press a kiss to the column of his throat.

“(Y/N) please,” he murmured. “I want more.”

Peering up at him through your eyelashes, you begin to unbutton his shirt, your lips attaching to each newly revealed part of his chest until you’re moving down his body, your tongue dipping along the indents of his abdomen as you slip the shirt off of him. He may not be the most muscular man around but it was nothing less of beautiful, his tan skin glinting in the moonlight, the faint shadows of the small hint of muscle was just as impressive as one who held a more muscular build. Namjoon was truly beautiful -- inside and out.

As your mouth reaches the hem of his jeans, Namjoon lets out a small groan, the feeling of your fingers making the man crave so much more than what you’re giving him - but he knows that you’re showing him what it’s truly like to feel appreciated. So he stays rooted to the bed, his hooded gaze locked on your form as you unbutton his jeans and slide them down his long, lean legs. The feeling of your hands on his bare skin has him squirming, the anticipation bubbling up within his body. He’s already beginning to sweat, the man on edge as he anxiously awaits for you to continue.

A small hiss of pleasure escapes him when he feels your nails gently rake against his skin as you slide up between his legs, a teasing smirk playing on your lips as you place a kiss on his hipbone. If it was up to you, you would be leaving marks upon marks upon marks on the man’s skin -- but you decided to save that for another time. This time around, the first time (for him at least), you were determined to show him what it meant to be adored.

“Joonie,” you cooed softly, peering up at him. “You’re doing so well, baby.”

“Oh fuck,” he moaned, hips rising from the bed when he felt your fingers play with the hem of his briefs. “Keep talking to me, (Y/N).”

Your smirk grew wider at his pleading and you tug the briefs teasingly slow down his legs until they crumple into a ball on the floor, your hands ghosting along his honey thighs as you position yourself comfortably onto the bed. Your eyes are trained on him, gaze locked on his, and you send him a flirty smile as your hands reach his inner thighs.

“Tell me how you feel, baby,” you murmured, before leaning down to press your lips to the flesh of his thigh.

Namjoon whimpers, his hands reaching out to clench at the bedsheets as he digs his teeth into the flesh of his bottom lip.

“I feel fucking amazing, (Y/N),” he moaned. “You make me feel amazing.”

Half listening to him, you gently grab his cock in your hands before letting the tips of your fingers glide along his length, the action earning you the sweetest groan to emit from the man’s lips. Sinking down further onto the bed, you dip your head down and teasingly lick a stripe to the underside of his cock.

“Oh fuck --!”

The hiss of pleasure is all you needed to hear before you’re completely enveloping the head of his cock into your mouth, your tongue swirling around it as your hand wraps around whatever wasn’t being touched. Namjoon is writhing beneath your ministrations, the man’s hips bucking upwards off of the bed as cries of pleasure are falling from his lips, his breath falling in short pants as you take more of him into your mouth. He’s putty in your hands - and he knows it too - and god, he’s so glad he waited for this until he actually developed the feelings he has for you. His passion towards you only fuels the pleasure for himself, all he sees is you and he’s crashing down fast - almost embarrassingly fast - but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Inhaling sharply through your nose, you take as much of him as you can into your mouth, your hand gliding along the rest that doesn’t fit, before you take a deep breath and swallow around him. The action has Namjoon keening loudly, his hands moving from the sheets to rest in the locks of your hair, nimble fingers tugging harshly at your tresses as he bucks his hips into your mouth. You choke slightly, but you power through it as you drop your hand from his shaft. Swallowing once more around him, you glide your mouth down the rest of his length until the tip of your nose presses against his pelvis, a string of curses falling from Namjoon’s mouth when he realizes you’ve managed to take all of him.

He’s reaching his brink quickly, the man feeling his body beginning to coil and his balls tighten, his release building faster and faster with every flick of your tongue - and before you know it, he’s letting out a loud cry of your name as he comes undone. His thighs tremble with the aftershocks of his release, your tongue happily lapping up every last drop of him as a growl rips through his chest. Slowly you’re drawing back from his cock, your tongue running over your lips as you swallow what’s left of his release, a playful smirk on your face as you slither back up his body. Namjoon’s hands clutched you tightly to him, his lips surging up to find yours as he kisses you sloppily.

“Please let me touch you, baby,” he pleaded against your mouth, his fingers sneaking underneath the hem of your dress. “I want to make you feel good too.”

“Are you sure you can handle it?” You asked, teasingly. Another growl rips from Namjoon as he drops his hands to your thighs, the man rolling you over without hesitation.

“I’ve watched enough porn to know how to treat a woman,” he purred, making you scoff.

“Porn isn’t reality, Joonie --”

“But it still taught me how to find a woman’s spot.”

He wastes no time in ripping your dress off of you, the article of clothing being carelessly discarded as he reaches behind you to clumsily fumble with your bra, the pesky lingerie finally coming undone after the fourth attempt. It was endearing, honestly. Namjoon’s movements are precise yet clumsy, the man far too eager to even begin to slow down his pace -- not that you were complaining anyways.

When his mouth attaches to your now revealed breasts, you can’t help but mewl with pleasure, his warm tongue soothing your flesh in soft circles. His fingertips are dancing along your stomach, the pads gently tapping an unknown rhythm as his tongue strokes your pert nipple softly. The slow ministrations sends your body into overdrive, the craving for him growing to an excessive want as his mouth unlatches itself from your breast and trails down your body.

He’s carelessly pulling down your tights, your panties soon following, and you open your eyes fast enough to catch the glimpse of him licking his lips in anticipation. This time you’re molding to the bed as his warm hands part your thighs, his blunt nails softly digging into your flesh as he faces your dripping core. Reaching down, you give him an encouraging tug on his locks, a nod of your head soon following before Namjoon leans in and attaches his plump lips to your folds.

“Shit…”

The hiss falls brokenly from your lips as he mouths at your core, his tongue running along your folds every now and again. He’s definitely watched some sort of pussy eating porn because the moment he wraps his mouth around your clit and sucks, you’re shameless bucking your hips into his face, a cry of his name falling from your lips. You reaction makes the man smirk, a devious glint in his eyes as he peered up at you from his eyelashes, Namjoon gaining pleasure from just watching you relish in the touch of him.

He can feel his cock twitch as he laps at your core, every once in awhile sucking at the sensitive bud, but he’s never been more satisfied. From between watching you writhe with pleasure and all but grind down onto his tongue, he’s relishing in everything that’s you. He may not be as experienced as the guys you’ve had before, but he’s a damn fast learner and he’s determined to make you feel even half - if not more - of the pleasure you’ve felt when you were with others.

Experimentally he’s running the tip of his finger along your folds, the action only adding to your pleasure, and you reach down to grab his wrist to push him more against your core - a sign that it was okay to do what he had planned. Slowly he’s running the digit along your slick folds, coating it thoroughly before he’s pushing it inside of you. Instantly mewling at the contact, you swivel your hips to rock against the touch, silently guiding him to build up a rhythm with his fingers. He takes the reigns, however, curling the digit inside of you in a ‘come hither’ motion, the length of his finger brushing further inside of you as he begins to pump it in and out.

You’re feeling yourself begin to falter, your release building slowly in the pit of your stomach, and although you loved to relish in the feeling he’s giving you, you didn’t want to cum this way. So instead you’re gently pushing him off of you and sitting up, Namjoon’s eyes widening at your actions as he licks your juices off of his lips.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, slightly panicked. “Did I do something -- oof!”

Namjoon’s words were cut short when you gripped his forearms and pulled him onto the bed, sneakily grabbing a condom from your bedside drawer before your legs are placed on either side of his legs as you settle comfortably onto his thighs. A dirty smirk is painted on your lips as you run your nails along the skin of his back, your nose gently pressing against his cheek.

“You were perfect, baby,” you praised. “I just didn’t want to cum like that.”

Scrunching his eyebrows in confusion Namjoon opens his mouth to ask what you meant when a loud groan emits from him, a soft giggle falling from your lips as you slip the condom onto his length and align yourself up with him. With one arm looped around his neck and the other placed gently on his thigh, you slowly slide down onto his length, gasps of relief escaping from both yours and Namjoon’s mouths as he fills you up to the hilt.

