#i have an oc or two like this because i love myself but more | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

s-4pphics · 5 months

Text

click! 1 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you need a roommate, and you love eggplant. [college au]

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

WARNINGS: photographer/roommate!ellie, ocs an artist with a reputation :p, they’re both rude as shit, crack, all ocs are black coded yeeahhh yeah, awkward meetings, slut-shaming, brief cunninglingus, mention of eviction, smut later yall know tha vibes

two. three. four.

A/N: short part just stay w me lemme cook... excited 2 write this lets get this shit yall

“W-What do you mean you’re moving?”

Your roommate and best friend wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you close. Tears flooded in your eyes as she whispered the daunting news, your heart cracking in your chest.

“I’m moving soon, stink.” Too soon, according to her. She’ll be gone by next week. Amaya snickered sadly as she cooed in your temple. “It's for good reason, though.”

Your ears perk, a curious hum vibrating her shoulder.

“I got that internship— “

All sadness melds into excitement for your favorite person. You leap into her arms with squeals of congratulatory joy, planting smacking kisses all over her squishy cheek.

“Oh my god! You should’ve said that first, bitch! What the fuck!” You wipe your tears on her hoodie.

Her laughter rattles through your neck, “I just found out after class! I almost got hit by a fucking bus reading the email.”

Amaya sets you down, rambles about her new position as a songwriting intern spilling from her like an overfilled glass. Tears of joy flow from you and her as she retells every detail about her acceptance. She’s leaving in a week and a half and going farther than you thought.

“Girl… you’re really moving to New York?”

“Only for like… four months, max. But yeah… Boutta be on BET come next year— “

“Maya.”

“Hm?”

“… I can’t pay rent by myself,” you whisper, cringing and embarrassed.

You hate to ruin her moment, but you’re concerned; Living off campus isn’t cheap and moving in the middle of the semester is less than ideal. It’d be a fucking hassle, and — to be frank — you’re not a people person.

People like having you around because you’re fun, sure. But your reputation isn’t what you hoped for it to be when you moved out of your dad’s place for school. You wanted to be recognized for your creativity, and while your professors never hesitated to praise your talents, your peers failed to see past the status that was placed upon you.

Frankly, you’re deemed as a dumb whore, especially after your falling out with one of the campuses best softball pitchers.

It wasn’t even your fault. One raunchy snap to the wrong person and people think you live for sex and sex only! Just when you think everyone is over slut-shaming…

“You thought I was gonna leave you to fend for yourself? Guess what I did.”

Oh God. “What?”

She twiddles her fingers together villainously, “I may or may not have set up an application on the student homepage— “

The small glimmer of hope washes away, shoulders dropping, fingers coming up to massage your temples.

“Maya…” You exhale, trying to keep calm, “You know those things don’t fucking work!”

Roommate compatibility is a fucking scam. No one ever notes how they actually are in the application. You think you’ve found someone that’s clean, quiet, stays out of your space without permission and the next day you find dead roaches under your couch. College attendees have no idea what bleach is and it makes you sick.

“Damn… you’re usually optimistic.”

“I’m optimistic about good ideas. I’m gonna be living with a fucking freak from Craigslist, thanks a lot.”

“C’mooon! You’ll be fine, babe, trust me.” Amaya wraps her arms around your neck once more, wetly smacking your cheek before turning to paddle to her room. “Plus, you’ll meet someone new!”

When you don't follow, she spins. She must’ve noticed your impassiveness, poutingly asking to help me pack? Tears overwhelm your ducts once more, quietly taking her extended hand as she leads you to her bedroom.

DAY ONE of roommate searching began, and you were already prepared to move back in with your dad. Amaya had enough time to orchestrate the housing agreement with you, making sure to highlight some of your most important characteristics in a roommate. One of the main ones being cleanliness. Some form of organization.

DAY TWO was easier… Someone finally made it to the in-person interview stage. They didn’t make it far, though; They wouldn’t stop smacking their gum and it drove you crazy. Back to square one.

DAY SIX came around and you were losing hope; Why are frat boys applying to live with you? You’d rather jump into oncoming traffic than house with any of Abby’s annoying, dirty friends. You've seen their house on numerous occasions and it never fails to make your skin crawl.

It’s DAY THIRTEEN, and Amaya’s gone. After the sobbing fit with your best friend at the airport earlier, you got back to work.

DENY REQUEST.

…

DENY REQUEST.

…

DENY REQUEST.

You sigh in exhaustion and lean back in your chair. If you don't take a break from your screen in the next five seconds, your eyes will bleed.

Why are people… so odd?

The number of applications you’ve had to deny in the last week is criminal; Why are cis-het men continuously filling out applications knowing they’re not welcome in your space?!

Even the people that made it to the in-person interview stage are incapable of being… not strange. You’d rather die than live with someone who collects dead maggots in mason jars (yes, you did almost call the police when they described their fascination with death in depth)!

All you need is one fruitful application with an identity to match! Just one.

Amaya still calls from New York whenever she has a moment of peace to see how the roomie-search is going, but you can’t ignore the sadness that fills your heart every time she misses a call. Her laughter is gone, and your day-to-day life feels empty.

They’re already working your bestie to the bone; You hope she can feel your encouragement from thousands of miles away.

You scroll and click, scroll and click, scroll and deny deny deny until you pause, your eyes skimming over the application with a familiar name.

ELLIE WILLIAMS.

Ellie from stats, you instantly recognize. Curiosity perks and your brows furrow, sipping lukewarm tea as you skim over her contact information, her pet preferences, all the way down to her additional commentary. A snicker left at her blunt statement.

temporary request. my last roommate moved and i’m poor. just waiting on this job approval.

… Ellie in a nutshell. How relatable.

At least she’s not a complete stranger. Every interaction with her stirs in your mind as you jot her number down on a lone sticky-note. They were nothing special from your perspective: the two of you exchanging notes, her holding the door open as everyone scurried out of class, you asking for a pencil (and her asking for it back after the lecture), and you can’t help but wonder why she would want to apply to share a space with anyone, let alone you.

She's only ever been described as standoffish by your peers. From the outside, Ellie’s blank. Flat tone, flat expression, plain appearance, and the fact that you never know what she’s thinking is unsettling. You’re thrown off your game whenever she’s near and you hate it.

But the spot is temporary; Amaya will be back in a couple of months, and it seems Ellie’s leaving sometime soon by her small note.

You down the rest of your tea and stretch where you sit, pondering. Trying to imagine Ellie in your space.

“I don’t know why I can’t take Maya’s spot. I’d make an excellent roommate.”

Your expression flattens, glare piercing through your good friend.

Abby scoffs, “C’mooon! I mind my business...” She pauses, leaning across the table, nearly knocking your coffee over. Her whispers send a shock down your spine, “…and I give good head. I’m a package deal.”

A brow raises. Abby’s sweeter than candy and she puts it down, but you already made the mistake of living with someone you fucked before, and you vowed to never do it again. If Amaya hadn’t given you a place to stay after the blow up between you and your ball-throwing sneaky link, you’re not sure where you'd be. Definitely not a student; The stress would’ve forced you to collapse. And drop out.

“Sorry, stink. Not happening.”

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever.” She takes a sip from her drink, “Can’t believe you’d let that freak in before me.”

You pause. “You’re a freak, too— “

“I’m the good kind!” She searches like someone’s watching her, voice dropping to a whisper, “Ellie’s fucking weird, dude. When’s the last time you’ve seen her interact with anyone? A literal fucking NPC. All she’s programmed to do is stand and look.”

“And give out pencils,” You interject with a snicker, “Who cares. I don’t like most of the idiots here, either. I barely put up with your ass.”

Abby raises her glove-covered palms in surrender, “Fuck it. When I see an alert about a missing student, I’ll know who it is.”

“You’re so fucking extra— “

DING!

Your neck cranes towards the opening cafe door, shock surging through your body at the sight of the NPC in question. Ellie silently stands at the back of the line, headphones secured on her head and nose red from the cold, classically bored expression plastered on her face.

“Oh, this is hilarious,” Abby huffs, “Go greet your new housemate.”

Another glare is sent in her direction, “Can you shut up? Her name’s not on any lease. I barely talked to her.”

“Do it now, then. Triple dog dare you.” Abby smirks behind her cup.

You sigh and raise from your seat, “You’re a cunt.”

“The wettest. Go.”

You flick her forehead before making your way over to Ellie, who’s mindlessly scrolling through her phone. Her sniffles get louder with each step you take, metal music blasting through her speakers.

You tap her shoulder and she jumps, sliding one of her ear cups over to hear.

“Hey, Ellie,” you smile politely.

“… Sup,” she mutters hoarsely, turning her body towards you, eyes filled with… nothing. Expected.

Silence passes, and you fill it, “I got your app yesterday. Just wanted to come and introduce myself.”

“Alright.”

More silence. You can see Abby out the corner of your eye, mockingly swiping her tongue between her index and middle finger. You flush and stutter, and Ellie’s staring like you have two heads.

“I, uh… yeah. I’ve been having interviews with some people that submitted a form. You free sometime this week?”

“Uhh…” She glances down at her phone. “Yeah. Around five tomorrow.”

More silence. Fuck, this is awkward.

“… Cool.” You pull your phone out and text her saved number, the alarm ringing from her phone. “That’s me. Just call before you stop by.”

She nods and turns her back to you, cranking her music to full volume. You gawkily shuffle where you stand before hustling back to your table, Abby cackling to herself. You plop down and kick her under the table, but she laughs harder.

“What’d I say!”

“Not a thing,” You hiss, “She’s just a little awkward. It’s not that serious.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Oh yeah what.”

“She’s definitely your fucking housemate.” She tsks in disappointment before a smirk appears, her eyes darkening. “Can I eat it one last time before she moves in?”

A jolt surges in your tummy, your hand closing into a fist. You kick her again and she giggles.

Time passes as you and Abby’s conversation carries on like normal. Another ding rings through the coffee shop after some time, and you watch Ellie’s backpack bounce as she rushes down the sidewalk; Abby’s rambles about a soccer player she’s trying to smash sound like gibberish.

Ellie has a Spider-Man charm and laminated polaroid latched onto her zipper.

… Cute.

You’re going to fail statistics over a random.

Your professor’s voice sounds like white noise; Every pause she takes is used as an opportunity to sneak glances at Ellie. None of your notes are useful; The doodles and sloppy scribbles are solidifying that incoming F, for sure. Only fifteen minutes until you’re out of here.

She’s two seats down from you, jotting down whatever she deems necessary for the midterm. You didn’t even register her answering the professor’s question, her rosy lips curving around her teeth with each syllable.

Ellie blinks slowly, twice, three times before her eyes lock with yours, brows furrowed, evidently confused at your gawking.

Your stomach drops with your gaze, fingers curled tightly around your pencil.

The lecture finally comes to a close as your thoughts flurry, wordlessly shoving your books into your bag. A light tap on your shoulder yanks your attention.

Ellie stands before you, puffer cinched under the bands of her backpack and cheeks just as rosy as before.

“Hey. Can we switch the time?”

“Huh?” Don’t stare, don’t stare.

She sighs, “The time for the interview. Can we change it?”

You blink dumbly, “Uh… sure. To what time?”

Agitation creases her brows. “Now. Something came up and I can’t miss it.” She pauses, eyes flicking awkwardly around the room, weakly adding, “If that’s okay.”

“Um… yeah, no problem…” You peer at the clock on the wall, “You want a coffee?”

A slight wince from her. “… Yup.”

She clearly doesn’t by the way her fingers are anxiously tapping on her thigh, but you nod nonetheless, hurriedly grabbing your belongings and leading her down to the student lounge.

“I don’t want you thinking this interview is one-sided,” You pray your gentle smile is calming the evident nerves of the freckled girl. “You can ask me anything you want, as well. If you have any concerns, any questions, shoot.”

Ellie’s eyes are glued to her coffee cup, but her head bobs, expression void. Silence simmers between you.

“I usually start these off with an icebreaker to get the jitters out! Just list three facts about yourself and I’ll follow.”

Ellie’s lone hand comes up to scratch underneath her ear before meeting your gaze. Her eyes are so pretty; Too bad there’s nothing behind them.

“Or I can go, sure, so!” Your hands clap together, “I’ll start with myself. I’m majoring in graphic design, I’m secretly a theater nerd, and I dream about owning an eggplant farm.”

The girl before you clearly didn't expect that last statement. Her brows crease and the corner of her lip arches upward in a barely-there smile. Foreign to her face.

“That’s not a fact,” She mutters, the shell in her pupils cracking. Just slightly.

“Who cares, I love eggplant. Best vegetable by a landslide.”

“Sike.”

You scoff in disbelief, “What?”

“Everybody on the planet knows that squash is god-tier— “

You squint, “Squash? Are you deadass?”

“It’s fucking versatile!” Ellie’s voice pitches higher, and your grin widens, “You can put it in everything and you don’t have to do much. Eggplant sucks up everything in the pan and still comes out soggy and tasteless— “

Choked laughter leaves your mouth, “If you don’t know how to cook, just say that.”

Her mouth drops in exaggerated shock. “I know how to fuckin’ cook.”

“Right.”

“I do, what the he— “

“Fun fact about Ellie: she can’t cook!” You kiddingly sneer. She chuckles and shakes her head, tongue poking the inside of her cheek. You almost miss her statement, “I take pictures.”

“Hm?”

“I wanna be a professional photographer... At some point. I take pic— “

Ellie’s phone vibrates on the table and she leaps into action, snatching her bag from beside her and standing from her seat.

“Wait— “

“I gotta go,” She mutters as she straps her bag around her shoulders. “Sorry. See you later.”

Ellie throws some bills on the table before dipping, her phone pressed against her ear, rambling about making time. She barely touched her coffee.

Could’ve been worse, you utter to yourself.

Days pass, and you don’t hear from Ellie.

When you saw her in stats two days after the interview, she hardly acknowledged you, morphing into the hermit that you knew her to be. You noted how tired she looked, though. You would’ve asked if she were okay if she hadn’t run out of class without a word.

You’re weighing your options: allowing a random oddball into your apartment, or allowing a random oddball who hates eggplant into your apartment. Rent is due next week, and Amaya’s space is still vacant.

At this point, the roster is almost nonexistent, and Ellie was the least concerning candidate. Despite Abby’s concern, she doesn’t seem like the type of person to bury dead bodies in the front lawn.

“I dunno, friend. She’s a little weird. Getting mad incel vibes from her.”

Your eyes roll back into your skull as you munch on cashews, “You’re getting vibes from someone you never talked to. She seemed cool at the interview.”

“Yeah, 'cause vegetable debates are so note-worthy,” Amaya scoffs.

She’s starting to sound a little too much like Abby, “I think y’all are forgetting that this is a temporary solution. I’m not tryna spend the rest of my fucking life with her! I need rent paid and she needs a place to stay for a few months.”

Your best friend’s sigh drags through the line, “Alright… It seems like you made up your mind.”

“Like I said, rent is due. I don’t have many options.”

“Stop stressing. You found my replacement, apparently.”

She pauses before hollering, “BITCH, IT’S SATURDAY! WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU INSIDE? WHERE’S ABBY?”

“Out smashing soccer players.” You huff.

“Damn… My fault.”

“I’m chilling. I just need head.”

“Go out! Find somebody!”

You groan, “Then I’ll have to shave— “

“Nair exists, you bonehead! Just go! You keep calling in a bad mood and it’s getting on my nerves!”

You ponder and glance at your digital clock. It’s not even ten… Abby did tell you that Kappa was throwing.

“I can hear the engines turning in your big head. Bye.”

Laughter explodes from you at the dial tone.

“Hey, Siri… call Abby.”

“CALLING ABBY BIG DICK SLUT— “

Tonight has been a blur since you left your apartment.

You remember making it halfway through Blam Boom before your speaker died, downing your last couple of shots of 1800, and Ubering to the location Abby pinged.

It only took a few minutes for her to scoop you up onto the packed kitchen counter and shove her tongue in your mouth. One shout of I’m horny from you and she was yours for the rest of the night.

Now you’re pressed up against some bathroom sink upstairs, Abby’s head shaking between your legs, your jeans and underwear flung onto the shower rail. Each flick of her tongue is both clumsy and precise, applying pressure exactly where you need it.

Your clit’s throbbing under her tongue, the muscle igniting the flame in your tummy as your climax builds, zaps in your spine. Cries of her name meld with the booming music from outside, the walls rattling like nerves in your toes.

Abby’s gorgeous under you, you know it, the drunk part of your brain knows it, your desperate cunt knows it, but you’re no longer thinking about her compared to earlier. Your mind is elsewhere, somewhere it shouldn’t be.

You’re thinking of freckles. Green eyes instead of blue. Chapped, rosy lips, and you don’t know why. But you succumb to it. Ellie’s trapped underneath your eyelids, crowding your senses, your empty head suddenly full of images of her in any way you could conjure.

Your orgasm shatters you, but you’re silent, trembling hand glued over your mouth as Abby groans in your cunt. She’s a doll, easing you back down to earth, dragging your underwear and pants up your shaky legs and getting you back home safely.

When you’re showered and your teeth are brushed, she tucks you in, gently kissing your forehead. You beg her to stay with you, but she declines with I know how you get before silently departing.

Your phone is squeezed between your fingers after minutes of trying to sleep, eyeing Ellie’s saved contact until darkness overtakes you.

The pounding on your door is worse than the ones from inside your skull. Fuck Tequila, from the bottom of your heart. Waves of nausea crash over you with every waddle, hobbling your hunched form over to yank the front door open.

A bored Ellie stands in front of you, a large camera and headphones hanging from her neck, seemingly cozy in her sweater and puffer, large duffel bags packed to the brim with clothes dangling from her shoulders. Your cheeks warm instantly. Gray sweats, gray sweats—

“I’m here,” She states plainly.

“… Why?” You croak.

Ellie’s seems just as confused as you, her eyes piercing as if her appearance is obvious.

