#i still have the very first art of him on my laptop god....

[springheatedwine]

words cant express how much i love ur art/acc <3

//THANK UUUU I'm glad it made you feel that wayyy 🥹🥹🥹

[vultbae]

hot boy delivery ✩

college!art donaldson x female reader

↳ summary: Tashi's handsome alleged boyfriend knocks on your door and asks for her since she's your roommate. But she's not there, so you'll borrow him for tonight.

↳ warnings: smut (minors dni), tipsy sex, mentions of cheating but isn't, porn with plot, mean!reader at the beginning.

↳ notes: yall know the drill english is not my first language! so sorry if anything doesn’t make sense

word count: 5.7k

Stanford isn't what you would call a party school; there isn't an endless rage circuit or binge drinking regarding students –or at least the ones you know. So when you decided to enroll in college, you knew any unpleasant symptoms like headaches or fatigue would be caused by academic all-nighters and no hangovers as you believed years ago. It was a deal-breaker, but it was Stanford at the end of the day.

Your parents had enough funds to bring to the table independence privileges most college students don't have, for example, living off-campus."¿Why would I decline this unusual offer?" you thought at the time, giving in to the advantageous idea of complete autonomy and no supervision—you had seen places around the Palo Alto area, cozier and more stylish than any archaic-looking dorm room Stanford had to offer for a few thousand dollars a year —six to seven, to be exact.

Somehow, you had ended up on the shithole you had been attempting to dodge for so long. Your best friend, Diana, had gaslighted you into believing that coexisting in the same place with other young people is one of those stimulating aspects of attending college. Heck, rowdy dorm parties, popping Plan B's, snorting coke from someone's fake boobs!

Bullshit. Diana had gotten into Stanford, too, and all of your thrilling anticipations of rooming with her vanished when she had to rescind her offer due to the scarcity of financial aid. She ended up committing to Virginia State University. At the other fucking end of the United States.

You had promised Diana to go above and beyond to fulfill those wild ideas about college. Guess what? Now, you were forced to live in a rusty dorm without your extravagant Palo Alto apartment, your best friend, and rooming with a weirdo.

And, of course, you still hadn't snorted coke out of anyone's fake boobs.

"Oh my god," you breathe out with a sigh of annoyance. You let the back of your head fall over the headboard of your bed as your hands reach up to rub your tired-looking eyes; your laptop is lying on your lap, screening the article you have to read for some core course. It's almost seven o'clock, and you are about to surrender and take a twelve-hour nap. 

You can't, though. Your eyes roam around and descend on your roommate's side: empty, noiseless, as if there wasn't someone there two hours ago. The apathy in your facial expression is prominent as you notice the cluttered desk, bed blankets hanging off, and wrinkled clothes over the floor. "How disgusting," you think, shaking your head and facing your laptop again, pushing it off your legs this time.

Your roommate was indeed something else. After swallowing against your will the miserable fact that you wouldn't room with Diana, your parents had already paid for Stanford on-campus housing, and it is what it is. A month before moving to California, you had seen the name of your designated roommate for the freshman year, Tashi Duncan.

You are not confident about the sort of woman Tashi is. Although you had been cordial and accommodating with her —even though you didn't want a roommate, she is not what you would call a friend. Tashi is a tennis player, apparently a very talented one, since many people around campus ridiculously fangirl over her  —but you don't know if it's because of her model-like physical complexion or her sports talent. Well, it's not like you care. But despite sharing a dorm room, Tashi's interactions with you are minimal and curt, and conversations with her are typically one-sided. She rises early and evaporates for the rest of the day.

Doubtful, you pick up your Nokia from the nightstand and quickly text her, "Wya?" to feel responsible –she has never done it, though. Since you live in an on-campus residence, entry isn't monitored until eight p.m. during the week, and you already know she won't arrive by that time. She probably won't arrive at all.

The anxious chewing on the bottom of your lip ceases when your phone vibrates with the "I'm staying at Art's x" message popping on the screen. A mix of relief, bliss, and sovereignty surges from your body's core. You don't know who Art is, but you've heard Tashi talk about him a couple of times, so you assume he is her boyfriend, sneaky link, or whatever freaky shit she would be up to. You briefly contemplate the text, instantly replying, "take care :)" and waiting for her not to respond.

