#jungkook audio | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

httpknjoon · 5 months ago

Text

satellite | jjk

plot | Your friend, Jungkook, offers to help you while you review for your human anatomy exam.

w.c | 3K

genre | fluff, slight angst, fwb (but nothing 18+ happened)

pairing | jungkook x medstudent!reader

note | written from my own swamp of academic-related activities

main masterlist | playlist

u up?

You

yep

i'm studying

exams tomorrow

can i come over

You

yes but don't be a distraction

u know i can't help it 😪

You

🙄

i'm busy stop texting me

will be there in five

You

door's open no need to knock

see u 😉

Maybe you should have just pursued a course in creative writing... Or maybe culinary arts. Maybe something connected with baking. You love baking, right?

Maybe if you picked a college program based on your hobbies, you have better sleep. Maybe you are happier. At 11:51 PM, maybe you are already sleeping soundly on your bed, next to your emotional support stuffed toy, with your favorite weighted blanket on your exhausted being.

But you didn't. You can't.

So here you are, sitting in a swamp of written notes, books, and colorful post-its (that you haven't found any helpful use yet), having a crisis over your career choices.

"You want this, YN." you remind yourself, shaking your head.

Your digital clock on your study desk just ticked the time to 11:52 PM. It has been almost three hours since you began your planned all-nighter for tomorrow's exam.

"I want to cry." you sighed, your forehead softly hitting your desk. "But I don't have the time for that."

Groaning, you opened one of the textbooks you borrowed from the library. You tried to process every word you came across. But considering that you went straight from your eight-hour shift from your part-time job, you only managed to comprehend half of the sentences you read.

"I wish I was born as a nepo-baby."

Another random thought rolled off your tongue instead of understanding where the hell the spine of the scapula is. Admittedly, you find it hard to locate the muscles in the human body when you only have a 2D version of it. But you don't have those 3D models that can help you to learn and remember better, so you will settle for pointing your index fingers at flat images on the book pages.

"Trapezius... Acromion... Deltoid..."

Reciting the muscles in the familiar tune of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star", you began pointing to certain areas of your body. It was one of the studying techniques you have been using since you were younger. So far, it's helping. You keep doing it for the other parts.

"Subscapularis..."

But the longer you sang, the words slowly rambled in your tongue and your eyelids got heavier. You were so close to drifting away until you heard the familiar click of your door. Your head snapped up instantly. You hear his voice greeting your roommate who's probably watching her favorite show in the living room.

"Pizza and ice cream. Want some?" you heard him offer.

He brought food?! Of course, he did. He's Jungkook. For the first time since you sat in front of your study desk, a smile formed on your lips. Shaking your head, you just read your notes again. It didn't take long for your bedroom door to open. The scent of a freshly baked pizza filled every corner of your room. And there, you see him coming in with a smile on his pierced lips.

"Oh, hello, gorgeous."

Jungkook was surprised to see you already looking at him when he entered your room. Usually, he would find your nose dipped between your textbooks when he visits during your study sessions.

You rolled your eyes at the nickname, "I know, I looked like a mess right now. Just give me my prized pizza and ice cream please."

He laughed, not because he agreed with you, but because you are always quick to turn down his micro-flirting. He sometimes thinks that it keeps him grounded.

"And you got the coffee ones! This is why you're my favorite hookup buddy." you quipped before kissing his cheek, elated by the ice cream he got you.

"I'm honored. Thank you." he replied, before getting a slice of pizza.

Both of you know that you don't have any other hookup buddy. You're not that adventurous. It's just something you joke about.

"How's the studying going?" he asked before sitting on your bed.

"Shit." you shake your head, tired. "But this ice cream makes me feel a little better."

Jungkook smiled at that. He listened as you went on telling him about something that happened in your shift earlier today. But he ended up studying you. Because contrary to what you said earlier, you are too pretty, he finds it distracting. You were tired, it's written on your face. But the way your eyes light up as you share your story makes your face glow. With your desk lamp being the only light in your room, it perfectly highlights the small smile on your lips after you take another spoonful of the cold dessert.

"Why did you come here anyway?"