“To move in.”

“… Why?”

Ellie sighs and snags her phone from her jacket pocket, swiping a few times before nearly blinding you with her screen.

Your jaw nearly hits the floor. When the fuck did you send that?

“So, I’m here,” she slips her device back in her pocket. “Which room am I in?”

“E-Ellie, uh… there's been a mis— “

“Look,” she holds her pale, veiny hands up. “I don’t wanna beat around the bush anymore. I got evicted and I need a place to stay until I secure this job. I’m willing to put down whatever’s needed for rent but I don’t have time to bullshit.”

Ellie proceeds, sarcasm slipping, “Respectfully.”

She pushes past your stunned form, bags accidentally brushing against your bare legs. You can't even move to stop her; You merely watch Ellie shuffle to inspect the living room, the small kitchen, pausing in front of the abstract painting you made for your dad before eventually moving down the hall and into Amaya’s empty space. How the fuck did she get in the building, anyway?

Your deer-like eyes lock with her void, mossy ones as she peers over her shoulder.

“I still have some stuff to pick up. Please leave my key under the mat if you go somewhere.”

Before she enters the empty room next to yours, you hear her gruffly say, “Leave the lease on the table so I can sign it, too.”

Amaya’s — Ellie’s door slams shut seconds later, the soft click of the door locking follows suit.

…

What the fuck just happened. Gall almost surpasses your anger. The audacity...

For the first time, you’re grateful that your shift is in two hours. You need to get the fuck out of here before you cause a scene and catch a case.

tagggiiiesss missed yall ;3 : @starologist @hrtmal @ohlawdthebirds @villainousbear @timmy-27 @inf3ct3dd @aouiaa @shurisbigtoe @emothurman @lonelyfooryouonly @imelliesgf @baumbii @brackishkittie @littletinyladybugs @r1miese @horror-whoree @elsbunny222 @elliesatchel @makemescreamel @lav3nd3rhaze @elliezflower @ellieloml @ellies-princess @saverdelrey @womenofarcane

#ellie williams au #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams angst #ellie williams x reader #lesbian #black!oc #black!reader #ellie williams tlou #works 𖧧࣪#click! ☾⋆⁺₊📸✧

1K notes · View notes

pb524830 · 17 days

Text

more than that

pairing: paige bueckers x oc word count: 9.6k c/w: sexual content, language synopsis: paige and laila have been friends (or more) for quite a while. but friends with benefits can become much more than that. a/n: had this little puppy in the archives, and someone sent me an ask saying it's their birthday. figured i haven't put out something of this length in a while! want to preface this by saying i'm aware ivy's don't give athletic scholarships. also that paige is a little insane and a lot stupid. anyway, since it's the off season and we won't get basketball for a while, just trying to keep everyone fed. :)

“Five.”

“No.”

“Okay, ten.”

“Still no.”

“Fifteen?”

“Paige, what makes you think that going any higher is going to make me want to take you up on this bet?”

Paige wrinkles her nose, then shrugs. “Bro, I just have a feeling you’re very, very wrong.” I roll my eyes at her. “When have I ever been wrong?” I ask. It’s a reasonable question, with a very obvious answer. She points at me accusingly. “You got a 98 on your calculus test. You were wrong then.” I scoff. “Well, I’m not wrong this time. Coach Auriemma will one hundred percent not let me onto the bus for an away game.”

Paige pouts. She’s dressed in full Husky gear today, a gray hoodie thrown over a pair of sweats. Her hair is tied back in a bun, but the two front strands dangle in front of her clear, blue eyes. She’s seated next to me in the booth at a local diner, and I have a full view of her side profile; sharp jaw, upturned nose, high cheekbones, perpetual smirk. “It couldn’t hurt to try…” she mumbles, reaching for her milkshake.

I hold my hands up in defeat. I’m currently visiting Paige, and her, myself, and Azzi came out for a quick bite after practice. “Do whatever you want, Paige,” I sigh. She kicks me under the table. “You’re a bad sport. And if you’re so sure he won’t let you, then take me up on the bet.” Azzi groans and drops her head to her hands. “You two fight more than Paige and I do. Honestly, Paige, you need to quit forcing Laila up to Storrs for visits just so you can annoy her.”

Paige frowns at Azzi. “I don’t annoy Laila,” she protests, draping an arm around me and pulling me into her side. She smells clean, like soap and shampoo. “Yes, you do,” Azzi and I respond automatically in unison. “Well, I don’t know why you want to act like you’re not annoying. You do annoying stuff,” she tells me indignantly. I raise an eyebrow at her. “Like what?” I demand.

“Well, first off, you kick in your sleep,” she starts. My eyes widen. “Bitch!” I gasp. “You hog the blanket,” I counter quickly. She snorts. “That’s because you sleep in a ball.” I smack her side, inching out from under her arm. “I do not! I sleep like a normal person,” I protest. She settles her arm back around me and drags me back into her side, smirking at me. “Of course you do, Laila,” she says patronizingly.

“Anyways,” she says, turning to Azzi. “I’m not forcing Laila to come up here. She’s grown. She chooses to come visit me, even though I apparently ‘annoy’ her.” She jabs a finger into my side, and I push at hers. “Whatever. New Haven’s just boring,” I snipe. “Nah, I think you’re secretly in love with me,” Paige teases. I pull a face at her, but my face still grows warm and my stomach still twists.

The truth is, Paige isn’t too off base. The two of us have known each other forever, since high school. She played basketball for Hopkins, and I played volleyball for Wayzata. We’d met at our school rivalry game, and she’d pretended to hit on me off a team dare. The rest was history.

“... honestly, she should just transfer at this point,” Paige is saying matter-of-factly. I gape at her. “What, to UConn?” Azzi makes a similar face. “From Yale?” she demands. “From Yale?” Paige mimics her. “Yes, from Yale.” I drop my head to Paige’s shoulder, pulling out my phone. “Peace and love, babes, I’m not transferring out of Yale,” I tell her. She snatches my phone out of my hands.

“Who you texting?” she teases. “My friends, bro,” I snatch it back from her. She rubs her fingers along my shoulder soothingly, trying to catch a glimpse of my face. “Why your friends got you smiling like that, huh?”

“Paige, quit looking at my phone,” I mumble absentmindedly, grinning at a TikTok my teammates sent me. “Paige, quit looking at my phone,” she mimics again. Azzi throws a fry at her.

“Why not? You could come play volleyball here,” Paige complains. I shoot Azzi a look, like, ‘really?’ Azzi sighs. “I’m gonna get more ketchup. You deal with her,” she tells me. Paige glares at her. “I don’t need to be dealt with,” she says indignantly. “Anyway, you should transfer,” she continues, taking my phone away again. I sigh, looking up to meet her clear, blue eyes. “Are we actually having this discussion?” I ask tiredly. She looks appalled. “Yes, bro,” she says, as though it’s obvious.

“Paigey, why on Earth would I transfer from Yale?” She gives me another ‘duh’ look. “We have volleyball here, too,” she says. I blink. I always forget that Paige is this huge, superstar athlete, and that her sport will be her career. “Okay, but volleyball isn’t my future,” I remind her gently. “It’s just something that’s putting me through school. You know that.” Paige wrinkles her nose. “I always forget about law school.”

I laugh lightly. “I really wish I had that luxury.” Paige turns to look down at me, eyes roving my face, before she tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, her fingers nimble. “I miss you, though.” My heart stutters. Just friends, just friends, just friends.

The truth is, I haven’t been ‘just friends’ with Paige Bueckers in a long time. We met when we were about fourteen years old, and we got close super fast. A little too close. She was my first kiss. Well, we’d done a little more than kiss. But we were young and stupid, and we didn’t realize it was perfectly normal to like other girls. We hadn’t spoken of it since.

That wasn’t to say that I hadn’t thought about it. Of course I had. Every girl or guy I’d ever dated, I’d compared them to her. His hands didn’t feel as good on me as Paige’s did. She didn’t kiss like Paige. He didn’t sound like Paige, she didn’t feel like Paige. It was a vicious cycle. It took me a long time to admit that maybe, just maybe, I didn’t want anyone who wasn’t Paige.

I inch out from under her arm slowly, ignoring the flash of hurt across her face. Thankfully, Azzi comes back before I have to respond to what Paige said. “Is she done?” she asks me. I groan. “Is she ever?”

_________

“He said yes?” I ask incredulously. “Bro, Coach is my guy, I gotchu!” Paige crows, jumping up and down on the bed. “I don’t have anything to wear, Paige!” I complain. “You can just borrow my clothes,” she suggests. I give her an ‘are you serious?’ look. “You literally leave in an hour, I don’t even have time to do laundry-” Paige cuts me off by grabbing my hand. “Dude, it’s not that deep. We’ll figure it out. Just pack what you have, and we’ll go.”

“I have school,” I protest weakly. Paige shoots me a look. “You were supposed to be here a week anyway. Coming on the road is better than being in an empty apartment for two days, bro.” I wrinkle my nose. “I don’t know, Paigey…”

“Laila, please? You love coming to my games anyway.” I ponder for a moment, twisting my mouth. “I really, really want you there,” she says, softer this time, pulling me in by the waist and looking up at me earnestly. My breath catches. She smirks. “Fine,” I relent.

__________

The bus ride to Villanova is long and bumpy. I find myself falling asleep on Paige within the first thirty minutes of the ride, tucked into her side with an arm thrown around me, all under a blanket.

Every time I’m with Paige, I try my best to be present, and in the moment. Not just because I only see her once every couple of months, but because if I think about the future, I think about the past. Our past.

You could say I’m a masochist for crawling back to Storrs whenever Paige calls with an ‘I miss you’ or ‘Can I see you?’ You might say I’m weak. You’d probably be right. But with Paige and I… it’s different. It’s always been different. And if keeping Paige in my life means being in love with her in private, I guess it’s just something I have to put myself through.

I’m woken up by a soft noise in my ear. It’s Paige. She sighs breathily, frowning in her sleep. I watch her as her breath whistles through her parted lips, lashes fluttering. Her tongue darts out to wet her mouth. Then, she lets out a slight moan. And another, head tilting back.

I squeeze my hand where it’s resting at her thigh. “Paige,” I whisper urgently. “Laila,” she sighs, still asleep. “Paige, wake up,” I say, louder this time. I squeeze at her thigh again. Her eyes flutter open, lips still parted. Her eyes take a second to focus on me, before she rasps out, “Fuck.”

“What?” I ask, concerned. She shakes her head, leg shifting slightly. Suddenly, my hand is inches away from…

“Could you just… move your hand?” she asks groggily. I blink. “Why..?” I wonder aloud, before it dawns on me. My eyes widen. “Are you..?” She bites her lip, eyes trailing to the ceiling. And although I know exactly what’s happening, my hand doesn’t move. Instead, it inches to the waistband of her shorts like it has a mind of its own.

“Do you need..?

Her eyes snap back to mine, widened, the blues of them darkened by her pupils. “Laila, what?” She asks, voice still hoarse. It doesn’t help the fluttering in my chest. I hesitate. “I just… if you need me to, I can-”

She groans, her hand coming up to trail down her face. “You better be fucking serious right now, Laila.” I bite my lip, watching her jaw clench. “Do you need me to?” I ask softly.

Her response is quick. “Yes. Fuck, yes, before I change my mind.”

“Okay,” I whisper, dipping my hand into her panties and moving closer.

“Shit, you’re wet,” I mumble into her ear, dipping two fingers into her folds. She hisses softly.

My thumb finds her clit and I circle it lightly, watching her eyes flutter shut and her tongue dart out to wet her lips. “Is that good?” I whisper softly, pushing in and out of her. She’s so wet that they slide in and out ridiculously easy. I bite my lip as she nods quietly, brow furrowing. Her lips part as I go deeper, head tipping farther back.

“Shit,” she hisses.

I swallow hard. “Hush,” I mumble, looking around. The truth is, I want to hear her curse, and moan, and whimper, and whatever it is she wants to do. If I could fuck her, like, really fuck her, not on a bus…

I savor the thought, leaning next to her ear to whisper, “Open your eyes.” She obliges, eyes shooting open to rove over my face as I fuck her with my fingers. I bite my lip, pinching her clit hard, once, before plunging in deep. “I’m gonna-” she starts huskily, teeth digging into her bottom lip. I keep her eyes locked with mine, circling her clit hard before I feel her pulse beneath me, breath shuddering out as she finishes.

I work her through her orgasm, lip between my teeth. She doesn’t break eye contact, her blue eyes nearly blown black, eyes trailing between my own and my lips. “I forgot how good you were at that,” she whispers. I breathe out shakily. “You should go clean up,” I tell her, feeling a pit open in my stomach.

“Nah, let me get you first,” she says back, casual as can be. My heart stutters. “What?” I whisper. She leans closer, lips pressed against my ear. “I know how wet getting me off makes you,” she says, voice sultry and soft. “Paige-” I start wearily. She ignores me, reaching under the blanket to ease my fingers out of her. “Suck,” she murmurs. I huff lightly. She raises her eyebrows expectantly, and makes a ‘hurry up’ motion with her finger. I glance around, placing my fingers in my mouth quickly, then nearly groan at how good she tastes. I let my eyes flutter shut as Paige pulls my fingers from my mouth and places my arm under the blanket before she pulls my leg over her lap.

“Paige, you don’t have to-” “I want to,” she interrupts me, locking her eyes with mine. “Just shut the fuck up for a minute, dude.” I laugh breathily as her hand teases the hem of my shorts, fingers ghosting the inside of my thigh. “You think you can make me come in a minute?” I mumble, lips pressed against her ear. I feel her low chuckle more than hear it. “I’ve made you come in less,” she reminds me quietly, fingers sinking into me.

I gasp, squeezing my eyes shut, as she works me with her fingers, her thumb pressing at my clit. “Fuck,” I hiss as her fingers go deeper, curling ever so slightly. “Shhh,” she soothes. “Look at me,” she whispers. “I can’t,” I mumble into her neck, feeling my cheeks warm at the thought of watching her face as she gets me off. Her fingers find a spot that’s especially deep and I whimper into her skin.

“Come on, Laila, you can’t be making that much noise,” she murmurs to me. “Sorry,” I whisper. My eyes roll back when she circles my clit hard, once, twice…Then she starts talking to me.

“So quiet. Such a good girl.” I gasp lightly.

“Are you close?” I hum in response to this.

“You’re doing so good, I promise.”

“Almost there.”

“Yes, that’s good. You’re so good, baby, so fucking good.”

“Look at me, please.”

I pry my head off of her shoulder to take in her face. She bites her lip, eyes trained on my mouth. I part my lips ever so slightly. “I wanna watch you come,” she whispers. It sends me over the edge. I feel my orgasm shudder through me, soft and unassuming, but curling my toes, and my fingers that have somehow moved to the nape of Paige’s neck, sending my eyes rolling back into my head. Paige soothes me through it, patting my back, circling my clit, and it takes me a minute after she’s taken her fingers out of me and stuck them in her own mouth, before pulling me back into her side to realize what we’ve done.

I also realize that this is the first time in almost eight years of knowing each other that Paige has watched me finish. Whenever we… experimented, it was always with the lights off, drunk in the back of a car or in one of our bedrooms.

She’d certainly never called me ‘baby’ before.

Hm.

________

That’s when Paige and I truly went from friends to friends with benefits. Probably not the best idea, considering this long standing and apparently never ending crush I have on her. At first, it was just small things. At dinner, she’d put her hand on my thigh, and I’d excused myself to go to the bathroom. I hadn’t expected her to follow, but she’d pinned me against a stall door and kissed me to within an inch of my life. Gasping for breath, I told her we would finish this in the hotel room later that night. She’d made me come on her fingers again before forcing me to my knees to eat her out.

Tonight, we're back at the hotel after an afternoon game, a few of the girls chilling in mine, Azzi, Paige, and Aubrey’s hotel room. The hotel does have a pool, and I’m feeling particularly devious at present. I throw on one of Paige’s old Hopkins tees - it’s loose on me. Paige is six feet tall on a good day. I’m barely pushing five foot four.

I have on what has to be the world’s skimpiest black bikini underneath the shirt, and I shoot Paige a quick text before slipping out of the hotel room and heading up to the rooftop pool. Paige is out on the roof mere minutes after me, clad in black shorts and black sports bra. Shit, she’s hot. I catch the sharp angle of her jawline as she strains around, looking for me.

“That was fast!” I call. Her eyes land on me, and her hand reaches up to scratch her neck. “Shit, you said you had a surprise. Got me all excited,” she shoots back, sauntering up to me. “So, you gonna keep that on, or…?” she trails off, tugging at my shirt. I stand up, chest pressed to hers, before shoving her back a little, my hand grazing her bare stomach. “Get in first,” I tell her, smirking. She whistles, low under her breath. “Whatever you say,” she murmurs, licking her lips. She backs up, taking a second to slide into the pool with a soft splash. I walk slowly to the edge, easing her shirt off of me and tossing it to the side. “Shit,” she grins. “Have you always been this fine?” She swims to the edge, tugging at my calves to try and pull me in. I take a seat at the edge of the pool, her head between my knees.

She swims closer, spreading my legs further apart so she can rest her hands on my thighs, then inches them back to cup my ass. “You know,” she murmurs. “I didn’t have any dessert tonight.” I sigh, tipping my head back and leaning on my arms. “Oh, yeah?” I mumble. Her fingers pull at the strings of my bikini bottoms, nimbly untying them. She breathes against my bare cunt, and my head lolls back down to look at her.

Her face is pulled into a shit-eating grin as she licks a long stripe against my pussy. I groan out loud. “Fuck, Paige,” I moan, when her tongue dips into me, and her lips suck hard on my clit. “Oh, that’s so good,” I breathe, tilting my head back and letting her work at me.