You sit there, stunned for a hot minute, considering the countless activities you could do now that you are —and will remain—all alone. Mild daylight peers through the opened curtains, although it's getting dark. Your head slightly turns to the two-lite slider window between both beds, revealing the distinctive greens of the trees that reach your view—a typical Stanford campus panorama. 

The bedroom is ample; the floor is covered with cheap deep blue carpeting, and the walls have been sealed with a matte layer of pearl white. Your mural side is preciously decorated: polaroids, stickers, and decorative leds shimmering in a warm yellow tone adequate for winter, while Tashi's side is... three posters: two from random tennis players and a large Spider-man one. "What are we, ten-year-olds?" you murmur, eyes rolling back, exasperated as you sit in the sight of the oversized picture.

You really can't get what is so amusing about Tashi.

Your phone rings suddenly, and you sense your muscles twitch at the unexpected ringtone clashing against the lifeless four walls. A big "Diana" is written in black letters, blaring at you, which is a good sign of an enjoyable night. With no second thoughts, you pick up.

 "¡Hey girl!" are the first words you hear from your best friend. 

You haven't seen her since the summer break –four months ago–and time hasn't been your ally in terms of missing your friends. Diana and you always intended to attend college together; nevertheless, you can't predict anything about college. Now, she resided in Virginia, while you did in California. 

"I've missed you so fucking much," you grin against the phone, talking with enthusiasm. You stand up to walk to the shared kitchen, "how's everything been in Virginia?"

Diana scoffs at your question. "Do you for real think I called you to talk about boring-ass Virginia?" she mockingly complains, sarcasm dripping out of her voice. "The real question is, how's everything been in Cali?" she adds, half screaming the last two words.

Your humorous facial expression morphs into a disgraceful one. "Well, mediocre if you take out the fact I live in this dorm. Otherwise, pretty shit."

"At least it's a Stanford dorm," Diana points out, giggling.

"Well, you are partly right," you answer, now supporting your arms over the kitchen table, "I just wish it was my dorm at least and not Tashi's, you know."

"Right, your roommate; what's the deal with her?" she asks.

¿What's your deal with her? If this were a frankness competition, you'd undoubtedly roast her without needing to lie. Sharing an apartment with an entitled asshole who thinks she owns the place makes it challenging.

"She's not my type," you let out, sighing. "I've been trying to talk to her for God knows how long, and she doesn't give a shit," you pause to breathe through your nose, trying to keep your cool. "Like, I can't understand. Do you know how many people would love to room with me?"

Diana's gasp nearly pierces your eardrum, "She's such a bitch!"

"Yes! She is," you interrupt her, squeaking out your words. "Also, she brings dudes or the same dude, I don't know, like at least twice a week. She doesn't even care if I'm sleeping; what if I throw water at them next time?" you inquire decisively, not caring if your words sound nonsensical.

"You do you, girl," your friend says, slightly chuckling, "I assume she is not there now, isn't she?" 

You hum. "She isn't. She is at some dude's place. So that means I have the dorm for myself."

"Don't you care if she is safe or something?" Diana queries, almost instantly biting back a groan in response to your silence. "Yes, I know she's an asshole, but at least you should know. Some guys nowadays are creeps."

"I do, I do..." you hastily assure, your voice tone appeasing your friend's worries. "I do know the guy's name is something like Art, and I could find out his last name if I scroll through our chat. I'm pretty sure it's her current boyfriend. I've heard her talk about him."

"My God, that girl has some real action!" she hollers; a burst of mocking laughter spills out of her lips. "What about you, though? I miss hearing hookup stories from your side. Don't waste your time; Stanford has hot ass guys!"

And she was right. The amount of handsome guys around campus was not minor.

"You know what?" you say, pointing at the air as if you were talking to Diana in person, "I'm not even going to reply to that comment. I've been so focused on-"

Your words are cut off by urgent, loud knocks coming from the main door, "The fuck?" you think. Your jaw clenches but abruptly loosens as you realize Tashi can't be here after her presumptive schedule; you don't expect anyone.

And also, there's a rainstorm outside. 

"Was that knocking on the door?" Diana asks, and your attention goes back to the call. You hum in response.