Namjoon is gritting his teeth, the man not used to having his cock be completely enveloped in a tight warmth. You stay still for that reason, patiently waiting for him to control himself so he doesn’t blow right then and there. It’s only when Namjoon whimpers softly, his hips gently twisting against you, do you finally begin to swivel your hips. The slow rhythm is enough for you to hold onto him tightly, your nose pressing against his as the two of you rock gently into one another. Namjoon’s lips seek out to find yours, a messy kiss being exchanged as you begin to fasten the tempo of your hips.

You’ve been with your fair share of lovers, some worse than others, but you can confidently say that none of them were at all like the man in front of you. The intimacy shared between the two of you was like none other; it wasn’t hasty, it wasn’t rushed. It was raw, it was pure, and it was real. You could feel yourself become overwhelmed within the situation, your lips parting in pure pleasure as Namjoon rocked against you, your nails gently raking against the skin of his flesh as you angled your hips to make him surge deeper within you.

You clench around him, the sensation making Namjoon growl against your skin, his teeth biting into the skin on your shoulder as you reach to grab his wrist. Placing his hand between your interlinked bodies, you urge him to press his thumb against your clit, the man doing so without any sort of hesitation. You’re rocking roughly against him now, the feeling of him inside of you mixed with the rough circles being rubbed on your clit making your delayed release begin to build again. Namjoon isn’t far behind you, either, the man inching closer and closer to his own release as the rhythm begins to grow sloppy.

White hot pleasure is illuminating between your bodies as you clench once more around him, Namjoon coming with a low groan against your skin, his teeth softly nibbling at your flesh as he trembles beneath you, the rough circles on your clit and the soft brush of the tip of Namjoon’s cock brushing against your sensitive spot has you soon following, your hips grinding down onto him as you ride out your release.

Sweaty bodies are molded together, neither you or Namjoon wanting to break the contact as you unwind from your highs. The gentle nibbles of his teeth on your skin transition into soft pecks, his tongue running along the marks he had bitten into your skin until he’s making his way up your jaw and to your mouth. Lips tangle within a passionate kiss, soft flicks of his tongue against yours making you mewl quietly, the sound reverberating into his own.

Slowly he’s bringing you back towards the comforter, your sweaty skin sticking to the blankets as he throws them over your bodies. His fingers lace with yours as he finally draws back from your mouth, his nose gently grazing against yours as a blissful, dimpled grin forms on his lips.

“Thank you,” he murmured, nuzzling his nose against yours. “For finally showing me what it feels like to be in love.”

Mirroring his grin, you lean in to place a soft kiss against his lips.

“And thank you for showing me how to love again.”

A loud shriek of happiness echoes within the hallway, your hands instantly covering your ears as Hana bounces excitedly.

“I told you so!” She cheered, clapping her hands happily, making you roll your eyes as you bite back a grin.

“Shut up, Han,” you laughed.

She’s beaming with pride, the bubbly blonde wrapping her arms around you as she squeezes you tightly in a hug.

“I knew it from the beginning, (Y/N)! You two are most definitely meant for each other!”

Not even being able to bite back the grin this time, you let it consume your lips as you beam at her.

“I think we are,” you agreed. “Thank you for opening my eyes, Han. I appreciate you.”

She gives you another tight squeeze, the blonde bouncing on her heels as she pulls away from you. Nodding her head in the direction behind you, her grin slips into a wide smirk as she nudged you playfully.

“Your boyfriend is here,” she teased.

Quickling bidding you goodbye, you watch her bounce away before a pair of arms wrap around your waist, soft, plump lips gently pressing to the skin on your neck.

“Hello, beautiful,” Namjoon’s deep voice fills your ears as you turn around to lock your arms around his neck.

“Hi, handsome,” you grinned. “How was your morning?”

“It was uneventful,” he pouted. “I didn’t have my beautiful girl with me.”

Rolling your eyes at his cheesiness, you lean in to peck his lips softly.

“Well I’m here now,” you murmured against his mouth.

“And that’s all I need.”

“I thought that I would never be able to fall in love. I thought that my career would essentially leave me lonely; no one by my side, no one to help me get through this rough patch. I was swarmed with an empty mind, no creative outlet allowing me access from within. It was hard, I’ll admit. Endless nights of me drinking myself into oblivion, hoping that somehow my drunken stupor could bring me at least one idea or spark my inspiration once again. I was drowning in nothingness, falling into a black hole filled with nothing but regret -- and then it happened. An angel from above came down to save me from my stupidity and rash behavior. She taught me everything I needed to know; from learning how to get past the writer’s block that plagued me to learning what the true meaning of love meant. She is my savior, my angel, my muse -- and her name is (Y/N).”

-- Kim Namjoon, The Angel of Love (Release Date: Coming Soon)

[bubblesuga]

By My Side

Summary|| Kim Namjoon- Teacher’s Assistant, Sex God, and the last thing you expected to have in your mouth. Name or otherwise. When Namjoon offers to tutor you, you couldn’t pass up that offer even though he didn’t give you much of a choice. 

Word Count: 8,892

Warnings: smut, fluff, and everything in between

Part 3 of my College!AU series

Astrophysics wasn’t top of your list on things to minor in. 

You could have chosen Literature, Creative Writing, hell you would have even been happy in Art. However, you took Astrophysics. Of all fucking things. 

For a while you wanted to drop the class, change your minor or just solely try to focus on your major which was Business Marketing. You hear you have a higher chance of obtaining a job in that field anyway, and you got a real ass chewing from your friend when they found out you signed up for Astrophysics. 

The problem was that the day you planned on dropping the course, Kim Namjoon of all people convinced you not to. 

It’s not like you had a reason to listen to him, and he wasn’t talking directly to you but instead offered his reasons to the class as to why he stuck through it and decided to become a TA the following year. He loved space that much. 

So now, every time you walked into the lecture room you couldn’t help but look to see if Mr. TA was at the front of the class. 

The thing about Namjoon was that he was smart, beyond what you believed anyone could be at your age and although he was only a little older than you, you still felt like he had the knowledge of the entire universe in the palm of his hand. 

You suddenly became much more interested in Astrophysics after that. 

“...and that makes a bit of you as old as time. While the heavier bits in your body were formed in the hearts of stars, the hydrogen in your body was formed a mere three minutes after the initial Big Bang,” you professor spoke, your pen scrawling across the paper, “but the protons in your body was made a millionth of a second after the Big Bang. Some of the protons that formed in the earliest parts of the universe, are in you today.” 

As he continued to speak, you watched Namjoon with a red pen, marking various papers. He gnawed on his nails, then looked up, sensing his eyes on you. You quickly looked away, clearing your throat quietly and looking down at your paper.

Your professor glanced up to the clock, “Okay. I want to go home early today so get out of my classroom please. Everyone except for Miss. (Y/L/N).” 

Confused, you stayed seated while you watched everyone else pack up and walk out of the classroom. The professor made his way up to your seat, sitting on the desk with a sigh. “So, I really don’t want to have to fail you. Your last two terms showed 67% on both of your finals.” 

“U-uhm, yeah I’ve been struggling a little bit.” You noticed Namjoon watching you, his eyes peaking softly out from his glasses. His hair was done so well, gelled up with the lilac color framing his face nicely. 

“Do you want to be in this class? Because I’d rather you drop it if you feel like it’s a waste of your time.” The professor came off harsh, but you knew his intentions were kind. 

“No! I love this class! I’ll work harder, I’m so sorry. I promise by the end of this term I’ll give you an A.” You explained, your voice coming off both apologetic and defensive at the same time. 

“Okay, I’m looking forward to giving you that A then. You may go.” 

You stood abruptly, trying to ignore the embarrassment you felt from Namjoon hearing that conversation. He didn’t seem to react to the things the professor said, and you were sure that he was used to hearing conversations like these but that didn’t take away your embarrassment nonetheless. 

As you were about to walk out, you heard your name. When you turned around, Namjoon was stood from his desk. 

“You know, I could tutor you if you want.” His hands gestured picking up and dropping the pen on the table. If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume he was nervous. 

