#anyway sorry end of my sculpture teacher appreciation posting

[tendebill]

Latawiec!!! :DDD

this is as finished as he's gonna get methinks, but i'm finally done with the modernized slavic creature assignment for sculpture class! it was fun af, but i really wish there had been more time to get it done :[

i didn't have time to do any detailing, i had to skip the wires/cables around his wings, overall he's very unpolished, but man am i happy i got to finished him AT ALL

[honeymoonjin]

A/N - It’s been such a long wait, I’m so sorry! For a while I really lost motivation with this fic, but I went back and re-read it and checked out the planning stuff and decided to forge ahead! I can’t guarantee regular upload times like Sovereign but I’m going to try my best to give you guys a new chapter each week. Thank you all for your support xx

LOST IN TRANSLATION

↳What do you do when you have no qualifications but want to see the world? You help teach English in a Korean primary school, apparently. ↳Principal!Jin, math teacher!Yoongi, PE teacher!Hoseok, English teacher!Namjoon, school nurse!Jimin, art teacher!Taehyung, and science teacher!Jungkook.

CHAPTER SEVEN ↳Your school trip ends in a rather peculiar fashion, but your homestay is there to cheer you up.

You tilt your head to the side with a slight frown on your face as you consult the sculpture in front of you. It looks like it’s made from concrete or some type of stone, but it’s carved in a strange web of lumps and bumps, like a piece of ultra-modern kids’ playground equipment. The tiny placard on the floor in front gives you no more information than the name of the author and the piece, the date, and its materials, which you don’t recognize the characters.

“What do you think?”

You jump violently at the sudden presence of a deep baritone behind you and whirl around. Your heart races at the right and Art Kim’s soft eyes observing you with a endearing smile doesn’t help it slow down at all. “Uh,” you break off and glance at the piece again, “it’s very interesting.”

He wrinkles his nose, but his demeanor remains playful. “Interesting how terrible it is? I know I shouldn’t judge other people’s art, but-” he peers at the name on the placard, pushing his glasses further up his nose when they slip, “Mister Lee here could probably get some use out of an actual art class.”

You snort, and one elderly patron on the opposite side glares at the two of you. You smirk at the young man beside you. “Are you thinking your class is the one Mister Lee is needing?”

He bumps your shoulder with his. “Have you seen some of the stuff my students come up with? They deserve a place in this gallery more than half the artists in here.”

Your face drops. “Oh, yes, also! Where are the students? We are not looking them?”

“Not looking after them, you mean? Don’t worry, they’re in the cafeteria. The gallery staff are giving them a talk right now. We get a break.”

“Ah.” You smile warmly at him. “You know, I was thinking…” you trail off as you try and find the right words for your next sentence.

Art Kim laughs. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Before considering the forwardness of the action, you hit him on the shoulder playfully. “No! I have more… I was thinking, if school needs money, maybe you sell paintings? You are good painter, yes?”

He laughs and shuffles a little closer to you, burying a hand in his hair shyly, tugging at the long ends at the back. “That’s a good idea. I’ll need you to be my model, though.” You stare at him blankly, not familiar with the word he used to refer to you. “I’ll draw you,” he clarifies.

You glance down hastily, hiding the rampant flush that heats up your cheeks. “Oh, no,” you say in what you hope is a casual tone, “you have to paint sunrise, or nice outside, or maybe some water. Something pretty.”

You wish you’d looked up, because you miss the look on his face when he leans in even closer, letting his voice lower so only you can hear it. “Maybe you’re my something pretty.”

Your breath catches, and you glance up, only to be taken aback by his proximity. As you lifted your head, your nose brushed against his chin and now your lips are centimeters away. You’re close enough to feel his breath warm up your skin in little intimate intervals. “Teacher Kim,” you say unsurely, voice dropping automatically to a whisper to match his.

He shakes his head slightly. “How old are you?” You tell him, confused as to the strange turn this conversation has taken. His eyes drop to your lips. “Then you should call me oppa.”

“Oppa,” you start off experimentally, only to be cut off by a soft pressure against your lips. Your eyes flutter shut, and your hands slide up between you two to grab handfuls of the cable knit sweater he was wearing today. You forget about the museum, the fact that you were in public, your job, and your mind is filled with him.

