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jvngkook97 · 1 year

Note

So basically I’m thinking of one with like Jungkook and like it’s teacherxstudent and obv he’s the teacher and the reader and him are like enemies, but idfk 😭 😭 😭 smthing happens and theirs like a lot of angst bc I’m a angst lover 😍😍😍😍 You can choose what happens next and you can add smut if u’d like to ♥️

It could also be Namjoon because he just screams Sexy Teacher

~ K

Stain

synopsis; in which you meet the love of your life at the wrong time.

pairing; professor!Namjoon x student!reader ft. student!jungkook

genre; angst, fluff, humor, s2l, l2e, professor au, student au, college au

warnings; cursing, heavy angst, minor age gap but still within legal age (Namjoon is 28, reader is 23), student x teacher relationship (kind of you’ll see), implied smut but nothing graphic, some fluffy moments ~

rating; 21+ MINORS DNI

w/c; 4,366

a/n; let me just say…IT WAS SO HARD TO CHOOSE. And most importantly: I do not condone any type of student x teacher relationship and even though they’re both of legal age in this fic, it still doesn’t make it right (in my opinion, no hate pls) with that being said if this isn’t your cup of tea that’s ok!! pls skip this one and check out my masterlist of other fics you may be interested in!! just be sure to read the warnings before you continue! enough rambling, enjoy!!

When you first saw him, it was by chance. More of a fleeting moment, really. One that’s common between two strangers.

When he actually saw you, he saw art come to life in front of his eyes.

When your worlds finally collide, it brings nothing but chaos.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

That was the only word running through your mind as you pumped your legs, willing them to push through the ache and pain you currently felt as you dodged people left and right muttering a half-assed apology over your shoulder. The bus you were trying to catch was only a few yards ahead of you, hope filled your mind, air filled your lungs, and you made it just in the nick of time to stop the doors from closing with your hand.

The driver gives you the stink eye, but ultimately doesn’t have a say when you pay the bus fine for the day. All he does is grunt in greeting, jerking his head back towards the seats as a gesture for you to hurry it up and sit down.

You don’t have to be told twice.

Trying your best to keep your focus ahead of you, you let your peripheral scan the options of seats available. You see one near the back of the bus and make an instant beeline to it. On the way, the glare of the sun through the windows blinds you momentarily, enough for you to stop walking, hand falling on the corner of the seat next to you in order to keep yourself balanced when the bus starts moving.

A male sitting in the seat just behind is wearing a brown corduroy coat, heavily focused on the inky black words that adorn the tattered, worn book he’s reading. The way he holds it let’s you know it has to be one of his favorites, and when a ghost of a smile cracks on his closed lips, it breaks you out of your reverie, a slight tint appearing to your cheeks when you think you’ve been caught staring. When his eyes stay down as he flips another page, you allow yourself to hastily walk pass him and sit down in the vacant seat unnoticed.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

You don’t see him again until a few days later, and this time, you’re not alone.

A slender, tattooed finger flicks you on the forehead and you blink harshly, flinching back from the sudden digit and glaring at the male who is bent over in front of you laughing to himself at your pain.

“You are such an arse, Jungkook.”

“It’s not my fault that you zone out so deeply every time you come across an artwork you like and it’s impossible to reel you back into reality!”

You blow a raspberry at him. He blows one back.

The crowd within the museum is surprisingly thick, probably due to the latest still life exhibit by Elias Whitley, a promising up and coming artist and photographer. The only way you were able to see it, and be there, was to ditch school for a day. Something, your best friend didn’t mind doing at all.

However, if he knew it was going to be such a bore, he would’ve just stayed in class.

“I’m going to snack at the finger foods table until they tell me to stop, you good on your own?”

“I’m good, thank you. Just don’t get kicked out, please.”

“No promises.”

With a wink and finger guns, he’s lost within the throe of people around you. You sigh softly to yourself, and turn to walk further into the crowd. Your goal is to make it to one of his latest art pieces, one that you’ve come to personally vibe with yourself. Upon making it, you take your time with scanning each and every paint stroke you can see.

What originally drew you to it was the colors he used, much different than those he would normally utilize. This one was a multitude of purples, pinks, oranges, yellows, and blacks. It almost looked something akin to a sunset being mirrored by the ocean that you would see on the horizon. Tilting your head, you get a different angle, hip unknowingly jutting out a little too far and bumping another fellow art lover next to you.

You immediately straighten up with an apology on your lips that gets cut off midway when you see the male in front of you. Or, if you’re being more technical, you see his brown corduroy jacket first before slowly trailing your eyes up said jacket to meet his for the first time.

His smile is subtle, but friendly.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re just trying to see the art in a different perspective, I can respect that. I take it you’re a fan of Mr. Whitley?”

You blink once, twice, before your mouth finally catches up with your brain.

“I–Yes! I only recently found him off of a blog I love to follow, they travel to different exhibits and give thoughtful critiques that I tend to agree with.”

“Oh?” His brows raise in intrigue. “Who is this person you follow?”

“Well, I’m not sure his actual name, but I can give you his name handle if you’d like?”

“That’s perfect.”

“Okay–just—“ you fumble in your clutch purse for the pen you always keep just incase, as well as a little notepad. You scrawl down the name of the blog and rip off the page it’s written on, handing it to him.

He gives a low hum of approval as he reads it, nodding his head. A sly smile slowly forms, before his eyes look up from the paper to once again link with yours.

“I also agree with this ‘rkives’ critiques.”

Your mouth forms an ‘o’, and you can feel the excitement build in you for having found someone to share your enthusiasm with.

“Wait, really? You’ve heard of them as well?”

“Him.”

A confused smile forms on your lips.

“How do you know it’s a guy?”

He’s silent for a moment, looking down at his phone as he types away at something. For a second, he scrolls, searching for something unknown to you. When he finds it, does he turn the front of his phone to face you. It’s an article about the blog you follow, but that’s not what catches your eye.

“No way.”

What you see is a blown up image of the person behind the blog at the bottom of the article and low and behold — he’s standing right in front of you.

He smiles, amused at your reaction, before stuffing his phone back in his jacket pocket.

“I am such a big fan of yours, holy shit.”

He chuckles, a dimple you didn’t notice before forming in the crease of his smile.

“Thank you. That means a lot. Would you like to possibly walk the rest of the exhibit together?”

“Yes!” He holds out his arm for you take, and just like that, the rest of the time at the exhibit passes by in a blur of deep talks, art styles, artist favorites, and detailed critiques from the mouth of your favorite blogger.

It’s not until the crowds begin to thin out, and the loudspeaker announces the end of the exhibit do you both make your way back to the entrance doors.

He holds the door open for you to walk through, both of you now outside in the chilly air of winter. Your breaths mingle together as you talk, and you try your best not to sound as sad as you feel for not wanting the night to end.

“I guess this is it. Thank you so much for humoring a fan, I can’t wait to see what else you post!”

A light hue blossoms on his cheeks, but whether it’s from the bitter, crisp air, or something else, you’re not sure. He clears his throat, then gives you an offer you can’t refuse.

“Would you maybe want to grab a cup of coffee with me? Or tea? Whichever you prefer, it’s on me.” His voice is hopeful, and when he sees the light in your eyes appear again, he feels his chest burst with a warmth.

“I would love too, really, but I just–,” he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed, and you can see it yourself as his body begins to deflate in front of you. It makes your soul hurt. But you need to figure out where Jungkook is before you just decide to ditch him.

Mustering up a vibrant smile, you explain.

“I came here with my friend, Jungkook, and I need to make sure he’s okay before I can agree to go with you, is all.”

Something akin to jealousy flashes across his eyes momentarily, his own smile still plastered on his face. He swallows it down with a look of understanding, which he does – understand your reasoning that is – it’s common decency of course. The thoughtful gesture you show only fuels the butterflies in his stomach as he stares at you.

“Right, yeah. Of course.”

“Just give me one second–,”

You go to your favorites in your phone, pressing down on Jungkook’s name, then put the phone to your ear as you hear it ring. It takes two rings, before his voice is blaring in your ear with a sense of urgency.

“Where have you been, you idiot?! I’ve been trying to get in touch with you all night!”

You purse your lips, feeling terrible for worrying him. Especially when you notice the flurry of texts and calls you failed to notice while with your new friend, forgetting that you set your phone to silent upon entering the exhibit due to not wanting to disturb those around you with unnecessary noise.

“I’m so sorry, Jungkook. Where are you at? I’m at the exhibit entrance–,”

“I’ll be right there.”

He hangs up. You gape at the phone in disbelief. He never hangs up on you.

“Is he okay?”

For a moment, you’re lost in your guilt, the male in front of you becoming invisible.

“He’s fine. He’s on his way here.”

“Y/N!”

A jog of light footsteps could be heard from behind you, and you turn just in time to get enveloped into a warm chest. His arms wrapping around your small frame easily. You let out an ‘oof’ upon contact, your own arms reflexively hugging his waist.

You can feel his body sag in relief, an exhale of a sigh from him makes the top of your hair warm for a split second within the cool, night air. Your words become mumbled against his chest as you speak.

“I’m sorry for worrying you, koo.”

“You’re such an idiot.”

You smack him lightly on the back in retaliation to his words. He chuckles into your hair before letting you go. Then, you watch as his face becomes stoic, body becoming rigid. His eyesight is no longer on you, and that’s when you remember that you’re not alone.

“Oh! This is–,” you flush, embarrassed you don’t know the mystery male’s name after all this time.

“Just call me Namjoon. It’s nice to meet you.”

He politely holds his hand out for Jungkook to shake, which he does, reluctantly, grip firm as well as eye contact. You watch them both with a hesitant smile.

“Jungkook.” His voice is tight. As soon as their hands disconnect, does he make a point of standing flush to your side.

“And you must be, y/n.” Namjoon’s eyes have a twinkle in them, you think. The way your name sounds coming from his mouth sends goosebumps across your skin. “It’s been a pleasure, truly, but now that you’re in safe hands–,” his eyes cut from yours to Jungkook’s with a knowing look between the males, one you’re uncertain of, before he finishes speaking. “I’ll bid you both goodnight.”

With a light bow, and warm smile, he turns to leave–

–until he’s stopped by a warm hand around his wrist.

“Wait!”

He stops, half turning to face you, one brow raised in question and a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Yes?”

“That coffee, would you maybe want to meet up tomorrow morning?”

“Sure–,”

“Y/N, you have s–,” Jungkook attempts to chime in, but you throw a harsh glare his way that has him shutting up instantly.

Namjoon waits until you’re gaze is back on him before he continues, now fully facing you once again, handing his phone over to you that’s unlocked.

“If you type in your phone number I’ll text you later so we can discuss meeting up further.”

Typing in your phone number, you triple check it’s correct before handing it back to him, fingers touching for a fleeting moment that sends pleasant shockwaves through your body. The look in his eyes tells you that he felt the same thing.

Jungkook clears his throat harshly from behind you.

“We should go, y/n. It’s getting late.”

The two of you share one last goodbye, and then he’s gone, leaving you and Jungkook alone in front of the exhibit. When he’s no longer within eye sight, does Jungkook’s voice cut through the silence in warning.

“Y/N, are you sure about meeting that guy?”

You’re resolute with your answer, tone firm and confident as you continue to stare off in the direction of which you last saw Namjoon, a newfound sparkle in your eyes that makes Jungkook frown in worry at how hung up you are over a guy you just met.

“Yes.”

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

“Text me the code phrase if you want me to call and bail you out of your date. Do you remember it?”

“The Perilla leaf is stuck.”

“Good girl.”

You roll your eyes.

“I can feel you rolling your eyes. Don’t make me get into the Perilla leaf debate again.”

You groan.

“Please don’t. Look, I’m coming up to the coffee shop, I’ll call you when it’s over.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

You hang up the phone, stuffing it in your purse, and scoff at Jungkook. That guy would try anything once, so his words mean nothing in that regards.

The bell jingles overhead as you push open the door, signaling to workers that a new customer has arrived. The elderly woman at the cash register greets you warmly with a smile.

“Welcome in!”

“Thank you!”

Your eyes scan the tables near you, and your heart begins to drop when you don’t see your date in sight. He didn’t seem like the type to stand people up, but you just never know. Deciding to take a seat next to the floor to ceiling windows, so you could people watch in the meantime, you fold your hands in your lap and wait.

Five minutes turns into fifteen, fifteen turns into thirty. Your hands fidget in your lap, eyes darting everywhere outside in hopes of even catching a glimpse of Namjoon.

Nothing.

You fish your phone back out of your purse to confirm that you did, in fact, get the date and timing right to meet today. You did. While looking down at your phone, the bell jingles. Your eyes flicker up with hope, and you sigh in relief when the familiar male locks eyes with you.

His face is full of guilt as he waves in greeting, long legs bringing him to your table of choice in no time. He pulls out his chair to sit down across from you, hands folding on top of the table.

“I’m so sorry for being late, I had to catch another bus.”

In his defense, you can see the small beads of sweat on his forehead as well as see the rise and fall of his chest, him doing his best not to show you exactly how exhausted he is from running here. Even though a part of you is upset at the late arrival, you can’t bring yourself to be mad at something you’ve been guilty of plenty of times in the past.

“Busses? Am I right? Woe is the life of the weary greyhound traveler.”

He chuckles humorlessly, but nods his head, agreeing with you.

“I hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

“Nah.” You wave your hand dismissively. “Only about fifteen minutes. My bus was late too.” The lie came out so smoothly. You don’t know why you decided to lie. But when he gave you a dimpled grin, it made you feel pride in knowing you caused it.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

Jungkook’s fingers tap on the top of your shared desk in your classroom for still life photography, his eyes borderline roll themselves into the back of his head with how harshly he’s doing it.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” You answer, eyes glued to the phone in your hands, fingers flying over the keyboard with expertise. A lovesick grin is on your face, and he grimaces at it.

“Looking at your phone like you want to make out with it. It’s disgusting.”

“You’re just jealous I’m getting laid and you’re not.”

He snorts, offended.

“Excuse you? If I wanted to get laid, I could get laid. Like, right now.”

You pat his knee with false empathy.

“I’m sure you could, koo, I’m sure you could.”

“You’re damn right! Tell me, what does tall and admittedly handsome have that I don’t–,”

He pauses, eyes widening at something you’re unsure of off to the side of you, suspiciously towards the front of the classroom. You follow his line of sight and let out a small gasp yourself at what you see.