“Oh, no thanks. I can’t afford a tutor.” You gave him a sheepish smile, shrugging and slipping your arms through the straps of your back pack. Mostly filled with math text books, you felt the weight take an immediately shift on your shoulders. 

Namjoon returned the smile, “I’ll do it for free.” 

“Really?” Your eyes went wide, “You don’t have to. I’m sure you have a busy enough schedule as it is.” 

“Not really, I’m ahead in all of my classes. I think by the time I have to start worrying about them again I can have you up to par in here.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

You pondered for a moment, wondering if it was really worth it to have the hottest guy you had ever seen tutoring you in a subject you had no idea about. He seemed to notice your ponder, chuckling softly. 

“I don’t bite.” 

Finally, you nodded. “Okay, when?” 

“I’m free right now.” He picked up his things, walking towards you. You allowed him to pass you, leading you out of the doors. He stopped walking in the center of the grass in front of the science building. Plopping down, he waited for you to sit. 

You raised an eyebrow, the grassy area shaded just well enough with trees but the warmth of the sun still hitting your skin. The grass was damp underneath your mostly bare legs, your shorts short enough for you to have to sit on your feet otherwise you would have a flashing situation that you really didn’t want to have to deal with. 

“Okay so the main test you need to worry about is the General Exam. A lot of the questions are on ancient science, more specifically how the Greeks began the human ascent into our knowledge of the stars and space itself.” Namjoon began, and already you felt your brain being clouded over with blank thoughts. 

“Okay.” You nodded, trying to follow along to the best of your ability. 

“How did the Greeks determine the size of the Earth?” 

You stared at him, your eye twitching while you dug around your brain for the answer. You knew the answer was there somewhere, so you open your notebook and flip through the notes from last week. 

“Uhm... They waited until a lunar eclipse and measured the shadow that the Earth cast on the moon.” The tip of your pen clicked against the notebook. Namjoon met your eyes, kindness lacing them while his eyebrow raised. He genuinely wanted to help you, and you prayed you didn’t become too enchanted by the way he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“Correct. What did they study specifically though?” 

You stared down at your notes again, “The diameter of Earth’s conical shadow, which they found that shadow’s diameter was about two and a half times the moon’s diameter.” 

“Good again.” Namjoon said, encouraging you while he continued to ask you questions. 

When it got to parts that were particularly hard to remember, he was patient while you sifted through your notes and textbooks to find the answer. Although your conversation with him previously was limited to asking him for a pencil, you found yourself comfortable with him quickly. 

Namjoon finally reached into his bag, pulling out an older textbook and opening it to a bookmarked page. Carefully, he explained Maxwell’s equations as if he was born to teach. You admired his intelligence, seeing a blush grow on his face once he noticed that you weren’t looking at where his finger’s were pointing on the page. 

“Uh, (Y/N)? Focus.” He snapped in your face, breaking you out of your trance and causing you to flip your eyes down to the paper. 

“S- sorry. You just have cute dimples.” As the words left your mouth you wanted desperately to swallow them back up and then sink into the ground in embarrassment. 

You expect him to laugh, but you didn’t expect him to laugh this hard. 

“H- holy shit, that was out of nowhere!” He hollered, clutching his stomach as he fell back into the tall grass. People around you two were beginning to stare, each holding a smirk of their own while you covered your face and fell backward into the grass yourself. 

Still laughing, he uttered his next sentence, “I mean, I knew you liked me but damn. I thought I would have to work you a little longer to get you to admit it.” 

“What?” You pulled yourself onto your elbows, staring at him with a gaunt expression, “who said I liked you? I just said you have cute dimples! I say that to everyone who has dimples!” 

“Don’t bullshit yourself, babe. I see the way you stare at me in class, you can’t deny it. Especially with how obvious you are about it.” He rolled his eyes, his laughter finally calming down while he reopened his book. 

“Whatever. Just tutor me.” Your voice came out in a growl, grabbing your pencil. Namjoon’s dimples deepened, deciding not to press the issue any further as he noticed your. . . agitation? Embarrassment? He couldn’t tell exactly. 

~*~*~

“Joon!” Namjoon’s head whipped towards the direction of his name, spotting Taehyung running towards him in his apron. Blue paint dripped from the ends of his hair, a trail of different colors in his wake while he rushed towards Namjoon. 

“What happened to you?” He couldn’t help but laugh, seeing Taehyung’s usually bright demeanor had been replaced with one of annoyance. 

“She happened!” Taehyung cried out, pointing to a girl across the campus yard with equally bright amounts of orange paint on her. She shot a middle finger his way and turned towards the girl’s dance hall. 

He turned back to Namjoon, “Can I shower at your place? I really don’t want to walk all the way to mine.” 

“Uh, yeah. I’ll give you my key, I’ve got a date.” Namjoon said, pulling out his keys and slipping his house key off the key ring. He dropped it into Taehyung’s red colored hands, sighing and rubbing his face from annoyance once he realized the apartment would be messy when he got home. 

“A date, huh?” 

“Well not really,” Namjoon and Taehyung walked somewhat briskly, ignoring the stares of passerby, “I’m tutoring her, but she likes me.” 

“And you like her?” Taehyung, ever so curious, walked passed the turn to Namjoon’s apartment to get an answer. 

“Go get cleaned up before the Dean spots you.” Namjoon turned back with a smirk, watching his younger friend roll his eyes. His shoes squelched as he walked, signaling the paint had made it’s way down into his socks. 

After the first tutoring session ended, Namjoon was sure to set up the next. Then the next, then the next. He found your reluctance to continue with tutoring sessions after he called your crush out somewhat cute. 

He had yet to bring it up again, instead opting to watch you while you drank way more water than you needed and stared at his lips while he explained formulas. Whether you believed it or not, he did intend on teaching you what you needed to know to pass the class. He knew you were absorbing the information, so he didn’t necessarily mind when he saw you licking your lips subconsciously while he slipped his jacket off his broad shoulders. 

Nonetheless, he felt that you were doing well. 

As far as class went, both of you always seemed to know when to look at each other. The professor would be droning on about topics that you and Namjoon had already covered, so you rested your head on the desk. Namjoon would mouth words to you, usually ‘pay attention’, but you knew he was always making sure you were okay. 

One particular class, Namjoon tapped his leg impatiently while he waited for you to enter the room. His favorite part of the day was seeing what you were wearing, because everything you wore seemed to compliment your shape in the best way. Not that he didn’t look before, but now that he knows you on a bit more personal level, he didn’t constantly tell himself it was wrong to look. 

When you finally did enter the room, your tight leggings and red heels made you look like a goddess. After that, his feelings were set in stone.

His plan today was to tutor you, as always, but then he wanted to make you feel good. After having spent so much time with you over the past couple weeks, he saw your personality blossom and suddenly he liked more than just your body. As he got to know you, he wanted you. More and more. 

He just had to make you beg for it. 

Namjoon knocked on your door, hearing squealing from behind the thick metal. A girl he didn’t recognize opened the door, leaning against the door frame. “Well hello there, I’ve heard so much about-” 

Just as she was about to finish her sentence, your hands snaked up from behind her and covered her mouth, yanking her backward and away from the door. 

“You said you’re leaving, Tamara. So leave.” You gestured, pointing out the door. Namjoon slid to the side, seeing her friend leave while sending a wink his way. He chuckled, waiting for you to invite him in. 

Your house was small, quaint, and old. It felt like you, though. Namjoon could tell you decorated, bits and pieces of things he learned you liked scattered throughout each room. 

He took a moment to look around while you told him to sit at the table, his finger running along the pictures on the walls. When you reentered the room, your hair was now pulled up and the bright blue fluffy pajama pants donned on your waist with a black tank top. 

“Sorry, it’s my house and I hate not wearing comfortable clothes in it.” You explained, crossing your leg and sitting on the chair across from him. 

You knew what Namjoon was playing at. After your third tutoring session, you noticed he became increasingly. . . sexy. Not that he wasn’t sexy before because you couldn’t deny your attraction, but the shirts became tighter, the hair was always styled, and his smirk. That damn smirk.

It was there, on his face. All the time. It was driving you absolutely insane. His tongue darted out to lick his lips and everything he said was so smart. 