Your sudden question snaps Jungkook out of his daze. He cleared his throat.

"I-I'm bored and you're up."

He was not bored. In fact, he missed a party he was invited to tonight because it has been four days since he last saw you. He was busy with his training and practice, while you were working two jobs and studying. You two were just texting each other these days and with how rare you reply during the daytime, he knew that tonight is probably the best time to see you.

You sigh, "I told you, I'm studying for tomorrow. I can't do anything with you right now."

"And I didn't say we have to do anything. I'm just happy to be here. I'm like little Bear right there." he replied, pointing to your stuffed toy who was sitting next to him.

"Okay, I'll go back to studying. Is that okay?" you asked, putting on the lid of your half-finished ice cream.

He winked, "Of course."

Jungkook is that person you probably know for too long. Like, someone you should have met only once or twice or occasionally. Not like this, in which you see each other almost every day.

When Liz, your roommate, introduced you two to each other during some Halloween party, in which you came as Dorothy from The Wizards of Oz and he was Peter Pan, you did not expect to start any kind of connection with him. You remembered thinking to yourself how exhausting it was to have him around with how he seemed so full of energy, not knowing then that he also enjoyed the same little things you did. You two became real friends after bumping into one another in a record store an hour away from your uni.

Because you feel that you two always stood on opposite ends of any scale. You were a reserved working student with introverted tendencies while on the opposite, Jungkook is a known varsity star, who's rumored to be a CEO's son (He is. He admitted it to you), on campus with a charm that works for everyone. Just like how great he is at playing basketball, he is equally good at socializing and making new connections. That charm definitely worked for you a year ago because one thing led to another and now, he is in your bed, casually scrolling on his phone.

"Why do you have a camera with you?" you broke the silence after reading for god knows how long. Yet, you are unsure if you picked up anything from it.

He looked up, reaching for the camera bag he brought with him earlier, "It's a new one, my dad brought it to me as a gift."

"For what? Your birthday was like three months ago," you asked even though you already had an answer in your head.

"I helped him with some documents," he replied, knowing that you would say something after.

"Spoiled." you teased him.

"Haters gonna hate," he responded with a sassy roll of his eyes, you laughed. "Anyway, I'm kinda testing it out. So, if you don't mind..."

He placed the camera in front of him, aligning its viewfinder to his left eye. You put the back of your hand under your chin with a tight smile on your lips, posing. Click. A shutter sound and a bright flash followed. You see Jungkook look down at his camera to check the outcome. A small smile forms on his lips.

"You have too many pictures of me," you told him.

Every single time you two are together, he takes a picture of you. You don't really mind even though some shots are candid. Some of the pictures of you he took are the only ones you have on your Instagram. He's good at it, but sometimes, you worry you will get used to being his muse.

"I'm thinking of making an exhibition out of it." he said.

Sensing his sarcasm, you ride on with it, "Yeah, you can title it with something like, The Life Of An Overworked Twenty-Something Student. I looked exhausted in all those photos. An ugly, dry potato."

"I think you look pretty in all of them."

And it didn't help that he complimented you a lot after taking pictures of you. It just scares you that you feel a light feeling in your stomach when you see him smile after taking a shot of you or when he calls you gorgeous or pretty.

But instead of letting the giddy feeling show, you just smiled, "Of course you do, you're sleeping with me. You will always find me attractive."

It was almost an hour later when Jungkook paused the video he was watching on his phone to once again try his camera. A camera nerd, he was watching a clip about his new camera's settings. Of course, he was in his earphones so that he wouldn't get to distract you.

After modifying some parts of the settings, Jungkook placed his camera in front of his right eye, ready to capture another picture of you. But before he could click the button, he noticed your shoulders shaking.

His right eyebrow raised as he slowly put down his camera.

"YN?"

He heard you hiccup before humming, "Hmm?"

"YN, can you look at me?" he asked since you kept your back turned to him.

"Not now, I'm busy." you sobbed, failing to hide from Jungkook.

He frowned, getting up from your bed, "YN, baby..."