“Damn, you look so good like this,” she tells me. “You think so?” I laugh breathily, meeting her eyes again. “Your tits,” she says, slurping loudly. I whimper, biting my lip. “In that top. Shit, you have no idea,” she finishes. She places wet, sloppy, open mouthed kisses all over my cunt, sucking hard at my clit, flicking her tongue at my entrance.

“You’re so fucking good at this,” I moan out, winding my hand into her hair to press her closer.

She laughs into my cunt, and the vibrations coax another mewl out of me. “I know,” she says, voice smug. I moan again, louder this time, before clamping my mouth shut. “I should probably- oh, fuck- be quieter… oh, my God, Paige,” I stutter, throwing a hand over my mouth. Her hands squeeze at my ass, and she looks up at me, eyes earnest, lips glistening with my arousal. “Why the fuck would you be quiet?” she asks, sinking her tongue in deep without breaking eye contact. Fuck. “Someone- someone might hear,” I gasp out. “Shit. I was lowkey counting on that,” she says. Then she smirks.

It sends me over the edge. My thighs quiver around her face, and I moan out, “Paige, fuck. Oh, Paige, yes. Don’t stop, please. Please, Paige, yes, yes, yes…” My back arches as I balance myself on my hands, throwing my head back as my climax crashes through me. Paige quickly ties my bathing suit bottoms back on as I catch my breath, then pulls me into the pool to connect our lips in a bruising kiss.

I smile against her mouth. “Your turn.”

__________

“Fuck, we’re late.”

I hear Paige’s agitated voice early the next morning, then feel her hands on my shoulder shaking me awake. “Laila, wake up,” she says, her tone urgent. I push myself up groggily, watching her shove our clothes into a suitcase. “What..?” I mumble. “We have to be on the bus in five minutes, or I’m gonna get my ass handed to me,” she replies. I groan. “Fuck. Why didn’t they wake us up?” I wonder, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and jogging to the bathroom to wash my face quickly.

I throw my laptop and chargers into my backpack and swing it over my back, tossing Paige the plastic baggie with our toothbrushes. The two of us rush to the bus, barely making it on. I volunteer to put our bags under the bus while Paige grabs us seats. When I climb onto the bus, I see Paige arguing in hushed tones with Azzi. “What’s going on?” I ask.

Azzi is snickering. “Just asking why these headasses didn’t wake us up,” Paige snipes. Azzi laughs even harder, elbowing Aubrey next to her. Aubrey grins up at us, looking like she’s also trying not to laugh. “Y’all had a… long night last night. We didn’t want to wake you,” she laughs. My cheeks warm immediately and Paige gapes. “Motherfuckers,” she mutters, taking my hand and leading me to the back of the bus.

“Use protection!” Azzi calls after us. I have to physically restrain Paige from lunging at her best friend by pushing her into the seat, and climbing over her into the window seat. “Behave,” I instruct. She makes a face at me, diving under the blanket to rest her head on my lap. Her legs dangle over the armrest on the other side, too long to prop up against the seat itself. I uncover her face, pushing the blanket away, and meet her clear blue eyes staring at me.

“What?” I ask, combing my hand through her hair. I part it down the middle to start a crown braid. She closes her eyes, humming. “Nothing,” she mumbles, sighing contentedly. I return my attention to her hair, braiding it away from her face on both sides, then letting it loose at the ends, securing the twists lightly with the rubber bands.

I look back at her to see her gazing at me intently, again. “Dude, do you want a picture?” I ask sarcastically. She smirks up at me. “No, I want to fuck you again.” My mouth falls open slightly and I smack her on the forehead. “Quit it,” I command, tone hushed, brows furrowed. She sits up, the blanket falling off slightly, and looks around us, checking to see who’s watching. “I bet the bathroom’s empty,” she sing-songs, tugging at my hand.

I pull my hand away, smacking her again, on her shoulder this time. “You are not fucking me in the bathroom of this bus,” I snap. Paige sighs, leaning back and spreading her legs. For some reason, the way she sits really does something to me. I tear my eyes away and curl up against the seat, focusing on the air above her. “Actually, you’re right,” she starts, placing a hand on my thigh. My eyes shoot to hers, and her hand squeezes, fingers long enough to span my thigh and wrap around partially. “Right about what?”

She shakes her head, licking her lips. “I don’t want to fuck you in that bathroom,” she says, moving closer. She places a feather-light kiss on my jaw, then pulls away ever so slightly. “But I do want to fuck you on my bed,” she murmurs, then lands another kiss on my neck. My breath hitches, my hand landing on her stomach and bunching the fabric of her tee-shirt. “And in my car.” Another kiss.

I bite my lip, trying my best to act like this isn’t affecting me. “And in the shower.” This one lands on the corner of my mouth and my lips part unwittingly. “In the pool again would be nice,” she suggests smugly, squeezing my thigh again. “I’d take my time, too.” My breath whistles out from between my lips, and she plants a kiss on them before pulling away quickly. “How many times you think I could make you come, Laila?” she asks, breath whispering against my lips. “You’re a fucking tease,” I bite back. She grins at me, satisfied, and sits back, legs still spread wide apart. “It’s so funny how bad you want me,” she chuckles, closing her eyes.

For some reason, it hits home. And it reminds me that this is all just a game to her, that I’m pining after her like I have been for nearly eight years now, and that she just sees me as an easy fuck at worst, and a friend at best. The truth lies somewhere in between. This game we’re playing, that for some reason, I thought was a good idea - or knew was a bad idea and didn’t care - it’s dangerous. I can’t let myself get caught up in it.

“Fuck you, Paige,” I spit, then climb over her. “Yo, what-” I hear her confused protests and feel her hands catching at my arms. “Laila!” I hear her call, but I make my way to the front of the bus, plopping down next to Azzi.

“Pretzel?” she asks. If she notices my distraught face, she doesn’t mention it, and I’m suddenly grateful that I’ve known Azzi just as long as I’ve known Paige. I take the bag out of her hand gratefully, and I’m silent the rest of the ride home.

_________

“You have to fucking talk to me-”

“I really don’t.”

“Laila, it was a joke, I’m sorry.”

“No, this was a mistake. The bus, and-and the hotel room, and the fucking pool. God, I let you fuck me in a pool? That’s so unsanitary, Jesus.”

“Is that really your problem right now?”

“I don’t know what my problem is, Paige,” I spit, whirling on her.

“Maybe,” I hiss, “my problem is that you are not mature enough to be friends with benefits.”

She scoffs. “Oh, I’m not mature, huh? That’s what this is?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is,” I tell her firmly. “Because now everything is about sex for you, isn’t it?’

“We both know that’s not your problem, Laila.”

“Fuck all the way off.”

“Obviously I want you, too. Otherwise I wouldn’t be following you to bathrooms or fucking you in pools or whatever the fuck else we’ve done. You’re being fucking stupid.”

“Do not call me stupid. And don’t psychoanalyze me.”

“Why not? Are you afraid I might find something you don’t like?” Paige’s tone is harsh.

“What could you possibly find?”

“That maybe you like fucking me!”

“Fuck off!”

“You like fucking me, and you’re not mature enough to admit it. We both know that’s it. And now you’re running away, because you do that with all your fucking problems.”

“Fine. I like fucking you. Is that what you wanted to hear?” I snarl, throwing a tee-shirt at her.

Paige’s eyes go dark and she stalks towards me, shoving me against a wall by my shoulders. “Was that so fucking hard?” she demands. Then she crashes her lips to mine and I find myself moaning into her mouth, hands burying into her hair while hers roam my body, gripping my ass, spanning my back. I walk her backwards, shoving her onto her bed. “This is the last time I’m letting you do this,” I tell her, but I reach for the hem of my tank top and pull it over my head, anyway. She shrugs off her shirt, too, tossing it to the side, and pulls me onto her to let me straddle her waist.

“You’re all talk,” she mumbles against my lips, letting me push her onto the bed so that she’s lying down, and squeezing my sides when I kiss down her neck, sucking at her collarbones, biting at the skin above her breasts. “Are you going to fuck other bitches while I’m in New Haven?” I demand. “Maybe,” she shrugs. “Why do you care?”

“Don’t,” I snarl, gripping her ponytail tightly and pulling. She moans lewdly. “Fuck, okay. Yeah. I won’t.” I lower my lips to hers again, grinding my hips against her own. “Good,” I murmur. I climb off of her to wrestle out of my shorts and panties, dropping them to the side so that I’m completely naked in front of her.

She sits up on her elbows, drinking me in. “Fuck,” she whispers. I lean down over her, cupping her face and kissing her fiercely. “You’re overdressed, Paigey,” I remark casually. “Do something about it,” she murmurs back. I pull her to her feet and let her strip, too, biting my lip as she reveals her broad shoulders, toned arms, defined stomach, her long legs. I push her back onto the bed, and climb up to grind my wet cunt against her abs. “Shit,” I gasp, as her skin meets my clit. She adjusts our legs so that we can slot against each other, and I whine at the way her wet pussy feels against mine.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” she mumbles. “Oh, God,” I moan, throwing my head back slightly, balancing myself on her stomach. “Feel good?” she asks, thrusting up against me. “Yes,” I mewl, moving my hand to her shoulder, the other tangled in her hair. Her hands move to my ass, squeezing, then trail up and down my torso, squeezing at my side. She takes one of my breasts in one hand and kneads it skillfully, tweaking my nipple. I meet her eyes, their blue irises challenging, and lean forward to take her breast in my mouth. They’re small, but perky, and I maintain eye contact with her as I place sloppy kisses around her nipple, licking at it shamelessly. She smacks my ass, grinding me down further, and I moan purposefully loud against her skin. “Fucking whore,” she says, but her tone is smug, her eyes glazed over with pleasure.

“Shit, you feel so fucking good,” she hisses out when I change the angle that we’re scissoring at. I have a higher vantage point, and I grind my hips down slower, using one hand to lift my hair and the other to squeeze at my breast. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me come,” I whine, knowing she likes it when I’m so vocal. “Look so pretty when you ride me like this,” she murmurs, squeezing harder at my ass. “You like riding me?” She asks, smirking. I cock my head, grinding faster, and her eyes flutter shut. “Do you like it when I ride you?” I counter, innocent as can be.

“Shit!” she gasps, and I feel her come apart against me, her pussy pulsating and dripping into mine. I grab her face, forcing her to look at me as she climaxes, and the blue of her eyes is nearly enveloped by the black. “Is that a yes, Paigey?” I coo. Her eyes roll back, body still shuddering. I’ve stopped moving my lower body, content with watching her finish. I push her mouth to mine in a punishing kiss. “God, I wanna record you when you come,” I whisper, and she laughs against my mouth.

“You got a filthy mind, Laila,” she teases, her voice raspy with exhaustion. Then her hands are gripping at my waist, and pulling me against her so that my back is pressed to her torso. “Filthy mouth, too,” she murmurs, lips pressing against the skin of my neck. My head lolls back against her shoulder as her hand trails downward down my stomach. “Oh, yes, Paige,” I moan as her fingers sink into me slowly. I spread my legs wider, and she pumps them in and out. “Yes, just like that,” I sigh. Her other hand comes up to squeeze my breast again, fingers moving faster, hand twisting my nipple. “Mmmm, fuck, don’t stop,” I tell her, biting at her earlobe.

I whine out as she pinches my clit, back arching. “Fuck, you like that?” she murmurs, doing it again. She plunges in deeper, faster, alternating between toying with my clit and fucking up into me with her fingers. “Yeah, you like that,” she answers her own question when I open my mouth and a moan falls out.

“I’m close,” I force out, gripping at her thighs. “You gonna fucking come?” she asks, pinching my clit again, but harsher this time. That does it. I shatter with a scream: “Fuck, Paige!” and she coaxes me through my climax as it crashes through me, fingers circling my clit. I collapse against her, completely spent but completely satisfied.

I feel her laugh reverberate against my back. “And you were tryna tell me you don’t like fucking me.”

____________

“Who is he?” Paige’s voice sounds loudly through my phone speaker.

“Girl, what? It’s three in the morning, who the fuck are you talking about?”

“This dude in your post. He’s touching all up on you. Who is he?”

“What post, Paige?” I mumble groggily.

“Instagram, bro, keep up.”

“I promise you there is no one groping me on my Instagram, now go to sleep.”

“Hold up,” she tells me. I hear rustling on the other side of the line and I groan.

“Right here. Second slide. Guy’s got his hands on you and shit.”

I wrack my brain, too lazy to go look. “Is he blonde?”

“Yes. I know you got a thing for blondes-”

“Fuck off, Paige.”

“But you are so out of this dude’s league.”

“Thank you, Paige,” I mumble tiredly.

“I’m serious, who is this guy?”

“He’s from my International Turmoil and Conflict Resolution class, Paigey. His name is Luke.”

“Your what?”

“It’s a class for my major. Don’t worry, he asked me out and I turned him down.”

“He what?”

“Dude, keep up,” I whine, burying my head in my pillow.

“Did you fuck him?” she demands.

“What the fuck?” I shoot back, too tired to deal with her bullshit.

“I’m coming down there.”

“Huh?” Then the line clicks. She can’t be serious, right?

It turns out she is very, very serious. I’m awoken the next morning by a loud banging on my apartment door. My teammate Kara peeks her head out of her room and sees me running to open it. “Are you expecting someone?” she asks sleepily. “Not that I know. I got it, though,” I tell her.

I open the door to a very frazzled and tired-looking Paige Bueckers. She holds her car keys in one hand, and her backpack is balanced on one shoulder. Her hair is down, and she’s dressed in a muscle tee and sweats. I blink, then gape. “Can I help you?” I demand.

She shoves into my apartment, dropping her backpack and keys on my counter before taking my face in her hands and swallowing my lips with hers. I gasp lightly, and she slips her tongue into my mouth. “Fuck, I missed you,” she groans. I let her back me towards my room, lips still devouring mine. “Do you always look this sexy in the morning?” she mumbles against my mouth, opening the door to my room. She pushes me onto the bed, towering over me.

I recover from my shock at this point, and place a hand on her stomach to halt her. Her muscles contract under my fingers as she catches her breath. “Paige, what are you doing here?” I pant out. She weaves her hand into my hair, pulling me back by my scalp before smirking at me. “I already told you. I missed you.” I raise an eyebrow. “You drove an hour because you missed me?” I demand. She leans down, ghosting her lips over mine again. It takes everything I have not to pull her to me and kiss her senseless. “I drove an hour to fuck the shit out of you, but you’re holding me up.” I shove her away, huffing. “You cannot just show up-”

“Would you have said no?” she counters reasonably, plopping next to me and pulling me into her. I hesitate. “Well, no, but-” “Exactlyyy,” she crows. I shove her away again, standing up. I tug at the hem of my shirt (her shirt, fuck me), pushing the waves of my hair up out of my face. “You’re wearing my shirt,” she observes, sitting criss-cross. I frown at her. “And?” She grins. “I want it back.”

I feel myself getting really pissed now. “You’re not funny,” I bite. She leans back on her hands, eyes roving up and down my body, her bottom lip tucking itself under her teeth. “A’ight, leave it on then,” she says, her voice low. I run my hands through my hair again and scoff. “Dude, what the fuck?” I snap. She looks taken aback. “You think you can just show up here and-and get in my pants? What’s wrong with you?” I demand, my voice rising.

Paige blinks. “You want me to buy you coffee first, or..?” I groan, covering my face with my hands. “No, Paige, I want you to be fucking normal.” She pulls a face at me. “What do you mean, normal?”

I pace in front of her, crossing my arms, then uncrossing them. “We were friends before this, Paige. And we did normal friend stuff.”

“This is normal friend stuff.”

“Are you fucking joking?”

“I’m deadass.”

“This is not normal friend stuff. Are you high?”

“I wish.”

“Do not get cute with me right now.”

“I don’t know why you’re acting like you’re not the one who started this.” Paige’s tone is cold.

“Excuse you?”

“Maybe my memory’s a little off, but you’re the one who offered to finger me on the bus, right?”

“Because I thought you could handle it. This is supposed to be friends with benefits. That means we keep being friends. And we watch fucking movies and go to fucking parties, and you treat me like you’ve treated me for the past eight years, Paige. I’m not just some fuck-buddy”

“Well, I’m sorry, Laila. I’m so fucking sorry that I can’t treat you normally, because the second I see you, my brain goes blank. All I can think about is fucking you. I’m sorry that the second I thought someone else had their hands on you, I couldn’t see straight-”

“You don’t own me.”

“You’re still mine.”

We’re chest to chest at this point, breathing hard. Her eyes are locked on mine.

“What are you saying, Paige?” I whisper.

Her eyes dart away. She licks her lips. “Paige?” I push.

“I’m sorry, Laila,” she whispers, eyes darting back to mine. “I should’ve stayed in Storrs.”

Then she’s walking out of my room, and I’m chasing her into the hallway, watching her grab her bag and her keys and walk out of my apartment door.

I cry so hard that night that my head hurts.

_________

“Laila, you have to come out of there.”

I suppose I should show some appreciation that Azzi and Ice drove all the way from Storrs to see me. “No, I don’t!” I call back. “You have to eat, at least.” Azzi sounds tired. “I have a lifetime supply of hot chips in here.” “That is not real food!” Azzi exclaims. The truth is that my eyes are too puffy and my head hurts too much from crying to leave my room right now.

“Please, just talk to us?” Azzi pleads. I hesitate. “Okay. Come in.” I hear the door click open, and shift in bed to watch the two of them file in. Ice takes one look at me and immediately takes a seat on the bed, pulling me into her. I feel my eyes well up with tears again. “What happened, baby?” she asks, rubbing my side soothingly.

I sniffle. “Nothing. I just hate,” I hiccup. “Fighting with Paige.” Azzi rolls her eyes. “What did she do this time?” she demands. “She didn’t d-do anything,” I say, voice hiccuping again. “She just, like, came down here… and then there was yelling, and…” I trail off, shaking my head as tears drip down my face. “What are you guys even doing here?” I ask, my voice choked. “You have to have practice or something.”