"Yeah, and I'm not expecting anyone." you reaffirm while your hand reaches out to your little notebook, where you keep all the emergency numbers. You sigh out a frustrated "fuck" when you realize you don't have the number of the security guard downstairs. "I should check through the peephole; it's probably a dumbass mistake anyway," you add, trying to sound unbothered.

¿Who the fuck would sneak into an all-student residence? For what, to steal? You haven't bought groceries for two weeks. It would be a shitty investment of skill.

And obviously, you curse yourself under your breath for being such an exaggerated bitch. But, seriously, who would visit you?  Not even the wildest of your friends would wander across campus at night with this weather.

"Call me when you do it. I have to do some homework now," Diana demands, and you are snappy to obey and hang up the phone. 

You stay still, eyes stuck on the main white door. A minute passes with absolute silence encircling you until you hear the identical frantic knocking again. Same tempo, everything.

"Goddamn, relax," you murmur to yourself.

 It takes a couple of steps forward for you to approach the door and a single step to the front to see through the small peephole.

Your eyes wince slightly at the sight of a boy you've never seen in your life standing outside. You even feel the need to comically scratch your head as you notice a short-arm cast dressing up his right arm; how bizarre. "¿Is this mother-fucker trying to rob me?" you talk to yourself, making sure he doesn't hear you. Obviously, he'd predict any regular person to open the door without a doubt –"Poor boy, he's wearing a cast."

"He's too hot to be a thief," your mind suggests. And yes, he is. If you are one hundred percent honest, he seems like he would study at Stanford. He looks kind of familiar, even. You can't clearly analyze his features due to the lack of lighting in the hallway, but when his head tilts to the side, a sharp shadow forms under his jawline, and his blonde curls bounce along with his moves. 

You text Diana again. "hot boy at my door x"

Although suspicion is gnawing at the back of your mind, you open the door. With a gentle twist of your wrist, you turn the knob clockwise and cautiously swing the door inward. The hinges creak softly, and the chilly air from the hallway rushes in, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your eyes narrow in recognition —and confusion—for a beat. A lightbulb suddenly flickers on in your mind.

"Hey..." the guy in front of you greets you softly and politely, his voice barely above a whisper.

You have seen his face around, but you can hardly remember his last name—Dawson, Davidson? Something like that.

"...Is Tashi around?" he asks, his voice carrying a note of desperation.

Your gaze rakes down his figure. He's wearing a Cardinal performance polo from Stanford and thin black polyester shorts, both soaked—presumably from the storm roaring outside. His chest rapidly rises and falls with each breath, and as if by carnal instinct, your eyes delineate the muscles of his abdomen tightening; the outline of his six-pack is visible through the soaking polo clinging to his torso. Tiny water beads accumulate along the strands of his blonde hair, glistening, growing heavier, and descending onto your doormat with soft plops.

He's hot as fuck, you think. Straight out of one of those cliché Teen People magazine covers. But it's not only his physique. Something about how he stands there, dripping wet, vulnerability mingling with his athletic build, piques your interest. It's sort of contradictory and sexy as fuck.

Your eyes drift down to your own outfit—pajama shorts and a crop top. It's not too practical, considering the chilliness from the residence hallway drives your nipples to react against the thin material of the top. His gaze falters for a second, lowering to your bare midriff, and you catch the way his cheeks redden. You hear how he chokes with his saliva.

But it’s bizarre, too. His functional—left—hand is grasping a large Smirnoff Ice bottle by its neck. Your features smooth out at the sight of the clear glass bottle containing one of your favorite low-alcohol cocktails.

It's a raw lure, just like the owner of the bottle.

But it's still bizarre. Because why is this hot-ass guy holding a delicious-ass drink standing outside of your dorm?

You pull your gaze away from the Smirnoff bottle. "Aren't you supposed to be hiding the booze?" you blurt out, raising a finger to point at the bottle.

Maybe your tone was too sardonic, or it was the uncaring disregard of the Tashi question because the blonde guy's face reddens in a deep shade of crimson —again—spreading rapidly from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. Aw, he's embarrassed. His eyesight shifts to the bottle, and he acts as if the bottle magically spawned in his left hand.

But you don't wanna spook the doll away.

You audibly clear your throat, trying to rectify your rudeness. "And no, Tashi's not here," you add, attempting to depict kindness and capture his attention again.