‘What was he doing here?’

Well, you were about to get your question answered.

Namjoon walks to the front of the classroom, and stands directly in the middle of the ridiculously large whiteboard that takes up a full wall of the classroom, picking up a dry erase marker and writes his name elegantly on the board. As he writes each letter, he speaks, voice loud and professional.

“Hello, everyone. I’ll be taking over for Mrs. Lee starting today while she’s on maternity leave. My name is Kim Namjoon, but just call me Mr. Kim. Are there any questions?”

With one final stroke, he pivots on his heel and scans the crowd of college students in front of him. His smile is still prominent, until he unfortunately locks eyes with you, smile immediately falling and eyes widening in realization at your current predicament.

You’re dating your professor. What the f–

Your head falls into your arms on top of the desk and Jungkook awkwardly rubs your back in solidarity with your hidden suffering, all the other classmates oblivious to the life altering moment that just occurred.

‘Now what?’

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

“So, you’re a college professor, huh?”

“And you’re a college student.”

“Quite the predicament you’re in.”

Both you and Namjoon turn to give Jungkook a look, he mimics zipping his lips and throwing away the key. The head he popped out of the kitchen slowly retreats back behind the wall, and he once again resumes his task of fetching everyone some herbal tea, knowing it’s your personal favorite.

You’re all off campus, the school day now over, and no longer needing to put up the facade of being strangers. Jungkook was oh so kind(not really you had to bribe him with doing his English lit homework for a month) enough to allow his small apartment to be the hideout of your now scandalous love affair.

“What exactly does this mean for us?”

He leans back against the couch, rubbing his hands down his face with disdain, a loud exhale escapes his parted lips as he dreads what he’s about to say to you. There’s only one solution to this conflict. And even though you know what he’s about to say yourself, it still doesn’t make it hurt any less.

These past seven months have been the happiest you’ve ever felt, being with Namjoon. Everyday he made a point to send you a picture of a new piece of art he’s found on his travels, especially when you’re not able to go with him. You used to always be more of a homebody, only going out when needed, like when Jungkook would force you. With Namjoon, however, he made you see the world differently.

It didn’t matter if you were just taking a stroll down a dark and dreary street in the rain, he always had some kind of poetic or insightful thought about the smallest details that always had you looking up at him in awe. The large crack on the sidewalk that now has a weed sprouting out of it? It’s just natures way of taking back what was rightfully theirs before man came and poured cement over the ground.

Little things like that helped pave a new mindset in you about seeing people, places and things in a new light. It made you see that not everything has to be black and white, but rather it should be vibrant and demanding and beautiful.

So damn beautiful, he thought, as he let the silence linger around you in favor of watching the light of the tv that’s playing a cheesy rom-com requested by you in the background hit the side of your face, illuminating it perfectly. Your eyes are sad, though, and in turn it makes him sad. He knows you know.

A large hand encompasses your own that’s resting between you two on the couch, he gives it a gentle squeeze. You squeeze back.

Your voice is light, barely a whisper, and the lump in your throat makes it difficult to utter a coherent word. You know it’s no use asking, but still, you try.

“Maybe we can still make this work? Somehow?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose with his other hand in hopes of it deterring the water in his eyes from falling down his cheeks. He hates this, every part of this. When he looks at you again, you’re biting your bottom lip to stop it from trembling.

“I don’t want you to go.”

He swears his heart shattered right then and there with your small, desperate plea. He knows he needs to get it over with and leave before he becomes desperate enough to let his heart overpower his mind.

“You know I don’t want too–,”

“Then don’t!”

“But I need too.”

“Namjoon, please–,”

He leans forward to close the distance and give your forehead one last lingering kiss, before squeezing your hand just to let it go. He stands up from the couch you were both perched on stiffly, shrugging his brown, corduroy jacket that you’ve grown to love over his broad shoulders with his back towards you. It’s in this moment that you hate how tall he is, his long strides taking him to the front of Jungkook’s apartment in seconds.

Jungkook is just about to walk out of the kitchen with a tray of three steaming teas until he sees Namjoon briskly walk pass him and you following close behind with false hope in your eyes. Once again, he decides to fall back into the safety of the kitchen to let whatever is about to happen occur naturally, no matter how much his heart breaks at hearing your many attempts to get Namjoon to stay.

Namjoon’s hand twists the doorknob, and the door opens swiftly. He goes to step out into the hallway, until it gets slammed shut in front of him due to you throwing your body weight on top of it. The impact makes your shoulder ache, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Don’t you love me?”

His shoulders deflate, his strong persona beginning to crack.

“Y/N, you know that I do. But that’s not the issue.”

“I’ll drop out!” You spew out randomly, and at the time, it seems like the best idea you’ve ever had. Namjoon’s eyes widen in shock, his hands coming to rest on top of your shoulders as he lightly shakes you in an attempt to break you out of your stupor.

“Are you crazy? Do you hear yourself right now? You’ve put so much of your blood, sweat and tears into just making it into this college so you could fulfill your dream! I’m not going to let you throw that away over me!”

“But–,” his grip tightens, and any word you say gets silenced by his lips pressing hard against yours. You can feel his passion, his love. You sink into it, and he allows the moment to last longer than it needs too, but damn it all that he had to lose you after taking so long to finally find you.

It wasn’t fair. But, he thinks, life isn’t fair to begin with. Why would it be any different for him?

When he pulls away, his eyes stay closed. His forehead gently falls on yours, his hands sliding their way up to lightly cradle the junction between your neck and head. His thumbs brush over your jawline and you let out a broken sob that has him biting his lip harshly enough that he can taste a hint of metallic on his tongue.

“I love you, y/n. And, unfortunately, I love you enough to know when I need to let you go.”

This time, you don’t resist when he gently pulls your body away from the door enough to slip out of the crack and out of your life. And it’s not until you’re a sobbing mess on the floor of Jungkook’s entryway that he timidly peaks his head around the corner to see you and rush over to your fallen form. His arms encase your body against his tightly, one hand on your head, and the other on your back. You can vaguely hear the little ‘shhh’s’ and ‘I’m here’ and ‘you’re going to be okay’ as you let his voice along with Namjoon’s words of love ease you off to sleep where you can dream of a perfect world with you and Namjoon together, forever.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

a/n dos; it is almost midnight and I’m sleepy. This is unedited and I personally think it’s shit but I still hope you enjoy it somehow. ha ha ha ok bye

127 notes · View notes

taegularities · 2 years

Note

right, sorry for not mentioning things earlier 😅 so a fluff drabble for soaring high with tae, oc and jae? a day out! where jae misses oc and tries to call her with tae's phone or something lmaoo

anonymous said: bae i rlly need a drabble to see what souring high!tae is like when they’re finally alone 😮‍💨😮‍💨❤️ u could literally do anything that u want !!

fic: soaring high pairing: dilf!taehyung x reader warnings: a cute son, a cute dad, a cute relationship between said son and oc; tae loves to watch them play. he really is into oc, he just doesn’t say it smh. super sweet dilf!tae <3, explicit sexual content: fingering implied, he bends her over, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it), manhandling, multiple rounds of sex implied, he’s so hungry and a beast, dom!tae, degradation; a whole lotta fluff too <3 wc: 1.5k (damn??) a/n: i thought i could merge those two requests into one !! hope that's okay and that u guys like it 🥰 if u’d like to indulge in the fluff parts only, u can totally stop reading after they drop off jae at his friend’s place. and do lmk what u think! <333 also totally unedited again, i apologise 😭

ask my character! (no more drabble requests, please!) <3

––

The sun shines onto the park pleasantly, the sky an azure blue and busy voices sounding all around. Children are busy exploring every corner of the place; one has been chasing a squirrel for over twenty minutes, Taehyung is sure.

Except his own spawn.

Immersed in the wonders of technology, he taps around Taehyung’s phone; most of the apps don’t interest him much, too adult-y, and too colourless.

His eyes dart between various symbols, not quite sure what to settle on. He sighs, somehow focused on both exploring and rambling. Taehyung has been nodding and humming for half an hour, listening to his son’s stories about kindergarten and teasing girls.

And when the narration ends, Taehyung waits for a moment. Reckons the tale is over, that his son has vented his chest off once and for all – but when he glances over to him, looking down at his wiggling legs and content smile, he realises why silence has descended upon them.

“What... wait, what are you doing?”

The phone rings. And then, your voice chimes through. Jae knows the functions enough to apparently not just recognise the picture Taehyung set for you on his phone, but to put a call on loudspeaker, too.

“Where are you?” Jae yells, and you make a sound that indicates you’re taken aback.

Then, a giggle sounds through the phone, and you fall back into your toddler voice as you ask, “Heyyyy, Jae, how are we doing? I’m at home.”

“Can you come to the park?”

Taehyung watches with furrowed eyebrows, close to snatching the phone from his son before he sees the delight in his boy’s eyes.

“Which park, baby?” you ask, still laughing.

“Uhm... near my kindergarten.”

“Right now?”

“Please?”

“You don’t have to,” Taehyung’s voice interrupts, and Jae looks at him as though he’s noticing just now that his father is right next to him, watching him.

There’s a small pause, a chiming of keys, a hum; then, you say, “It’s okay. I’m not doing anything today anyway.”

Because who are you to deny any request the little man might have? You can’t remember ever saying no – Taehyung says you spoil him too much. You call it “making his kid love me”.

And as he wished, you find yourself in the park around twenty-five minutes later; Jae’s eyes light up – genuinely delighted. Stars in his eyes that resemble the ones in his father’s gaze.

Previously busy with digging holes in the sandbox, he gasps; runs towards you with his little yet fast feet, clinging onto you as if he didn’t see you just last weekend.

Taehyung never says much when Jae and you play around. He enjoys the scene, enjoys the way you whisper secrets into each other’s ears; or how you let him win every game of rock, paper, scissors.

How he chuckles and falls back onto the couch when you crack a stupid joke or tell him a story from work.

“I forgot the shovel,” he tells you loudly, looking at you wide wide, shocked eyes. “We can’t make a sandcastle!”

“Oh no!” you exclaim; both your gazes drift to Taehyung’s, seeking help.

“Daddy, can I go and get it?”

But his beloved father kills both your hopes with one shake of his head, wiggling a finger as he says, “You’re invited at Chae’s. Maybe she has a shovel and you can play in her garden.”

“But–”

Jae looks between you and his dad, pleading and innocent.

“You can’t let a friend wait, Jae,” Taehyung scolds, standing from the bench. The beige slacks are smooth, hugging his waist where he tucked his white shirt in. The shape of his body is so alluring – the curves, edges and bulges leave nothing to imagination.

As always.

And your insides keep buzzing. Keep twirling as you look at him. Watch him talk to Jae, smiling softly, talking to him, reprimanding him. Telling him that he’d pick him up around eight, and that he needs to behave if he wants to eat his favourite pasta dish tonight.

Before you know it, you’re left alone with the man who asked for your number after a flight months ago. The man who rearranged your insides, anything but shy, a demon and lovely father at once.

But now that you look at him, his eyes are tender. Sweet and soft, housing care for not just his son and his relationship to you, but for you as a person, too.

Taehyung’s two-story-flat isn’t too far from little Chae’s house, so you decide to walk the small distance to his place.

Being alone with Taehyung never really comes with awkwardness. It has become your own personal source of comfort; one you cherish. One you think back to when the moments are over.

“What were you doing all day?” he asks, thumbs in the pockets of his pants.

“Was just rewatching my favourite show. I’m glad you guys called.”

“Well... Jae called.”

“Yeah, technically,” you say, smiling, your steps slow and relaxed.”

“Gilmore Girls, was it?” Taehyung then guesses, squinting one eye shut in concentration.

“You remember my favourite show? That’s flattering.”

“I uh,” he starts, swallowing, “I remember your favourite dessert, too. And your favourite drink. If you want, we could...”

You wait, looking at him in anticipation; he looks sweet when he’s shy. Utterly different from when he batters your body. He licks his plush lips, and you wait some more before you ask, “Yeah?”

“If you want, we could go to my place, and... eat some dessert?”

You laugh.

You know what that means.

First he eats his favourite dessert – pretty much swallows it whole. Then he lets you eat yours.

And then, he finally opens his fridge and takes out the actual delicacy.

“You know my dearest pastime,” you tell him, and he laughs.

“Jae was missing you.”

“Although we met last week?”

“Mmmh, honestly, he can’t ever stop talking about you anyway.”

And Taehyung enjoys it. Loves to hear your name, basks in the pictures of you that his son calls forth.

“And,” he hesitates, licking his lips again, “I talk about you a lot, too.”

You almost halt in your steps; your heart falls down deep and lands in front of his feet. It does the same whenever he mumbles things like these – you might never get used to it.

“What is it that you talk about?” you ask.

“Just... I ask him what he thinks of you. Then I tell him what I think of you.”

“And what you think of me is...”

“Is for me to know and for you to find out.”

“Unfair.”

You hit his shoulder playfully right when you arrive in front of his entrance door. One hand of his holds his keys – but the other grabs your softly violent wrist, tugging your body close before he whispers, “Gonna treat you fairly to make it all good... ‘kay?”

Here he is. The beast you know.

The beast you still haven’t grown used to. The beast who pulls you inside his apartment, pushes you against the door. Growls against your skin, holding your arms over your head.

Mumbling curses against your flesh, eyes closed, groaning and lost.

He licks a trail along your neck. Tugs at your panties, shifting up your dress.

Taehyung’s slender fingers explore your shivering body, digging deep where you want him most.

“Pretty little cum dumpster,” he murmurs in between his actions; words so sore, actions so raw. “Prettiest woman in this neighbourhood.”

“Just this neighbourhood, huh?” you moan, laughing, eliciting a chuckle out of him as well.

“Just scared to use the word universe, ‘cause... you wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

You want to remark something, but words die in your throat once he bends you over his desk, pushing away his books and stationery.

His cock is throbbing, hard, slick with his own spit when he enters you caringly. A hand rests on the small of your back, the other holding your wrists under your shoulder blades.

He caresses your skin, pumps into you harshly, harder, a deep baritone assuring, “You’re the fucking best pussy I’ve ever fucked. God, I wanna... wanna–”

“Wha– what?”

“I don’t want you to be able to walk for fucking days, baby.”

