Chaennie One-Shot Collection

🎨Starving (& other artistic mediums)

Genre - fluff, smut, angst

Warnings - explicit sexual content

Words - 28K+

Original by - TAHC

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Chaeyoung and Jennie met in the winter of their junior year of university, depending on who you ask. Jennie says it was mid-November, the week before the worst snowstorm Seoul had seen for the past decade in Professor Mun's Art and the British Empire: 1600-1997 when Chaeyoung tapped Jennie on the shoulder and asked her to borrow a pencil. Chaeyoung says it was early October when she bumped into Jennie and scattered her newspaper clippings for her mixed media class with Professor Choi, who was notorious for being a major bitch—so Jennie wasn't exactly thrilled about getting her material soaked by the early snow, thus she treated Chaeyoung rudely (as Chaeyoung recalled it).

Jennie tells her that that doesn't count as a first meeting. Chaeyoung says that they actually didn't properly introduce themselves until Christmas anyways. And Jennie agrees with that.

So Chaeyoung and Jennie met in the winter of their junior year of university. At a Christmas party Jennie's housemates were throwing, the theme being more centered around a four-week break and free booze than the birth of the Messiah.

Jennie was originally going to dip out early and hang out in the public library just to escape the chaos that was bound to take place, but a forty-minute vomiting session in their tiny house's single bath changed her mind. So she was laying in her bed with her headphones pressed so deeply into her ear canals that she was positive she was drawing blood. She had her barf bucket at the ready at the side of her bed that shook with the force of the stereo system's bass.

That's where Chaeyoung found her.

"This room is occupied. Please don't have sex on top of me. I might puke on you." Jennie kept her eyes shut, hoping that whatever freshman drunkenly stumbled into her room politely stumbled back out.

"I'm...I'm not—wait what? Don't puke on me!"

It took all of Jennie's strength to peel her earbuds out and crack open one eye to behold...the biggest mess she'd ever seen in her entire life. "Holy shit Morticia Addams just walked into my room."

The girl snorted, staggered a little, and caught herself on Jennie's dresser. "M'not Morticia Addams."

"Hate to break it to you kid, but Halloween was over two months ago."

"'M twenty. 'M not a kid."

"You're drunk. Now shoo-shoo I'm trying to die in peace." Jennie closed her eyes and moved to put her earbuds back in when a wave of nausea hit her.

There was a crash (definitely the kid stumbling into the box of ceramic pots Jennie had sitting on the middle of her rug) before a grunt and Jennie found her bed dipping to the side.

"S'rry," the kid breathed into Jennie's face, breath stale and body smelling like beer and cherry lipgloss.

"Good god. I'm not kidding kid, I will throw up on you. Hand me my bucket."

A couple of minutes later found Jennie sitting crossed-legged on her bed, bucket safely tucked into her lap, across from the human disaster who introduced herself as Park Chaeyoung. She was apparently a third-year sculpting major and in Jennie's Art and the British Empire: 1600-1997 class to fulfill a humanities requirement.

She chewed nervously at her black fingernails—what Jennie had initially thought was nail polish, but upon closer inspection was actually charcoal. Her eyeliner had smeared onto her cheekbones and her bleak attire wasn't doing her any favors by keeping people from thinking she was still going through her scene phase.