He stays silent. As the rosy hue of his cheeks vanishes, you can sense he's building up the courage to keep interrogating you. "Do you know where she is?" he timidly asks, gliding the bottle under his left arm as if trying to hide it now that his plans are ruined.

The guy's smoking hot but fricking awkward. It doesn't make sense. He's six feet tall, lean, handsome, and muscular; why is he acting all timid? He's standing past your doorframe, practically asking for clearance to trade words with you. It doesn't make sense.

"Yeah, she's staying with this Art guy. Maybe you know him," you say, gaze unconsciously disembarking again on the Smirnoff bottle.

The guy's eyebrows furrow and his blue eyes dart back and forth as if digging for an answer hidden in your dorm. His facial expression gradually shifts from puzzlement to realization and then to frustration.

"Son of a bitch..." he mutters under his breath, his voice laced with malice.

You raise an eyebrow, feigning amazement. "Sorry?"

It makes you wanna chuckle at the sudden, humorous switch in his expression.

He inhales sharply, his blue eyes scintillating with sadness and something deeper, perhaps a sense of betrayal? You don't know. "Are you sure Tashi's not here?" he questions again, the tone of his voice hardening. "I'm Art."

The prior flickering lightbulb turns into one illuminating your memory's dim corners. His facial features now have a name: Art Donaldson, another celebrated first-year tennis player. There aren't many Art's around, so the first time you heard his name —even before Tashi— falling out from one of your closest friends' lips on campus, you should've known it was him.

So if he’s Art, that means Tashi lied.

Shit. Tashi's cheating on this guy.

You hope he doesn't notice because you know a flicker of darkness is dancing across your eyes as the seed of an idea takes root in your mind.

A smirk curls your lips as you relish the scrumptious irony. "Oh, you're Art? The one Tashi talks about all the time?" you say, voice dribbling with mockery.

He doesn't respond; he just looks at you with those piercing blue eyes. But then he speaks, "Yeah, I guess..."

You seize the moment, reaching out and stealing the bottle of Smirnoff from beneath his arm. "Well, I guess I'll take this," you say, twisting the cap open and taking a long sip. "You won't need it, right?."

You know exactly what chord you want to strike.

Art's jaw tightens, his face a mix of irritation and helplessness, but he doesn't oppose. You can see his struggle and even sense how his mind races to make sense of the situation. He was expecting Tashi, who was not his girlfriend yet, but he had arranged this to get to know her better. Instead, he's faced with you—an unexpectedly attractive challenge.

And, of course, he wanted it. There was the initial shock at finding you instead of Tashi, but an undeniable attraction stirred something profound within him —a foreign sensation he hadn't felt before. And he's by no means a virgin or a "lame-ass," as Patrick would call him from time to time. Art knows how to have fun. But he's used to the upstarting idea that women must be salivating over merely hearing his name. That's why he obsessed over Tashi Duncan; she is dominant.

But of course, fucking Patrick had to take her tonight.

You lower the bottle, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. "Or maybe you shouldn't go back to the rain," you say with a shrug, "you could come inside in case Tashi comes back, and I'd think about sharing the Smirnoff with you."

He hesitates.

You step aside, holding the door open wider. "You don't wanna go back to the rain, don't you?" you add with a mischievous grin.

For a heartbeat, he stands there, his resolve wavering. Then, with a resigned sigh, he steps forward, crossing the threshold into your college dorm like a lost puppy.

You close the door behind him, drawn to let out a scream when he's not looking after how things were interestingly evolving. The room grows warmer for Art and you, the atmosphere thick with tension and unspoken intentions from both sides. You take another sip of the Smirnoff, savoring the lemony taste. 

"Make yourself comfortable," you express, gesturing to the modest common area where the kitchen is. Art follows your lead, his movements stiff from the water and his arm cast.

He's about to push back the strap of his black Adidas duffel bag to roll it down his right arm —cause he was holding THAT and the Smirnoff bottle, when he turns to you and, contemplating his words, he speaks, "Do you think I can use your shower?"

"You would do it anyways if Tashi was here instead of me, so..."

Art takes that as a yes.