"No, I said-"

Before you could continue denying, Jungkook already pulled the swivel chair you were sitting on closer to him. You covered your face with your palms since you hated crying in front of anyone. Jungkook tries to remove it softly but you shake your head.

"Please, let me see your face. It's okay," he whispered while his thumbs drew circles at the back of your hands. Finally, you listened and let him hold down your hands.

"Shh..." he hushed you, wiping the tears on your cheeks. "What's going on? Are you okay? Is there any way that I can help you?"

"I-I cannot remember anything and I'm just so tired." you broke down, feeling the exhaustion from both studying and working finally creeping up in your body.

"Then, take a break. Let's nap." he offered, knowing how much you need it.

You cried even more, "I can't nap. My exams are tomorrow and I can't understand anything I've been reading so far."

He clicked his tongue in disagreement, "I'll wake you up in thirty minutes. How about that?"

While his offer seemed ideal for you, the pressure for what is coming tomorrow is heavily sitting on your shoulders. But you're really tired.

"Just nap?" you asked, making sure that it won't lead to anything else.

"Yeah— Okay, maybe cuddle." he shrugged.

"Okay." I kinda need that.

"Okay. C'mere, my snotty baby." He cooed.

You glared at him before slapping his chest. He laughed, catching your hand and pulling you to him on your bed. You fell on top instead of your mattress, feeling his toned body under you. His chin rests on the top of your head as he draws circles on your lower back.

"Let's do anything you want after your exams," he mumbled.

You exhaled, "Why celebrate? I am not even sure if I can pass it."

"You will. You're the smartest person I know."

This isn't the first time Jungkook saw you broke down over academic reasons. He knew how much you value your studies as someone who has always been an achiever since you began studying. It didn't help that your mom expects quite a lot from you, based on what you told him.

You looked up to meet his eyes, "Thank you."

He simply kissed your forehead, "Of course, babe."

You did find yourself feeling much better after your 30-minute rest. But, you also found something else when you woke five minutes ago next to Jungkook. It's something that can probably help you study.

"Take off your shirt," you whispered as you rested your head on his arm.

"Why?" he asked, suspicious.

"I think you can help me study," you said, sitting up on the bed.

Jungkook sat next to you, "I thought we were just cuddling."

"Jungkook." you called him. "Please, just do it."

"Okay, I will. You know I can't say no when you beg, babe." he teased.

You watched him reach for the back of his shirt and remove it over his head. With how cold your room is, Jungkook immediately crossed his arms over his chest, making his muscles bulge before you. You were quiet, squinting your eyes on his arms.

Feeling a little conscious and confused, Jungkook spoke, "It's a little chilly here. What now?"

"Wait, let me get my sticky notes."

"You know, I should be paid for this," Jungkook spoke, covered in neon-colored sticky notes from his neck to his back and arms. "I am like your model."

"You are my 3d model." you laughed while tracing his body with your finger to look where you could stick your next label. "I'm too broke to buy one so just be my friend and let me put some sticky notes on you."

"I'll just buy you one." he offered and he's serious. If it's something that can help you, he'll buy it for you.

"You sound like the spoiled kid you are." you joked.

"I like it when you keep me humble and grounded," he reacted sarcastically. Out of a hundred people he knows on the campus, you are the only one who always reminds him of his privileges. He found it annoying at first but now, he just finds it funny.

"I know, it shows especially when you get all submissive sometimes." you joked again, scrunching your nose at him.

"Why won't you just let me spend money on you?" he asked, recalling the other scenarios he tried buying or doing something for you. But you were quick to decline him, especially if it's connected with money.

You stopped and stared at him, "For the tenth time, Jeon, I will not be your sugar baby."

"Or you can just be my... baby," he whispered, but since you are the only awake people in this house at this time of the day, you still heard that.

Your eyebrows scrunched, looking at him. Visibly cringing at what he said, you pushed his face with a laugh. You hear him chuckle lowly.

"If you want someone to be your baby, you should be asking girls out, not signing up for a friends-with-benefits-type of relationship with me," you mumbled while writing a certain body part on your notepad.