Namjoon saw your wardrobe change, ignoring your skin peaking out from your tank top. “I can’t fault you for wanting to be comfortable.” He finally manages. 

You two got right to work, your eyes reading the numbers on the page. Namjoon leaned on the table, getting right into tutor mode and explaining a book he read that helped him understand advanced equations. 

You wrote down the book name, rubbing your forehead to get rid of your headache. Despite finally beginning to understand everything, your head still hurt at the prospect of taking the test in a few weeks. 

A couple hours later, your notebook was officially full. You tossed the pen onto the table, stretching your arms, “Yay! Done for the day!” 

Namjoon shut his own book, “I think we’re done forever.” 

“What?” You suddenly began to panic, did you do something to scare him away? Sure offering for him to tutor at your house was nerve-racking, but you didn’t think that he wouldn’t like it. 

“We’ve covered pretty much everything on the test. All you have to do is remember what I taught you, and then you’ll be good.” Namjoon stood, sliding his books haphazardly into his back pack. He slung it over his shoulder, giving you that same dimpled smile you had grown to love. 

“Wait- I know everything?” 

“Well not everything, but enough,” He grinned, “I’ll see you in class, (Y/N).” 

Namjoon turned to walk away and suddenly he was paranoid. He wanted you to call after him, to stop him and tell him to stay. However, as he made it closer to the door and began to slip his shoes on, he still hadn’t heard your call. 

He paused for a moment, a sigh leaving his lips while he turned his back and squeezed the doorknob in his hands. 

“Wait!” 

There you were.

“Let me make you dinner! You know, as a thanks for teaching me so well.” You said, coming into view. Namjoon turned around, “Dinner?” 

“Yes! I- I have steak that I was saving for Friday but I could make it now.” Your words became quieter as your spoke, your hand rubbing your arm nervously. There was no way that you wanted him to leave yet, and you weren’t sure how else to thank him. 

“I like steak.” Namjoon said, slipping his shoes back off and laying his back pack on the recliner beside the door. You grinned, letting out a nervous laugh, beckoning him into the living room. 

“Make yourself comfy and I’ll cook for you.” 

“Why don’t I help you?” Namjoon offered, following you while you walked out. You tilted your head to the side, “You can cook?” 

Namjoon, for the first time in a while, felt a blush creep on his cheek. The way you looked up at him, expectant and suddenly excited, made his head spin. He actually had to admit something that he couldn’t do to someone who he was trying to impress, “I didn’t say I could cook. I said I would help.” 

You giggled, “I’ll have you toss the salad.” 

“I like the sound of that.” Namjoon teased, following you into the kitchen. You began to prep everything, Namjoon watching in awe while you moved around the kitchen with ease. 

After setting a pan onto the open flame, you turned and connected your phone to the speaker and flipped on your cooking playlist. Namjoon, impressed with your taste in music, continued to watch you as you started dancing along to the beat. 

The sear of the steak against the hot pan was a welcoming sound, Namjoon’s mouth suddenly watering as he saw you toss butter and thyme into the pan. Your voice sang along with the song, your movements fluid. 

“You have a beautiful voice!” Namjoon called over the music, watching your face turn red. He sat on the other side of the island, waiting patiently for instruction. As the steaks cooked, you reached into the fridge and pulled out a head of lettuce, setting it down in front of Namjoon and rummaging through the lower cabinet for a bowl. 

Namjoon leaned over the counter, admiring your curves as your back peaked out from your tank top. The shirt you wore hugged you perfectly, he could see your heart-shaped ass squeezed into your pajama pants. Once he saw you stand up, he sat back down quickly but over corrected and managed to slip right off the stool. 

With a loud crash, he toppled over the stool beside him and let out a groan. 

“Are you okay?” You yelled, pausing your music and rushing around the counter. Namjoon’s eyes were shut tight, “I’m good.” 

“What were you doing?” You question, reaching your hand out. His large hand dwarfed yours, and you knew you weren’t any help to pull him up but you still tugged on his arm nonetheless. 

He smiled sheepishly, “I was just trying to see what kind of bowl you were grabbing.” 

“Oh?” you watched him dust himself off, “why are you so interested in bowls?” 

“More like the girl who was holding the bowl.” 

“I knew you weren’t tutoring me just to help me,” you roll your eyes, the feeling you had in the pit of your stomach finally coming true, “so is making you steak a dumb idea? Would you prefer I suck your dick as thanks?” 

Namjoon was somewhat shocked by your cool tone, watching you flip the steaks and almost cringing at the loud searing returning. Although he liked the words that came out of your mouth, he would have preferred if it came out in a moan. Something about the way you refused to look him in the eye caused him to swallow nervously. 

“N- no, I didn’t expect an extravagant thanks. The steaks will be fine.” He explained, sighing softly and allowing his face to fall into his hands. 

Silence fell over the two of you, Namjoon suddenly missing the blaring music that filled his ears 10 minutes ago. He nervously listened as you explained how to make the salad. He did so quietly, his hands carefully shredding the lettuce then mixing the ingredients to make the vinaigrette. 

You rolled your neck, exhaling through your nose. When you heard him admit his interest in you, you immediately wanted to hide yours. Sure, your feelings were reciprocated but he was a TA, he was basically your teacher. You couldn’t do anything with him, he’s likely the one to by grading your test. If anyone found out, favoritism would be called even if you did get everything right. 

“I’m sorry, I must have read you wrong earlier.” Namjoon’s voice sliced through the silence. His hands held the whisk loosely, dipping his pinky in to make sure the vinaigrette tasted good. 

“No, you didn’t.” You spoke carefully, pulling out plates and setting the steaks on each plate. 

“Would you be upset if I said I was confused?” Namjoon felt like he had to walk on eggshells. Sure, you didn’t necessarily yell at him earlier but he was much more careful of every word he said. 

“We can’t do anything, Namjoon,” you cut up a couple of hard boiled eggs and threw it into the bowl of salad, “you’re my TA. It’d be inappropriate. Believe me, I’ve been imagining going down on you for ages but it’s just not in the cards.” 

This whole conversation was so mature, Namjoon wasn’t used to so much honesty from women and he certainly didn’t expect it from you. Especially since you denied your interest in him so vehemently on the first day. It was new territory, he never had a problem waning women in his direction before.  

“Teacher’s Assistant or not, I still feel like we’d be good. Besides, I’m only your TA for a couple more months.” Namjoon said, finally tossing the salad together. 

“What makes you say that?” 

“Because I like you. Genuinely. You’re smart, funny, and one hell of a gorgeous girl.” Namjoon explained, using tongs to lay the salad on the plate beside the steak. 

You smiled at his compliment, grabbing forks and knives out of the drawer. Initially you planned on eating at the table but you decided to stand at the island, sliding a plate over to Namjoon and watching him cut his steak and eat. He moaned at the taste, gesturing wildly at his plate while he chewed. 

“This shit is immaculate.” 

After a few moments, Namjoon had eaten half his steak and you finished your salad. You found a good moment to speak again, “You’re saying you want something more than sex?” 

“The sex would be nice, but I’d like to take you out on a date as well,” he takes another bite, “dinner and dessert.” 

You chewed slowly, thinking over his words carefully. It was true, you’d only have to hide it for a couple months. That is if everything lasted that long. You looked him up and down, weighing the pros and cons. As far as you were concerned, there couldn’t be a con. 

If anything, dating him even briefly would be fun. A college romance. 

“What would be the dessert?” You questioned, taking his now empty plate and slipping it into the sink. 

He wiped his mouth with a napkin, revealing a devilish smirk when he was done. “Well, you of course.” 

You inhaled, watching him stand from his stool and walk around the island. “That is, if you want to be my dessert.” 

Finally, you nodded. Namjoon took your nod as permission, leaning down carefully and pressing a small kiss to your lips. You could taste the raspberry vinaigrette on his tongue when he slipped it gently between your lips. His hand held the back of your neck, his thumb stroking your soft exposed skin. 

Nothing about how he looked could prepare you for the sudden arousal you felt just at his touch. His hands were large, you wanted them all over your body but the stayed at the back of your neck. 