-

The bottle of Smirnoff sits nearly empty on the wooden night table beside your bed. Although you had explained earlier to Art that Smirnoff ice was "inoffensive alcohol," it hadn't failed to cultivate an effect of tipsiness in both of your warm bodies. Art's initial awkwardness had been disbanded by the bitterness of the alcohol coursing through his veins. And your mean facade had shifted into a more loquacious, sarcastic, and bold one.

The common area had grown colder. In one instance of exorbitant bravery, you offered to move to your room— Art had said yes way too fast. The space was cozier and filled with your personal touches.

Art is sitting on your bed, the back of his head supported against the wall, while you lie on your stomach beside him, propped up on your elbows, attentively hearing as he converses about another obscene anecdote of his. The dim yellow lighting from the led lights from your side of the wall casts a soft glow over both of you, making you equally horny and exhausted —the calming sound of the rainstorm outside didn't help.

Art had changed into a grey T-shirt with "Stanford Tennis" printed across the chest. His strawberry blonde hair is nearly dry and slightly tousled...

The rich, warm sound of Art laughing fills the room and clocks you out of the trance. "...I swear, I walk in and see Tashi doing some nasty, weird thing to him. The next morning was hell for him. I couldn't believe he was into that type of shit."

"God, was she pegging him?" you giggle, covering your eyes with the palms of your hands.

Art chuckles, shaking his head. "You don't want me to get more explicit."

You pout playfully. "Don't be an asshole. Tell me." 

Art raises an eyebrow, intrigued, half-smirking. "Why are you so interested? Are you going through abstinence?"

The truth is yes but against your will. The bad thing is that you can't filter the information spilling out of your mouth whenever you drink.

"Depends. Are you gonna bully me if I say yes?" you ask, looking up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes.

The rhetorical question prompts Art to tilt his head, confused. "I'm not a playboy myself. And also..." he slightly lifts his right arm with the cast, alluding to it. "After my injury, I can't do much."

Your thoughts started tumbling over each other in a chaotic mess. You started picturing too many scenarios where Art would still be able to fuck with the arm cast on. The amount of vivid, fleeting mental scenarios internally summoning the attention you couldn't provide right now makes you feel physically ill and euphoric.

"That is not true."

He giggles again, a sound that causes your heart to flutter despite your mind warning you about potential word vomiting. "Well, I can't even jerk it off. Is that enough for you?"  

"Not really. There's plenty of stuff you can still do. Ask someone to give you a blowjob or something," You suggest, way more convinced of your comment than you should. 

Art’s natural smirk fades as he processes your sentence, his eyes squinting as if he's about to test something. He's holding back a chuckle, "That's a wild thing to say to someone you met two hours ago." 

You roll your eyes in feigned annoyance, "Don't tell me you are one of those people who think sex is taboo."

"Hey, no, I'm not." He raises his left hand in front of you, palm open and facing outward. "Asking someone to suck my dick is just gonna give me a fat restraining order."

At this point, the notion of reality has altered for you. Not much, but to the extent things that would commonly make you pause and reconsider your life choices now seemed perfectly reasonable, even hilarious. "Asking this guy I just met to fuck me? Awesome!" You think. You feel an overwhelming sense of camaraderie, a genuine tie to Art, fueled by the shared silliness of the circumstances and nasty anecdotes of this so-called Patrick. 

"Oh, please..."  You wave your hand carelessly as if waving away his absurd comment. "Who would put a restraining order over that?"

"What would you do if someone asked you to suck their dick?" 

But, before replying, you push yourself up onto your knees. The bed creaks softly as you shift, and you slide your legs out from under you, moving to sit cross-legged on the bed. 

"So?" he insists as you finish changing your position.

"Oh my god. Well, it depends on who's asking." 

Your last words hang in the air between you and Art, electrifying and charged with suggestive tension. Predisposing yourself to Art's potential lack of boldness, you let the tipsiness strip away your remaining self-respect. "If you asked me, I wouldn't say no," you add.

Your words cut through the alcohol-induced haze like a sharp blade, leaving Art momentarily sober. It's difficult for him to think properly. It feels like a thick fog full of thoughts and bitter rememberings encircles him, but you cannot see it. 

He helplessly daydreams about the scenario where this is Tashi instead of you, tossing salacious remarks at him and attending to whatever crap he chooses to say. But it isn't. He doesn't know you properly; he hasn't seen your serve or even how you hold a tennis racquet. And you haven't seen much from him either.