It is part of your agreement that this thing you two have will end once one of you starts dating again. But the idea of him asking girls out after literally sleeping on your bed for the last twelve months still made your heart sink a little. You cannot imagine how your future will be without him, you still haven't thought that far.

"I know..." he whispered. But you're not up for any commitment. He wanted to say that. Instead, he replied, "But you give the best blowjob ever. How can I look for someone else?"

You laughed again. God, he loves making you laugh. It's like a melody playing in his head.

"Yeah, I know. It will be hard to find someone better than me. I'm the best."

Yes, you are. He agreed, almost saying it if you haven't spoke to soon.

"Now, please, can you stop moving? My notes are falling everywhere."

"Hi, I'm Mabel."

It's been days since that night. Now, a blonde, blue-eyed girl offered her hand to Jungkook while he prepared to leave the campus with his car after his basketball training. Jungkook, being polite, introduced himself even though he was not really interested. He continued making sure he got all his stuff in his backpack as the girl continued saying that they had two classes together. When he was done checking, she spoke,

"I think you're really cute and was wondering if we could go out sometime? Maybe we can grab some coffee together?"

Jungkook scratched the back of his head, feeling bad for what he was about to say to this seeming freshman before him. A tight smile forms on his lips. This isn't the first confession he got in his lifetime, but rejecting someone is always hard.

"Wow... uhm... I'm sure you're a really wonderful person, Mabel. But I'm not really interested in dating anyone right now. I'm sorry."

The familiar flustered face instantly showed up on Mabel's face, "Oh, okay. Uhm, thank you for your time. Nice to meet you though."

Jungkook was not even able to reply before she ran away. It didn't took him too long to dwell on that interaction when he got a message from you.

YN 🩺

I PASSED

COME OVER!!!!1!

Jungkook smiled after reading that, feeling your relief and excitement. He typed in a reply before hopping in his car.

I KNEW U CAN DO IT

SO PROUD OF YOUUU

WILL BE THERE IN FIVE ;)

note | scheduled as my first post for 2025 :) thank you so much for reading!

ps. will probably delete this later on

taglist rules

PERMANENT TAGLIST (CLOSED)

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @misshale21 @marblemoonstones

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madebyjungkookie · 1 year ago

Text

CANVAS WHISPERS || JJK (part01)

summery: the chapter sees you, from your point of view, trying with all your might to pass your painting exam for the umpteenth time, and failing. you fight the panic attack that assails you in every way, and you can't help but search your diary for some relief before your life is turned upside down.

genre: fanfiction, dark romance, jungkook!artist x art student oc

warnings: mention and description of panic attack; y/n is kinda depressed and feels alone most of the time

rating: 18+, minor do NOT interact

word count: 2,3k

| masterlist |

Y/n's pov I felt so overwhelmed. All I could do was sigh in front of that canvas, but not one of those sighs that throws out everything you have inside. A sigh choked, heartbroken, full of ghosts and horror, everything I hide from others.

I always managed to do it, no one ever knew how much I was suffering: no matter how difficult it was, people were convinced I was just a spoilt snob with a stench under my nose.

They think daddy keeps the flat I live in. They envy me because I already live alone. How would they know?! The reality is quite different.

The truth is that I have not lived all this time. I have always felt at fault in front of others, at fault for experience, for skills, for tenacity and spontaneity.

I saw everyone emerge in life, smiling, shouting, snickering, simply living. While I was compulsorily confined to my house to study, the maid was under orders to make sure I didn't get my ass out of the chair.

For goodness sake, rich parents, with a prestigious career behind them, but with the emotional sense of an ant.

I, their only child, had always been designed as an extension of themselves, with the sole intention of carrying out what they had planned for me from the day of my conception.

I had to live in function of them.

One day, things simply changed or maybe simply my heart broke into a thousand sharp pieces like glass thrown through a wall.

My heart ached, my teeth were gritted, my hands clenched into a fist and my eyes ice cold as they tried to hold back all the tears that threatened to spill out.

It was my graduation day. Parents and children rejoiced around me while my parents scolded me because I had failed to give a valedictory speech worthy of note.