He gave no hint of taking it any further, pulling away just as softly as he started. His lips pressed a kiss to each of your cheeks, then the tip of your nose before pulling away completely. 

Your eyes fluttered back open once you felt his touch leave your body, and then you felt cold everywhere but where he once held you. “Thank you for the dinner, (Y/N).” 

“Wait! You don’t get to get me all hot and bothered and then leave after kissing me!” You yelled, calling after him while he once again made his way to your front door. He paused, turned, and grinned, “Believe me, there is nothing I want more than to bend you over the counter and fuck you into oblivion. I just- I don’t want to mess it up before it even starts.” 

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, trying desperately to find the words you wanted to say. Your mind was reeling with him, even though it was only a few seconds, his kiss was the most sensual thing you had ever experienced in your entire life. 

“I don’t think fucking me over the counter would mess anything up.” You replied, both shy and ready to rip your clothes off at the same time. 

Namjoon’s cock twitched in his pants at your words, swallowing. “So you’re okay with me fucking you before I take you on a date?” 

“Namjoon,” the way you said his name, desperation rolling off the tip of your tongue, turned him on more than anyone ever has, “I’m begging you to fuck me.” 

That’s what he wanted to hear. 

Namjoon rushed back over to you, his hands at your hips and gripping them roughly in his fingers. His lips were much more rushed, hard against yours. His teeth captured your bottom lip, tugging it gently. 

You grinned at the feeling building in your core, his strong hands lifting you onto the counter. He rested between your legs, only pulling away to take his shirt off of his body. His golden skin shined beneath the lights of your kitchen, your eyes scanning him for just a moment before bringing him down to your lips again. 

You lifted your hips enough for him to slide your pants down your legs. You wrapped them around his hips, grinding softly against him. The whines that left your mouth were sinful and it took everything in Namjoon not to cum just to the sound of your voice.

You pulled away, breathless. Your lips latched onto his neck, biting and sucking harshly.

“Still want to go down on me?” Namjoon grinned. 

You didn’t hesitate in dropping off the counter and onto your knees, unbuttoning his jeans and slipping them down his legs. Before moving on, you removed your Tank top from your body, your chest bouncing while you excitedly moved. 

Namjoon’s mouth went dry as he spotted your hard nipples, wanting desperately to latch his lips around them. 

Urgency was felt between the two of you, both of you waiting to feel the rush of pleasure. You pulled his cock out from his jeans, already hard and ready for your lips to wrap around it. You pumped it a few times, smearing precum across the tip before looking up at him through your lashes. 

His hand stroked your hair softly, giving you a subtle nod and urging you to continue. Finally, you licked a long stripe on the underside of his pulsing cock and hearing him moan loudly. You couldn’t help but moan back, watching him throw his head back. 

It was the perfect size, you were able to swallow his cock with ease. Your eyes began to water when he held your head all the way down, burying your nose in his pelvic bone. 

His chest was heaving, and you had never felt sexier. 

Even though you were only going down on him, you still felt pleasure in giving him pleasure. The way his hips tutted into your mouth, shoving his member further down your throat, had you reeling. You slipped your free hand between your legs, rubbing harshly on your clothed clit. 

Your hips lifted and dropped while you tried to find the best angle, you knew you could come just from sucking Namjoon dry. 

“Fuck, you feel so good baby.” Namjoon cried out, watching as his cock thrust in and out of your swollen lips. He continued to guide your head, your other hand dropping as he began to fully fuck your mouth. 

He noticed where your hands were, electrifying pleasure rushing through his body at the sight of you rubbing your clit beneath him. “If you don’t want me to cum on your tongue then I suggest stopping now.” 

There was no way you were stopping now, you felt yourself grow closer and closer to your release. As your movements sped up on your clit, you sucked harder. 

“Ah, ah! Princess please-” Namjoon pleaded, “(Y/N)...” Your name rolled off the tip of his tongue with a grunt.

As you felt your release wash over your body, cum sputtered out of Namjoon’s cock, coating your tongue and the back of your throat. He pulled out until the tip of his cock rested on your tongue, finishing off his orgasm. 

You knew you had soaked through your panties, but you had never came so hard just from touching someone. As Namjoon pulled away, you swallowed the bitter taste and looked up at his completely fucked out expression. 

“Holy shit.” He pulled you up, capturing your lips yet again. It shocked you, as every other man you had been with refused to kiss you after they had cum in your throat. “You are amazing.” 

“S- same to you.” You stuttered, your legs still weak from your release. 

Namjoon dipped his hand down your panties, shocked by the wetness enveloping his fingers. “You’re so wet.” He grinned, he knew he had an affect on you but he didn’t know it was this strong. 

He slid onto his knees, panic rushing over your features, “What are you doing?” 

“Well you made me feel good, now it’s your turn.” He explained, pulling your leg over his shoulder and slipping your panties to the side. 

“I already came...” You said shyly, Namjoon’s pupil’s blown at the sight of your soaked slit. 

“Really? Just from-” you nodded, seeing his shocked expression, “well you get to come again.” 

Before you had a second to gather your thoughts, Namjoon buried his face between your legs. Already weak from before, you felt yourself lean back on the counter for support while his tongue attacked your entrance. You gasped at the sudden feeling of his warmth, his fingers holding open your lips as he moved against you fervently. You don’t think you had ever came so quickly after another, but in seconds you found yourself releasing on his lips, feeling them turn into a smirk while he excitedly lapped up your juices. 

As you tried to gather yourself, you heard your front door unlock. Both of you shared a panicked look, Namjoon slipping his jeans back up his legs and doing the belt up quickly. You looked around, noticing your pants on the other side of the kitchen, and it was too late. 

You heard footsteps approach on the wooden floor, and Namjoon slid you behind him, hiding your unclothed torso. 

“Hey (Y/N) did your hot tutor le- oh my god.” Tamara was cut off by the scene in front of her, Namjoon pushing you to his back while you hid behind him. Peaking your head out, you let out an embarrassed laugh, “I thought you were spending the night at your boyfriend’s.” 

“You said he was just tutoring you and you had sex in our kitchen?” Tamara’s mouth dropped open as she looked around at various items of clothes thrown around. 

“That’s my bad,” Namjoon spoke up, his face warm. From the sex or the embarrassment, he wasn’t sure, “I couldn’t help myself.” 

Tamara only raised an eyebrow at him, shaking her head and turning away. 

You let out a breath, sighing and hugging Namjoon’s back. He chuckled, turning in your arms and hugging you back. “Well that was a fun ride.” 

“Joon,” you still hid your face from him, his laugh filling your ears, “we can’t have sex in my kitchen again.” 

“Awe,” he pouted, grabbing your chin and lifting to meet your eyes, “but I still haven’t bent you over the counter.” 

You gasped at his words, slapping his chest playfully before leaning away and slipping your shirt back on. He dressed himself as well, handing you your pants and watching you cover your gorgeous body. 

“Are you going to stay the night?” You question innocently, most wondering if you needed to grab more pillows for your bed. Namjoon smiled softly, his hands yearning to hold you again but he held himself back, opting to scratch his neck to keep himself busy instead.

“Do you want me to?” 

“It’d be nice.” You grinned, excited at the prospect of falling asleep in his arms. 

Namjoon nodded, following you to your bedroom. 

~*~*~ 

The next morning was busy. You both woke up late, mostly because every time Namjoon’s alarm went off he snoozed it. 

The rest of the night was spent in your bedroom, talking about your aspirations while a movie played in the background. Your fingers clasped together, your heads on the same pillow. He never seemed to run out of things to talk about with you, and for that he was grateful. Never has a woman been so intellectually stimulating to him. 

When you did finally manage to tear yourself out of bed, Namjoon reached out for you in his half-asleep state. “Come back,” his voice was deep but still came out in a whine, “we can skip today.” 

“No we can’t,” you murmur, laying down beside him and pushing his hair from his face, “I already missed my first two classes. The next one is the one we both have to go to, if you and I miss it on the same day it’ll be suspicious.” 

Namjoon sighed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and sitting up. You pulled an outfit out from your closet, undressing and changing. Namjoon still sat on the bed, watching you in awe while he learned your morning routine. 