He says that every time. And he keeps the promise every time.

His hand comes down to clutch the flesh of your ass tightly, slapping against it, pushing it up; and then, he repeats. Until your bottom feels bruised, aching and tingling.

Just how you like it best – he knows.

And when his thumb circles your clit, feeling your cunt clench around his veiny, thick cock, he lets go the moment you do. Synchronised, crazed, loud.

“Fuck, fuck, yeah, I–”

“Taehyung, I can’t feel... my limbs.”

Of course you can’t. His grip cuts off the bloodstream in your arms, and your legs jiggle like pudding, close to giving out.

But his arms are strong and steady. Keep you afloat, his body pressed against yours.

He keeps you close, panting against your ears, ready for another round after your beloved dessert.

He wonders, “What do you think how many rounds we can go before I need to pick up Jae again?”

Cheeks pressed against the cold desk, you smile, readying your body for an evening of exhaustion and pleasure. Digging your nails into your palm, you wet your dry lips, open your eyes and say, “Let’s find out.”

DAMN THIS WAS........ longer than expected holy. please do let me know what u think !! <333

#this drabble took ages pls lmk what u think if u read it !! 🥺#taehyung fluff #taehyung smut #bts fluff #bts smut #*amc: soaring high #*amc #fic: soaring high #notes for rid 🌹#lili <3 #anon

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acupofqueercoffee · 2 years

Text

“Save me once and I’ll save you forever”

Part #4 “Marked me like a blood stain”

you behold your lady in her element…and then some 😼

gah dayumm those big ass biceps 😫

again if u’d like to see a particular scene, do let me know. this one’s suggested by someone on ao3 👀

ao3 — https://archiveofourown.org/works/39277077/chapters/103347057

Fighting and elegance.

Two things that cannot go hand in hand.

Grace is irrelevant as far as fighting is concerned.

Or at least, that is what a complete stranger to such a matter would have assumed, and indeed, you have.

Having been raised in a quiet countryside, you grow up a world away from the intricacies of warlords and warriors. Beyond so many deaths and so much damage, you have little to no knowledge on the topic of war, or anything that involves fighting for that matter.

When you picture a fight, your mind’s eye depict it as a complete pandemonium. A throw of fists, a clash of blades, a cacophony of gibberish all concocted into one big chaotic mess.

At some points in your life, you have had a front row seat to a couple of brawls. It is there, amidst men cursing at each other, fists colliding with one another’s jaw, that your suspicions are demonstrated. True to your ideas, there is nothing desiring about fighting. It is vexing at best. An eyesore.

Although, presently, you are finding the action that has been the very subject of an eyesore, or more precisely, the person who is demonstrating the action, a sight for sore eyes.

This, you behold unabashedly with pure, unadulterated awe, is the warlord in her truest element. Blade in hand and ravishingly poised in the middle of the training arena, she is flanked by her men. For a moment, everyone stills, the bubble of silence cocooning the entire arena in its nearly tangible embrace. The touch is but transient for all too suddenly, it pops. War cries ensue, footfall rumbles as everyone begin charging at the warlord with desired weapons in hand.

In a flurry of swords, spears and such, a series of onslaught shower over her from every direction. A hand finds its place on your chest. Thud thud thud thud, you can feel the relentless pounding on your palm. In the back of your mind, you understand that this is merely practice, that your lady can ace everyone out even with her eyes closed.

Still, your fear for her safety is beyond your control. As predicted though, your worries are all for naught, for your lady effortlessly parries one after another of their perpetual strikes. Even in an arena full of seasoned warriors, it is not exactly rocket science to point out who amongst them is the kingpin.

For a female warlord, and furthermore, someone of her age, you can never stress enough that your lady is remarkably built. You have always found your lady’s stature awe-spiring, and consequently assumed that not only do warriors possess such impressive stature, they naturally have the quality to captivate people. It appears that you are not entirely correct, because even though as far as your eyes can see are warriors with commendable physiques, they do not particularly invoke in you the fascination and reverence that your lady does.

Today, she has donned a less formal, more casual attire. A body hugging tank top that puts her stunningly solid biceps on delicious display. She has more muscles on her body than anything else, though her healthy appetite has brought about a soft, little pouch of belly. Blanketing her well-defined abs, it makes her delightfully supple.

You have felt it beneath your fingertips, worshipped them with your lips.

The sensational memory carries blood to your cheeks, dusting them pink.

Her pants on the other hand are slightly looser than what she normally wears, falling all the way to her ankles, though they embrace her delightful hips, cling to her impressively toned thighs all the same. From the forearms to the knuckles are red linens twining round like ivy. There is something about the colour red on your lady’s skin like dark chocolate which you find oddly provocative. It is boldly arresting, and lord, does it make your belly butterflies run amok that she is practically glowing with dewdrops blooming on her formidable frame.

The warlord is, for the lack of a better word, one spectacular vision. A deadly gorgeous woman with a princely charm to her that simply demands for one’s curiosity.

She exudes raw confidence and fortitude. You doubt many have seldom heard of the handsome warlord, but if there really exists people so impervious, you highly suspect one look at her is enough to instil both fear and respect in them.

You cannot, for a fleeting moment, tear your gaze away from the middle of the arena where the warlord is standing tall and regal. Most of the warriors now scattered to the four winds, the fight has dwindled down to three against one. While others look as good as weary, not a hair is out of place on the familiar salt and pepper head.

You will not have believed unless discerned with your very own eyes. The warlord makes fighting seems like art. Steady on her feet and nimble on her legs, she dodges when necessary with little to no efforts, and strikes with flawless precision. Her strength is that of a menacing panther but her agility is that of a delicate crane. Her movements are elegant, fluid, like an autumn leaf gliding along the gentle stream.

She wields a blade in her hand but she holds within her the power of all four elements. Adaptability of water. Lightness of air. Tenacity of earth. Fury of fire.

It is your lady who is currently moving about the arena, so why, you wonder, are you who is perfectly standing still, the one short of breath. You are hypnotised by the way the tiniest flex in her fingers travel all the way up to her biceps. Every single time they go taunt is one heavy thump against your ribcage. If your heart is to increase in tempo or if it is to beat any more wildly than it already is, you fear that it will fan the flames of a cardiac arrest, and then, you will probably become the first person throughout all of history to be allured to death.

Breaking News : The tentalising flex of a Noxian warlord’s muscles has ultimately resulted in the death of an enamored lass.

Perhaps, it will be documented as another example of the butterfly effect.

“Damn woman.”

In a flurry of violent flutter, you are bombarded by the giddy hummingbird and the pesky little butterflies as they cause mayhem behind your bony cage. Meanwhile, your blood pumps so hard that you have to brace your hands against your knees lest you double over. As you do so, a blossom of pain throbs between your legs, and you cannot help but breathe out a chuckle.

A shadow of her touch.

“The power you hold over me.”

By the time your heart has significantly calmed down, your gaze travels back towards the arena just in time to witness her delivering the final strike.

The grand finale of the day is when your eyes are treated to the enticing view of your lady twirling the blade with her wickedly talented fingers. It plants a stupid desire in the very core of your heart. And so, with the silly hope of being held in the warlord’s hands, the giddy organ immediately initiates the futile attempt of flinging itself out of your chest.

Her delicious cadence, smooth like liquid silver and rich like honey, is a scrumptious treat to your famished ears. You can hear her commanding her men to keep practising hard, reminding them once more that there is no gain without any pain. By the end of her speech, they have already resumed their positions, some engaging in a duel to test their strengths and others practising alone to hone their desired skills.

The warlord on the other hand…lord

One of her hand is on her hipbone.

Her fingers are curled into the waistband of her pants.

That one frame of image spreads through your mind like wildfire.

So focused are your eyes on the sway of her powerful hips that you fail to see where exactly those long legs are carrying her. You get the answer in the next moment when you lift your head, and there she is, towering over you with the grace of a full moon.

Perspiration has kept little coils of hair glued to her forehead and her magnificent frame appears almost silky with a sheen of sweat, but otherwise, nothing about her mien betrays the fact that she has been on her feet for the better part of the day.

Your eyes trace the tiny dewdrops as they trickle down her hairline, gathering on her beautiful brows.

An ocean is pulled towards the moon.

You are drawn to your lady.

Before you can process what is happening, your traitorous fingers have found themselves on the warlord’s face.

A thumb caresses a dewy brow. Even though your fingers are itching to follow the scar on her temple into the luscious sea of sweaty locks, once the realisation gains on your action, you hesitate.

This is far beyond the secrecy of her bedroom.

Can you do this? Touching her as you please. In front of her men no less.

First of all, are you even allowed to be here?

Her face reflects in your irises. She is looking at you. Her eyes the colour of a hurricane, take you on a walk in the clouds, but very soon, you plummet. Instantly, you feel fingers grasping your wrist, though you realise very quickly that they are not there to pull you up but to drag you down instead.

“Tsk! Don’t do that.”

Oh.

You wilt, akin to a child being reprimanded for stealing from a cookie jar.

The pillowy flesh of your lip has been taken hostage between the sharp rows of your teeth. They torture the poor thing, biting and grinding to the point of drawing blood.

As if a flip has been switched, her expression changes from a soft, serene look to that of disappointment. You have to admit that she looks magnificent even with valleys between her eyebrows but you cannot say the same for the cracks that are slowly spreading through your heart.

At the very least, your question has been answered.

You are crestfallen to discover that she does not seem too lenient on allowing you the chance to wallow in sadness. No sooner has the idea of fleeing from her presence crossed your mind than the warlord has leaned into your space, lips a whisker away from yours.

Even after having your lips enveloped in hers for far too many times, the anticipation of her lips on yours still remains the most effective way to render you transfixed. Oh those pretty lips like the delicate petal of queer, exquisite flower.

All thoughts vanish and instantly, you thrive when you feel her fingers sliding along your jaw.

“Don’t do that.”

Once again, she scolds softly. A gentle thumb traces your bottom lip in an affectionate caress. It effectively coaxes you into freeing the abused flesh from its position between your teeth.

Oh.

You have misunderstood her, so it seems.

God, this woman.

Feeling particulary daring and overcome by tremendous love, you steal a quick kiss from her. The result is a smile, so lovely, so pure that it oozes warmness into the very core of your heart. Dissolved into your blood, it travels to every corner of your body, embraces your entire being like a soft, cosy blanket.

Her fingers adorn your wrist like an intricate bracelet, locked snugly around the pounding of your pulse. She escorts it to her lips where a delicate kiss is bestowed upon your knuckles. Then, every single one of your digits is gingerly caressed by her lips before she settles her cheek into the warm palm of your hand.

In doing so, she has revealed to you the underside of her jaw that is barely concealed by the neck of her tank top. Your eyes go wide when they discover a significantly large bruise spanning half the length of her scar, if not the entirety of it.

“Are you hurt?”

You murmur in a breathless whisper, thumb subtly stroking the scar on her cheek, and for a moment, she seems almost perplexed. Then, her eyes follow your line of sight, and thereupon feeling your tentative fingers on her neck, those carmine lips break into a mischievous smirk.

“You see.” She drawls. Her hand leaves your cheek to gently take your chin between a thumb and a finger. Your eyes meet. “I have this adorable little rabbit and last night, she was particularly ravenous. That, right there, is a little something from her.” Mirth is easily discerned in the tone of her voice, in the little twitch of her lips, and when she speaks next, the distance between the two of your faces has been reduced to nothingness.

You feel the fullness of her lips directly on your earlobe, satiny soft, pleasantly warm.

“She said she wanted to mark me hers.”

You carry on nearly every square inch of your body your lady’s mark, and you have fancied the idea of having your own mark on her body a little too much that it has been tough to resist the temptations.

So, yes you are indeed the culprit behind the bruise.

“Mmm, I did say that.”

The five different shades of red on your cheeks may be proving otherwise, but not only are you giddy with excitement, you are feeling particularly bold.

An alluring chuckle tails your reaction upon feeling her lips on your flaming pink cheek. A gentle pad of a thumb glides along your cheekbone.

In an interesting turn of events, you find yourself in a rather stimulating position. Back pressed to your lady and a steady arm across your waist, there is a hand dwarfing your own as it controls the movement of your hand, and along with it the small dagger clutched in your digits.

Her chin is parked on your shoulder while you fit into the curve of her body like the perfect puzzle piece.

A marionette manipulated by its master’s dexterous fingers, you dance to her every desire.

“Here.”

The cadence of her voice, smooth and languid like liquid silver, brings about an eruption of goosebumps. It appears to be a deliberate tease when her lips leave the lightest of touches on your neck. Directly atop your fluttering pulse does the journey adjourn.

You feel the movement of her lips on your pulsating pulse first before her voice trickles into your ears like thick honey.

“Aim here.”

It is punctuated with a nibble that makes you gasp.

“And plunge with all your might. A sure-fire way to conquer your opponent.”

A warm, velvety tongue that soothes the sting spills delightful shivers down your spine.

You try to face her, and she lets you swivel, releasing your hand to instead cage you in her arms.

“And you, my lady? How can i conquer you?”

Dainty digits find sweet purchase on chest both delightfully ample and reliably muscular.

“Need I sink to my kneels between your legs?”

An inquisitive eyebrow arches before lips blossom into a sanguine smile.

“Silly girl.” She hums, tucks an errant hair behind your ear. “Is it not obvious? I have long been undone by you.”

Your cheeks warm, pupils dilating, and swallowing down your swelling heart, you sheepishly murmur a bold confession.

“But I want to kneel before my warlord and worship her to my heart’s content”

“And you will, my precious girl.”

And this time, your lady, ever so gracious, lets you demonstrate your deepest desire.

As the noble moon makes her ascent to the sparkling onyx throne, you have dutifully fallen to your knees.

Starting from her toes, you worship every square inch of your lady, tracing star-kissed scars with your kiss-swollen lips. Utterly pleased by your deep devotion, the warlord has bestowed you with the grandest of gifts. A palm settles atop your head, fingers finding home within the forest of your strands as the goddess above guides you towards where she wants you the most, needs you the most.

Hot saliva pools in your mouth, and no sooner has the permission been granted than you gravitate towards your well deserved prize. Neck cradled in her impressive thighs and dainty digits digging into her succulent flesh, you feast on your lady like a starved man.