Azzi plops down on the other side of me. “You are important to us,” she tells me gently. She hesitates. “And Paige isn’t doing too hot either.” I roll my eyes. “Paige will find some other poor girl to lure into bed.” They’re both silent. Azzi opens her mouth and closes it. “Laila,” she starts quietly. “Azzi,” I respond absentmindedly, picking at my nails. “You know that you’re the only girl Paige has slept with more than once, right?” I take a moment to register her words, blinking. “What?”

Azzi nods, squeezing my arm. “She’s not really too experienced in this area.” I snort. “She seems experienced enough to me,” I mumble sarcastically. Azzi shakes her head. “What I mean is, if she’s hurt you, or said something she shouldn’t have, she really didn’t mean to.” I sniffle again. “Well, what she said was basically that she doesn’t value me as a friend anymore and basically just sees me as a booty call.” “Come on, Laila, that’s not true-” Azzi starts.

I stand up, suddenly angry. “No, it is true. And it’s so frustrating because even before we started whatever this is, I still wanted to be around her. All the time! I missed her and her stupid laugh and her stupid fucking jokes. How can she not see that I’ve been in love with her for the past eight fucking years?!” I’m yelling by the end, breathing hard. Then I slap a hand over my mouth. Azzi and Ice’s eyes are wide.

“You’re… in love with Paige?” Azzi asks. “Fuck. No. Yes? Please don’t say anything to her,” I rush out panickedly. Azzi waves me away. “But you are?” I hesitate. “I… yeah. Yeah, I am.” “Oh, thank God,” says Ice. I blink. “What?” Azzi snorts loudly, then starts chuckling. Then the chuckling turns into laughter, and I’m even more confused than before.”Oh, God, you’re both stupid,” she gasps through her giggles. I cross my arms over my chest, glaring at her. “Explain yourself,” I bite out.

Ice is laughing, too, covering her mouth. Azzi finally calms down, wiping at her eyes and giving me a look. “Laila, Paige is head over heels for you,” she forces out, still shaking with mirth. I gape. “Are you high?” I demand. Ice butts in. “No, she’s right. Paige is so down bad for you it’s not even funny.” I scoff, feeling my chest tighten. “If Paige did like me like that, she would’ve done something about it way back in high school.”

Azzi cocks her head. “Didn’t you just say you’ve been in love with her for eight years?” I hesitate. “Yeah…” “And you didn’t do anything about it in high school, did you?” Azzi reasons. I open my mouth, and shut it. “Well, no, but-”

“You’re coming back to Storrs with us,” Azzi says firmly. My mouth drops open again. “What? No, I have school-” “It’s a Saturday,” Ice interrupts. Azzi crosses her arms. “We will carry you out of here,” she tells me wearily. I shut my mouth. “Just let me pack,” I mumble.

______

I’m sitting on Azzi’s couch, waiting for her to get back home. She had promised me that I wouldn’t have to talk to Paige until tomorrow before going to practice. Luckily, Paige doesn’t room with Azzi, so I would have no chance of running into her there. I’m watching New Girl on the TV, clad in one of Paige’s USA Basketball t-shirts (I really need to buy my own clothes), when I hear the door click open.

“That was quick,” I say to who I think is Azzi, eyes still on the screen.

“Laila.” I freeze.

I scramble off of the couch, turning around. “Paige,” I breathe out. She looks awful, probably not much better than I look right now. Her eyes are swollen and tinged red, her hair messy and covered by the hood of her sweatshirt. Her cheeks look sunken in. “What are you doing here?” I ask, shuffling my feet before crossing my arms over my chest self-consciously.

She laughs hollowly, her eyes sweeping over me. “Feel like I should ask you that,” she rasps out. “Yeah, um, Azzi brought me up,” I explain. “Paige, are you okay?” I ask. “Me? I’m chilling,” she replies drily. “You didn’t respond to my texts,” I say softly, tracking her with my eyes as she takes a step towards me. I stay planted.

“Was tryna give you your space,” she murmurs, moving even closer. “What’s going on with you, Paigey?” I ask, concern lacing my tone. She’s inches away now. “I wish I could tell you,” she breathes out. “Let me help, please,” I murmur, meeting her eyes. She licks her lips, her chest nearly flush against mine. “Do you have any fucking idea how badly I want to kiss you right now?” she whispers, eyes darting between my mouth and my eyes. My heart stutters.

She sighs, leaning her forehead against mine and closing her eyes, cradling my face with her hands. “Paige, please, just talk to me,” I beg softly. She shakes her head. “I’m not good with- with feelings, Laila.” There’s a hammering in my chest. “I just know that I want to be around you all the time. And it’s been that way since we’ve known each other.” Her breath is warm against my face, tinged with mint.

“Then in high school, we were, like… you were my first kiss. And I realized that I didn’t want to kiss anyone the way I kissed you.” “Paige-”

“And then on the bus, when you asked… fuck, Laila, I was dreaming about you. It’s always you.”

“Then it was just any excuse to touch you, to feel you, hold you, kiss you. I thought if it was just fucking, it wouldn’t mean anything. And I know it didn’t to you, but it did to me.”

“Paige-”

“You don’t have to say anything-”

“Paige, I’m in love with you.”

I watch her brow furrow, feel time stop, before her eyes snap open. Blue, clear, watercolor eyes.

“What?” she breathes.

I swallow, hard. “I’m in love with you,” I whisper.

She shakes her head. “Don’t play with me,” she whispers back, voice cracking.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. My eyes sting. “I’m sorry-”

Her mouth crashes to mine, kissing me feverishly. I respond in kind, throwing my arms around her neck, kissing her desperately. “Say it again,” she mumbles against my mouth. “I love you,” I gasp as she backs me into the wall. “Good,” she bites, nipping at my lip, shoving my legs apart with her knee as she continues kissing me hungrily.

She grabs my hips harshly, pushing me down onto her knee. My breath stutters at the sudden friction against my clit. “Not that I’m not enjoying this,” I pant. “But just to be clear…” She bites her lip, grinding me down against her knee, before attaching her lips to my neck. “Oh, God,” I whimper. “Yes, Laila, I’m in love with you, too,” she whispers against my skin. “Okay, good,” I laugh breathily, entwining my fingers in her hair.

Paige pulls back from me and I whine at the loss of contact between my legs. “How pissed do you think Azzi would be if I fucked you on her couch?” she asks. I raise my eyebrows. “Reasonably, very.”

She grabs my hand. “We’re going to mine, then.”

It doesn’t take long for us to ride the elevator up to Paige’s, but it feels like eons. The second we’re through the door, though, she has her hands on me again, tugging my shirt off. “Quit wearing my clothes,” she chides, tossing the garment to the floor. “You always take them off anyway,” I snipe. She places her hands on my ass, gesturing for me to jump.

I do, and she immediately connects our lips again. “Remember… how I said… I wanted to fuck you in the shower?” she asks between kisses. “Do it,” I pant, kissing her harder. It isn’t long before our clothes are strewn about her room and she’s shoving me into the shower, following close after. I run my hands up and down her torso, smirking up at her. Her body really is perfect, lean and long and toned. “Have you always been this fine?” I ask, mocking the question she asked me in the pool. She kicks my legs apart. “Do you ever shut the fuck up?” she asks. “Why don’t you make me?” I murmur.

She responds by smirking and swiping two fingers down my folds. I gasp, head smacking against the tile of her shower. “Shit.” She slides her fingers in easily, long fingers wrapping around my throat to bring my eyes back to hers. I whimper as she pumps her fingers in and out, thumb teasing at my clit. “Can you take another one?” she asks. I moan softly, biting my lip. I already feel so filled. “Yeah, you can. Take it,” she continues, adding a third.

I fall against her as her third finger stretches me out, gripping at her shoulders and groaning. “Holy, shit, Paige,” I force out, biting hard at her shoulder. “You’re doing so good, baby. Come on. Just a little longer,” she coaxes, pushing me back against the shower wall and cupping my face, drawing my eyes to hers again. “You gonna come? Gonna come on my fingers?” she asks, smirking. I shake my head, trying to hold back. “Come on, baby. Let go for me,” she coos, kissing me softly.

I moan into her mouth as my orgasm washes over me, and she swallows every noise I make hungrily. “So pretty when you come,” she mumbles against my mouth. I pant hard, pulling away from her to lean against the shower wall. “Shit,” I breathe out.

Her arms circle my waist, pulling me away from the wall and into her as she looks down at me. “Damn, I love you,” she says, grinning. I smile tiredly, reaching up to loop an arm around her neck and bring her lips to mine. “You’re okay, I guess,” I giggle, kissing at the corner of her mouth. Then I press a kiss to her jaw, her neck, her clavicle.

I wrap my lips around her breast and suck hard, tongue flicking at her nipple. Her hands find my shoulders as I drop to my knees. “You don’t have to…”

I cock my head, licking my lips. “But you’re so pretty when you come,” I say innocently, echoing her words. Then I sink my tongue deep into her cunt.

______

“Come back to bed.”

“In a minute.”

“Please, baby.”

“Don’t get cute. It’s not gonna work.”

“I’m cold, though.”

I throw a blanket at Paige. “There.”

She pouts from where she’s sitting on the bed. “You’re no fun.”

I place my pen between my teeth, typing a question out quickly onto my laptop and leaning down to scribble a note for myself hurriedly on a legal pad. I feel Paige’s hands land on my shoulders, soothing up and down my arms. She presses a kiss to my temple.

“You work too hard.” I shake my head. “Not hard enough.” The pressure of being in my junior year and about to apply to law school is really getting to me. “I think you need a break, baby,” Paige whispers in my ear. “Just lay down for a minute.” I yawn, scribbling another note to myself on a Post-It. “Okay, just a minute,” I relent.

I let Paige lead me to the bed and guide me to her chest, my ear pressed to her heartbeat. “I love how dedicated you are,” she mumbles, “but sometimes, you work so hard that it worries me.” I hum, feeling my eyes flutter as she inches her hand under my oversized shirt, rubbing soothing circles on my bare back. “Have to go… Harvard Law,” I say in between yawns. “Shhh… don’t put so much pressure on yourself,” she whispers. “You put pressure on yourself,” I mumble back sleepily.

“Nothing is worth your sanity,” she says firmly, stroking my hair with her other hand. I shift so that I can look up at her, smiling tiredly. I meet her blue eyes, fringed with long, blonde lashes. “You’re so pretty,” I smile up at her. I feel her laughter rumbling in her chest. “You’re tired,” she responds.

“No, really,” I mumble, letting my eyes trail over her face. I trace the tip of her nose with my finger absentmindedly. “Thanks, Laila,” she chuckles low under her breath, grinning down at me. My eyes flutter closed and she shakes me awake immediately. “Hey, hey, you gotta do skincare first. Or you’ll give me shit for it tomorrow,” she urges, rolling out from under me. I reach for her absentmindedly, then sit up, yawning again. Paige disappears into her bathroom, then re-emerges with my toiletry bag in hand. “You should just leave your stuff here, bro, I’ll clear a drawer or something,” she remarks as she walks towards the bed. I watch her lithe figure approach. “You’re, like, really tall,” I observe.

Paige raises an eyebrow. “You think so?” She muses. I nod thoughtfully, letting her wet a cotton pad with makeup remover and swipe it on my face, removing the remnants of blush. “I like that about you,” I say matter of factly. She wipes the pad over my mouth and I stick my tongue out at her, bringing my knees to my chest. She takes out the jade roller and begins applying serum to my face with it. I raise my eyebrows, a little impressed.

“Oh yeah? What else do you like about me?” Paige asks slyly. I tilt my head thoughtfully, wincing when she pats cold moisturizer onto my face. “I like your eyes,” I hum, tracking them as they rove over my face. “Your shoulders,” I say, my voice softer now. “My shoulders?” she asks, laughing slightly. I shrug. “You have a nice laugh,” I add. She fights a smile, closing my various containers and placing them back into the bag.

“Really? ‘Cause Azzi says I laugh like a horse,” she tells me. I pause for a moment. “Actually, a little,” I admit. “Oh, my God. Y’all are so fake,” she protests, smacking me with a pillow. “But it’s so infectious,” I continue indignantly, holding my hands up to defend myself. “Like, when you laugh, I want to laugh,” I say earnestly.

Paige wrinkles her nose. “You’re corny,” she teases, flopping back onto the bed. I scoot around to face her, sitting criss-cross. I grab the pillow from her hand and smack her with it. “I can’t help it,” I tease back. Paige looks down at me, inching her hand under her shirt and resting it on her stomach. “You want to know something?” she asks quietly, her blue gaze piercing.

I nod, shifting closer. “Promise you won’t freak out,” she says. Of course not.” She hesitates. “You know how… back in high school, we would, like, experiment? Or whatever?” I nod, urging her to go on. “I had a crush on you then, too,” she admits sheepishly. I snort out loud. Then I snort again, feeling a chuckle emerge, and then I start laughing. “What is funny?” Paige demands.

I shake my head, waving my hands in front of me in a calm-down motion, still laughing loudly. “No, it’s just…” I sigh with laughter, wiping at my eyes. “That’s funny that you say that because you had me with that stupid pick up line you used,” I force out, quieting my laughter. She raises her eyebrows. “No shot ‘you’re the only ten I see’ worked on you, Laila. That’s crazy,” she says, completely deadpan. I flop down onto the bed next to her, wiping away my tears and calming myself down.

“I probably just thought you were hot,” I admit, turning on my side to face her. She mimics me, turning on her own side. “Didn’t know you had a thing for white girls,” she smirks. I groan, smacking her as she pulls me into her by my waist, her arms wrapping around me and sneaking under my shirt again. “Do not put that on me,” I mumble as she presses her mouth to mine, feeling myself grin stupidly into the kiss.“You should have said something,” Paige whispers. I toy with the hair surrounding her face. “You should have said something,” I accuse. She scoots closer, pressing into me further. “We were so stupid,” she mumbles. I nod, laughing lightly. “I would have been with you in a heartbeat back then,” I tell her quietly. Her eyes flicker between mine, breath hitching. “And now?” she asks. I shake my head, biting back a smile. “I’m still all yours, Paige Bueckers,” I whisper. She kisses me again, softly, insistently. “Corny,” I hear her mumble again, and I laugh against her lips.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #wcbb #fic #uconn wbb #paige bueckers x oc #✂️ anon #ncaaw #fic talk

548 notes · View notes

kooktrash · 8 months

Text

the art of obsession | kim taehyung

summary: in a world of painters and poets, there were two college students looking for the right sort of inspiration. through devotion in your craft, you find yourself drawn to kim taehyung—a grad student painter who’s everything you’ve ever looked for in a character. his walk, his form of speech, his art, it all captivated you to the point where you wanted to recreate him in words and you begin to realize how similar the two of you really are. you share a sort of obsession in your work that seems like only each other could understand and he invites you into his world of oil paints and charcoals in hopes of drawing you on paper.

✎ genre/au: dark academia. college au. painter!taehyung x writer!y/n [afab. she/her]

✎ 17.4K words

“He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” — Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë

warnings: smut. slight obsession with their work. prestigious college. tae literally takes oc to a graveyard. oc and tae dont take criticism well. unprotected intercourse. oral [f and m]. oc slobs on his knob and tae eats like it’s the last supper. missionary. side position. lowkey passionate sex. fireplace crackling. namjoon and oc used to be fwb. hints that oc and Jimin used to be fwb too. jungkook is tae’s sculpture artist bestie. jimin is oc’s ballerina bestie. namjoon is oc’s writer bestie.

The smell of cigarettes was something you were fairly used to being around where you resided. You’re not sure what makes it so popular among young academics and sometimes you wonder if it’s not the need of nicotine but more so the aesthetic of it that they all seem to enjoy. It seemed to always linger in the air around campus where all the grad students would walk with their heads down and bags under their eyes as stress took over their entire being. You understand the stress but being an undergrad student yourself, you’re not sure you could understand the extent of it that they must feel. All you could really do is watch the way it slowly deteriorates their body every time they step into the library.

Maybe it’s the Literature major in you, but you never fail to try and assess each person that walks in as if you could see their entire character design and what makes them who they are. Today you got a bit lucky because despite how slow your homework had been going, your favorite case of study had just walked in wearing his usual black turtleneck tucked into a pair of loose corduroy pants. He wore a pair of rounded wire glasses that you love getting to see him in and they did wonders to conceal the eye bags you knew were there.

With this smallest hint of entertainment you’ve found through your long and boring study session with only one friend to confide in, you shut your copy of — excuse the pretentiousness — The Pictures of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, and lowered the volume on your headphones enough to be more aware of the cause of his visit today. You rarely saw him in the library and if he did happen to come by it was to check out or check in a single book on Michaelangelo or Davinci.

You were surprised by how close he seemed to have gotten to you today. The table you studied at was only a couple feet away from a book aisle he had currently walked down and now he was just a meter or so away with his head down in his book. The usual smell of smoke surrounded him and despite scrunching your nose at the smell, you chose to ignore it and study him a little further. You even went as far as to lower your headphones until they curled around your neck giving him your attention even if he didn’t know he had it.

As much of an observer as you were, you never seemed to catch on to the way his gaze would shift to you any time you weren’t looking, eyes scanning your features rather quickly as he made his own assessment. You dressed warmly today, probably due to the fact that there’s been a light rain that has been casted over the city, always seeming to linger longer where the buildings were older and all signs of urban life seemed to dissipate. You were dressed in neutral tones today that placed you perfectly with your own surroundings and if this was a painting he’s sure you would be the focal point—or maybe the single spec of bright color you wore which was in this case your powder blue headphones. He’s not sure he’s ever used that specific shade of blue in a single one of his works before but maybe he’ll look into it.