I had the merit of being the best in school and they had chosen me for that important moment, they thought I could set an example, but I was losing a piece of me, every second that passed.

How could I be an example to kids who expected me to have a clear idea of what my future would be?

They would have wanted hope, long-lost emotion.

They thought I could give them support, which I never received.

They all had high, high expectations of me. They all took it for granted that I would make it.

But I wouldn't.

So that very night I ran away. I ran away from my parents and their impositions for me to attend medical school. With all the strength my legs could muster, I disappeared from that world that terrified me. I began to seek escape from that life that did not belong to me.

I ruffled some clothes, some personal effects, some courage, a lot of money from the safe, and my diary in which my soul had always wandered in pain.

The night after my graduation I hadn't slept a wink. The panic attacks wouldn't stop surfacing, cutting into my heart. My eyes was dry and red and my shaggy hair was the result of what my panicked hands had done.

I was a mess. Everything around me was.

And yet perfection had been imprinted in my skin. It had been instilled in me so thoroughly that I didn't know what it meant to deviate, to make a small stop at something unharmonious.

I knew for sure what balance, what harmony was. From the outside that's all I expressed. But inside? What was inside me? Was something there?

With nothing but the complete knowledge that I wanted to run away from my life, I decided to embrace the only part of my heart that I protected, the only reason to run away, to live.

That part of my heart that I guarded with all my might, waiting one day to open its doors and let it intoxicate me. It was a dream I had carried with me since I was very young.

I thought art could save me. And so I decided to pursue my dream.

I was more of an unexpressed grip dictated by a whirlwind of emotions felt when looking at paintings.

I saw in art the vent I had never been able to express. The only moments of leisure that my adolescence could ever give me were the walks along those enchanted corridors of museums, accompanied by the caretaker.

Each painting carried with it a story. The artist had it, the captured subject too, whether it be a person or a landscape.

Every artist has a past they try to elude, but it tends to explode in their works. I admired this ability of theirs, and it's what propelled me towards my dream.

But my dream is a paradox.

In fact, I find myself in the final year of college by a hair's breadth. The truth is, throughout my life, I've excelled only in studying, so the theoretical and critical part has been a walk in the park for me. Certainly, I can't say the same for the practical aspect.

Regarding drawing, thanks to the discipline I've been taught, I managed to get by, although I always tend to draw rigid, broken shapes. That canvas has never had the pleasure of feeling my hand soften, flow on its rough texture, and create soft sketches to be carried away by.

Painting, on the other hand, seems like something that doesn't belong to me, and that's why I've often thought about abandoning this path, wondering if it's really the right one for me.

Perhaps the pride of not giving in to my parents or the shame I would feel if I gave up... something has kept me holding onto this dream.

Yet, it's the third time I find myself in the same classroom, with the same teacher but different students who are progressing in their university careers. For the third time, I'm retaking the painting exam, knowing for sure that I won't pass it this time either.

Only this exam is standing between me and concluding this race towards my new life. To say that I've made it. But with each attempt, I'm becoming more discouraged.

And there, the bell interrupts my thoughts. On that canvas, only the anxiety of the past hour spent staring at it after a few red and orange lines were imprinted on its rough surface.

I resign myself to the disapproving look of my professor, to the satisfied faces of the students who have just finished their splendid works.

I feel a lump in my throat, a heaviness starting from my heart. An impending panic attack: I sense everything around me spiraling, and my lungs gasp for a bit of fresh air instead of the smell of paint.

In a hurry, I grab my tempera colors, my bag, and my brushes. I run through the hallways, dash down the stairs, and see the exit.

I cross it and seek refuge in the campus garden, right behind the tree that has protected my outbursts, held my secrets, and my fears for three years.

That liberating run had turned into a sharp cry, and a breath that struggled to be expelled.

Once again, hands clenched into fists, long nails breaking into my palm, leaving evidently marked signs. Those marks often left scars in situations where neither my body nor my mind could bear it. That moment fell into that category.

It was all too much – every single emotion, every breath, it was all too suffocating. I always felt like I was drowning in front of hundreds of spectators who helplessly watched me.