Aching though you are to have those dexterous digits buried in your own folds, you remain diligent, and concentrate solely on your lady, savouring her on your tongue like an exquisite delicacy while you clumsily work your lover up to a delicious ecstasy.

#ambessa medarda x reader #arcane ambessa #ambessa medarda #ambessa x reader #arcane x reader #character x reader #arcane #fanfic #arcane smut #MommyMedardasBicepsGotMeSalivating🥵

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mirrortouchedsea · 5 months

Text

Day 6

Kaname: Tatsumi-senpai, would u still love me if i was a worm?

Tatsumi: Hmm? Why do you ask Kaname-san?

K: Oh its nothing, dont worry about it.

K: i was just wondering ig

T: Well I suppose I would still love you if you were a worm, as we are called to love all of God’s creations.

K: kinda figured u’d say that. But thanks tatsumi-senpai.

T: Are you feeling alright? You’ve been distant recently.

K: i said it was nothing! But…

K: agh, i cant hide anything from you huh

K: its my brother. Ive told you about him right?

T: I believe that you’ve mentioned him, yes. Are you two fighting?

K: something like that. He really wants me to do things a specific way but its so…idk stuffy ig. Feels like i cant breathe sometimes.

K: I know he means well but…

T: I see. Have you talked to him about it?

K: Ive tried but i just never know what to say. Hes my brother but we barely act like it. I wish we were normal siblings.

K: sorry. For dumping all of this on you like that.

K: But thanks for listening.

T: Of course. Is there anything I can do for you?

K: you already do so much tatsumi-senpai. You really should take more care of yourself

K: dont worry about it. Well figure something out im sure

T: Just let me know. I’m here for you Kaname-san.

K: obviously. I love you

T: I love you too.

#shay writes #tatsukana #january writing challenge #not super fluff but. not angst central either #was thinking about kaname needing to go would you still love me if i was a worm to someone #and here we are #short sweet and to the point today bc im eepy and have to work in like 2 hours

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 5 months

Note

OKAY SO OBVIOUSLYYY I HAVE TO WONDER ABOUT KNIGHT!SUGU X ROYALTY!READER but also!!! satosugu x aroace!reader sounds so interesting!!!!!! i would love to hear about them!

ALEXISSSSS TAKE A SEAT BELOVED here is ur drink… 🧃

OKOKOK IM EXCITED i was hoping u’d ask abt the knight au so i could hear ur thoughts hehe. since ur the reason it exists !! the god parent if u will…. aaa and the aroace!reader fic is v special to me too!! 🥺 that one is just a vague idea atp BUT ill get to that…

FIRST OF ALLLL knight!sugu x royalty!reader our beloved……. okok so i mightve mentioned some stuff alr but ill just run my general idea by u!! i have basically all of it outlined, just gotta get to writing </3

but basically; reader is kind of a brat. Very Much a brat. and sugu gets hired to act kind of as their bodyguard — which reader really doesnt like but sugu is just too patient and their attempts to annoy him so much that he leaves dont work LMAO … he also kinda likes the fact that theyre difficult yk its the Mother in him. he’s very boyfriend very protective very much a big ol tease

but then obv they grow closer <33 suguru really isnt anywhere near as straightlaced as he wants to appear, and both him and reader kinda have that Hunger to see the world yknow?? or to just break free of their chains. so reader brings out sugu’s more wolfish side and he eventually gets pretty lenient w sneaking them out of the castle, teaching them how to fight w a sword … etc etc. very much a Forbidden Romance but its not angsty bc i love them and i want them to be happy <33

HERE R SOME RANDOM SNIPPETS im gonna let this one cook for a while bc i need it to be perfect… putting my heart and soul into getting the alexis approval fr

”so you didn't pull your sword out of a rock?” you frown, already losing interest. lame. ”stone,” he corrects, unperturbed. ”and i'm afraid not.” he gives you a smile, barely concealed amusement swimming in his amber eyes. ”i pulled mine from an oak tree.” … ”wait, really?” ”depends,” he quips, brushing past you with a grin. ”how gullible are you, my lord?” (argh.)

he kneels. he always, always kneels. such a large man, all toned muscle and tall stature, broad shoulders and firm chest — kneeling at your feet. like a loyal dog, with a rustle of armor, a flutter of fabric, a sigh and a smile. suguru always kneels.

here it comes. effortless, perfected, your one god-given talent; an irresistible pair of puppy dog eyes. the voice that spills from your lips is hopelessly meek, pleading, so sweet you’d get cavities if you didn’t know how fake it was. ”take me outside, please?” you whine, lips jutting down into a slight pout, accompanied by a flutter your eyelashes — suguru smiles. ”no.” a beat. frustration bubbles up inside your veins, trickling down to your wrist, and you grit your teeth. barely resisting the urge to stomp your feet into the floor. ”you’re supposed to listen to my every command!” ”still no, sweetheart.”

CAN U TELL IM A LITTLE ILL ABT THEM alexis this is all ur fault smh smh…… they mean the world to me

aaa and then!!! stsg x aroace!reader…. 👀 honestly i just realllly love blurring the lines between platonic and romantic love in my writing and thats kinda where this idea came from!! nothing’s written out or outlined, but the idea is basically just that stsg are an established couple + both in Love w reader + confess by a cold beach in the middle of the night :333 just those good ol coming of age vibes. and it obviously doesnt really go as planned bc reader is so hesitant.

i’m not sure when i’ll get to writing this one out esp since its so self indulgent pskdjdj bUT the focus will def be on reader’s feeling and the love they all feel for each other, etc etc!! ty for indulging me this one makes me v happy to think abt hehe

#THIS GOT KINDA LONG im just very excited to talk to u abt knight!sugu x royalty!reader ok 😔😔#tysm for asking alexis!! ilyily <33 #ask tag ✩#alexis !! ✩

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moontheanon · 1 year

Note

Ok ok…..

First date with Wilbur vibes???

Like both of y’all are nervous as hell but it’s cute and adorable…. Idk make of this what you will <3

Best idea ever! <3

No cause Wilbur on his first date? Omg so freaking shy.

I see these things that make him seem like a freaking flirt and confident person. But i cannot see it.

And also they are all really dark Academia Vibes but really i think he would do something more casual!

For example:

Taking you to parks

Walks with pets?

Movies

Lunch

But overall here is how i think a 1st date with Wilbur would go.

[over text] yellow is Wilbur and you are purple

I’m here YN :)

Okay I’ll be right out!

Don’t worry take your time!

Wil it’s fine I’m ready

Okay, but don’t feel rushed.

You’re such a weirdo

I know

I’ll be right out Wil <3

Okay love

-/—/—/—/—/—/—/—/—/—/—/—/

I swear he would try to find ways to make sure you felt comfortable even when you already were.

Also i feel like he would always find new names to call you.

Anyway, continuing…

“Love?” You asked, making sure that’s what he meant,

“Do you like it? I can stop if u’d like.” His tone was nervous and shy. Making your heart flutter

“No. I love it Wil.”

He smiled softly before continuing.

“Here let me walk you to the car.”

You complied and walked along side him.

Your heart was racing and you could tell his was too.

He was trying to look away to hide the slight hint of red on his cheeks. But you could tell.

He opened the door for you and you nodded a thanks.

“Okay, so what music do you like?”

“Any.”

You waited for him to get fully in the car…

“I do like this one band though. It has this really cool drummer and guitarist. They do indie rock. Have you heard of them?”

He laughed and closed the door behind him.

“Mmmm. No I don’t think I have! Would you mind if I asked you to put it on?”

“Yeah! I bet you’ll love the band! It’s my favorite of ALL time!”

You out on Lovejoy and started to sing the lyrics to Taunt. Ofc Wilbur had to join you and you two had the best time singing in the car.

-/—/—/—/—/—/—/—/—/—/—/—/

“And then, I literally fell off my chair! I was having the worst luck!”

You were telling Wil one of your stories from the other day and he could feel his hand start to move towards yours.

You were going on this easy walk around the park and you had been talking for a while

(He loves listening to you ramble)

But now, he can’t get your hands of his mind.

And finally, he made his move to hold your hand…

“What are you doing?!?”

“Oh I’m sorry! I though we could hold hands and-“

You see, the only reason you yelled at him like that was because you were super nervous. Like, really nervous. And so when he tried to hold your hand, your heart skipped a beat and you freaked out.

“Oh no! Wil it’s okay! I’m sorry I’m just really nervous. Of course we could hold hands.”

You grabbed his hand and intertwined his fingers with yours.

His gaze softened and you could tell he felt calmer.

You continued to ramble on about random things. And of course, he listened.

You loved that about him.

The rest was history. You two ate lunch. Blushed awkwardly every once and a while. And maybe shared your first kiss together.

Overall, First dates with Wilbur must be the best thing ever.

@lillylvjy

#mcyt x reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur x y/n #dsmp #dsmp x y/n #first date with Wilbur #Wilbur pov #mcyt fic

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tddyhyck · 2 months

Note

BLUE! HI! sorry i dipped i’ve been trying to sit down and send u asks but my brain wouldn’t cooperate 😩

u’re so cute about jeno LOL. AND YESS @ THE HAND ON UR TUMMY (old ask things? sorry 😭) AND YEAH GRRRAHHH i forgot the word but condescending is exactly what i meant for jaemin 🥺🥺🥺🥺 consider: him eating u out and overstimulating u for ages and when u tell him u need the bathroom he’s just taunting u running his hands up and down ur thighs and i will shut up now 🤭 what u said about hyuck is so oughh NEED. Feet can be fun sometimes! I’m not into them but I don’t hate them either. “very light work” u say for the jeno thing 😭 should i have talked about him needing to piss when he’s inside u..? kkjukjkhkg. Ehehe well i was alr in the club BUT… had i not been… u’d have converted me 🫶 U saying “omg lil magic anon ofc” had me kicking my feet btw,, thank u!

Perv series thots now. THE RENJUN ONE I’M MINDBLOWN IT’S SO GOOD. I CAN’T EVEN SAY ANYTHING AB IT BECAUSE IT’S SOOO GOOD head empty. I love everything about it, love how he’s sweet love how he’s mean. Next: JENO. “when it’s the two of u he makes u cry on purpose” + regular mascara.. u are onto something. (also i just noticed ur banners r so pretty?) hyuck’s is so pervy but somehow so cute? I will NEVER shut up so lemme just make it “short”. U are so smart for jaemin headcanons #1,4,6,8,10,11,14. No words for the chenle one NO WORDS BECAUSE I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT IT 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 jisung’s list + the last 2 for him r so funny i love them. The mark one is cute too!

Ok now for the best fic to ever fic.. what’s your fantasy~~ I just think it’s so sweet of chenle to be concerned for reader and speeding. Thank u king. He deals with them so sweetly and it makes me melt. And he’s so fucking dirty 😭😭 acc so embarrassing to b caught in that and he likes it? Then him fucking reader in panties because it reminds him of that incident like sir 🥵 his dynamic w reader is so precious nd they’re both so sweet to each other. Reader is so insanely cute i’m gonna DIE it had me running laps I JUST LOVE THESE 2 SO MUCH? U wrote them so cute and soft nd it’s so sexy i love it.

alr.. leaving u some thoughts for in the next room too (let me know if i talk too much haha 🫶) my faves have to be mark, jaemin, haechan and chenle. Something ab how whiny mark is,, i liked that so much omg it awakened something in me. Jaem’s is INSANE it’s so sexy. I rlly liked how pretty hyuck’s was, u made the atmosphere so pretty with the descriptions nd i loved that, it felt so affectionate. and chenle of course 🤩 we love to see it. THE PANTY STUFFING OH MY GOD 😮‍💨 NEEEEEEEEED

ok that’s all for now, have a good day :3

~🪄

omg magic anon how are you! do not worry about taking any time to send asks you aren’t required 🫶🏻🫶🏻

(making a read more since i talk to much 🤭🤭)

jeno makes me feel things so strongly lately i love him and his cute short hair i want to nibble on him 😭😭 anyways no jaem would get that look in his eyes you know when he’s teasing and he has that little smirk yes precisely yes that and he’d taunt you like aww do you need to go that’s too bad i’m not done with you yEah same with feet im neutral ,,, jeno pissing while he’s in you good god ,,, he’d almost be embarrassed but when you started moaning and touching yourself he would fully let go watching you tummy bulge slightly before it started dribbling out and it’s splashing when he starts fucking you again ok gtg,,,

i just know renjun is soft but secretly horny like he seems so innocent but has fucked up fantasies … and jenO is so GRREBHVHASRHGGGGG i know he’s into crying he probably gets hard just seeing your eyes well up ,, and hyuck is nasty and i love that for him but he’s also gentle and sticky sweet,,, jisung is similar to renjun where he’s a closeted freak but he’s more shy to even bring things up but when he finally does he would be an embarrassed mess and it’s so cute

eeeck i’m so glad u liked it,, it was so fun and easy to write like in my mind chenle and reader have been together forever and know each other so well and he’s so gentle with them and vice verse but he knows their weak points and likes to make reader squirm and he’s so madly in love with them like 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 and his desire for them is crazy like he wants them and wants to take care of them and i’m getting carried away

omG i actually started marks differently and scrapped it but he was even whinier like he was mumbling about reader lemme quote it lol “you could feel his cock bounce in his sweats already hard and you wondered why ‘it’s not. i’m just. you just looked so sexy today your skirt kept flipping up’” i just think mark = whiny when he’s horny and down bad i am very affectionate for hyuck 🐻✨🌸💐 and u know i got carried away with chenle’s i couldn’t help myself he makes me feel freaky deaky fr like him making you keep them in on the ride home his cum pooling in you,,, stuffing them in your mouth when you get home yeah i’m totally normal

alSo u don’t talk to much i so enjoy chatting with u 🫶🏻🫶🏻 have the best day/night ☺️

#tddyhyck ask #🪄<3

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6okuto · 2 years

Text

for @janf12120 — rime, dialogue 28, scenario 6, male reader

"sorry, i ramble a lot sometimes." "no i, uh, i don't mind." , person a is doing person b's makeup and wow, we're super close right now

rime babygirl u r about to get characterized in a bit of a funky little way because sometimes i project and also i cannot figure out what u’d ramble about rn ❤

“no, it just doesn’t make sense.”

rime sits in front of the mirror and watches you grab the eyeliner from your things. it's a sort of deep red—you said you wanted to try something new for him. "as long as you don't make me look ugly," he said.