He rarely visited the library but when he did it was always a pleasant surprise to see you there. He didn’t care much to get to know you, he just found the aesthetic of it all captivating. The library was beautiful, truthfully, with its dark wood shelves and polished tile floors that echoed with each step. It was eerily quiet and it always smelled of old books and always reminded him of a cathedral. There were large stained glass windows of poets, painters, dancers, etc. the clear glass windows overlooked the large pond that covered the back of the small campus where the woods began to take over and student life decreased aside from the occasional late night college party hosted there between trees and bonfires.

“He always comes into my work for paints. I wonder why he always pays in cash.” Your friend said, suddenly appearing next to you and not messing with the printer anymore. He must’ve caught sight of Taehyung before he left and considering he worked at a supply store, it was no surprise he recognized him.

“Maybe he hates banks,” you joked, turning to Jimin with a smile. Jimin pursed his lips staring down the aisle where Taehyung had disappeared once he had his book, “Maybe cash is more aesthetically pleasing. He’s an art major, isn’t he? I say he’s too pretentious to use a plastic card—or even worse, Tap to Pay.”

At that you laughed, deciding to continue the teasing of a man you barely knew while also trying to defend him, “Do people ever get tired of throwing words around?”

“Are you referring to my use of ‘pretentious’?” Jimin asked as he moved to the other side of the counter, “I used the term correctly, it’s an adjective meaning, ‘attempting to impress by affecting greater importance and culture than is actually possessed’. His refusal to adhere to society’s technological advances is pretentious in itself. I bet he still uses No. 2 pencils as an act of defiance against mechanical pencils—if he was a writer like you he would probably be more drawn to a pen but he’s an artist and artists make mistakes that get covered up or changed.”

You couldn’t help but smirk at that, “Tell me then, Jimin, what does a ballerina use to convey words? An Arabesque?”

Jimin released a loud groan, “I hate this goddamn school.”

You watched him open his newest generation laptop and hide behind it. He knew now how little room he had to talk. You, yourself, couldn’t utter a word to disagree with him either when in your hand was a Montblanc fountain pen that cost your parents a hefty 1,500$ to get to you when you were first accepted into the school. You’re sure when the time comes for you to finish undergrad, they’ll up the price and give you one worth 4,000$—the most profound amount of proof that you did in fact strictly use pens for everything.

You would never dare mention anything revolving around the money Taehyung’s family is rumored to have because you don’t know anything about him to do so.

All you knew were the few things you’ve noticed — a couple that even made it into your journal — like the fact that he specialized in two mediums; charcoal and oil paintings. He’s a known name at the University for his work and dedication and you saw that through one of his works. It was dark and a bit twisted but it told a story and you think that’s what drew you into him before you even knew it was him.

Despite his strong presence that always seemed to draw you in, he had a gift for making himself invisible in a group setting. He never spoke up in class, never caused a fuss, he was in and out like a shadow.

At the start of the semester you were taken by surprise when you found him sitting in one of the back rows of the lecture hall to an advanced anatomy class that you’re sure you took for very different reasons. Taehyung was interested in the study of the body so he could fully understand the way the it works from the inside out. He wanted to understand how each limb moved, how fluid each bone and muscle connected, how they could contort, see where the organs go, imagine the flesh coming to life when he painted.

In literature, anatomy isn’t referring to the human body. It refers to a separation of a topic into smaller parts for detailed analysis of the work. You did not make a mistake when you chose this lecture, you too wanted to study the body for your work. You wanted to learn how fragile it really was, how it could be destroyed, how hard it was to do so. You wanted to know about which bones were weaker, which organ puncture did the most damage. You need visuals and understanding of its healing process, of the way it moved, how the nervous system worked. Once you had a better understanding of the body, you just knew that you would be able to apply all these things to your writing. You would be able to detail how your character’s body deteriorated outside and in. How the body would slowly break down, which nerves were affected, how the heart worked in that moment. It would be gruesome but intriguing enough for your readers.

Maybe you needed to write something not so dark, something that didn’t make you take courses you didn’t really need but wanted in hopes that they’ll help you understand better. You didn’t actually need to go this far to describe a couple grueling scenes but it helped.

The room was silent aside from the obnoxious sound of the clock, Tick… Tock… Tick… Tock…Ticking.

You stood at the front of your professor’s desk in his clustered office filled with classical literature books and awards for writing all over the shelves. His desk took up the majority of the space inside and whenever you were in here you couldn’t help but feel just a little suffocated. There were barely any words shared between the two of you, he only ever decided to truly grace you with his speech when he was critiquing and yet right now he’s been uncomfortably silent.

The silence had grown so long that you found your attention drifting toward the grandfather clock that was tucked away near the overwhelming stained glass window that overlooked the courtyard filled with wet and fallen leaves. The trees were bare and the fountain had a sculpture of a big swan with its wings spread in what looked like a dance. It always reminded you of the Swan Song, but you never knew if that was morbid of you. The idea of your University of Fine Arts decorating the campus in the black and white birds simply for decor always seemed strange to you too.

There was no way they would ever portray anything without meaning, or at least something not up for interpretation and yet every time you looked at one of the swans, you thought about the Swan Song, the way the bird’s wings were open beautifully with each detail chiseled into the stone. It looked like the swan’s final performance before its end. It wasn’t the sort of symbolism you liked to see at a school with such dedicated artists looking for a way to perfect every aspect of their work as if each one was their last.

“I like it,” your professor finally said, drawing your attention back to him in an instant, “Your writing has improved Y/n, I’m starting to really visualize the plot and I think it has a certain rawness to it that I’m not used to seeing from you.”

The corner of your lips turned upward like you wanted to smile but you wouldn’t fully allow yourself to. He hasn’t looked at you yet, his eyes stayed glued to your paper and it was clear he wasn’t done, “But it still feels stiff—well, the main character does. I can’t understand him yet, he’s just a mystery to me and not one I’m interested in unraveling. I can’t understand his depth and it’s becoming a big flaw in your writing. Everything else sounds wonderful, well articulated and with such emotion… that when I think of him all I see a huge lack of substance. He’s being drowned out by the rest and he’s supposed to be the one I follow when I read.”

You didn’t say anything as your jaw slowly clenched shut, eyes unwavering as he went on, “It’s like you have a lack of knowledge for human emotion and psychology, I’m not sure that’s something that can be easily fixed.”

“Does it make my writing bad?” You asked stiffly and he shook his head no.

“No, your writing is captivating but there’s a very huge disconnect I’m feeling from your characters,” he said, looking up at you, “It takes away the beauty of it.”

Your lips felt sewn shut as he handed you back your paper with all of his notes for you to fix and you felt like crying. You couldn’t even utter out a single word as you forced yourself not to react to his words and leave his office with your head held high.

What did he mean by disconnect? What more did he want you to do? What did you not understand about human emotion? You’re a human, what is there not to get? What else did he want from you?

These questions circled your head for what felt like an eternity, only confusing you more and more as you left for your next lecture. You spent the fifteen minute gap with your journal out jotting down every question that came to mind trying to see how you could find answers to these.

You sat alone in your row of seats waiting for other students to arrive and you took the time to brainstorm. He told you your characters lacked substance and implied that they were hard to visualize. He said that he can’t understand them, especially the lead and that he couldn’t be absorbed into a story about a character he doesn’t care for. He basically said that you lacked an understanding of emotional depth for the characters you write and therefore your stories will continue to have a disconnect until something changes. If only something could inspire you, maybe help you analyze these so-called emotions you couldn’t comprehend. You needed to remove some of the mystery around your character and really dive in on his arc, understand how he felt. How could you do that? It's not like you could fully visualize it yourself either unless you really began to study those around you more than you already do.

You sat up straighter in your seat and looked around as the lecture hall began to fill slowly. The room had a sort of ancient feel to it with long hazelnut rows of desks pressed side by side against each other in an amphitheater manner. There were diagrams and models of the human body plastered everywhere but none looked straight off of a doctor’s catalog. They looked like Davinci himself drew every skeleton in the room. It also had a small echo especially when the rain hit the wall or glass windows that sometimes tuned out the sound of talking students entering the hall.

You recognized most of the faces and the one who passed you as he went up a few rows seemed to distract you more than the others. Kim Taehyung didn’t wear glasses today but he wore a wool sweater and linen pants. There was a small splotch of gray paint on his knuckle that he hadn't seemed to notice as he swung his book bag onto the desk with a small thud, uncaring if anyone heard and ignored everyone around him.

He was similar to your character, almost. He always seemed closed off and unapproachable but behind his eyes was an aura of emotion that isn’t easily interpreted. You found yourself beginning to scribble down in your journal, just basic things you noted about him.

The lazy, bored look in his eyes that made him look tired and unamused by everything that happened around him.

Then there was his stance. He had good posture but when he sat down in his seat he leaned all the way back with his arms on the table like he was observing every person in the lecture hall, even you.

You knew this because for a second your eyes met with Taehyung’s and in that measly moment you just took in the sight of each other. Taehyung didn’t hold much expression in face but his fingers seemed to twirl his No. 2 pencil a little more intently now. He ran his gaze down from your eyes to the curve of your nose and curl of your lips. There was something about your facial features that he was delighted in studying. When you looked away and gave him a view of your side profile he leaned toward his desk more and the leather sketchbook that rested over his textbook was flipped open as he began to sketch you.

The drawing didn’t mean much to him, it was just a small doodle to pass time, his hands had to always be sketching and you happened to be his distraction today. Usually he doesn’t really pay attention to you when he’s in class, you sit far enough from each other that you never interact and when he catches you in the library you always seem lost in your own world.

He knows your name, he read your story last semester simply because it intrigued him. It was published on the school forum and won an achievement so he checked it out and it was good, your writing is intricate, or at least that’s what he thinks. He’s able to follow along to every word and not be bored or confused but with a certain degree of understanding that the reader needs to learn. There’s an aura of mystery around it, yet it was not something that he couldn’t comprehend and he thinks that’s why he was able to enjoy it.

At the end of the lecture he had three small drawings of you.

“Come on man, it won’t take long, just one drink,” Jungkook begged him for the third time in a row. Despite his friend’s darker exterior dressed in black jeans, a black tee, and a black leather jacket, he was way more outgoing. He was always trying to get Taehyung to go out for drinks or to party but he just doesn’t have the time.

“Not tonight,” Taehyung said as he opened up his pack of cigarettes and took one out, sliding it to his lips before burning the end with his lighter. He handed the pack to Jungkook who took it without question and did the same.

Jungkook released a sigh in disappointment, shaking his head a little as he said, “Whatever man, you say that every night.”

Taehyung shrugged his shoulders as he took a drag and pulled it out between his index finger and thumb, “Then get the hint.”

His friend wasn’t listening anymore, choosing instead to stare at the building in front of him, dimly lit from all the lamp posts. It was just after sunset and the only students around were probably working on assignments like Jungkook and Taehyung. Taehyung took advantage of the art room to work privately and in a bigger space while Jungkook worked in the warehouse where he could work on his new sculpture. Taehyung couldn’t understand why Jungkook cared about whatever was going on at the library till he casually looked over too.

“She looks familiar,” Jungkook said pointing to you as you walked down the sidewalk toward the bus stop. Taehyung looked too, you had a tote bag like most students around here and there was a butterfly clip in your hair but it still looked messy. Your hair was down earlier and at some point you decided to put it up and he realized now that he didn’t have a preference on how hair looks on someone. He likes the style you had earlier and the one you have now too because they enhance your features more.

“That’s Y/n,” Taehyung said casually as they went to the parking lot. Jungkook looked at him curiously before glancing back at you, “You know her?”

Taehyung didn’t have an answer for that so he didn’t give one, he just walked ahead wondering the same thing. “Let’s get a drink,” Taehyung finally gave in and Jungkook immediately cheered. “Yes! Okay, don’t worry, just one.”

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder… that is what every artist has ever been taught. Taehyung has never been able to disagree with a statement more than that one. There is not beauty everywhere, it is not as inclusive as one might think and to truly understand art in the many forms it could take, one needs to understand the meaning of genuine beauty.

It’s quite terrifying in a sense, for one to be able to lose control and fall for the Dionysian seduction and view beauty for what it truly is. It is a raw and exhilarating topic that cannot be defined by just looks or words but more the freedom of life, life is beautiful in its own twisted way and to accept that definition is to be able to portray that in what you do. That’s why Taehyung’s art tends to lean toward a more dark and twisted form. When he creates art he’s not just looking at creating something nice to look at or something with a hidden meaning that no one would ever truly understand. When he creates, he wishes to express human emotion through his work—he wishes to make others feel things they’ve never felt before and that is the beauty he is chasing after.

Beauty is not a person but a feeling and when he looks at you he seems to understand that better.

It’s not just your outward attractiveness that draws him in. It’s the terrifying beauty that you radiate in your gaze, in your mannerisms, in your writing. It intrigues him and if he could put you on a canvas and unravel everything inside you — your fears, your joys, your tears — he would but till then you’re nothing but a familiar stranger that invades his mind when he least expects it.

“Taehyung, your work is beautiful,” his professor said, “Everything you create is effortlessly perfect but…”

He waited with a bated breath, already not liking where this was getting. He watched closely to the way she tilted her head in curiosity, “It’s rather dark, don’t you think? Maybe hard for interpretation an—“

“It’s not made to be interpreted by anything but the way it is,” Taehyung said boldly, “Once art is set for others to create a new meaning for it, is it ever truly art?”

“I guess I am not understanding what you mean,” she said leaning forward against her desk.

Taehyung released a sigh like this conversation with his senior was tedious, “When you look at Picasso’s work, do you think he created it for others to understand? Or was that something that people began to believe? He created art that was unconstraining to himself and his life.”

“Yes but look at Salvador Dali, the entire aspect of surrealism that he used was to unleash the power of imagination and creativity. You can’t just shut your art into a small box for the sake of aesthetic,” she said and that made him scoff, his lip curled in distaste, “And let’s look at Monet? He’s practically what started the entire idea of Impressionism.”

“What it meant to him, how he viewed it at that moment, that was all,” Taehyung said, which made the advisor release a sign, “Claude Monet once said, everyone pretends to understand his art, as if it were necessary to understand when it is only necessary to love.”

“I’m afraid this conversation will go back and forth if we continue,” she said with a huff, already irritated by the way things are going, “The exhibition is in three months, in a month I’ll connect with you on how everything is looking and give you the rundown as well is there anything else you need from me, Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung shook his head and without a goodbye he was getting up from his seat and storming out. Not even a second after the chestnut double doors shut, did he find himself reaching into the pocket of his jeans to get his pack out. The cigarette sat perfectly between his lips as he blocked one side with the hand so the wind didn’t blow his lighter out and he lit the tip, ignoring the ‘No Smoking’ sign just a couple feet away. He couldn’t help but mumble, “Stupid bitch,” under his breath once he finally left the building.

As he rounded the corner, something hit his chest and his free hand immediately the person steady in front of him.

Your hand was on his chest to keep from hitting him and as you looked up, your eyes widened just slightly. Taehyung didn’t say anything as he let you go, brushing against your side and moving around you to leave feeling your eyes on him. You watched him head the way you just came from and finally snapped out of it when you heard your friend call for you.

He turned to look for you seeing you already walking over to some tall and muscular guy. The guy gave you a dimpled smile as he followed after you, no longer in Taehyung’s peripheral.

“Maybe he has a point, Y/n,” Namjoon said as he walked with you to the bus stop, “If you’re struggling then maybe you should think about altering the character more.”

You shook your head in displeasure, “No, I’m not going to change him, I just need to be able to visualize his characteristics.”

Namjoon released a sigh as he pondered over what advice to give you, but came up blank, “I mean… maybe you just need some real inspiration from those around you. ”

The both of you went silent trying to find a solution and you looked up at him curiously. Namjoon would be an amazing reference for a character but he doesn’t fit the image you want him to. He was like light, he was kind hearted and charming and so unbelievably smart but that’s not how you envisioned the main character in your story. The kind of character you had in mind was supposed to act similar to… well, Taehyung. He’s supposed to be a bit mysterious, cold, not necessarily a likable character but someone they can’t help but be curious about.

“Namjoon,” you called his name and for a moment he grew hopeful to the idea that maybe you were thinking of studying him the way you do with others—even if he knew that would never happen. Instead, you came to a stop and looked up at him, “I forgot my laptop in the ffice, I’ve gotta go get it.”

His brows furrowed, looking down at your tote bag, “I’ll come wit—“

“No, you have to work, right?” You asked, already backing away from him, “I don’t want to make you late, I’ll just catch the next bus.”

Before he could argue, you were already taking off in a hurry back down the way the two of you came from. With a sigh he watched you leave wondering why he always seemed to be a couple steps behind you and never beside you. All he’s done since he met you was follow your lead in friendship and outside of it.

Even when the two of you had sex months ago it was always when you wanted and never when he did. If he even thought to ask, all you did was blow him off and then question him on if he’s seeing anyone at the moment. In the same second you would press your lips to his cheek and remind him how much you adored him even when you blew him off he always found the act of it a bit poetic.

He loved you, but it’s a love unreturned and if he wants to stay by you, it has to be with him at the back of your mind and never at the forefront.

With that understanding, he had no choice but to let you go back toward campus walking across fallen leaves and dead branches while he went to the bus alone.

Your legs had taken off before you could even decide where to go and in the end you found yourself heading back the way in which you met with Namjoon—and also the way you bumped into Taehyung. You were never much of the shy type even if it appeared that way, your friends always said you were the selective type—only choosing who to be outgoing with and even then it was rare and required a lot of work to get to you.

They had it easy, Jimin was a childhood friend and Namjoon was in the same writing department as you but that’s as far as your circle went. Well, no, there’s Yoongi too but he’s a pianist and these days he’s so busy with lessons and trips to the orchestra, you barely see him.

Like stated, you were selectively social and right now, you were choosing to find Taehyung so you could formally talk to him. It took you about ten minutes of mindlessly walking through the courtyard to locate him and when you did, you came to a halt. He was just a few feet away now, cigarette between his lips, crouched down against the wall of some historic looking building with castle-like elements and you know he saw you coming when he turned his head and looked right at you.

