방탄소년단
His large hand pressed against her back, bringing her wilted figure up to his, chest to chest.
"You're the girl that other guys wish for." Jungkook's lips sketched themselves over her boiling cheek, leading up to her ear. "I'm other guys, by...
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Hoseok glanced up at her, perpetually glowing. "Good morning, Dev."
The pen moved quickly against the paper beneath his swift hand like a teacher grading papers, somehow his writing remained ever so neat and precise.
"H-hi, Oh um- are you busy?" She tried finding another excuse, pushing the thought of turning in her design. "Because I can come in another time if you are-"
"Nonsense, I'm not busy at all." Hobi multitasked. "What is it you need?" His presence was inviting, a loving expression sitting on his perfect face.
She stepped closer to his desk, ignoring her skipping heartbeat. "I'm just here to turn in my sketch, you know for the fashion show." Devora swallowed her nonexistent saliva.
Hoseok's perfect teeth sparkled and gleams of thrill rushed through his veins. "Oh, you can just set it down with the rest of them." He ordered, going back to his work.
Devora wanted to let out an incredulous laugh when she saw the number of papers that were sitting on his counter. She had no idea so many people worked there, as the stacks of designs seemed to be in the hundreds.
She exhaled, maintaining her composure. 'It's okay, though the odds of me winning seem pretty low... I just have to stay positive in my work, and confident.' Devora quieted her doubts, adding her paper to the pile without looking at other works.
Just as soon as she turned for the door, she saw three familiar-looking men walking down the hall.
Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jin.
She put on her best-pretended smile as if she wasn't battling with her pessimistic thoughts just seconds ago.
"Good morning." She bowed to the men, putting her hands behind her back.
They each gave her a sincere greeting as they proceeded to their seats.
Devora exited the room, putting her head back down as her thoughts attacked her mind once more. Gradually, the negative outcomes draped over her haggard mind, reminding her of all the people who were fighting for the position that Devora wanted.
Her racing concepts were put on hold, feeling her body clash against another — of what felt like two — strong figure.
Before she lost balance on her slender heels, quick hands swathed over her waist, catching her mid-fall.
Her hands grasped onto the man's shoulders, feeling his invigorating hands hold tightly around her.
"You're always bumping into me." His voice was silky and creamlike, chuckling deeply. "Maybe it's fate?"
Devora could feel his heart smashing against her chest, noticing how it did not once falter, consistent with its speed.
As for her, she could feel her heart become incapacitated by his sympathetic hold and his melodious voice, streaming through her ears like a peaceful stream of creek water.