“like, sorry, maybe if you actually told us what the fuck to study i wouldn’t be here right now.”

but the eyeliner is a little uneven. should it be more straight or upturnt? you move away to try comparing both sides before shifting closer again. rime stays still as you work, but continues to speak.

“and i know professors aren’t paid enough, but god was he working for even less than he was paid for. like, what’s the point of letting your classes do shit? what do you gain from that? other than ass reviews on ratemyprof.”

you furrow your brows and wonder if you should try the new lip liner along with it. your eyes focus on rime’s lips as you try to picture it, not totally hearing what he’s saying, nor noticing that he’s stopped as you stare a few inches away from his face. it's only when you feel his breath gently fan against your face that you're brought back from your thoughts, suddenly aware of your position in between his legs.

rime doesn't register your proximity, really. but he notes your frown and focused stare and realizes he's been speaking the whole time. “sorry,” he starts, averting his gaze and coughing. "i ramble a lot sometimes.”

“hm? no i, uh, i don’t mind,” you try to reassure him, thrown off by his apology and how close you were. he throws you a pointed look, obviously disbelieving the tone of your voice. you smile a little and breath out a laugh, “seriously, rime. i like listening to you talk, i just wanted to wait for you to finish so i could do your lips."

"and here i thought you wanted to kiss me," he responds dramatically. you roll your eyes before quickly pecking him on the lips. but when you go to pull away, he brings his hand up to pull you in again. when he finally lets go, your face is warm. "you want me that bad?"

rime responds with silence, his lips curling up in amusement. it almost makes you want to close your eyes because he has that look that always flusters you, no matter how much he does it. it's your turn to clear your throat and look away, focusing on the product in your hand and spinning it. "i don't usually see you get that worked up.”

“yeah, for good reason. i'd rather deal with my problems head on but it's harder when your problem is an ass professor.”

your lip twitches at the frown on his face but decide not to mention it. instead, you lean closer again to do the liner, letting it hover above his lips so he can answer. “want me to fight your prof for you? i could be a good knight in shining armour, don’t you think?”

rime snorts before placing his hands on your hips. it's 'to keep you steady,' you're sure. “i don't really want to see my boyfriend kicked out on my behalf so maybe next time, sweetheart.”

#nia's 2k follower event #rime varela #last legacy

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seylaaurora · 2 years

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ok ur turn. top 5 ajr songs (do not feel the need to give big long explanations like i did lol im just insane. unless u’d like to be equally insane about it)

I cannot do this. I now see the error of my ways of asking you to do this ranking, cause it is just pure torture😆

Started to relisten to their first album cause it's the one that's least clear in my mind and... I already want all of them in my ranking and I know I like the Click, Neotheater and OK Orchestra even more... take pity on me😭

Let’s start with Pitchfork Kids! Absolute classic, absolute banger, delightfully weird in the way that reminds me why I love AJR. The song of their first album that stayed the longest on my playlist and the one that I always get back to being obsessed with whenever I listen to it. I don’t know what it is about this song. I don’t even think it’s one of their most relatable songs, probably not even one of their weirdest songs, it’s just... soooooo good tho. Legit one of THE AJR songs of all time. I don’t think I’ll ever get over it. They’ll never be able to produce a song that hits the same buttons Pitchfork Kids does. No one will be able to, it just holds such a special place in my heart and my brain.

Role Models. This always hits even harder listening to it after Woody Allen like I’m doing today (no one can tell me it’s not a direct sequel to that song, this is 100% partly about Woody Allen). The disillusionment of realising your (childhood) heroes are not who you thought you were. Your heroes letting you down is suuuch an experience of growing up. They’re not just heroes, but they are actual people and honestly, some of these people suck. The struggle of taking what your heroes gave you while leaving the people behind that gave it to you. To what extent can you separate the art from the artist? How do you go on, knowing the influence this person’s art had on your life, on the person you are today and the decisions you’ve made? How do you become okay with you having been shaped by something made by a person you so fundamentally disagree with? How do you keep that part alive while killing the part that is attached to that person? (I’m trying really hard not to write an essay but it’s not turning out so well)

3 O’Clock Things. Look. This song is ace. I don’t make the rules.

Way Less Sad. I haven’t seen a single person yet who didn’t think this song was super optimistic, but also kind of thought that was weird of themselves to think. It’s an “This is not happy, so it can’t be the ending” optimism. I don’t know if we’re just all not okay, or if it’s not actually all that weird to think it’s an optimistic song, but this song came out in February 2021. That’s what we were in. Stuff sucked. It still does. But we are, in fact, not dead yet, and I personally think it’s very sexy of us to hold on to hope. We’re not done yet. Things will get better. They just will. It feels a little like spite, and I’m okay with that. This song makes me want to go out and change my life for the better

Birthday Party. There’s always been some social commentary in their music, and while this isn’t even the most obvious one (looking at you 3 O’Clock Things), it’s just so delightfully ironic about it. Look, Role Models doesn’t hit for no reason. This song always felt like a promise to me. We won’t be them. I remember seeing a post on Instagram around the time about how people were apparently complaining that they shouldn’t get political in their songs and I always thought “who the hell did you think you were listening to?” AJR’s songs have always been about growing up, and while there is the things about how to navigate relationships with other people, looking at the state of the world and building opinions on it has always been part of growing up too. This song is about the innocence of a child who will find out about all the horrible things going on in the world at some point, and I, for one, find that incredibly relatable.

Okay, this got away from me XD

I think I could write an essay about each of their songs, and my top 5 ranking could change at any point. I also wanted to put Weak, Netflix Trip, Call my Dad and Burn the House Down on the list, but I can’t do 9 instead of 5😂 at some point it’s just too much😂

Was this insane enough for you?😂

Drop sth in my ask box if you also want me to do a top 5 ranking for sth

#ajr #music #ask games #seyla interacts #magic-number-3 #this is getting out of hand 😂#we're becoming ajr fan blogs😂#thank you so much for this💕#and sorry it took me so long haha #seyla talks

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sizzlingpatrolfox · 2 years

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thats a good choice the lyrics “all the drama queens taking swigs/all the jokers dressing up as kings” yeah that applies. anyway so i have a whole playlist abt him 😭 but if i had to narrow down it would be Every Summertime -NIKI , Chanel - Frank Ocean and Bubblegum Bitch - Marina

+ theres some in my native language (hindi) not sure u’d be interested but i would rec u Main Agar Kahoon plz read the lyrics it’s just so jimin to me. theres also a fun one called Radha Likes to Party ( u should have context this one so basically the song lyrics are based on Radha & Krishna indian mythological characters and the song has lyrics like everyone goes crazy over everything abt Radha which reminded me of jimin). ah yeah thats all

---

Oh that's cool! I've never been into making playlists. wow it'd been a minute since I last listened to Frank Ocean. I was obsessed with him years ago, mostly because I think he's crazy hot and simply I had a lot of respect for him. I still have his coming out letter saved in my computer because what a moment. Hehehe bubblegum bitch you're so right, yes. The whole electra heart vibe is very him, actually; #that particular side of him. There's some sadness, and loneliness, and lots of self introspection but there's also confidence and lots of attitude, and at times it overshadows all the other sides to him. BTW, I saw Marina live a few years ago, I'm bringing it up because she was amazing, really good show and it's a very dear experience to me. It's my first time listening to every summertime and I liked it! It's cute, I can understand why it makes you think of Jimin.

I've just listened to Rhada and Main Agar Kahoon, this one is sooooo pretty ahhh, I didn't know the songs but I agree they fit Jimin, it fits the feelings he inspires in people, especially the vibes of main agar kahoon. I've watched My Name is Khan with Shah Rukh Khan, I'm saving his name now so I can watch his other movies.

It's not a song but some days ago I remembered this poem that I love and I always thought a lot of people see Jimin this way. I think some verses of it could be about Jimin his real self, but more than anything it's about the way a lot of people think of him.

youtube

"But this isn't about me; this is your love story about the way I teach you to live" "Watch the way you pick up my bad habits and make them look good" "Good girl, just bad enough, a burp and a courtesy, let me be not too pretty, hair fried from all that pink dye, sex when you need it, puppet when you're bored. Let me build myself smaller than you." "I looked so human, the audience lost interest."

PHEWWWEW I die everytime.

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idkimnotreal · 2 years

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OR he’s really just annoyed that i keep unsending the messages.

because maybe the smile compliment meant a lot to him and maybe also sometimes he sees that i wrote something but he doesn’t feel like reading just then, only to find out i unsent it when he comes to look for it. maybe he thinks there were other such compliments. (especially since i announced before the story thing yesterday that i’d be doing more in the following days, because i don’t want to spam him compliments even because that makes them less effective)

and it’s also generally better to let me know he’s reading it, since i expressed that i wasn’t sure if he was reading some of my stuff (”oh i unsent the compliment because i didn’t know if u’d read it but i hope you did” kinda stuff).

i don’t think there was any mean intent behind it. like “stop spamming me pls”. because he didn’t mind it before and... i can’t see him like that. because communication gets much, much better if it’s two-way, but since i was assuming it was one-way, maybe he picked up that’s where confusion was stemming from? idk. that’s a lot of thoughts to go through. i’d rather assume he didn’t think much about it, so at most two consecutive thoughts. anything else is assuming he really cares, which okay, maybe, but it’s an assumption at best.

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justanotherwriter243 · 2 years

Text

Carnation (prt2) - Han Seojun X Reader

A/N: hi :] thank u for waiting for me. once again, this piece is from the kdrama “True Beauty”, as well as a continuation of the first part (linked below). Feel free to message me if u have a question, if u’d like to kno more about the story, or just wanna talk :D. mwah

Summary: You and Seojun reunite at school.

Disclaimer: i’m using the names from webtoon but im following the kdrama timeline. im not caught up w the webtoon. i’m not fluent in hangul. no use of y/n. gn reader.

Warnings: spoilers for ep.8 thru the rest of the season essentially, read at ur own discretion. swearing, mutual pining, right person/wrong time, bad flower knowledge. mentions of suho/jugyeong.

Word count: 10k

prt 1 <- prt 2 -> epilogue

----

Time had passed since that weekend in the snow.

Though, your voice still echoes in Seojun’s mind.

Seojun hadn’t expected to see you so soon after your last encounter, and in his homeroom nevertheless. You, in the Saebom High uniform. Blazer unbuttoned and sweater vest neatly tucked into your bottoms. With one backpack strap on as you walked through the door, walking across the large windows, sun casting its rays onto you. You, who sat two seats in front of Suho and smiled widely as you greeted your friends. Eyes sparkling as you told them about your weekend. His breath had practically been taken from him.

Seojun came to the realization then that he didn’t pay much attention to the people he attended school with. He regretted it. Reminiscent of all the time he had wasted not getting to know you. Seojun had promised himself he wouldn’t let you be just another classmate he never truly got acquainted with. Up until recently, he had meant that completely platonically. As platonic as sneaking glances in between classes in the hallway could be.

That was until the class’ trip to the countryside. Wherein he decided he has to let Jugyeong go, gathering the kiss she and Suho shared on the trip. He knew where he stood with her and his feelings. Seojun had decided it was for the better. Besides, it had led him to discover his blossoming feelings for you. Perhaps it was the way you cheered for him when he went up to sing for their class on stage. Or the way you offered your sour flavored gummies to him on the bus.

Back then, as everyone was boarding the bus, you had noticed the gloomy look on his face. He ended up sitting next to Jugyeong, but the look remained etched onto his face. You figured if he was going to frown at something, you’d rather it be from a bittersweet candy on his tongue than a girl whose bad mood reflected his own. Maybe they had fought, maybe they were just tired. But as you leaned over the middle of the bus, holding onto the seat in front of you for support, and stretched your arm to tap on Seojun’s shoulder--you couldn’t deny the satisfaction of getting the skin in between his brows to relax, even if only for a minute.

In the time that had passed, both of you remained friendly. Eyes meeting in class and softening slightly. Low murmurs deep enough to rumble in one's chest in passing ‘hello’s’’. You did occasionally feel guilty, though. Rumors had spread about Jugyeong and Seojun being in a secret relationship. You, not understanding the circumstances, in turn, tended to not read too much into your interactions with the boy. He was just being nice, you figured. It was better this way.

Seojun, on the other hand, had been under the impression that you and Seung-joon had been dating. The number of times the two of you had been spotted together was increasing. As well as the amount of teasing from your friends.

In reality, you hadn’t made much progress with Seung-joon. That first weekend that you had met up with Seung-joon hadn’t exactly gone to plan. By the time you had found Seung-joon, it was hardly snowing anymore. More of a light drizzle than anything. Yet, the two of you sat on a cold bench anyway. Watching the dark clouds drift off and the sun appear once more. In school, he was often busy playing on the basketball team, and you were busy with the school choir. Since your schedules never overlapped, you only saw him outside of school. You frequently found yourself going to Seung-joon when you truly wanted to be with Seojun. Which only piled onto the guilt you felt.

Now, Seojun and you sat in class. Both actively resisting the urge to make your way to one another. Sitting patiently in your assigned seats as you waited for class to begin.

“Don’t look now, but Seojun is totally checking you out,”

Your head turns without a thought. In the corner of the classroom sits Seojun, one leg hanging over the other. His arms are splayed lazily on his desk, and his eyes are glued to you. A blush brushes his cheeks when your eyes meet. And yet, he doesn’t turn away.

You’re not blind to his staring. Honestly, it’s hard to be. You just question when his eyes wandered away from Jugyeong and found their way to you. Your friend pinches your thigh.

“I said don’t look,” your friend scolds you.

“Am I not allowed to glance around the classroom?” You tilt your head playfully, giving her a snarky response.

“Not when Seojun is looking at you like that,” she’s just as snippy.

“Like what? He’s just being friendly,” you shrug.

“No way,” she’s leaning forward now, voice close to a whisper, “he’s totally into you!”

You roll your eyes. Annoyed at the way your heart skips a beat at the thought. You take a peek at the back of the classroom once more, and find his eyes are still on you. You offer him a smile and his lips quirk in an awkward smile. He quickly offers a poise bow of his head and fixes his eyes elsewhere immediately afterward.

When you turn back to your friend she has a wide smirk on her face. You glare in return.