“What’s that perfume you use?” He asked after a moment, remembering the distinct strawberry scent that he always smelled radiating off of your clothes. You held up a perfume, “Gucci flora, it’s my favorite.” You smiled. 

Finally, he got up and slipped his clothes from yesterday on. You cringed, “You’re gonna have to go to class in the same clothes as yesterday.” 

He shrugged, “I’m sure no one will notice.” 

Namjoon pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, fluffing up the back of your hair for you. 

So quickly did he fall into you. Everything about you was so captivating, down to the way you brushed your teeth. He knew from the first day you walked into that classroom that you were a heartbreaker, and he just prayed every day since he started tutoring you that he was an exception. He wondered how deeply you felt about him, or whether it was on a surface level. Trying not to think about negative things, he shook his head and followed you out of your house. 

When you both made it to the science building, Namjoon waited a moment to walk in after you did. As you sat down at your seat, you couldn’t help but watch Namjoon as he slipped into TA mode. Ready for him was a stack of papers to grade, and you knew you weren’t getting much of a look from him today. Either way, you were happy with the progress the two of you had made in one short night, not that you were expecting any of it to happen. 

The class went by a lot slower than you wanted, and it wasn’t until the professor dismissed you did you realize you had almost fallen asleep while you watched yet another video on Tycho Brahe. 

Everyone filed out of the classroom, and as you got up to leave you stole a glance to Namjoon. He dawned a pair of glasses and read intently on whatever he had in his hand. 

As the professor spoke to a student at the door, you made your way over to Namjoon, tapping your finger on the desk quietly to get his attention. He looked up, slipping off the glasses from his face and grinned, “Well hello gorgeous.” 

You blushed at his words, “I’m going to head back home, you can come if you want?” 

“Hm, I think I’m going to the arcade with my friend. I can come by after that?” He suggested, and you tried to hide your disappointment. Namjoon could sense it, “I’ll come by tonight for sure. Do you like take out?” 

You nodded, “I’d like that.” 

“Miss (Y/L/N)! I’ve seen your improvement and I’m glad, Namjoon has certainly helped you.” The professor walked over to you to, pulling you out of the trance that was Namjoon’s deep brown eyes. 

“Uh, yeah he’s certain good at teaching,” you stuttered, “I’m glad he offered to tutor me.” 

The professor nodded, “Well like I said before, I can’t wait to give you that A.” He patted your shoulder, and you took that as an opportunity to slip out of the room. Namjoon waved to you before discussing something with the professor. You watched for a moment, biting your lip then walking down the hallway and out the door. 

When you made it back to your house, your roommate sat on the couch in her pajamas. You rose an eyebrow, “I thought you had a lecture at 2 today.” 

“I skipped it,” She shrugged, “where’s your boytoy?” 

“At the arcade with a friend of his,” you explained, plopping down beside her and cringing at some reality show she watched. She paused occasionally to explain why some person was yelling at another and you tried to listen to the best of your ability but you couldn’t help but think back to last night. 

Sure, you enjoyed the physicality of everything but once you two began talking about things other than Astrophysics, you learned a whole lot more about him than you expected to. 

His love for rap and music in general was heart-warming, mentioning briefly on how he wished to one day drop a mixtape and maybe get signed. You encouraged him even though you hadn’t heard a single second of anything he’s ever written. Either way, you knew that he could do it because there wasn’t anything in the world you could imagine him being bad at. 

When he asked you about your dreams, you weren’t sure how to answer. You had always taken a, ‘it is what it is’ approach to everything. Yes, you did preemptively take Business Marketing as a gateway into adulthood, but as far as everything else went, you were unsure. 

Eventually you managed a small, “I’m happy to be alive.” 

Namjoon smiled, enjoying the simplicity of your answer. 

You shook your head from thoughts of last night, wiping the grin off your face. 

Just as you saw Tamara drift off to sleep, your phone lit up. 

friend is being lame, can I come over? 

Your heart was giddy, excited to see the man who couldn’t leave your mind. Quickly, you responded. 

please do

You locked your phone and waited on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through the TV while Tamara snored softly. You sighed, wondering if you should tell her to leave for a bit. You decided against it, knowing that he has had men over many times when you were just a thin wall away. 

You hopped up at the sound of a gentle knock on the door, practically throwing the door open to see Namjoon. His smile stretched across his face, “Hi baby.” 

You pulled him into the house, shushing him when you walked passed the living room. He chuckled softly, and when you were down the hall and in your room, he slipped his jacket off of his shoulders. 

“Soo,” you were suddenly shy, realizing you weren’t sure how tonight was going to go, “how was the arcade.” 

“Dumb,” Namjoon replied honestly. You noticed he went home and finally changed from yesterday’s clothes, a tight black T-shirt now hugging his skin. He hopped on the bed beside you, “my friend refuses to let anyone ruin his high score.” 

You giggled, “Ah KSJ? Some girl in my Marketing Research class has been talking about him a lot.” 

Namjoon nodded, “That man has more of an affect than he realizes.” 

It was quiet for a moment, and you watched while he adjusted himself onto your bed. He closed his eyes, and it amazed you at how quickly he became comfortable with you. He was already treating you like you had been together for a while, and you couldn’t complain. You enjoyed skipping the ‘get to know me’ phase, because you know as time goes on you will learn more about each other and in better ways than the standard first date. 

Still, even though you had already done some of the most intimate things with the man, you found yourself in awe of him. His chest rose and fell softly, and you realized that you hadn’t kissed him since this morning. You yearned for his touch but tried desperately not to come off as needy. 

You laid beside him, just far enough away for him to notice. Namjoon opened an eye, “You okay?” 

“I’m good, yeah.” You smiled, swallowing nervously. 

“How come you’re not touching me?” His question was loaded, though it came off innocent. His eyes were closed again, waiting for your verbal response. His hands, clasped behind his head, made his biceps flex beneath the tight black fabric. 

Earlier hesitation gone, you leaned your head onto his shoulder, feeling his arm move and fall around you as if he had been doing this for years. 

You snuggled into him, your eyes growing heavy. 

“Did I really come over here just to nap?” Namjoon asked outloud, more to himself than you. You nodded against him, feeling yourself fall asleep on his chest. 

~*~*~ 

Namjoon hadn’t been around since he fell asleep with you, and you assumed with everything going on that he was busy. He was sure to send a few texts your way a day, being sure to let you know that he can’t stop thinking about you. Even in class, you didn’t talk much but you didn’t mind, focusing on things that you needed to. 

Now it was Saturday night, your legs crossed on your bed and copious amounts of homework and papers surrounding you. Almost finishing, your hands filled out each question when you heard your ringtone throughout the room. 

“Hello?” You answered without looking, putting on your customer service voice out of habit from many years ago. 

“I still haven’t bent you over the table.” Namjoon sounded through, music coming through the speaker. You gasped at his words, immediately dropping your pencil, “Are you drunk?” 

“No,” he giggles, shushing someone else beside him, “I just want you. This bar is boring without you.” 

“You haven’t drank with me though?” You tease, questioning his motives for calling you. He shouted to someone in the corner, telling them to stop talking shit, “I bet you’re sexy when you’re drunk. Not that you aren’t sexy all the time, but I think you’d be even more wet than before if you drank a little with me.” 

“I really hope you aren’t saying these things in front of people, Joon.” You scold, but you can’t help but feel the heat between your legs at his words. You imagined him at a table with his friends, his hand over the speaker while he spoke dirty words into your ears. 

“I’m coming over.” Namjoon said, and he hung up without another word. 

You look around, quickly cleaning up your papers and books, sliding them onto your night stand. You rushed to the bathroom, brushing your teeth quickly. You weren’t exactly sure what to expect, so you changed from your sweats and into a satin nightgown. You studied your reflection carefully, shaking your head and changing into something else. 

Black and red lingerie rested on your body, and you knew you were finally ready. As if expecting that you were ready, Namjoon knocked on the door. You rushed to the door, the knocking not stopping until you were opening it. He took a moment to look at your scantily clad body, an audible groan slipping from his lips. 

He was drunk, or at least tipsy. He’s eyes were clouded over and every inch of your body only turned him on.