The way his chest trembles beneath your hands, the light, almost ticklish touch of his fingertips against your racing pulse as he gently holds onto your wrists. The kiss is barely there, like he’s unsure whether he can deepen it, and, muffled between you, you can hear delicate gasps. When he pulls away, your body feels cold, and your eyes are slow to open again.

He blinks at you in a daze, still with a gentle grasp on your wrists, which are yet to let go of him. “I… Maybe I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t help myself.”

Reluctantly, you detach your fingers from his sweater, patting down the wrinkles in the knit you had created. “Don’t apologize,” you insist, “it was good. Very good.”

He laughs shakily. “I thought so too. But we probably shouldn’t do this again. It isn’t appropriate.”

Your heart sinks slowly, but you nod nonetheless. “Okay.”

He fixes you with a soft smile, clearing his throat and raising his voice back to a normal speaking volume. “Alright, then, let’s go get these kids!”

You let him lead the way and hang around for a moment longer to create some distance. Your gaze falls back over to the strangely-shaped sculpture beside you. Was there always something so melancholic about the gaps between the vaguely humanoid bulges throughout the concrete network, or was that just you projecting?

You scoff miserably. “You win this round, Mister Lee.”

--

“Jet lag? Homesickness?”

“Hm?” You break out of your daydreaming and glance over to Jimin. “Sorry, what was that?”

He adjusts the white collar of his uniform and gives you a soft smile. “You look sad.”

Automatically, you shake your head. “I’m just thinking. Sorry.”

He frowns, sooting over a little closer to the little examination bench you’re perched on. “You can be honest, Y/n. It’s okay to be a little sad. This has probably been a very tiring two days.”

Your eyes prickle at the thought, and you blink harshly. God, it’s only been two days. “I’m fine,” you insist, but neither you nor Jimin are convinced.

“Here,” he rolls his chair over to the little cabinet below his desk and pulls out a glass jar. “If patients are good, I’ll give them a lollipop. Don’t you want something sweet in your mouth to turn that frown upside down?”

You scoff playfully, appreciating his attempts to cheer you up, but the thought of something sweet to wash away the taste of him sounds pretty nice right about now. You lean forward to grab a stick, but he pulls the jar away from you at the last minute, causing you to glare at him reproachfully.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he scolds, “I said good patients get candy. You aren’t being a very good patient.”

You huff and slump back against the wall. “I was a good patient with my wrist! I used ice!”

He laughs and shakes his head. “That was yesterday, this is today. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

You stare at Jimin for a few more moments, but he just raises an eyebrow. “Fine,” you acquiesce, “everything is very much. Very many emotions. Everything is new. That’s all.”

He quirks his eyebrows again at your vague answer but relinquishes the candy jar. You fiddle around and pull out a dark purple one, ripping off the plastic sleeve and shoving it in your mouth. “Happy now?” he asks. You nod triumphantly, enjoying the way the sweet syrup lines your tongue. The young nurse sighs and puts the jar away. “But really, Y/n, if this is all too much for you, I understand. We all understand. I mean, it would be a lot to handle if everything was sunshine and rainbows, so I know this whole budget cut thing must make it so much harder. But please; just tell us when you need a little break, okay? A day off from work, an early night, whatever. I can get Jungkook to come over one night and we can laugh at him getting scared during Kung Fu Panda. How about tonight, yeah? I’ll get us some takeaways and we can have a movie night.”

It sounds nice, but a former obligation calls for you to decline. “I can’t do, I said Teacher Min that I help out for math tonight. But good idea! Other time, we can do this. Thank you, Jimin.”

He seems taken aback at the news. “Oh. Do you need a ride there or a ride home afterwards?”

“I am thinking Teacher Min is driving. But thank you.”

He slaps a hand on your knee genially. “Alright, then, I’ll pack up and take you to his office. Can I at least have a hug before you go? I’m sure one of my famous Nurse Park hugs will cheer you right up.”

You laugh but let him pull you into a hug anyway. He’s right; the secure embrace does lift your mood. “Thank you, Jimin.”

“Don’t mention it, girly. I’ve got you.”

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