“Do you think that because you have a boyfriend now more guys will approach you?” She teases you but you don’t find the humor in it.

“Who said I had a boyfriend?” the way your voice drops tells her it's serious.

The smirk begins to fade from her face. She opens her mouth to say something but quickly closes it when she can’t find the words. She glances off to the large window to your left, searching for answers in the clouds. The gears turn in your head.

Before you can reach a proper conclusion, Mr. Han walks through the door and is starting class. Your friend jerks her body towards the front of the classroom, successfully saving herself. Your teacher begins class by saying good morning. You can make Seojun’s voice out through the chorus of monotone students. The usual conversation starts up within the class. Students don’t want to study, Mr. Han makes an agonizing attempt to cheer everyone up, and everyone cringes at the corniness.

Unsatisfied with your classmate, you lean forward and whisper as loudly as you can without getting caught. Letting her know that you are not done with the conversation.

“Did Seung-joon say something?” you ask her and her head slowly turns back to you.

Her face is distressed as she wonders if it’s the right idea to say something. Mr. Han is going on about choosing students to assign the weekly cleaning to. Everyone avoids his eyes.

“Well,” she finally speaks out, “I just heard around that you two went out,”

“Heard from who?” You’re stubborn and she’s lavishly regretting bringing up the topic.

“Just some upperclassmen,” she shrugs it off, “I’m sure the whole class heard about it, it’s not a big deal or anything--”

“Seojun,” Mr. Han’s voice echoes through the classroom. It lulls your conversation.

Seojun, whose eyes had previously been glued to your frame, is surprised when Mr. Han is singling him out. Eyes wide and searching the board for some sort of clue as to why he was being addressed in front of the entire classroom. Mr. Han is staring at him expectedly. When he doesn’t answer, the rest of his classmates’ heads start to turn.

Yours included. Wondering how Mr. Han had voiced your thoughts.

Seojun, you wondered. Had he heard the rumor, too? Did he think you and Seung-joon were dating? Did he know Seun-joon was the one you were meeting that day? Did he suspect he ruined that date?

You turn your head to view him, waiting for him to answer Mr. Han. He’s panicking, though, and you can tell he wasn’t listening to the discussion either. Your eyes meet once more and he stumbles over his words.

“What was the question?” His eyes are blinking in confusion.

A few students chuckle at his puzzlement. A sigh is heard from Mr. Han.

“You’ve got cleaning duty today, do you have a problem with that?”

Once Seojun processes the question, his instincts take over. He cooly tilts his head and winces.

“Ah, I do,” he lies, “Cram school, unfortunately,”

Seojun didn’t go to cram school. He did, however, have to pick up some medicine for his mom to help with the recovery of her most recent surgery. Unluckily for him, the pharmacy is an unyielding 20-minute walk in the opposite direction of his home. It’s times like these Seojun regrets giving up his motorcycle.

“That’s alright. Studying is important, after all,” Mr. Han wearisomely nods his head at the excuse, “we’ve got a quiz coming up,”

The class groans at the words. Their morning is burdened with the reminder of yet another grueling quiz that’ll only deter them further from pursuing higher education. And, though Mr. Han has accepted the excuse, he’s giving Seojun a warning look.

Briefly, you wonder if this has happened more than once. Wonder if while you’ve been distracted by Seojun’s drama and dating rumors, you’ve completely missed him dodging every academic duty that’s been thrown his way. Irritation blooms in your chest at the thought, and you realize you’ve never once seen Seojun get cleaning duty. His leave of absence suddenly makes you think.

“Any volunteers to take Seojun’s place?”

While Mr. Han is distracted again, you address your friend once more, needing more information.

“What did you hear about Seung-joon and me?”

She’s disappointed at the way you haven’t dropped the subject yet but knows now more than ever you won’t stand down. Hesitatingly, she tells you what she knows.

“Students were saying that Seung-joon was going to ask to be your boyfriend, but judging by your reaction I’m guessing he . . . “ the words die off.

You shake your head at your friend. Sure, the two of you hung out, but neither of you had taken it to the next step. Seojun had prevented you from doing so, and you’re sure Seung-joon noticed your hesitancy. Leaving you on a plateau of confusing, mixed-up emotions.

Mr. Han’s attention goes to your side of the classroom. Obviously taking note of your chatter.

“Suho, take Seojun’s place, will you?”

Suho, sitting a couple seats behind you, politely nods. Everyone else in your section lets out a sigh of relief having not heard their own names, you included.

“And one more student,” Mr. Han pretends to think before your name flies out of his mouth, “You two should be fine, yes?”

You don’t have time to react because another voice cuts through the classroom.

“No!” Seojun rises from his seat, chair squeaking as he does so. The class turns to him at the sudden outburst. The panic is evident on Seojun’s face as he searches for a way to fix his mistake.

“ . . . way,” he finally says, “No way, today is Monday,” He feigns surprise. Eyebrows rising and eyes nervously blinking.

“Thank you, Seojun, you may take your seat now,” Mr. Han says.

“It’s Monday, and I just remembered that I don’t have cram school on Mondays,” Seojun finally reaches a conclusion, sitting down awkwardly.

“What kind of cram school doesn’t start on Mondays?” Hyunkyu, the bowl-cut-haired man, challenges him. Seojun resists the urge to get back up and smack him hard enough to knock off his glasses.

“Which means, I can totally stay after school today to clean up,” he gestures towards you, “We both can,”

The pharmacy doesn’t close until 7 anyway, and the dusk sky looks prettier after he’s spent his day staring at you.

Mr. Han scratches the back of his neck, “Alright, Seojun and--”

“Mr. Han,” you squeak out, one hand raised slightly in an attempt to remain polite, “I hate to do this, I really do, but I’ve actually got choir practice today--”

Mr. Han cuts you off with a sigh, hands covering his face in exaggeration. Remembering the predicament you’ve told him about before. The class stills in fear that he’ll have an outburst. The silence is louder than ever as Mr. Han stays hidden behind his hands.

“Sorry,” you manage.

His hands drop and he shakes his head, “I should’ve done a better job at knowing your guys’ schedules. I am your homeroom teacher, am I not?” Nobody responds.

“Suho and Seojun will have cleaning duty today, that’s final,”

----

Suho is nowhere to be seen. It’s not too long after dismissal now, most students heading home or chatting with classmates as they walk the same way. And Seojun ends up in his homeroom classroom by himself.

Seojun thinks maybe Suho is avoiding him. Perhaps he finally got the courage to disobey Mr. Han, and decided not to show. Hell, Suho is probably with Jugyeong at the moment, spending time together behind closed doors. A more commonly occurring thing now that the two were secretly seeing each other. This left Seojun alone, standing in the back of the classroom, shoving dusty science textbooks into an equally unkempt bookshelf.

Time moves far too slow for his liking and the endless list of tasks seemingly gets longer. The ticking of the clock makes his frustration rise. As the long hand ticks 15 marks forward, Seojun has to face the reality that Suho isn’t showing up any time soon, and he’ll most likely end up cleaning the entire classroom on his own. At this rate, he could probably make it to the pharmacy before it closes, but he’d get home not too long after the sun lays to sleep for the day. He grumbles at the thought.

Seojun’s strategy to combat said thought is simple. It goes like this; Stack as many of the same books together as he can, grab them all at once, and slide them into the corresponding shelf as quickly as he can. This is the most efficient way, he decides. He makes a show of squatting as he grabs a new pile.

“Need some help with that?” You stand at the back doorway of the classroom. Your hand is gripping one strap of your backpack, a habit Seojun now picked up on with how often he looked for you when you’d walk to your seat. Which he had memorized the day he first noticed you, making note of your friendliness towards your classmates. Smiles across the board when you’d greet them all. Even Suho sparing you a nod. It made Seojun’s insides itch.

Your voice startles Seojun. It makes him turn too fast, causing his grip to loosen mid-transfer. He’s nearly dropping the textbooks. You’re quick to rush to him, though. Your feet glide across the floor and your hands fly up to stabilize the texts. You reach him just in time.

The position is awkward, though. The mound of books is tilted. Corners of books stick out uncomfortably and are on the verge of slipping out of the stack. Seojun’s hands desperately hold onto the books. Your hands are adjacent to his. Clutching where you can so you don’t drop anything, elbows stretched as you try to cover more room.

In the heat of the moment, your body has pressed itself as close as it can to the books. The rough corners press into your skin anywhere it sees fit. The same goes for Seojun. The only thing that separates you two is a cluster of An Introduction to Calculus. You knew there was a reason you disliked calculus so much.

Seojun’s pupils are blown wide and his mouth is parted. You can’t help but stare at the hair that reaches the back of his neck. It’s almost nostalgic being this close to him again. Memories of the cold that brushed your skin that afternoon, what felt like eons ago. Fingers tight and shaking to grip him closer.

He catches you staring and embarrassment floods your veins. You pull away, forgetting the mess you’re tangled in. This results in the books slipping out of place.

Seojun’s eyes widen almost comically. You realize your mistake and attempt to catch what you still can. Both you and Seojun lean down at the same time in an attempt to catch them, knocking heads in the process. You both recoil and your efforts are to no avail. The math textbooks hit the floor with loud thuds.

Maybe nostalgia is just that. Feelings of reminiscence to bring back the hammering of your heart that serve you no true purpose. You rub your forehead in defeat and avoid his eyes.

“Sorry,” you say, swallowing, “I didn’t mean to startle you,”

“It’s okay,” His own hand is rubbing at his forehead,

“What are you doing here?”

His directness catches you off guard. This was not the same Seojun that had blushed when you caught him staring this morning.

“I told Suho I would come,” And here Seojun thought Suho had finally gained some guts, “But then I got caught up in convincing my choir club to let me leave early. They all thought I was meeting with Seung-joon,”

At the mention of him, Seojun visibly deflates.

“--But I told them you were waiting for me,” you finally look at him, “And they finally let me leave,”

Seojun tries to not let your words affect him so much. He nods as he processes your words.

“I felt bad for leaving you stuck with Suho. Not that I don’t like Suho, or--or that you don’t like Suho. You two just don’t--” you stop yourself, “I just didn’t think it was fair for me not to do my part in cleaning,”

Seojun’s eyes are soft when you look at them. His face is relaxed and oddly comforting. You can’t help the way your heart rate picks up.

“Shall we get to it then?”

----

You move towards the podium at the front of the classroom, having finished putting the textbooks away as well as dusting the shelf. On the podium sits a small potted plant. Green has sprouted and you can see a hint of yellow where the flower will bloom. The soil stares at you expectantly. You spot a spray bottle on the inside shelf of the podium and grab it quickly. You’re not sure where to start but you decide to go for it. How hard could it be to water some plants, right?

The ‘pshh’ of the water makes Seojun look up from where he’s scraping gum off a desk. You try to ignore him as you aim haphazardly for the soil. It’s pointless as Seojun gets up from where he’s crouching and makes his way to the podium. He reaches you and carefully examines your actions. You look up at him, waiting for whatever he wants to say.

“May I?” his hands go up to yours, you assume he wants the bottle from you. You give him the go-ahead and start to hand him the bottle. Seojun doesn’t grab it, though. Instead, he cups his hands over yours and carefully guides the nozzle. He moves in closer to do so, his shoulder nudging with yours. You’re surprised at how natural his hands feel against yours.

“Tulips don’t need very much water,” he carefully examines the soil to see what parts are moist, “if it gets too soggy, it’ll rot”

He guides your finger to spray softly on the soil. You’re all too aware of the way his body fits next to yours.

“How do you know it’s a tulip?” you narrow your eyes and he simply uses one hand to point at where the flower is sprouting.

“The bulb,” he gives you no further explanation.

In the corner of the room, your phone goes off with a notification. The ding rings loudly in the quiet classroom. It startles you and makes you pull your hands away from his. Leaving the spray bottle in his hands.

Guilt starts to pound at your chest. You feel as if the two of you have been caught. You know it’s Seung-joon checking up on you. Yet, you don’t move to check it. Seojun glances at you, but when you don’t say anything, he decides to do the same. Paying it no attention as he focuses on the plant in front of you two.

Seojun delicately holds the long, green stem of the plant as he sprays water with his opposite hand. You watch with careful eyes as he does so, trying not to let awkwardness overtake the room. His eyes are squinted in concentration and his focus is on the potted plant. You appreciate his attentiveness.

It becomes clear to you that Seojun isn’t as intimidating as the entire school has made him out to be. Surely, he hadn’t been kicked out of school. He isn’t a gangster who gets expelled for starting fights or getting into trouble outside of school. No, he’s a teenager with an oddly large amount of knowledge of flowers. One who knows enough about greenery to tell apart nonflowering tulips and daisies, you’re sure. A young man whose only worry in the world is ensuring this very tulip gets the right amount of hydration. You think about asking him about it.

“I guess you know a lot about flowers,” you say.

Seojun’s vigilance is broken and you half regret speaking. He looks at you, lowering the spray bottle. His eyelashes look pretty from here. You panic.

“I just mean with how often you bring--”

He lets out a chuckle. Your heart skips a beat. His lips settle into a gentle smile as he lowers his body to take a closer look at the soil.

“I like to think I’m coming close to an expert,” there’s a teasing undertone in his voice and it makes you scoff.

He looks up at you and you can’t handle his long eyelashes blinking at you like that. You fail to bite back a smile so you attempt to hide it by looking away from him. He notices, though. You click your tongue.

“I wouldn’t have said it if I knew it’d feed your ego so much,” you tease back but he shakes his head.

“Ms. Yoon is the flower expert,” you meet his gaze as he explains. “She owns the flower shop I go to. That woman knows everything about botany. She’s taught me all I know. From how much sunlight a plant should get to the significance of gifting different types of flowers,”

Your mouth falls open and an ‘ah’ with it. He surely must have known what giving you carnations insinuated, then. Perhaps it's why he blushed so hard that day. You find yourself nodding as he goes on.

“If not for her,” his eyes flick back and forth at nothing in particular, “I would have killed any plant I’ve come in contact with,”

You imagine Seojun entering a flower shop. The sight is almost laughable. Probably overwhelmed as he takes in all the different colored petals that surround him. Eventually working up the courage to ask an older woman in an apron for help. A blush spreading across his cheeks as he asks what kind of flowers would be best to congratulate someone.

Your thoughts are brought back to reality as Seojun sighs deeply. Looking at the soil once more.