No words were exchanged, only Namjoon grabbing your face in his large hands and kissing you passionately. He pushed you into your house, his lips not leaving yours. You silently thanked your roommate for leaving, not having to worry about be walked in on until the morning. He already had the layout of your house memorized, carefully navigating through your hallway until he reached your bathroom. 

Confused, you pulled away when you heard the door creek, “What are you-” 

“I want you in the shower,” Namjoon said, already ripping off his shirt, “and as much as I would love to fuck you in that tiny little outfit, I like when you’re naked even more.” 

It didn’t take much to convince you. He stumbled out of his jeans, no boxers to be seen underneath. You watched him with a smirk on your face, his hand turning the shower on and testing the temperature. 

When he turned back to you, it felt like something switched in him, “Why aren’t you undressed?” 

Your core twitched at the demanding tone of his voice. He wasn’t hard yet, he held himself off from stroking himself until he saw that you were wet and ready. 

You unclasped your bra, slipping it from around your shoulders. He grabbed your arm, guiding you to the water and silently asking for you to test it. When you felt the warm liquid surround your hand, you nodded and stepped out of your panties. 

Without giving you much time to adjust, Namjoon was behind you, pulling the shower head off of the mount and switching it to massage mode. 

“I thought you wanted to fuck me?” You questioned, such dirty words falling from your sinful mouth. Namjoon smiled down at you, his cock rutting against your backside in anticipation, “I do, but I want to make you feel good as well.” 

He brought the shower head over the front of your body, running the water over everywhere he would kiss if he were in bed. Your tits were perky, a perfect handful for Namjoon to grab and tug at while the water moved down lower. 

His feet kicked yours apart, spreading your legs ever-so-slightly and allowing the harsh water jets to hit your clit directly. Immediately, your legs grew weak. Namjoon wrapped his other arm around your waist, holding you up while the jets pounded against your clit. 

“Oh my god,” you moaned, Namjoon’s cock twitching from behind you, “more.” 

Suddenly, he felt much more sober than previously, “What was that, baby?” 

“More, please. More.” Was all you could manage out, your head thrown back onto his shoulder while you clawed backward, desperate to touch him in any way you possibly could. When your hands settled on the back of your neck, you felt yourself growing closer and closer to your orgasm. 

Just as quickly as it started, it stopped. Namjoon pulled away, his lips attacking your neck while you whined from the lack of sensation against you. The water jets was replaced with his fingers, “I can’t take it anymore. I have to be inside you.” 

Catching your breath, you turned to him and kissed him harshly. Your nails raked down his abs, feeling the muscles clench at every touch against him. You gripped his now hard cock in your manicured hand, pumping it up and down quickly. 

“Are you sure you’re ready for me?” If he could tease you, you could tease him right back, “you might cum too quickly. I don’t know if you could last inside of me.” 

“Cocky, huh? Bend over. Now.” Namjoon demanded, not having any of it. As you turned around, your head under the water, Namjoon rubbed the head of his cock up and down your slit, collecting up your wetness and groaning at the feeling of you finally so close to him. 

He didn’t ask if you were ready like he wanted to, but the feeling was overwhelming, just running his cock over you was enough to send him into the most intense rush of pleasure he’s ever felt in his entire life and he forgot how to move his tongue to create the words running through his head. 

All he could do was slowly sink into you, earning a delicious moan from you. You gripped onto the railing in front of you, his length filling you and stretching you out in the best way possible. Even with the water running over both of you, you were numb to everything that wasn’t him. His fingertips digging into your hips, his length moving in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace. In that moment, your entire being was consumed by him and him alone. 

“More.” You moaned, much like earlier except your voice was filled with much more need than before. Namjoon couldn’t help himself, though, continuing his slow thrusts. Whines, glorious and loud, filled the shower, echoing off of the walls. Namjoon was quiet, just listening to you while your knuckles turned white from gripping the handles. 

“Fuck!” you shout, letting go of the railing and leaning up, just enough for Namjoon’s hands to return to your breasts, massaging them as he finally began to speed up his motions. 

“I love that you’re so loud,” Namjoon manages, grunting while he spoke, “tell me more. Tell me how much you like it.” 

“You feel so good, Namjoon,” you look back at him, his eyes screwed shut and his hair soaked, droplets of water dripping from the ends of his hair, “you’re so big, I love your- I love-” your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You weren’t able to form anymore words as Namjoon’s cock hit just the right place to have you rolling in pleasure. 

“Come on, babygirl. You have to tell me.” His thrusts were faster, sloppier, and his fingers found their way back down to your clit. His calloused fingers spread your lips, moving in a figure 8 while he timed his thrusts with each twist of his finger. 

“I want you to fill me up!” You cry out, and you knew you weren’t helping Namjoon in anyway from the way your legs gave out. His arms held you close though, keeping you up so easily.

Namjoon buried his face in your shoulder, “You’re so fucking hot, please tell me you’re close.” His words were muffled but you could understand him loud and clear.

“Mmhmm.” You managed, biting your lip. 

“Say it.” 

“I’m going to come,” you moan, and then your release washed over your body in waves. Everything was too much, the way you came undone beneath him and the feeling of you squeezing his cock. He was a mess, and after a few more thrusts, he pulled his cock out of you and released onto your ass, letting you go in the process. 

You fall forward, grabbing the railing yet again for support and feeling his hot cum drench your lower half. With your orgasm still running its course, you felt your knees buckle while you dropped. 

Namjoon was quick to reach forward and catch you, setting you down on the ledge of the top and moving the hair out of your face. “Are you okay baby?” 

You nodded, “I’m more than okay.” 

Namjoon grinned, leaning down and kissing your cheeks, “Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

After cleaning you up, Namjoon massaged shampoo and conditioner throughout your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of coconut. Afterward, he even brushed your hair while you were wrapped in a towel, then finally handing you his shirt to sleep in. 

“So,” you said later that night, stroking his hair while you listened to music, “we going to go on that date you said you wanted to take me out on?”

“Breakfast tomorrow?” He looks up at you, that dimpled smirk stretching across his face. 

“I’d like that.” You grin, leaning down and giving him one of many kisses. 

[cautelous]

arcane bellyaching & whatnot feel free to look away it’s mostly rambling and the result of me being up early for other reasons. also talking about politics i guess if that isn’t your thing

damn they really did pull the “what side are you on? the oppressors or the oppressed? both sides are weighted as the same by this statement, and also here’s some animated police brutality!” thing huh

like yeah sure of course i’m not saying that piltover pre-the-present-day has to be perfect and whatnot (nor does present-day piltover have to be perfect either, but... idk, not a fan of this direction!) and of course that is me speaking about old, independent, single-city piltover - i guess this new one can be as corrupt as it wants for as long as it wants - but like, insanely uncomfortable to have just talked about the way that caitlyn’s outfits and abilities and general thing have become less “detective” and more “militarized cop” and how everyone is eating that up because it’s hot that she has more clothes and it’s hot that she has a SWAT outfit only for. ok here is our trailer with a scene of policemen physically breaking up protests! (of course people do seem to be cringing somewhat at that, which is good, and i am not saying that a work of art/piece of media can’t talk about such things, but like. do we trust riot to?)

like even if that scene is from the past (which considering that arcane seems to be both in the past and present, eh, 50/50) then the implication is just that current piltover hasn’t solved whatever issue caused said protest and also hasn’t stopped brutalizing, because current piltover lore has such delightful color stories as “caitlyn electrocutes someone with a bola net” and “vi lectures rich pilties and physically threatens them for breaking windows for the ~zaunite cause~”. the latter is literally just repeating the message that all property damage in protests is the work of outside forces and actually good real actual protesters are completely peaceful :), you see, and so any property damage during a protest immediately discounts its legitimacy. so like. (and secondarily, child of zaun portrays zaunites as easily swayed by a demagogue, unlike those Very Smart Piltovians and Vi, Who’s Not Really Accepted As Fully Zaunite Anymore You See And That’s Her Character Struggle.)