That was the push that had you walking toward him and saying, “Kim Taehyung?”

“Yes?” He asked, looking you up and down, eyes unable to help themselves as he looked up from your legs to your face. You wore a black fitted turtleneck underneath a brown sweater vest tucked into a black skirt. You wore long 70s style brown boots and mesh tights too. Your hair was pinned back with a hair clip and pins and your ears were lined with simple yet pretty earrings. When his gaze finally met yours, he couldn’t help but take in the sight of you once more.

“My name is—“

“I know your name,” he said with a small glint in his eye, “Obviously.”

You didn’t pull away from his intense stare and watched him bring the cigarette back to his lips, “I thought it would be more appropriate to introduce myself.”

“Mm,” he exhaled looking down at the cement below his feet, flicking the end of the cigarette to let ash fall, “So what could I do for you, Y/n?”

He looked up once more and you bit your lip in thought, “If you are free, I wanted to see if you’d like to get a coffee with me.”

“I don’t like coffee,” he said, finally putting the thing out and standing up, “And it’s almost sunset.”

You blinked in surprise as he stood in front of you now but you didn’t back away, “Then we’ll just have dinner.”

“Thanks,” Taehyung swung his bag over his shoulder, “But I’m kind of busy, I’ve got somewhere to get to.”

He was already walking away to hide his look of surprise. He didn’t expect the two of you to ever really talk and he didn’t really know what to do. He ended up rejecting before he could even truly think it over. He imagined you as just a fantasy — nothing he could ever explore but that he could dream about. He just wanted to look and think about you but never know anything beyond what was on the surface—like a painting.

“And you can’t have a plus one?” You asked in your final effort to get closer to him completely unaware of what he thought of you. You watched him come to a stop, and for a moment you tried to imagine him contemplating. Taehyung turned to face you, “I’m not going anywhere fun.”

You stayed quiet as he went on, “And some might find it scary.”

It seemed like he was trying to warn you as if to let you back out of your own proposal but he wasn’t saying no and that was hopeful. You tilted your chin higher, “As long as you don’t plan on murdering me, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

That made the corners of his lips turn upward in an arrogant smirk, “Okay, Y/n, follow me.”

The walk wasn’t too far from the college but the college was already a bit on the outskirts of the city. All you saw were green, dying hills as autumn threatened to take over and it took you a second to understand where he was taking you until he was leading the way down a steep hill toward an empty and cold graveyard. It was a straight line of jagged tombstones and overgrown plant life entwined around them. There were clear dirt paths leading down row after row of old graves and a few Angel statues but nothing too bad, at least that’s what you’re telling yourself.

“I told you, you might be scared,” Taehyung said as he walked parallel to the graveyard toward a tree that stood tall along the sloping hill, “But this is the best view of twilight, if you want, I could walk you back to campus.”

“No, it’s fine,” you cleared your throat deciding to walk ahead of him so you could be the one sitting upright against the tree. Taehyung dropped his backpack a few feet away from you and began getting his things out.

You didn’t question him, only observed the way he carried on like you weren’t even there. It’s not like you minded, you didn’t have any real agenda to get him to spend time with you and frankly, you felt a bit relieved to see that he wasn’t trying to figure out what you wanted. It was unspoken the way the two of you seemed to think similarly and brought out your tools.

Taehyung didn’t say anything when he flipped his sketchbook open and found a charcoal he could use as he began to sketch without much thought into it. He even made himself comfortable by lying back, using the angle of the hill to help him not lay horizontally and he bent a knee up as a sort of flat surface he could rest his book on. There was a small breeze that carried through his linen shirt and brown trousers but he wasn’t much worried about himself.

He was more worried about you, who had asked to spend time with him but had no real plan to do so. He’ll admit, when he said no it was just on reflex from all the other times he’s out right rejected others before but he only thought it over because he’s been curious of you two. When you told him you would join him for a moment he debated saying no again because this was his favorite place to be to watch the sunset but it wasn’t all that normal. He even tried to warn you and offer to take you back when you saw the graveyard but you didn’t even seem to care when you sat down. Now that he’s looking at you up close, he can see the way your brows furrowed in concentration as you scribbled in your journal, already feeling inspiration.

It’s now that Taehyung is realizing why he’s been so curious. He finds you beautiful, he’s sure he’s mentioned that before, but he finds you beautiful in an unsettling way. Just looking at you seemed to send him into a wave of emotion like you’re exactly what he’s wished to create on canvas. Before he even knew what he was doing, his hands were working away to make another sketch, eyes on you as he worked.

“What are you writing in that little journal of yours?” He found himself asking after some time. The sketch was rough and yet it was so refined that there was no mistaking what it could be. It was a monochromatic sketch of you with your back against the tree, legs straight before you and your hair covering your face with the howl of the wind. Your hands looked delicate when you wrote and you looked so lost in your own work that managed to capture that same essence in his drawing.

When you first looked at him, your eyes went down to the pack of cigarettes he was now messing with and out of curiosity he raised it to you as if asking if you wanted one. Moving to sit forward, you took one and held it between your lips as he dug into his pocket for his zippo lighter, flipping it open and bringing it toward your face to light the cigarette. He watched curiously as you leaned back a little, took an inhale/exhale, and said, “I’ll tell you if you show me what you’ve been doing in that little sketchbook of yours.”

For some reason a small smile came to his face as he laid on his side using his elbow for support and reached over to hand you the sketchbook. You took it with a sense of excitement that quickly turned into disbelief as you looked at it. The back of your index finger hovered over it but never touched for fear that you would smudge it or worse—ash, and when you finally handed it back to him, wordlessly, his cold fingers brushing against sending a warm current down your arm.

At this exchange, Taehyung moved to sit up, not bothering to brush off any loose grass blades off his linen shirt and read over a short passage.

A certain coolness in his gaze that made him appear cruel.

A charming aura that seemed timeless, not modern but ancient like he was created from every classic literature known to man.

His gaze, his smile, his voice—all deep like red velvet.

The list went on, each short sentence followed by another in what one could assume was meant to describe him. He didn’t say anything either as he handed it back to you the same way you had done with his sketchbook. Neither of you were looking for critique or praise, more so acknowledgement of what the other had been doing and once you had it, it was enough.

Taehyung stared forward as the line of bright Orange finally vanished from the sky and a cool blue clouded it. The atmosphere shifted now as darkness began to swim across the sky and you both knew it was time to go. Nothing was said as you both stood up with your things and even less was brought up on your walk back to campus.

It wasn’t until you stood at the bus stop that Taehyung decided to ask, “Are you busy tomorrow?”

“No.”

He pulled out a piece of paper from the pocket in his trousers followed by a pen as he scribbled something down before handing it to you, “Meet me here at 8:00pm.”

You didn’t have to say anything for Taehyung to know you would show and he left without much of a goodbye.

The place you arrived to at 8:00pm on the dot wasn’t exactly what you had in mind but it wasn’t much of a surprise either—it was a warm record bar. The one thing that did seem to surprise you was Taehyung’s choice in music where he preferred jazz over classical. The bar was dimly lit only by shaded, vintage lamps and the small yellow candles near all the booze. The walls were lined with vinyls and the deep mahogany trimming gave the record bar a sort of dark academic charm to it.

When you found Taehyung he was sitting at a small round table fit for two and he had a book in hand—The Picture of Dorian Gray. He wore his usual metal wiring rounded glasses and his dirty blonde hair seemed quite soft and full of life. The dark brown sweater he wore matched well with his tan slacks and you didn’t miss the way eyes would fall on him. It was this charming, educated college boy with a rich father sort of energy that radiates off him, but also the clear look of disinterest written all over his face and it made people curious.

You debated calling his name to let him know you were here but when he looked up in time to catch you walking his way, you were aware that he had been waiting for you and checking the door every couple seconds. Taehyung didn’t shy away from taking in the sight of you in an olive green maxi dress paired with a thin white cardigan tied together at the top of your breasts and below your collarbone. You wore black boot heels this time and when you sat down in front of him he couldn’t help but look at your face now.

“You’re late,” he said as he closed his book and set it to the side. You didn’t even bother to look at the Swiss watch on your wrist as you said, “It’s 8:00, like you said.”

“Yes but what I meant was 7:55 which should have translated to 7:45,” he said annoyingly arrogant as he slid a menu toward you, “As per the rules of a first date.”

His tone was serious as was his body language and yet you could see the hint of amusement in his attempt to hide a smile. You smiled softly, setting your bag down next to you, “I was unaware this was a first date.”

“So you assumed this was the second?” Taehyung had a teasing tone now, “I, personally, would not call an evening together at the cemetery a first date.”

“I do say, I’m a bit surprised to even know you consider this a date after we barely talked at all yesterday,” you said as a waitress came over with a customer service smile. Conversation floated between you two with ease.

“Are we ready to order?”

Taehyung looked at you but you weren’t all that hungry so he ordered a single slice of pastry for the two of you to share, “Yesterday was just to enjoy and accept the presence of one another, tonight is to communicate and learn.”

Taehyung never cared much for investing time into someone he was with, usually if he ever showed any interest in someone or was short lived. He’s not sure what would happen exactly but once the excitement of pining for someone romantically wore off… he just did not care anymore. There was too much to handle and he didn’t have time for any of it—not the clinginess, the crying, the whining. God, the whining got to him.

Why do you ignore me so much?

You’re always too busy painting to notice me?

Taehyung, I just want you to spend time with me.

It was the constant whining that he hated because they just did not get that he was completely devoted to his art and nothing else mattered as much as it did. Yes… maybe the small ounce of excitement he felt helped inspire him but… well he does not need whoever he slept with anymore.

The infatuation had worn off and he’s back to being alone again but now he’s a little too curious about you. Hence, why he asked you out first and in such a haste.

“Alright,” you said, “So then tell me something small, for instance, what time did you arrive? 7:45?”

“7:30 actually,” Taehyung said as he lifted his mug of hot tea to his lips, “I had business to take care of around campus and I didn’t want to make the trip back home.”

“Well if you asked for my number I would’ve arrived sooner.”

“It takes away the romantic aspect of waiting for the other to arrive without hearing from them—maybe I’ll write you a letter instead,” he teased. You just laughed softly and asked, “I didn’t peg you as much of a romantic. And what business?”

“Nothing too important.” Taehyung said vaguely and despite your curiosity you didn’t push him to answer. The corner of his lips raised as he looked at you, looked at him and found himself saying, “But as for being a romantic? It depends on who you ask.”

You focused on what he said about that instead of what his business was and that made him happy. What he did was not that important but it was necessary after what had happened with his advisor. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around what she had told him and in the end he made and impulsive decision to gift her something that might make her see things from his point of view. Of course it was slightly biased but he believed his piece really explained his views on beauty enough for her to understand.

Taehyung delivered two paintings to her inbox earlier. The first one was a more finished painting of you, still slightly distorted and a bit dark but there was no hiding the romantic element that radiated off of it. He called it ‘Genuine Beauty’. The second painting was a distorted and bright picture of his professor with exaggerated features that weren’t pleasing to the eye and he called it, ‘Beauty in the Eye of the Beholder’.

A true sentient on what he thought of her words. He wanted to know how she would twist the grotesque image of herself into something beautiful.

“What have you been up to aside from writing me?” Taehyung asked, looking at you with interest.

“Aside from that, I’m afraid not much else,” you confessed, “I’ve been in a sort of dry spell trying to understand my character.”

“Tell me about them.”

“Well, it’s a him and he’s similar to you.”

He listened closely to each word you said, taking in the curve of your mouth when you talked and the way you gestured with your hands. He’ll admit, the character did seem very similar to him so he can understand your curiosity in him and the fact that you seemed to lose yourself in your craft didn’t go unnoticed by him. He simply nodded his head and replied with short answers when asked.

In the end, he offered the only thing he could, “Let me be your case of study then, and in return you’ll be mine.”

You smiled this time, a small arrogant smile as you said, “Will you paint me like one of your French girls?”

He understood the reference and found himself saying, “If you write me like one of the lovers in your poems.”

By the end of the night you found yourself in the back of a taxi driving straight to his place under the pretense of another drink. Conversation seemed to flow with ease between you and it ranged from Davinci to Monet, Shakespeare to Milton and whatever was in between. Even when Taehyung asked such a heavy question, you didn’t seem to struggle to find an answer.

“Do you believe in love?” He had asked as the cab stopped in front of a house similar to an upstate New York townhome. He had you by the hand helping you out of the car and held onto you as he led you up the stone path.

“I have to, I’m a writer,” you told him and he seemed to pull you into him more.

“But what is it that you believe it to be?”

The question did make you think a little bit. It’s not that you thought Taehyung had an ulterior motive in asking you such a thing; it’s not like the two of you were seriously into the idea of it but you wanted to give him the right answer—one that truly described you and your ideals.

You didn’t answer his question right away as he let you into his home which was no different than what you imagined it to be. His apartment was in an old building turned into luxury Victorian styled apartments with modern eclectic touches. It was a put-together mess of sketches and canvases littered around the place. The floor was made of a dark, polished hardwood and his furniture all seemed worn through with velvet cushions and engraved wooden trimmings. He had floor-to-ceiling bay windows with twine hanging across them and papers clipped on with laundry pins to dry. There was a warm feel to the place and it had everything to do with his dedication to earthy tones and shades of Morocco red.

There were painting supplies everywhere from scattered charcoals and cans of linseed oil for his paints. There were stacks of literature books and various art ones piled high on nearly every surface and yet it all seemed to be organized to what you could assume only he could understand. Taehyung didn’t even seem to mind the clutter as he chose instead to ask, “Red or White?”

“Red.” You responded quite simply before resuming your studying of his place, the fireplace on one wall was surrounded by canvases and books—same as the vintage bookshelf and for a moment you wondered if his bedroom looked any similar. The thought vanished quickly when you got the smallest hint of which room that might be from the open door down the hall. He had plain gray sheets on an unmade bed and the furniture in there was scarce, like he barely spent any time there and if he did it wasn’t to sleep—the bags under his eyes told you so.

“Have you thought of an answer to my question yet?” Taehyung asked, reminding you yet again of what he asked earlier. He handed you a wine glass and you took it with a nod in gratitude as he left you to find a record to play.

“I’ve had an answer all along, I just wasn’t sure how you would feel about it,” you said and you could see him smile as he moved the needle over the start of the vinyl, Nocturnes, Op 9 began to play.

“I’m not looking for anything in particular, just an insight on what you think,” he said honestly and with a small sigh you decided to tell him.

“I think love is more so… a choice than an emotion?” You finally said as you watched him take a seat on the floor near his coffee table instead of the velvet couch behind him. He motioned for you to join him, “How so?”

“Anyone can feel love at any given moment but it is fleeting,” you sat down, knees nearly touching his, “Tell me, have you ever felt in love before?”

Your question seemed to catch him off guard yet he answered as bluntly as he would regarding anything else, “Only with my paintings.”

“And that had been a choice, to continue, right?” You asked, “Love like every emotion is temporary and inconsistent. Yes, doing certain things or being with certain people might invoke these feelings but once that has dwindled it is your choice to remain in that constant state of loving something—or someone. I love writing, I always have because it is my choice. I choose to subject myself to the hardships that come with my work even at times where I think I hate it. Even at times when I choose to give up I think about the joy it brings me, the emotions that pour out of me and onto every letter and word I put down on paper. I choose to love writing, I choose to devote myself to it and I choose to put it above anything else in the world, even my own relationships.”

Taehyung could see it in your eyes how strongly you felt about it. Your answer had gone slightly off topic but he understood your reference to it in every word you spew, “So when I say I believe in love… I don’t mean it in regards to a feeling that transpires throughout inconsistently, but I mean it as a choice to continue to feel that way even when it hurts and I can’t take it any more.”

A silence seemed to drag on between you and for a moment you wondered if you said too much and sounded too stupid. Taehyung seemed to inhale and exhale at once, “Well, I do say, we have very similar ideals. I don’t think I could’ve put it into better words than a writer even if I tried.”

You couldn’t help but smile, hiding it behind your wine glass, “Maybe you’ll paint them instead.”

“Maybe, I’ll paint you instead,” Taehyung said with a pale yet serene expression like he was scared to speak his words and exhilarated by them all the same.

How could someone seem to get lost and sound so dazed when talking about writing? Did writing mean as much to you as his art did to him? Is that why there was never a need for many words to be spoken between you? Was that why he was able to enjoy your presence so long and so quickly when before you would never even speak? Was there always this underlying connection between your minds and how you viewed art and your world?

You rested your glass on the table as you took in his living room again and all its character, there was a set of paintbrushes just laying on his table and you reached for one. The wood was smooth between your fingertips as you twisted it before looking up at him with a curious gaze, “With one of these?”

Taehyung simply nodded his head watching you lift your skirt up just enough to expose a bit of leg and you brushed the art tool against your calf, “It’s soft.”

His tongue ran over his lips and he leaned forward to gently take the brush back. You were nearing an apology for taking it without asking him first but he simply scooted closer to you on the blanket he laid beneath you and placed your legs over his, skirt of your dress rising even further until he was running the brush over the curve of your knee, “I use it to blend shadows, like this.”

The brush felt soft against your skin, sending tingles down your spine as he ran it over you in circular motions, eyes on yours.

“I tried painting once,” you said as his finger slowly traded with the brush until he was softly touching you, “I wasn’t that good, I couldn’t portray the right picture.”

Taehyung just smiled as he felt you hand go over his while taking the brush back until you were tracing the curve of his wrist, “Paint with your words, and show me you’d write me, like your character.”

“He is very similar to you,” you said, “In almost every aspect and I didn’t realize that until today.”

“Mm,” Taehyung hummed in content when you lifted the brush toward the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, teasing him without realizing it. You seemed to use the brush against him without much thought of what you were doing and how it affected him. You should know, though, that the feel of his art tool against his skin would feel good to him. The soft bristles tickled his collarbone, “How would he make love?”