“You should have more faith in yourself,” you scold him.

He looks back at you with raised eyebrows. Your words contradict what you said earlier about feeding his ego. He stands easily and his presence overshadows yours.

“I have no trouble being confident in myself,” his teasing returns, “Now, we should let this soak.”

He sets down the spray bottle onto the podium. Then walks back to the desk he was working on, crouches, and starts scraping at the sticky substance under it again. You wonder again about him.

“You know, if I’m being honest,” you’re saying the words before you can give them a second thought, “I didn’t think you liked me all that much,”

Seojun’s head shoots up, his face filled with puzzlement.

“Why would you think that?”

You pick up a rag and head towards the windows, trying to distract yourself. Seojun keeps a steady gaze on you. You look away, his full attention too much for you. Embarrassment creeps up your neck when you realize you have to respond.

“Well, it’s just that,” you start wiping down the windows, “with how we ran into each other at the mall, and earlier in class today, I just kind of figured—“

“I do like you,”

Your hands freeze in place. The way the words sound on his tongue is enticing. And you find yourself enjoying them more than you think you should.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” you swallow hard, “people will get the wrong idea,”

You do your best to naturally fall back into the work. Though it’s awkward, you continue. A particularly cloudy spot on the window gives you trouble. You use all your force to scrub at it.

“So? You’re Gowoon’s friend, we should get along,” So he had recognized you.

Gowoon and you were friendly, sure, but not enough for Seojun to have the need to be familiar with you.

“Yeah, Gowoon’s friend,” you grumble.

Gowoon’s friend. Gowoon. Not Seojun’s. Not Seojun’s friend because of course, you aren’t friends. You’ve barely had three conversations together if that. Being in the same class doesn’t automatically make you two close. Neither does what happened at the mall during the first snowfall. What happened at the mall was a coincidence. A mistake; a distraction. A distraction like the stupid stain on the window that isn’t going away no matter how hard you--

Water hits the window. It has you freezing. You’re surprised as you turn to face the perpetrator. Seojun holds the spray bottle from earlier and you can see regret creep onto his face for the second time since you’ve conversed with him. He had finished scraping under the desks.

“Thanks,” you mumble as you finally rub the spot out.

His gaze lingers on you briefly before spraying the next window pane. He’s gentle in the way he holds his own rag, Spritzing and letting the liquid drip before running the damp rag along the glass. The way his tough demeanor falls as he wipes the window has you thinking back to your thoughts at the beginning of class that day. You figure there’s no harm in asking. This way, you can confirm your suspicion.

“Can I ask you something?” You don’t bother to stop your thoughts now.

“Sometimes I speak without thinking,” he interrupts.

You’re surprised when a loud laugh leaves you. Seojun finds relief in it.

“Not what I was going to ask, but I’m glad you’re self-aware,” you relish in the playfulness while you still can, “Actually, I was going to ask you something a little more serious. This might not be my place to ask—and you don’t have to answer if you don’t . . . “

You trail off as his face falls. Like he knows what you’re going to ask. Which you think is impossible because you can hardly collect your thoughts enough to get a sentence out. Still, he looks at you as if he can read your thoughts. Seriousness falling onto his features.

“How come you’ve never had cleaning duty before,”

You both know that’s not what you’re asking. You know why he’s never had cleaning duty before. It’s because before he hardly went to school enough to be assigned to it. Even now that he was consistent with coming to school, he always found a way to weasel out of most extracurricular activities that required him to stay any longer than the average school day.

It couldn’t be what everyone said it was. That he ran around with sketchy people, beating others up and challenging students from other schools with bad reputations. There was no way Seojun could hurt a fly with the way he handled the bulbing plant. Wiped at the window. Scraped at gum, even. Motions as smooth as rocking waves, careful not to scratch the desk. The way his warm hands passed you textbooks. Fingers sweeping against yours. Bracelet shining when it caught the light--

“Gowoon’s always been better at the school thing,” he finally says, chewing on his cheek, “And I’ve always been better at taking care of our mom,”

Seojun hates the way pity fills your eyes. It’s the way everyone looks at him after they find out the truth about all his absences. Sadness combing over their body and sympathy filling their words. He half regrets the words leaving his mouth, that is until you reach up and squeeze his arm.

“Sometimes,” you speak, not quite sure if you’re going to say the right thing, but trying regardless, “the world throws things at us,” You’re not meeting his gaze, “And we can’t do anything about it except face it and bare our teeth. It’ll be painful and heart-wrenching. And it’ll feel like no one can understand what you’re going through. But that doesn’t mean you have to go through it alone,”

The moment your eyes meet his, Seojun’s breath leaves him. He feels a sudden rush of fear. Fear at the way your words comfort him more than anyone else’s ever have. Even Gowoon's and his mom’s. Maybe it’s precisely because they’re coming from you and not anyone else. The fear yanks him by his neck and makes his heart speed up. He’s overcome with the thought of kissing you, and it terrifies him.

Seojun thinks back to this morning when he saw you enter his homeroom. He couldn’t help but stare, then, at the sun-kissed skin that he caught flashes of behind your collared shirt. Swallowing as he remembered how close you two had gotten that day outside the mall. Enough so that he could smell your perfume through the humid air. It was sweet and alluring. It fit you well. If Seojun concentrated hard enough right now, he’s almost certain he’d be able to smell it again.

Seojun is afraid at the thought. He quickly takes a step back, causing you to drop your hand.

“I know,” he brushes it off, “I--thank you,”

Your brows furrow sweetly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

“It’s okay,” he’s quick to reassure you, “My mom--she’s--she’s better now. She spent some time at the hospital and is recovering well,”

Relief floods your system.

“That’s good!” you’re too loud, “That’s great, um, must be why you returned to school, huh?”

You feel silly at your previous attempt to comfort him. He didn’t need to go through things alone, of course, he didn't. He has actual friends and family, after all. Gowoon and Jugyeong, Chorang—

You self consciously run your fingers through the rag still in your hands. Mind whirling through ways to make conversation.

“Yeah,”

Don’t let the conversation die. Don’t let the conversation die. Don’t let the conversation--

“Oh,” you speak, “that must be why you visited that flower shop to begin with,”

His eyes are narrowing and his lips quirk up.

“That and I wanted to congratulate Gowoon for making the choir club,”

You’re startled at the way his tone turns into a light, feathery one.

“Sorry, I guess sometimes I speak without thinking, too,”

Now, it’s his turn to laugh loudly.

----

The sun makes its way lower and lower as you and Seojun finish cleaning up the classroom. Double-checking books and gathering up all the trash as you two work in comfortable silence. The only thing left on the list is to lock up and properly dispose of the two garbage bags sitting in the corner of the room. You’re a little sad to see your time together is coming to an end. You stall by going over the to-do list, humming as you pretend to think.

“I think that’s all for today,” you sigh out.

Seojun comes in close and examines the list over your shoulder.

“Guess so,” his voice rings in your ear.

Your hands tightly clutch at the clipboard that holds the list, bare nail beds on display. Your thumb brushes over the paper, self consciously.

“Should we take out the garbage--?” you’re asking, turning your head over your shoulder to look at Seojun. His face is much closer than you anticipated, nose mere inches from yours. You’re both surprised by the sudden invasion of space. The two of you quickly pull back, embarrassed.

“Sure,” he mutters.

Both you and Seojun gather your things in silence.

“Alright, let’s go,” He makes a beeline for the exit, grabbing one of the bags as he does so. You rush to grab the other garbage bag and lock up the classroom. You have to jog a little to catch up to him, already nearing the end of the hallway.

“Is your boyfriend not walking you home today?” he says it nonchalantly, but the fact he’s noticed Seung-joon says he’s been paying attention to the two of you. You make your way down the stairs.

“My boyfriend?”

“Yeah, that guy,” he grips the bag tightly, “What’s his name, Seung-min?”

A smile spreads across your lips. It’s ironic. Considering all that differentiated their names was a single character, you found it hard to believe he didn’t know Seung-joon’s name. A little round circle that effectively changes the way your tongue shapes the words. A mere consonant separates the two boys.

“Seung-joon doesn’t walk me home, just to the bus station,” you state calmly, “And he isn’t my boyfriend,”

“Isn’t he?” Seojun attempts to speak in an indifferent tone, but his face betrays him.

“No,” your response is immediate as you reach the bottom of the stairs, slowing when you’re unsure of which hallway to walk down. Seojun makes the decision for you when he turns left. The longer way, you note.

“Don’t you two spend most of your time together?”

“Not necessarily,” You speak carefully, “He’ll walk with me when he can and texts me throughout the day,”

“Why don’t you tell me what you think a boyfriend is supposed to do,” Seojun is teasing you now. Glancing at you way too often for him not to care, you think.

You‘re rolling your eyes lightheartedly. Shaking your head, you explain.

“Just because we text doesn’t mean we’re dating. Dating someone is more than that. It’s going out of your way to make time for them. It’s listening and communicating with one another. Someone who is comforting, but still scares you a little.“

Seojun chuckles at the thought.

“Seriously! Someone whose name gets you excited. Makes you feel–”

“Safe,” Seojun finishes.

Heat rushes through your body as you force yourself down from your soapbox. You reach the end of the hallway and turn a corner.

“Yeah,” you mutter quietly, the back exit door getting closer and closer.

Though you’re embarrassed, you have to admit that you don’t want your time with Seojun to end.

“Seung-joon,” you hesitate, treading ahead decisively, “He doesn’t do the things he does because he feels that way,”

“Has he told you that?”

“He doesn’t have to,”

You pause to walk out the single exit door. You go through first and hold the door for Seojun, he simply looks at you. Staring from the other side of the doorway. The air is fresh and you try not to shiver as he does so.

“What?” You ask him, tightening your own grip on the garbage bag.

“Is Seung-joon the one who called you that day?” That day at the mall, weekends ago.

You hesitate, but answer with a soft, “yeah,”

“And he’s been texting you,” he tilts his head toward your backpack, where your phone resides. Referring to earlier when your phone had gone off.

“Yeah,” you echo.

“Maybe you should have more faith in yourself,” the line repeated at you sounds foreign.

He smoothly walks out of the building and makes his way toward the large trash can towards the back of the building. Leaving you holding the door, staring dumbfounded.

“What do you mean?” You jog to catch up to him, the garbage bag rattling in your hand.

You’re reaching the dumpsters all too quickly. Seojun lifts the lid of one and swings his bag up and into it. Then, he turns to you, hand-stretched out expectantly. Your face is heating up as it takes you a second to realize he’s asking for your own garbage bag.

“Is it that unlikely that he likes you?” He says as he disposes of the bag.

“Nobody’s ever shown interest before,” you tell him, and he looks back at you with his eyebrows raised. Almost like he’s saying, “Really?”.

Maybe he had seen the way boys flocked at your feet. Maybe he had made notice of your friendliness. Maybe he was curious about you. Your knees nearly buckle at the thought. You shrug, kicking at your feet as you realize you’ll have to say goodbye soon.

“Not seriously, at least,”

He hums at that, eyes narrowing.

“Is someone picking you up?” He asks, hands in his pockets, wanting to move on.

“No, I take the bus,” you tell him, “is someone picking you up?”

He shakes his head, lips pursed pensively.

“Shall I walk you?”

“Which way are you walking?”

You both flush. You point first in the direction you're going. Seojun’s house is the opposite way. However, it’s the very course Seojun must walk to the pharmacy. Down the narrow path that wraps around the school. Towards the front. There, a bus station sits two blocks down the road from the main entrance. As you both begin to walk that way, you enter a passageway with high walls and hardly enough walking space for one person.

But instead of Seojun staying behind or walking in front of you, he stays close by your side. It makes your arms rub uncomfortably, but it brings you warmth so you stay like that.

“I’d give you a ride on my motorcycle, but I stopped driving it,” he rubs his neck sheepishly, scrunching up his long arm to reach.

“Oh, that’s right,” you recall, “because of your girlfriend,”

Your statement is meant to be teasing, but you can’t help the slight jealousy that leaks from it. Seojun quickly turns to you, stunned at how you know that.

“Who--?”

“You kinda gave her your keys in front of the entire class,”

You remember the day, long ago, Seojun walked into class and dropped his keys on Jugyeong’s desk, rumors quickly spreading as she tried to return them. The whole school speculated over them.

“Oh,” he remembered, “right,”

His eyes glance at your side, trying to read you.

“She’s not my girlfriend, though,” he told you and you hum in disbelief, “Really--my mom just asked her to look after me,”

He’s digging his own grave. Seojun can tell you don’t believe him, so he goes on.

“There’s nothing going on between the two of us,”

You look up at him, face unreadable.

“Hey, my lips are sealed,” you arch an eyebrow, tempting him. You want to hear him say it. You need to, “Just because I don’t have a partner doesn’t mean you can’t,”

“Seriously,” he defends himself, “It’s kinda like what you were saying,”

The two of you turn quiet as the statement settles in. Like what you were saying about Seung-joon. It’s unreciprocated. Hollow, in your case. Maybe the two of you were destined to fall in love with people who didn’t feel the same. It was comforting to know Seojun was going through the same thing you were. You hum at the thought.

“It’s different, though, no?” you wonder, “Jugyeong seems to like you enough,”

“Seung-joon seems to like you, too,” he counters.

“It’s just that—“ you chew on your cheek.

“It’s just that?” He bumps into your shoulder teasingly. Your opposite side rubbing against the wall.

You glance at him and sulk. You didn’t like the butterflies that started in your tummy. And you definitely didn’t want to keep talking about Seung-joon. But something about Seojun’s presence was so comforting, and maybe you hadn’t been imagining the jealousy behind his words. Maybe if you pushed him a little further, you could test the grounds, feel him out.

“I heard around that Seung-joon was going to ask me out,” you finally tell him.

It’s hard to decipher the look on Seojun’s face.

“Officially, I mean” You explain.

Guilt creeps up Seojun’s neck. He tries to move further away from you, but considering the narrow pathway, it doesn’t do much.

“But, you know, to be honest, I don’t think he actually wants to,” you admitted, “Which I know sounds stupid because he’s the one who approached me, but I don’t know—I,” you trail, “I’ve never felt at comfortable with him, I guess?”

Seojun looks over at you with sad eyes.

“It’s not stupid,” it comes out soft.

“You don’t have to pity me,” you scoff.