so either a) nothing has gotten better since however many years in the past that scene in arcane was or b) this is the present, and the present in this work of fiction is just. mirroring reality’s present, which is just... i dunno. i think that a fictional world so apart from our own (to the extent that there’s no homophobia, at least from word-of-god, but idk i also have thoughts on that declaration) can do better than 1:1 mirror our world’s police brutality and class struggles. but i’m always an idealist who’d like to see media do more than darkness for the sake of darkness, or repeat reality for the sake of repeating reality and nothing more.

anyways idk man hope they don’t impart absolutely horrid themes in their multi-million-dollar project (or however much this ended up costing) but considering this starting point i am not very sure of that!

anyways idk x2 there’s totally a way to do a piltover-zaun "cities at war” narrative in old lore framing that shows both the struggles of piltover and zaun and compares and contrasts them. piltover “wins” in that framework because zaun is a hypercapitalist hellhole and old piltover’s implications are closer to a steampunk utopia than anything else, but i think the point of that narrative wouldn’t be “see, both sides are bad! and good! equally! just a big old moral perfectly-balanced scale!” like this seems to be shaping up to be, but like. showing that there is goodness and good people even under the most soul-crushing of states (zaun. and also a narrative that i think is important, considering how often we confuse being a citizen of a country for being a follower of that country’s government’s ideology) and that a good nation* and good lives for its citizens has to be worked for with blood, sweat, and tears - and even then it is so easy to fall back into old patterns of behavior and fall upon old prejudices and backslide into a “more comfortable” (for some), but worse society (piltover. and, again, also a narrative that i think is important).

*i have many thoughts about if a nation can be “truly good”, but i would be mad if i thought league or most media would touch the idea of a stateless society with a ten-foot pole. so we’re just working within reason here.

i dunno. tl;dr not very excited at riot choosing to tackle police brutality in their fun animated series for fans when their track record with revolutionaries is what it is. (yes xayah and rakan are portrayed in a positive light yes that’s the gottem everyone uses for when people bring up how xerath and sylas are treated. there are multiple types of revolutionaries and the lovebirds are of a stripe (a feather?) that is easier to market.) not very excited (still, what a surprise) about zaun being squeezed into entirely being the poor underclass, because i feel like that nukes a lot of narratives you could have done with old zaun that would, you know, be directly critical of capitalism and whatnot. there are very interesting stories to tell with these two cities, and i’ve told some of them and my friends have told some of them, and i am just tired of this... bottom-of-the-barrel gritty-to-be-gritty low-hanging-fruit take that riot has chosen. i think that a company, even one making a mass-market game, who tries so hard to convince everyone that they have serious lore for serious people can and should do better than this.

what do i close this ramble with. go play disco elysium? yeah. let’s go with that. go play disco elysium. i like it and think it does a variety of complex themes that other works can only dream of.

[nagisasstunningpersonality]

About Assassination Classroom Characters - Kataoka Megu

An important thing to note about her is she’s kind of seen as ‘boy like’ due to her appearance (girl is 5′7, giant for a Japanese girl) and dependable personality. 

A kind of less extreme flip to the Nagisa situation, I think. 

Honestly one of her defining character traits is that she’s a dependable girl, and very easy to lean on for support. 

It needs to be remembered though that Kataoka actually doesn’t really like this. Being depended on too much, and somewhat manipulated, is the reason her grades dropped to get her into 3E in the first place. 

I think there’s actually a bit of innocence there where she really feels like she needs to help people, and opens herself to getting hurt. 

I’d like to imagine maybe one time, one assassination attempt a group of her classmates are putting too much on her, and she breaks down a little. Not just from that, but the build up. Maybe some stuff’s going down at home. Point is, she gets super stressed, and it takes that for everyone to realise that she’s not completely invincible. That time, everyone works more as a team, rather than following a leader, and they end up having a good time. 

Not to say Kataoka doesn’t enjoy being a natural leader. 

Though she probably deserves more credit. I feel like Isogai gets a lot of the ‘glory’ moments. 

For her birthday, it would be cute if everyone banded together to give her some appreciation for being a super awesome class rep. 

She has the courage to stand up to mostly the boys and lecture them. Honestly it’s important for teenage boys of that age to be around women who can do that, even if it’s not the most ‘feminine’ thing to do. It’s clear they still look up to her and she’s popular, which is great honestly. 

Though there are still people there to calm her down a little when she goes too far with the hot headedness. Learning to accept other opinions is a big part of being a good leader too, and ultimately helps her with her negotiation skills. 

In canon, it’s said that she wants to go into a more feminine seeming career like being a flight attendant. 

From the graduation album, it seems like she ends up instead dropping the idea to work a typical company kind of job instead, perhaps ending up in management. 

That leads me to believe that she went through the character development, some point, of realising that not representing traditional femininity is totally fine too. She can be comfortable in her own skin. 

Without writing a whole meta about it, this is kind of interesting given women’s position within Japanese culture. There’s a lot of emphasis on the ‘traditional’ family unit, as well as women being shy and submissive. Due to lack of population, more women are staying in the work force, as well as general times changing, and becoming more assertive. There’s a lot of kind of socioeconomic issues to do with this, but in a nutshell, I think Kataoka is a good representation of this ‘struggle’. 

That being said, it’s valid for her to want to enjoy other activities too 

I’m imagining her going on weekend shopping trips to Harajuku or Shibuya with Okano and Kurahashi, perhaps Yada too. Though it’s mostly kind of window shopping, they all have a good time in each other’s presence. Perhaps they get lunch/coffee/dessert too, and talk lowly (can’t be too loud about your octopus teacher in public!) about class. 

A girls trip to Tokyo Disney, too! Imagining them all with Mickey Mouse ears, taking photos with some of the characters, and generally having a good time. 

It’s also said that she’s the middle man between Kanzaki and some of the other girls, so I’d like to imagine Kataoka inviting her to some of these hang outs 

Maybe there’s even a slight jealously there, between her and Kanzaki, though she’d get over it if they actually hung out more and found out the truth about her family etc.

Of course she still keeps up with sports. As we know, she’s a great swimmer, and there’s no reason not to keep up with it even on top of the assassination classes. 

In terms of family, I think she lives the pretty ‘average’ life. I don’t get the feeling they’d be particularly close, especially after the 3E thing. The character book states that she gives ‘fashion advice’ to her older brother, so perhaps her own mother isn’t around that much. Typical working family. 

She strikes me as the type people come to for advice a lot. She can be level headed and honest, telling them often what they need to hear. 

In terms of their LINE group, she’s not that active, but she seems to be magically summoned if the boys are being problematic. 

I really would like to see her and Nagisa end up alone together enough for an actual conversation. I feel like they’d get each other in the sense of uncomfortable gender roles etc. 

Livi’s OPINION: Although it’s popular, I don’t see her romantically liking Isogai that much. Maybe she’s kind of into the idea of him, again to help her settle into a more feminine narrative, but I don’t know. According to the graduation album, they go to the same high school and people kind of look at them as ‘star crossed lovers’. Part of me thinks that if it was going to happen between them, it would have happened already. They’re much better working together as a friendly partnership, and could be great confidants to one another. 

I would like to see her hang out with Isogai, though. Perhaps they met up with working intent but then ended up finishing early and just appreciating each other’s presence. Maybe she could help Isogai look after his younger siblings sometimes.

That being said, she does seem to want to be loved by someone. Her prized possession is supposedly love letters from boys. I’m not sure if she’s that ready for romance in the canon period yet, but when she finds it, they’ll be a lucky guy. 

Okajima described her as straight laced, and whilst I see some truth in that, she definitely can and should let loose every now and then

Kataoka has a cute laugh, I think. It would be great if it slipped out whilst they were hanging out, and they were stunned at how cute she looked. 

In summary, Megu is a very interesting character. Her biggest personal arc, I think, should be accepting herself. Femininity doesn’t have just one definition, and she’ll find hers can look however she wants it. She’s a great leader, even though she occasionally needs to let go of the reins every now and then. There’s a definite reason why she’s so popular! 

-

Hi so I felt like doing hc/interpretation posts for all of the characters because I feel like people think I only care about karmagisa :’) Whilst they’re most interesting for me, I felt like talking about some other characters too for a bit of fun. Of course my word isn’t gospel, and my ask box/messages are open for any further discussion request on these points. I’m going to use “about ass class” as a tag for this series! 

MASTERLIST