That seemed to catch you by surprise as you slowed your touch to look up at him. He just bit his lip, hand on your leg caressing it as he waited for your response. Without missing a beat, you said, “Slowly, starting with a sweet kiss.”

A small smirk came to his face, one that only he could pull off without looking cocky. He looked smart and pretty with his glasses and blonde hair, when he spoke he made it sound poetic and when he looked at you it felt like he was focused on whatever was beneath the surface. You watched him push his glasses up the slope of his nose and before you knew it, he was leaning closer, lithe fingers coming up to touch your chin and tilt your jaw.

Although you knew what was coming, there was no denying the small second of hesitation that coursed through you when his lips so tenderly pressed against yours, his voice low as he asked, “Like this?”

You licked your lips despite the extremely small space between yours and his and without the ounce of hesitation from earlier, your hand came up to his neck where you pulled him into you for a real kiss. It started off slowly just like the two of you knew it would but there was no denying the desire that laced throughout it. At first all that happened was your mouths moving against each other, getting used to the idea of kissing — something neither of you have done in a while. Then, it became more feverish. If possible, you seemed to move closer with your hand on his thigh to support yourself. You were on your knees leaning into him and he had a single hand against the floor to support his sitting position while the other was cupping your chin for the best angle. There was a growing intensity between your mouths, lips moving more forcefully now, saliva gradually increasing when you felt his tongue make a swiping motion against your lips.

“Or like this?” His voice had become more hoarse with need. He enjoyed feeling the way your body seemed to lean toward his and he seemed to ask, “What would he do next?”

“It’s not what he would do next,” you said as you moved without your own violation and trailed your lips along the curve of his jaw, “But what would happen to him next.”

Taehyung’s head seemed to tip back as he used both of his hands to keep him upright while you moved between his patted legs to kiss down his neck. He licked at his lips, slowly blinking at the first feel of your tongue licking his ear lobe before you sucked it into your mouth making a tingle run down his spine. Your warm breath tickling his ear made his breath bitch and it didn’t take you long to realize that you had found his weak spot. Unable to help yourself you brought your mouth back to his for a kiss that was much needier than any of the ones prior.

“Y/n,” Taehyung’s throat was dry and it made his voice raspier than usual, “Touch me more.”

The words surprised you. You didn’t take him for much of a womanizer but you didn’t think he would seem this touch starved. The last person you had slept with had been your dear friend, Namjoon, and when you realized feelings were beg bring to get involved you were to end the rendezvous that had transpired between you two in an effort to save the friendship and his feelings. You couldn’t explain why you could never see him as more than a friend—and you couldn’t explain why it was so easy to view Taehyung as something more. Your mind had been drawn to him before your body and yet it all felt the same.

You began to crawl away from him and in an effort to keep this going, he went after you with another kiss before your hand touched his chest to keep him in place. It got to the point where Taehyung wasn’t sure if it was the cashmere brown sweater he wore that made his body heat up, or if it was being too close to the fireplace but he felt himself begin to break into a sweat.

He stretched his legs out before him when he got the hint of what you wanted to do watching you shimmy down until you were nearly eye level with his pants and the evident bulge becoming more prominent with each passing second. Taehyung was not ashamed of how quickly you seemed to get to him and his body’s reaction to you. Sex was a normal thing, it was poetic and passionate if done with the right person and he hasn’t done it in a while—a long while. It was completely normal for him to release a light gasp when your hand grazed his inner thigh just inching toward his growing erection.

The two of you made eye contact once more, his lip caught between his teeth and his eyelids low in a lustful gaze that matched your own. There was a strong attraction toward each other — infatuation if you will — and you can’t say there’s romantic feelings between you but there’s no denying that there has been the underlying sexual tension that rose from a clear understanding of each other’s devotion to your work. It turns you on to know he seems to connect with your ideals.

You didn’t even realize Taehyung had moved a hand behind you until he was pulling on the back of your head to drag you back into a needy kiss. Your hands had already gone toward his slacks and you had been unzipping the front as the two of you made out once more. Taehyung’s hand fell back to the ground with a groan as you yanked at his underwear making him lift his hips enough for them to come down with his pants. A small hissing sound left his lips as his hard dick finally made its appearance, springing free of its right confines, hard enough to already angle toward his navel.

Taehyung was not ashamed by the way his stomach caved in with a deep breath at the first feel of your hand wrapping around his tip spreading the beads of precum that had already dribbled out the slit. His tongue was in your mouth, sliding against yours with you swallowing each groan he let out when you began to stroke his length slowly from base to tip. Like earlier, when you tried pulling away from the kiss to catch your breath, he was following after you to stop you from breaking apart from him.

A thin line of drool connected your mouth to his as you finally pulled back, biting down on your lip. He watched you look down at his exposed member, leaning down until you were face to face with it. His long fingers curled around your hair, slowly pushing your head down just a middle until he felt the first tender lick of your tongue along his tip. Taehyung’s entire body reacted to the way you tentatively licked his head teasingly making a small shudder travel right through him.

You have to say, Taehyung has one of the prettiest dicks you’ve ever seen and you just couldn’t help but want to savor it. It was just so pretty and you found yourself wanting to play with it some more. Your hand held onto him at his base as you ran your tongue down the side of his length lathering it in drool to aid your closed fist.

His brows scrunched together as he attempted to watch what you were doing. He could feel your hand jerking him off as you teasingly kissed up his side and tip, tongue swirling around his slit that leaked precum. He just couldn’t see you over the bulk of his sweater.

With an annoyed huffed, he released your hair to pull at his sweater with one arm as he brought it up toward his chest and tucked it under his jaw. Just as he had it fixed, a low and deep sound vibrating in his chest feeling your lips finally surround his tip, sucking gently before relaxing and taking more of him inside. You made yourself relax so you could loosen your jaw enough to accommodate his length as you began to suck him off, tongue licking along the bottom side everytime you bobbed your head up and down.

You had a firm hand on his upper thigh as the other was at his base against his pelvic bone to hold his hips down and let your mouth do all the work. His sweater slipped from under his chin making him groan as he threw his head back, “So good.”

He kept his gaze on the ceiling taking in the feel of your warm and tight mouth taking his cock so deeply. You looked up at his stomach trying to see his face but with the way his head was tilted back, you just couldn’t. All you could see was his chest rise and lower with each breathy sigh he let out, ducking his cock deeper down your throat.

Unable to help yourself, you moved your hand to his navel, feeling his breathing better and he needed to see what you looked like with his dick in your mouth.

He held the end of his sweater between his teeth as he stared down the expanse of his torso to where you laid between his legs swallowing around his cock with a dark look in your eyes that had him muffling a moan.

His hips bucked helplessly into you making you swallow more and more of his length till you couldn’t breathe properly anymore and needed to get off. The hand you still had on his dick began to stroke him, wrist flicking on each upward stroke to make your palm run along his slit while you caught your breath. You watched him in complete awe, he was so hard and his balls tightened against that you couldn’t help but lick between them.

"Fuck," the sweater made it hard to hear him as hw sank his teeth into it feeling it begin to moisten annoyingly so bur he was not going to miss the sight of you kissing below his cock to his balls.

When you finally decided to take him back in your mouth there was no slow build up, it was quick and sudden as you took him down your throat to the point where you gagged around him. The way he bit into the sweater looked like a restraint and he looked so pretty with the fire reflecting off his tan, bare chest and his blonde hair was just a knotted mess from how often he shook it.

“Y/n, you feel so good,” You were never much of a talker during sex, especially if it wasn’t genuine and just superficial dirty talk but he sounded so good moaning your name even if you couldn’t hear him properly.

There wasn’t much warning aside from the incessant moaning that fell from his lips and was swallowed in cashmere for you to know he was close. His hips bucked messily into your mouth, cock twitching with the need to just let go and when you met your mouth with your fist jerking off the rest of him… he just couldn’t take anymore.

Taehyung’s head fell back with a dry moan as the urge to cum got the best of him and he let go in your mouth. You didn’t seem to mind either, once the surprise of the suddenness had worn off, you didn’t hesitate but to try and swallow as much of the thick semen as you could, not at all bothered by the taste of it. Taehyung had to let his sweater go to breathe heavily through his parted lips as he used his elbows to sit himself up in the blanket, trying to understand what had just happened.

“Mm,” you hummed, proud of yourself for making him cum down your throat and you sat up to look at him. Taehyung met your eyes with his feeling heavy with need as he licked his dry lips before forcing himself to sit up properly so he could drag you into a deep kiss. You released a light mewl in surprise, kissing him back eagerly with his hand below your ear on your neck guiding you to angle your head one way while he went the other.

There was not a single part of him that felt bothered at the taste of himself on your tongue, if anything it only made him want you more so he could repay you for treating him so well. Once you had gotten lost in your little makeout, it was easy for you to follow his lead as he moved over you to get you to lie down in his place. The only time he pulled away from you was to finally free himself from the confines of his stupid sweaters and kick off his pants the rest of the way. It didn’t take you long to get what he wanted and you hurried to remove your cardigan feeling the straps of your dress begin to slip off your shoulders. Taehyung dragged you to him, kissing along the exposed skin of your collarbone and shoulder, hands sliding down your back till they could inch the dress down and off of you, making you take it off through the bottom so he wouldn’t have to pull away again.

Your bra and underwear were made of a thin crème colored lace that looked pretty against your complexion and soft between his fingertips as he ran his hands over your covered breasts that had been taunting him all night.

A quiet gasp left your lips due to the way his lips kissed down the valley of your breaths, soft hair tickling your neck. Taehyung’s hands held onto your sides, sliding them up to the end of your bra, feeling you arch your back into his affections until he was able to move them under your to grab at the clasp. Once he was able to unhook it, he tugged it off your arms letting you throw it to the side and dragged him into another kiss when he cupped your bare tits in his warm hands, using his thumbs to rub over your hardening nipples.

“Taehyung,” you whined softly against him, eyes on the ceiling when he began to leave love bites along your neck, traveling his wet mouth lower and lower down your stomach.

“Hm,” he hummed in acknowledgement, making his way between your legs while his hands groped your chest loving the softness of your skin under his rough painter’s hands.

As Taehyung slipped further between your legs till his face was near your spread legs, he looked down. The lace underwear was transparent enough for him to see just a bit underneath and he could see a small shadow of slick over where your cunt should be. He tried to look up at you through his blonde fringe and you sat forward enough to brush it back, smiling as he pressed a teasing kiss against the hood of your clit over your underwear. You lied back down letting yourself relax feeling his fingers hook under the hem of your panties till he was tugging it off and move your thighs over his shoulders so he four fit snugly against you.

Taehyung didn’t waste time teasing you, he had already been so turned on that not even cumming down your throat was able to calm his raging hormones. He just wanted to have you as soon as he could, any way he could, and that meant with his tongue stiffening as he parted your folds around him before licking flatly toward your clit. A light moan left your lips as your clit immediately reacted to stimulation, a small gush of slick pushing out of your pussy with arousal. Taehyung was not inexperienced in the art of making someone cum undone on his to hue and that was becoming more and more evident with the way he made out with your cunt like it was your mouth.

“Oh my god,” you threw your head back, out of breath, as his tongue began to flick messily at your clit while hands slid further down your inner thighs until he was using his thumbs to pull your folds apart for him. You could feel your wetness begin to drip further down but he was quick to leave your clit and lap his tongue against your wet entrance where your arousal seemed to form a puddle at. With the way his thumbs kept you open, you felt everything.

Every now and then his thumb would teasingly push in just a little more than before, acting like he didn’t even notice he was doing it while he hungrily sucked on your clit, tugging it between his lips. His thumb was rubbing against your labia, pressing into it, teasing your entrance every now and then by pushing into it until he felt your legs begin to tremble around him. Unable to help himself, he got a big more rough, tonguing your clit with such effort that his head shook with eagerness, swallowing your slick and pressing his face into your cunt to taste all that you had to offer.

“Oh,” you breathed out shakily, hand sinking into his hair when he nosed at your clit, tongue joining his finger as he thrusted it into you, “I-I, oh god.”

“Mhm,” Taehyung nodded, urging you to let go of him and you had to bite your lip to keep from moaning. Your thighs tried shutting but his head didn’t let you and instead you pressed them against him making him groan with need, eyes nearly rolling as he doubled his efforts.

Your throat became dry as you planted heavily, hips bucking against his mouth until finally you felt the knot in your stomach come undone. His motions did not miss a beat in licking everything you had to offer as your orgasm came in a wave.

“S-so, good,” you breathed out tiredly feeling your pussy walls clenching around nothing and as much as you wanted to just be done, you needed him inside you. When he came up to kiss you, you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him flush against you so his hard cock rutted against your wet pussy. The taste of each other on your tongues was what made it easy for you two to want to keep going without the thought of repercussions. His hand slid between your sweaty bodies to hold his cock, lining it up with your entrance, bumping into your clue as he refused to break away from the kiss.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close as the two of you looked at each other with such need, such want that your lips didn’t spend too long apart from each other.

Your tongue met his just as his cock met the inside of your pussy, taking it slowly as he stroked himself with your slick to ease himself in better. His dick was rock hard, and your pussy was so fucking wet he couldn’t help but moan into your mouth as you took him in.

Taehyung has to hold onto you with a hand on your waist to keep you from sliding away from him too much as the blanket wrinkles on his wooden floor. He had his other tucked by the side of your head looking down at you lovingly as he finally began to thrust, “Tell me if it’s too much, love.”

“Mhm,” you said softly, legs falling apart even more to accommodate his as he dug his knees into the floor so he use his hips to fuck you better. A groan left his lips at the expert roll of your pelvis against his taking more and more of his length inside your tight walls.

“You make me feel so full,” you moaned gently into his ear as he dropped his head down against your neck to try and ignore the fact that your pussy around his dick without any protective layer between them felt so fucking good. You were already so close and he’s barely started. He fucked you slowly but firmly, getting himself used to being inside you and sucking on your neck, his hand left your hip to cup your breast once more and you gasped when he pinched your nipple.

“So tight,” Taehyung breathed out heavily with a single touch thrust that had your walls tightening around him, “So good for me.”

He did it again, and once again drew another moan out of you, repeating his thrusts more roughly than before until you were moaning out a string of his name.

Taehyung was well endowed and you never doubted that for even a second. He knew how to have sex, not just to fuck, but to have sex. It wasn’t just loud groans and rough thrusts. He was sensual, he kissed your neck, whispered sweet words of praise in your ear, touch your body as he fucked you almost passionately—unlike the usual guys you hook up with.

“It’s like you were made for me,” Taehyung groaned, brows scrunched together in concentration as he pulled back to sit and swing your right leg over him to press against your left until you were nearly lying on your side. He laid down next to you, curving his body against yours and lifting your leg back and held it up with his knee as he fucked you from the side. His lips were against your ear, whispering, “Just for me, like my own creation.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, “Just for you, please Taehyung, I’m so close.”

You looked straight out of a vintage erotica film. His apartment was warm due to the fireplace and comforting because of the classical music playing. The moon looked over you as you had sex, nearly love making, lying on your sides with his body cuddled into yours, fucking you with his cock while groping your breasts in his hands. You had to angle your head back and then your neck to kiss him and he swallowed your mouth with his, thrusts getting tougher as he curled around you, “Me too, love, all for you.”

“So paint me,” you moaned, fucking back against him.

For a moment he wondered if you meant on a canvas, or with his cock in your pussy, but he realized he would gladly do both if you let him. Your hand slid back to guide his hips into yours, “Cum, Taehyung, inside me, please.”

“Oh god,” a low growl left his lips as he dug his face into your hair, “Fuck, Y/n, d-don’t tempt me.”

“Do it,” your hand came up to his hair now, dragging his head toward yours until your lips met in a messy kiss, “I’m going to cum, Tae, please.”

It wasn’t a good idea. You were on the pill but he didn’t know that, all he knew was that he wasn’t wearing a condom and he wanted to fill you with so much cum that he painted you white.

“Mhm,” he moaned when you tugged on his bottom lip between your teeth and his hand pinched your hips, “Cum, Y/n, please—oh fuck.”

The only thing that came from you two was the sound of skin slapping as the urge to cum overtook you both and you were fucking like rabbits in heat. Nothing but animalistic grunts left him as he finally felt the flood of release you let go around with him with a whine of his name and before he knew it, he was cumming.

You immediately felt full with his release as it joined yours, cock pulsing inside you as he waited a moment to reel his emotions back in, sweaty forehead pressed against yours, “So good.” He hugged you closely, breathing heavily into your neck, softly kissing your skin affectionately.

It took you both some time to regain awareness of what had just happened and you lied on the fur blanket he had tossed on the floor. The fire sizzled behind you and some classical song [you were ashamed to admit you didn’t know] was playing. Taehyung seemed to be more in control of himself now and reached up to his small table in search of his pack. Once he had a cigarette between his lips, he lay back down next to you to catch his breath, pressing it to yours next.

There was a sort of glow to your skin, your eyes shined with the night sky reflecting through the windows. Light came from the fire not far behind and a small dim lamp in the corner yet the moon was still casted over you two.

His eyes traced your features once more and before he knew it, he was saying something unexpected, “She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.”

Despite the way your heart seemed to stop, your brows furrowed, “What?”

Taehyung took another drag of his cigarette, “Who wrote that? ‘She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen’ I read it somewhere… ‘With stars in her eyes’.”

Your eyes seemed to widen as you thought it over for a second. A sense of realization flooded you but even knowing you might be right, you still shyly asked, “Virgina Woolf?”

“Yes, I believe so, ‘She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen, with stars in her eyes and veils in her hair.’ I read it years ago,” Taehyung stared out at the moon through the bay windows, “Anyways, it just came to mind, and reminded me of you.”

There was a cloud of smoke drifting into nothing like they were his words being absorbed all around you. After that a silence seemed to fill the room and it was so calming in fact that you found yourself lulled to sleep against his chest.