“I’m not,”

His tone is genuine. Everything about Seojun invited you in, eased your mind. The way his eyes turned soft and the way his lips would hang ever so slightly open. When his warm body would turn towards you and unconsciously lean your way. It was so contradictory to the way you and Seung-joon interacted. The very juxtaposition made both your head and heart spin.

Especially on that day where you had met up with Seung-joon after the snow. You explained to him that you had gotten lost on the way, but you could tell he knew it was a lie. That was your first mistake. Your second was thinking about Seojun for the remainder of your date. Quietly sitting, staring at the sky, wondering if Seojun had run after Jugyeong. Said date took notice of your distracted mind and ended the date early saying he had homework to do.

“He hasn’t even attempted a kiss,” you huff out, not realizing you were getting lost in thought. Seojun’s brows furrowed.

The two of you turn the corner, finally freeing yourselves from the narrow passageway. You can see tall, thin trees start to appear more frequently. Its pigmented leaves contrast it. The sidewalk is large now. Yet, the distance between you two is unchanging. You take uneven steps, purposely causing you to bump into Seojun. It gives you an excuse to keep brushing your arms.

“Seojun?” You ask him and he hums, “You’re a man, right?”

That was reassuring.

You notice the change in his stance and you take it as a sign that he’s offended.

“I mean—“

A soft ‘ne’ falls from his lips. You quickly look at the side of his face, hoping to catch his eyes, but they’ve focused straight ahead on the pathway. This was it.

“Would you kiss me?”

Seojun almost trips when you ask the question. He catches his feet but stops in his tracks. You stop next to him and he doesn’t know if he wishes you were closer or further from him.

“What?” He turns his body to face you and your eager eyes await him. Air stops reaching Seojun’s lungs.

You’ve walked further down the path now. The colors of fall compliment your skin. The white trunks speckled with brown line the wide sidewalk. Yellows and reds litter the floor. Leaves that crunch under your feet. The setting sun rests softly in the distance. Its warmth leaves you, but Seojun doesn’t feel the cold.

You stand with your hands clutching at your sides. They shiver in the cold air. They stubbornly refuse to grab the mittens inside of your backpack. Too impatient to bother, and not willing to cross your arms for warmth. Your eyes are unmoving. They still patiently as you wait for his answer.

Suddenly, Seojun wishes he could take your picture whilst you’re looking at him like this. With your shivering hands and restless thoughts. Eyes shining as they reflect the sun back to him. He knows, though, that he wouldn’t be capable of capturing your beauty.

It wouldn’t hurt to try.

“Would you have made a move by now?” Your stare is intimidating.

What was Seojun supposed to say? That he did want to kiss you? That he’s wanted to kiss you since your eyes first met? That his heart does backflips and his mind goes blank whenever you ask him questions like these? Because they do. And he does.

Seojun’s tongue clicks against his teeth and he forces his lungs to breathe once more.

“Are you asking me what I would do or what I would do if I was Seung-joon?”

You think for a second. The wind picks up.

“If you had watched the snow with me--”

“We did watch the snow together.” he doesn’t miss a beat and it makes you think again.

“I mean if you were Gu Seung-joon,” you miss the way his eyes squint in annoyance, “And we had planned to watch the snow together. Would you have kissed me when we finally met?”

The birch branches shift around you as a breeze blows through the air. Muted yellow leaves cascade from them and are blown into the sky. Nature scatters dead leaves on the dirt-covered sidewalk. They dance as the wind touches them, twirling as they hit the ground.

They remind you of the snow that day.

“Not if you didn’t want me to,” Seojun finally answers.

“Do you think it seemed that way?” You’re puzzled. Seojun bites on his cheek.

“From what you told me,” his eyes wander from yours, “didn’t it?” You’re silent, and Seojun doesn’t wait to see if you’ll speak, “What about you? Why haven’t you kissed him? What’s holding you back? I thought you liked him,”

You breathe. Your eyes don’t move from his. The leaves twist and turn around him. You wonder if he’s cold.

“I guess my heart was still holding out for someone else,”

The features on Seojun’s face soften. His eyebrows unfurrow and he realizes how tense he’s standing. Shoulders scrunched up anticipating your next words. Teeth grinding unconsciously, making a pang of pain start towards the back of his head. He has to make himself take in air.

His lips part to exhale and you watch as the cold air comes out of his pretty lips. Your eyes stay on them. You may do something stupid if he doesn’t close them soon. It’s only when the cold air wisps through the air again that they close. Your eyes hurry back to his.

His heart stutters. Wind blows his hair out of his face and he resists the urge to fix it. His forehead is on display and he hopes he isn’t blushing. Could you have been talking about him? He felt stupid as his blood pounded harder at your words.

“Then you should talk to Seung-joon,” he pulls his gaze away from yours and decides to keep walking.

You, however, don’t move. You watch as his feet lift off the floor, one after the other. Leaves parting to make way. The cold air makes a shiver run through your spine. It tickles the back of your neck and itches your scalp. You’re chewing on your bottom lip and you know you should stop. But when he finally notices you’re not following him and turns back, you bite harder. The wind is making his hair go everywhere now.

“What about you, then? If—“ you hesitate, “If there were no conditions?”

If things were different; if he wasn’t into Jugyeong, and you weren’t into Seung-joon. The leaves continue to float around him. Time slows as you wait for him to say something. Your entire focus is on him.

“Would you have kissed me?” The question is repeated, but it holds a different weight now.

“It doesn’t matter,”

Rejection is so much worse than you can ever imagine. You’re expecting it. He said it himself, you two should get along, as friends. No more than that. It’d be betraying Seung-joon, who had approached you at the bus stop. He had been patient with you when you were late to watch the snowfall. Understanding, even, when it comes to your hesitance. Seung-joon and you were meant to get to know each other and eventually date.

But something about the way Seojun’s name fit with yours made your heart skip a beat. When he’d stare at you like you were the most important person in the world. And speak to you with kindness you’ve never heard from him directed towards you. Having him say those words of denial had you breaking you out of delusion.

The perfect fantasy world where the only thing you ever had to think about was your happiness. Where you could watch the snowfall with whomever you wanted. And not stress about studying hard and getting good grades.

“If not for the conditions, we wouldn’t have been in the situation in the first place,” he swallows, “It’s pointless to wonder what could have been,”

He tells you what you think you want to hear. What he thinks is best. He knows that before that weekend under the snow, he most likely wouldn’t have given your existence a second thought. He’d think of you as just another singer in his sister’s club. An acquaintance. Another student living in the background of his life. An extra in the scenes that took place in front of his eyes.

You liked Seung-joon. He was the reason you were at the mall that day. He’s the man who you were supposed to fall in love with. Watch the snow with. You’re supposed to go to Seung-joon’s basketball games and he’s supposed to go to your choir concerts. Seojun had come in and ruined it for the both of you. Guilt ate his stomach for stealing the experience from you. What was worse, he kind of enjoyed the feeling he got whenever he was near you. A part of him wondered what it’d be like to like you, and have you like him back.

“Right,” You seemingly shrugged it off.

Your response was casual. It was the correct response. It was the only response you could’ve given to his harsh one. Seojun hadn’t expected anything else. So, why had it made him feel worse? Strings tugged at Seojun’s heart. He couldn’t help but feel selfish as he wished for more from you. He liked Jugyeong. No--he likes Jugyeong. He went to a baseball game for her with Suho. If that doesn’t speak volumes he doesn't know what will.

If that was the case, though, why had he been so eager to spend the afternoon with you? This was turning out to be one big, confusing mess and it was making Seojun’s chest ache. He thinks he might end up chasing it if it means he can see you more often.

You stand a few feet from him. Your hands are shaking, and you’re not sure if it’s from the cold or the nerves working their way through your body. Regardless, you smile softly at him. It’s a sad smile. Full of what-ifs and lingering what could have been’s. It’s accepting.

It catches him off guard, and it’s surprisingly contagious. Seojun would smile back if he wasn’t terrified.

In a split-second decision, Seojun decides to not let it overtake him. To be selfish for once in his life. This time, he is the one yanking terror by its neck. And, rather than letting it lurk over Seojun, he’s going to; force it under his feet, and ride it.

“Instead,” your smile falters as he keeps talking, ”you should ask me what kind of flowers I’ll bring to your next performance,”

The stretch of skin around your mouth morphs. The ends go straight and your bottom lip drops ever so lightly. All of your muscles freeze, and you don’t dare try to move. Seojun is starting to wonder if he’s made a mistake when you finally find your words.

“And what kind would that be?” you’re scared.

“Arbutus,” he doesn’t hesitate, “Pink,”

You blink. Arbutus. Arbutus. You rake your brain for any information you have on the flower and come up blank. You can hardly remember what they look like if you’re being honest. The confusion must show on your face because Seojun starts walking towards you.

His hands are in his pockets, and his eyes are on you. He doesn’t stop until his body is almost pressed right against yours. Mere inches are left. You can hear his clothes rustle. You breathe an all too audible breath and you can’t stop it from escaping your lips not too long after. The air turns white around it and it blows straight into Seojun. His adam apple bobs. He swallows in his already dry mouth. The cold air is no longer noticeable as your bodies are lending each other heat.

“What do those mean?” You can’t help it when your voice trembles.

You’re staring at one another. You’re standing so close. A voice in the back of your head thinks maybe you should take a step back. But your body is screaming at you to close the distance. You know already there’s too much at risk.

And yet the only thing you can concentrate on is Seojun’s proximity to you. The way his eyes are looking at you. The way he’s slowly bringing himself closer. The way the wind blows his hair back, his eyes narrowing. The way his head is moving towards yours. Turning to fit yours. The way you could press your lips to his if you simply tilt your head ever so slightly to the—

“I love only you,”

Seojun pauses. He’s motionless, still. His body occasionally brushes against yours. You’re borrowing the other’s air. Practically exchanging air into each other’s mouths. Stealing as much oxygen as you can from the other.

You realize that he’s waiting for you. He’s wanting to make sure you’re okay with this. Your heart flutters at the thought.

“We shouldn’t,” an obligatory statement that must be said.

“Hm?” his nose brushes yours. Your skin tickles at it.

“You like Jugyeong--”

“You like Seung-joon,” his breath makes shivers go down your spine.

You’re not sure if either of you are truthful.

“I--Can I kiss you?”

A nod, and a hum of conformation.

Your lips hold his. Immediately, the feeling is all-consuming. An overload of senses. You’re all too aware of how awkwardly your hands hang on your sides. His hands hover over yours. They reach out to kiss his palms to yours. You no longer worry about whether or not your nails are bare.

The wind picks up around you. It blows loose leaves on the floor, brushing your ankles. Scattering them across the floor. The setting sun shines brightly in the distance. The sky bleeds orange-pink hues. One color fading into the other.

Having Han Seojun for this chilly afternoon is all you’ll ever need if it means you can feel his lips pressed against yours for the remainder of it. It's awkward and a little bit clumsy, but all in all, the kiss only makes you want to learn how to better shape your lips to fit his. All the flips your stomach is doing don’t bother you anymore with the way his thumb traces patterns on your hand. Souls mending as your bodies melt into one.

You can taste the mashed potatoes he had for lunch on his tongue, and you wonder if he tastes the cherry soda you had. All while he can only focus on how well he can smell your perfume perfectly from where he stands, leaning against you. Only cementing the aroma in his mind.

At this moment, the two of you desperately need each other. Almost like finding a piece of yourself you never realized was missing. Your other half, an extension of yourself, flaws and all. There’s nothing the two of you can’t share with the opposite. You know you can’t come back from this kiss, you’ll regret it the moment you pull away. So, right now, you desperately need to stay like this, clammy hands clutching him tightly, rough teeth bumping together.

That’s why, when he finally pulls away, your head falls onto his chest. It rapidly rises and falls as he catches his breath.

“Don’t hang out with Seung-joon anymore,” He almost whispers,

You lift your head, face heating up at his swollen lips. Shock showing on your face, “What?”

What he wants to tell you is: “Watch the snow with me, nobody else. Because I can’t bear the thought of you standing under the snow with someone who isn’t me. Not with Seung-joon--not with anyone,”

But all he can do is swallow hard.

He likes you so much and it’s horrifying. Because Seojun doesn't think he’s ever felt this way for anyone--and so quickly, too. But he doesn’t want to scare you off. He’s missed his chance with Jugyeong, he knows that. You both mean a lot to him. Now, the question is, who means more? Does it matter when Jugyeong has moved on? Have you? Assuming you return his feelings. You must. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have exchanged spit with him, surely. All of this thinking is making Seojun’s head pound. But perhaps that’s just all the blood rushing to his face.

Seojun is willing to put his old feelings for Jugyeong aside for you. To be ready to love you, at full capacity. Isn’t that what love is? Being willing to put his heart on the line regardless of what the end result will be? Seojun isn’t sure he knows what love is. But he does know that when you stare at him his chest swells so badly it hurts.

“I can’t be friends with you,” his eyes won’t meet yours, “I can’t be just friends”

His hands start to pull away from yours, but you quickly grab them. You can feel the sweat of his palms.

“Seojun, I like you” You reassure him, and his eyes quickly come up. The golden-brown irises shine brightly as they reflect the setting sun, “But I’m not sure if I can be more than friends with you right now,”

Just as before, that sad smile returns to your face. Your eyes are soaked in melancholy. He nods in dejection. You speak slowly. As if you’re saying things aloud as they come to your mind.

“But if, after we’ve--,” broken up with other people, “--settled things amongst ourselves, if you’d like to give me flowers after a performance, I would gladly accept them. Or I can get you flowers, too! What was that shop you mentioned? I can find some pink flowers--arbutus,”

You’re rambling, but all Seojun can do is smile. Walking to the pharmacy will be no trouble now that he knows you’re willing to be his.

“I’d like that,”

----

epilogue

if u’ve made it this far ty for reading I appreciate u. i let my perfectionism get the best of me, but here it is! lmk what u thought, luv y’all.

tags:

@sftpjmn @dramasmarvel @marylimlp @shawkneecaps

#true beauty #true beauty fanfic #true beauty seojun #reader insert #seojun x reader #han seojun x reader #han seojun #seojun han #fanfiction #x reader #kdrama #kdrama fanfic #one shot #fanfic #my writing #imagine #hwang in yeop #han seo joon #hwang inyeop

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