I heard a group of students approaching to talk, and I couldn't stay there, so I tried to wipe away the tears and headed towards my apartment. Now I just wanted to go home, lock myself in those four walls where I felt protected. Scream with all the breath my lungs would allow and throw myself into bed.

So, I walked towards the avenue where my apartment was, right nearby. That day Seoul was very windy, and no hat was enough to shield me from that icy wind.

I fumbled my way towards my front door, pushed by that strong breeze when my attention was drawn to a flyer floating in the air. The cardboard was red, and even from a distance, it was clear it had been crumpled.

I chased it for a few meters until it settled on the doormat in front of my building. I picked it up without a second thought.

Now, as I could observe it more closely, I noticed how intense that red was, almost soaked in blood, so powerful was the intensity of that color.

As the wind showed no signs of stopping, I put that flyer in my pocket and headed towards my apartment.

It was quite dark and cold, devoid of any enrichment. Too dull for a girl in her twenties.

But it reflected what I was: nothing special, nothing extravagant; just order, rigidity, and emptiness. That's what I was!

I sighed as soon as I put on my slippers. Now, I had to cook something to eat, or I would die of hunger... so I rushed to the pantry to grab instant noodles. I just wanted to eat them in bed.

And so I did, but as usual, I ended up staining the sheets with the broth and found myself late at night waiting for that terrible stain to dry.

The only thing I could do, instead of waiting in the cold outside the blankets, was to take a hot shower. And here I was.

I slipped into the bathroom and slowly peeled off those warm, thin layers of fabric that had been enveloping me until just now.

The water began to run in the shower and steam made its way into the small room, soon blurring the view.

I let myself be shattered by that cascade of insistent drops, letting all the negative thoughts that had gripped me during the day flow down the drain.

I lay still for a while under that boiling jet and began to think about what I had so much wanted to confess to my diary that night.

As soon as my fingers became wrinkled, I knew it was time to get out of that shower and dry myself properly. I was quick and eager to jump in bed and write.

Dear diary, my mind needs to escape from yet another frustrating day that had only hurt me.

You're my safety space where I can feel free to scream at my soul that I shouldn't shut myself in even more.

All my life, everyone around me made me feel different, out of the ordinary, with something wrong.

My parents were the first: they always clipped my wings, I was asphyxiated by that crystal bowl they had locked me in. They stifled every single hold I had on my imagination.

Now I find myself alone and without the possibility of being able to say that I have experienced what it means to be loved. Nor to love.

Society has made me feel like an outcast, a little virgin saint who is afraid to be fucked.

Let's be clear, and I know I will find the approbation of yours if I'll say that we live in a society where if you don't have sex, people don't accept you; you're the outcast of the situation.

But people can't understand. People don't try to understand.

People don't know how much they can scare, how terrifying it is for someone to open up to them. They don't know how difficult it is for others to understand, empathize with your emotions. They don't know how much it hurts to see these emotions trampled upon.

I would love, once in my life, to experience human warmth. To discover the impulse that drives one person to embrace another, to give them love, to kiss them, to accept every single aspect of them.

To love them, hate them, and then return to admire them, as if that person was the essence of the other's life.

I aspire to find a love that makes me feel alive. I want to feel a whirlwind of emotions. I crave to be overwhelmed by a wave of uncontrollable passion.

I wish to be dragged into hellish oblivion by two hands that are able to show me only heaven.

That pair of hands that I dream of every night, imagine wandering all over my body, doing things to me that I could never fully imagine.

Those fingers touching me, first gently, letting me burn with a slow fire; then with an innate strength.

I let them tear my soul apart, possess it like the most precious thing in this world.

I would let him ruin me, consume me.

Consume my skin, flake my lips, dip my neck, my breasts, my inner thigh with bruises of love, intense shades of red and purple.

I would be his.

But who is that man who in my dreams lets me surrender to him? Whose soul will steal mine? Whose skin will I mark with my nails? Whose lips will tear mine in bites?

I will find those eyes that will love me and tear my clothes off with just a glance. I will find those hands that will possess every single inch of my body.

I will find you.

Yours, Y/n.

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