It wasn’t until hours later when you had woken to loud noises, did you realize that he had not had the luxury of peaceful post-sex sleep.

The first thing you had noticed in your haze of sleep was the sky still blue out and the fire still crackling behind you. The second was that you still slept on the floor and Taehyung was not beside you anymore. It took you some time to realize all the noise that had woken you up was coming from him and his quick brush strokes.

Taehyung had a pair of jeans on and a smock. He didn’t even bother with a shirt, just slipped the smock over his bare chest and he sat on the floor with a pallet full of paint in his hands as he did soft strokes on his canvas. He was so focused that he didn’t seem to mind his glasses which had slipped down to the tip of his nose, lips slightly parted in concentration and eyes bouncing around his painting.

You wondered what this meant for you. You didn’t know what time it was but the way he worked so diligently didn’t even make you want to stay, what if it would bother him? You don’t want to do that and he seems to have already forgotten you were there and what you had just done. With a small sigh you looked around for all of your things, finishing getting dressed and in search of your shoes and bag.

Taehyung’s strokes were fast and agile, he didn’t even have to think of how he was painting, he was just moving mindlessly and mixing all the right colors and blending in all the right places. You took a seat on the sofa trying to put your boots back on.

“What are you doing?” Taehyung asked but his eyes never left the canvas. You could barely hear him over the sound of the record player still playing and it took you a second to know he was even talking to you.

You looked up curiously, “Um… it’s late, I should probably go, I don’t want to disturb your work.”

You were very understanding actually. There are many times you’ve woken up in the middle of the night to write and you didn’t waste time on thinking of anything else while doing it so if Taehyung was the same about his painting then you didn’t want to bother him.

Taehyung pushed his glasses up with the tip of his brush as he finally looked at you, “You won’t disturb me. Stay.”

He watched as you brought your lower lip between your teeth in thought before saying, “Seriously Tae, I don’t mind leaving. You’re working, I understand.”

“But I mind,” Taehyung said in his deep voice that sounded even deeper this late with the fire in the fireplace still crackling and Beethoven’s String Quartet No. 14 playing in the background. You didn’t say anything for a moment and he ran a hand through his messy hair, a small paint streak coating a strand, “Won’t you stay, Y/n? I’ve been in a slump and right now it just hit me all at once and I think it’s because of you. Please, won’t you stay?”

“Can I watch?”

Taehyung did not hesitate to nod his head and motion for you to sit on the floor next to him so you moved quickly to do so.

By the end of the night you watched him paint until dawn with your head resting against his back adoringly. His brush strokes were hypnotizing and the way he captured the light perfectly had you in awe, especially when you realized it was a painting of you.

It inspired you the way he was so devoted to his work and it reminded you of yourself.

Your days carried on as usual after that night with Taehyung. The only differences being ones that involved him. For instance, he has called you a couple times —he’s completely against the act of texting. It’s never anything major, usually to ask how your day has been or to get coffee. There was no sign of an actual relationship but it was close to it.

Today you had your shared anatomy class and he sat next to you instead of behind you like he normally would.

You’re not very fond of the fact that he’s distracting you more than you would like him to but it’s something you can’t explain. Your pen scribbled away in your yellow page notebook with word after word just piecing together effortlessly. Taehyung was utterly fascinated by it all, sometimes you wouldn’t even look down but your pen seemed to never fully lift off the page. You filled page after page in the three hour class, eyes on the professor but nothing you wrote down had to do with what he was teaching.

Every now and then you would look over at him and your eyes would meet, he would raise a brow and you would give him a smile, before looking down to write.

“I don’t think you heard a single thing he said today,” Taehyung said once the two of you made your way out of the lecture hall side by side. From the way you stared off into space, lips moving every now and then as if mouthing silent words, he knew you weren’t listening. He doubts you meant to ignore him but clearly you seemed to be in your own world right now, just thinking about writing and writing and he gets it.

You weren’t thinking of anything else, and he knows this because he had to grab onto your waist and pull you back to keep you from walking right into the pouring rain just outside. You seemed to snap back into reality and looked around, “Did you say something?”

Taehyung was opening his umbrella for you, pulling you under it beside him, “I’ve written notes for you, you seemed a bit distracted to take them yourself today.”

Your eyes slowly widened in surprise as it finally dawned on you that you had spent the last three hours doing nothing but writing about him. You came to a sudden stop and he waited there beside you with the rain pounding on his umbrella. With a small sigh, he let go of you to rummage through his bag with his free hand and took out his notebook, “I wrote two of everything.”

“Taehyung,” you said, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he said with a shrug, “But you were so lost in your writing I didn’t want anything disturbing you. I had no problem with it, I’m a fast writer and a good listener.”

“Thank you,” you finally began to walk again now that you couldn’t bear the cold standing in one place, “I am bad at focusing on anything else when I write.”

“I understand,” he had to speak up so you could hear him over the rain, “And if you do not think I would be a bother, maybe you’ll let me watch you write more?”

“You’ll get bored,” you said as the two of you walked toward his car, a vintage Chevrolet Corvette that belonged to his grandfather.

“Watching you?” He asked, holding the door open for you, “Never.”

Your apartment was how he pictured it—books and papers scattered everywhere. You were still much neater than him but not by much, clearly the two of you focused too much on your craft that it’s completely taken over everything.

Your place was small yet spacious and well furnished with vintage chairs and mahogany bookshelves. There was a slight clutter of books upon books and dead plants that didn’t get enough sun with the curtains closed. It was warm and had your lovely scent. There was a stack of papers on a desk next to a laptop and an expensive looking typewriter.

There wasn’t much of a conversation going on between you, the last time you said something to him was when you asked him if he needed a drink. Your back was to him and he spent about an hour or so sitting alone on the daybed as he drew in his sketchbook.

After some time when you finally decided to join him, you were exhausted and physically drained. You lied down with your head on his lap looking up at him when his hand began to caress your cheek. “Taehyung.”

“Yes, my love?” He asked with his gaze meeting yours. The name just slipped and he didn’t care to take it back, only watched you curiously still waiting to hear what you would say. You blinked once, “I think I’m beginning to understand better.”

You had been writing nonstop for a long time but for the first time it felt like you finally understood your work.

There was no way to explain it but these interactions with Taehyung—your living reverie—have opened your eyes to his character and the way you wanted to write him in the first place. He was everything you had been searching for.

He leaned back, startled by the sudden way you sat up, hand around his looking at him, “You.”

“Me?” Taehyung asked with his hands on your waist, shifting you more on his lap, “You understand me?”

All it took was one nod of your head for him to be pulling you into a kiss meeting you halfway. He had a hand on your chin, angling your head opposite of his letting the kiss deepen, soon he was tracing the curve of your neck with his jaw. Every ounce of lust and greed poured out in his fingers when he touched you.

It didn’t take Jungkook long to realize something about his friend seemed different. He was used to Taehyung isolating himself when he had a wave of creativity. There would be days on end where Jungkook would call only for every call to be ignored. He would even write his friend letters but he never answered him. When he was back to normal, Taehyung would look tired like he hadn't eaten or slept in days.

Right now, Jungkook sees Taehyung but he doesn’t think Taehyung sees him. Despite sitting across from him, he wouldn’t look his way. Instead he was staring out the large windows that overlooked the courtyard

“Have you eaten?” Jungkook asked, looking up from his sketchbook. The two had been on the second floor of the library this evening studying classical art techniques. Jungkook had gotten bored and began to sketch up an idea for another sculpture while Taehyung drew someone he couldn’t recognize. His friend didn’t even so much as flinch and give any sign that he was listening.

A small scoff left his lips, “Taehyung.” With an annoyed huff, he reached for his sketchbook and watched with a confused expression, “Who is this?”

It was quite detailed despite how little time he had to draw this and Jungkook was in awe. For a second he wondered if this was original work from Taehyung, all created from his mind but as he followed Taehyung’s gaze out the window, he realized it wasn’t.

It was you.

You sat on a wooden bench facing the swan fountain and there was a book in your hands. Jungkook couldn’t make out the book but seemed to have all your attention because you stopped every now and then to highlight something then jot it down in a notebook. There were powder blue headphones on your head and you were in a red lace long sleeve top with roses embroidered on and under was a white shirt. The black skirt you wore reached below your knees with a slit on the side that exposed your boots and over it all, you had on a black coat. He’ll admit, you did look rather captivating against the dead green of the lawn and trees paired with the foggy sky from days on end of rain.

Taehyung seemed to have found his newest muse and it was all he could think about.

“Are you still interested in her?” Jungkook finally asked, catching the way a small smile seemed to fall on Taehyung’s face—something he rarely got to see despite how easily he gave them to you. Jungkook did recognize you in the drawing better once he got a good look at you. He had almost forgotten seeing you weeks ago when he was with Taehyung, but he had certainly forgotten his friend’s knowledge and curiosity of you.

“Only a little,” Taehyung said, ignoring the way Jungkook looked at him with disbelief. He was used to his friend having a sudden infatuation with a certain person but they were short lived and always ended with the poor girl crying about how cold he was—Jungkook knows because he was always there to pick up their broken pieces with a night in his bed [Taehyung never cared].

“She’s hot,” Jungkook said, half teasingly to read how his friend would feel. Taehyung merely gave him a side glance in acknowledgment but the smile he had for you had tightened as he looked back outside.

“It’s that guy again,” Jungkook pointed out as they both watched outside, “What’s his name?”

Kim Namjoon.

Taehyung was used to seeing him around throughout the years but he never had a need to pay attention to him before. Like most of those who he sees in passing they never become more than that—just a passing blur that he doesn’t care to know a single thing about. Namjoon used to be one of the ones he ignored until he heard you mention him once or twice.

“Who knows,” Taehyung said, shifting his gaze down to his sketch pad avoiding the sight of Namjoon and you now standing like you had somewhere to go.

Jungkook, the ever curious and procrastinating, kept watching you just out of sheer boredom. The library had gone dark aside from the few kerosene lamps scattered across tables but it was already getting hard to see his sketches properly so now he’s just waiting for Taehyung to finish.

Suddenly, all too suddenly that it made him jump in his seat, Taehyung was standing, shoving his things in his bag loud enough to create an echo in the cold library. Jungkook looked up at him, pencil laying limp in his hand now, “Are we done?”

Taehyung pushed his chair into the wooden table, not bothering to look back at his friend as he stormed off, “Yes.”

Not long after he watched his friend make his abrupt leave from the library… he saw him now approaching you and Namjoon.

You were blissfully unaware that you had been watching through the windows of a library as much as you were unaware of Taehyung coming up behind you as Namjoon talked. “I was thinking maybe we could go catch that new movie that just came out.”

“Oh, I was going to do some writing—You won’t believe it Joonie,” your tone changed so suddenly as you grabbed him by the arm, jerking him toward you excitedly carrying on like he hadn’t said anything, “It’s like I can’t stop writing, you wouldn’t believe how easily the words are flowing like… I don’t know, I’ve never felt this way before, Joonie.”

“That’s good, Y/n but,” Namjoon’s words slowed down as he looked behind you at the looming figure standing a few feet away. He’s never spoken a word to Kim Taehyung despite both being grad students, he only knows of him from what others have spoken and he’s very… cold. Since when did you and him begin to talk? Namjoon took your hands in his as he pulled you closer to have your attention knowing you still didn’t know who was behind you, “But it’s nice to get a break, you don’t want to overwork yourself.”

“You don’t get it, Namjoon,” you said his name instead of the affectionate nickname you’ve always called him, he couldn’t help but look at Taehyung who pretended like he wasn’t watching closely with a cigarette dangling between his fingers, “I can’t stop. I cannot stop. If I-I do, I don’t know.”

His gaze shifted behind you making you turn to look too and your eyes seemed to soften as you made eye contact with the dirty blonde you’ve been spending time with lately.

“Y/n,” Taehyung’s deep voice spoke as he stared at you two, “I thought you would be busy writing”

“I’m on my way to right now,” you said, taking a step toward him with your back to your friend, “Would you join me?”

A smile came to his face as he pushed his glasses up, “If I could paint you again.”

You stood still in thought. The first time he painted you was after you had sex for the first time when it felt warm, passionate and hungry. He never slept that night, he stayed up the entire time getting the right blends of pigment on your body as it lay on the flue blanket completely nude. You’re not sure if he knew what saying that would make you think but from the way his brow raised questioning made you think he did.

Namjoon felt his jaw clench, eyes glaring at Taehyung who didn’t even bat an eye in his direction. You looked back to Namjoon now who waited for you with a bated breath. You walked up to him making his heart face as you pressed your lips against his cheek with your softly brushing against his jaw. The kiss was tender on his face and when he looked down at you, you gave him an apologetic smile, “Will you call me?”

“Will you answer?” Namjoon asked but you weren’t beside him anymore. You were next to Taehyung who took your book bag off your shoulders and put it over his, a hand grazing your back as he talked to you but too far out of your friend’s ear shot.

“What did your friend want?” Taehyung asked.

“To see a movie but I have to finish what I’m writing before it slips my mind,” You said moving your hand to his bent arm walking alongside him, “I’ll have to catch up with him another day.”

He didn’t have anything to say to that but you could still feel his eyes on you. A part of you wanted to ignore his gaze because you find yourself at a loss for words any time he looks at you that way. It’s like he sees through you not at you and sometimes you don’t know which one is better.

There’s no denying that he likes the look of you, he finds you attractive and not just physically. You know that. You just can’t tell what he’s thinking that makes him look at you that way.

“Namjoon.”

He stood alone where you once had been beside him, just watching you leave with the art major he had no idea you were even involved with. Since when did you begin to talk to him and how did Namjoon never notice? Did you just decide that you would not be open with him anymore?

“Jimin,” Namjoon looked at his friend, a bit stunned, “Hey.”

The ballerina watched after you alongside him now as he asked, “Y/n is leaving with Taehyung?”

“Are they together?” Namjoon asked suddenly, “Did you know?”

Jimin shook his head no, “Not exactly, I mean, Y/n never hid the fact that she had a thing for Taehyung, I’m just surprised to see them leave together. Y/n never told me they began to talk.”

Namjoon bit his lip nervously, “You don’t think they’ll date or anything, do you? This just seems sudden.”

He looked to his friend for some comfort but all Jimin did was shrug his shoulders and say, “I don’t know, you know Y/n doesn’t really date and neither does he, they’re always too focused on writing or painting to think about anything else. Who knows, they might just work out because of how similar they are.”

“Yeah but…” Namjoon was trying to find words to say but nothing came to mind. Maybe he was just being bitter… he’s been your friend for years. He’s always been there for you anytime you needed him without question. You were attracted to him enough to sleep with him but was that all it was ever going to be? You won’t see him as more than just a friend but then Kim Taehyung comes along and suddenly you have no problem walking away from Namjoon to go with him?

Jimin looked at his friend apologetically, he sympathized with him. He’s known you for longer than Namjoon has and he’s been through this exact same thing before too. There was a time when he thought you and him were the closest until Namjoon came along and suddenly you spent all your time with him instead. Now Namjoon is experiencing what Jimin did but this time because of Taehyung and he feels bad for that.

“Look, I’m going to be honest,” Jimin tried to work out what he was going to say so it didn’t come off badly, “I think, Y/n loves the idea of Taehyung on paper… how she can write or create him like she’s done with you and I in the past. I think maybe it’s nothing past something superficial but at the same time…”

“At the same time,” Jimin repeated himself with a bated breath, “I see a lot of similarities between them especially when it comes to putting their work first and maybe that’s something they seem to understand about each other that we don’t.”

Namjoon didn’t get it.

So was it not that you two had feelings for each other?

Was it not that you might love each other?

Was it just that you two understood each other?

He doesn’t get it. Now, Namjoon might not understand your obsession with perfecting every aspect of your writing… but that didn’t mean he didn’t love you. He loved you a lot—more than he assumes Taehyung could love you.

It’s not like it’s a secret, Namjoon has always been open about the way he felt about you so why did you choose someone else? All because he couldn’t understand you the way Taehyung might? Is it because he can’t just look at you and know what you need the way Taehyung can?

Is it because he doesn’t spend hours missing sleep or eating just so he could obsess over his work too?

How could Taehyung possibly understand you more than he does?

::.

okokok this was kinda long but I’m sorry, blonde Taehyung as an art major was doing it for me 🫶this was a romance but also not necessarily bc the focus isn’t entirely on their relationship 🤒neither one of them are supposed to be super likable so if you hate them and the way oc did Joon and Jimin dirty i get it 🫡but they just genuinely do not think about anything but their craft.

permanent taglist: @notmyfaultbutours @rerefundslocals @fandems @sugaluvmyg @guvgguk @kimyishin @libra04 @kooromiwrld @classycreationcupcake-blog @alwaysdreamingnotsleeping @cherrymonlightt @nikkiordonez12 @asking4-sanity @thvlover @saweetspoiled @uwu2rawr @shaybts-blog @babycandy111 @tearyjjeon @joons-uparupa @jeonninja @yellowcupid08 @02010802faves @knudsenheggedel @skzthinker @unnatae @aurorthi @beautywine @95ene @taekookstata @lilliankoo @shescharlie @annenakamura @lesoleile @burnahtsw @babybella337 @kooloveys @ku-ku @chaelvrx @minnie-mouser22 @Imeneghd @whoa-jo @evajeonsworld @marvelbun @sunnikthv v @kochycooky @heyhowyoudoin3 @acielelyseen @giselleswifeee @jeonjk25 @ilikeitlikethatt @bangmechanpls @lvr2seok @badbyeyoongi @jaerisdiction @watermelonjuice15 @artmsmaid @xyahrinx @angeleen777 @jooniesxbby @brillantdarling

#kim taehyung #bts taehyung #taehyung smut #taehyung au #taehyung #taehyung imagine #Taehyung fic #Taehyung fanfic #taehyung oneshot #taehyung one shot #taehyung x reader #taehyung x oc #Taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #bts angst #bts fic #bts imagines

2K notes · View notes