Patrick doesn't know about you either. His Patrick, with the captivating smile and the big-dick aura. The one that has been setting him up with women forever, as if he couldn't do it on his own. 

That's how he realizes the attraction towards you —even if purely carnal, is authentic and unpretentious. It's not polluted with anything else. You aren't flirting with him because you eventually want to mess around with Patrick. 

There's bone-deep curiousness humming through Art's veins, but he won't fuck up the first time a gorgeous girl wants to fuck him.

"Then I guess I should ask you," Art states, attempting to maintain his voice steady as his heart plummets.

You lean in closer, your faces now inches apart. The dim glow of the led lights casts a golden hue over your skin, making the moment feel even more surreal for Art. “Good, 'cause I have wanted to do you since you knocked on my door." 

The familiar aching warmth starts to pool at the bottom of your abdomen as Art's lips attack yours, parting them with easiness; you kiss him fiercely, savoring a mixture of Smirnoff Ice and spearmint. Art kisses you like he's starved of it; he slips his tongue inside like he has been patiently deferring his devilish invasive thoughts. He is, damn, a wonderful kisser. Flawlessly proportional: immodest, licking into your mouth, so sexually arousing, at the same time so tender, holding you close with such courtesy it makes you want to scream.

With the strength of his left hand, he draws your body closer to his, deepening his mouth as much as possible on yours. The contact makes your stomach jolt, tardily falling into account you are blending Art's masculine scent with yours. Art's upper-body muscles harden at the ecstasy, and the subtle contour of the veins on his arm arises on his skin, popping out as he possessively grasps your waist.

Between wet kisses, his mouth quakes as he lets out a hushed chuckle, "Wait, is it true... what you said?" he mutters into your mouth and raises your chin, taking a pair of hot seconds to look at you straight in the eye.

You relish the sensation of his fingers racing down your waist and descending on your hips, gently squeezing; your hands are holding onto the nape of his neck, caressing his skin. You kiss him again and roll his bottom lip between your teeth, "I've never wanted to fuck anyone so bad," you husk into his ear, words purring as you teasingly lick his ear lobe, lowering the wet kisses until you end up licking down his throat. You trail soft, open-mouthed kisses down his skin; your nails scratch lightly over his back, folding at the sensation of his warmness capturing yours.

Art swears he's about to pass out.

You swing one leg over his lap, carefully straddling him. Art wastes no time, lining his hips with yours, pressing and grinding, compelling your body to feel small in his presence; the mean grip of his hand drops to the end of your back, slowly running down your sides to cup your ass over your pajama shorts, slowly plunging his fingers on your skin. Quick, discreet moans slip out of your mouth, each one driving Art to his edge. The hardness of his cock pushes against your pussy, making you gasp between kisses. 

Your cheeks prick with heat as you hear a clap sound, a slap against someone's skin: your skin. Art spanked your ass rough, and you could anticipate the red handprint remaining in your butt for a couple of hours. His hand smacks again, grasping the over-sensitive plush of your ass at the end, making your muscle throb, "Art!" you whimper, squirming.

"Don't be too loud," he whispers against your neck, demanding.

Art's lips trail down your jawline; his breath catches in his throat every time the aroma of you transits to his chest. You tilt your head back to grant him better access, and your vision goes fuzzy as you discern Art's teeth sucking and biting on your neck, "...d-don't mark my neck," you add between whimpers, piercing his eardrum in the most sensual way imaginable.

"Can I mark this, then?" he snaps back, his right-hand cupping one of your tits over the material. The lustfulness creeping through your body evolves into dizziness, changing how your heart palpitates.

You overtake him and take your crop top swiftly without wanting to see him making extra effort. You audibly gasp when he determines to bury his face between your tits, his thumb and pointing finger skillfully rubbing and then rolling your nipples between his fingertips. 

You are so fucking overwhelmed. Art realizes, and with a wicked smirk plastered on his face, he gives a low coo, "You are so sensitive-"

"Shut the fuck up," you cuss softly, thrusting your chest out, slightly arching your back at the filling sensation. A slimy coverage of saliva grows over your left nipple; Art's mouth works over your bud, flicking with his tongue, making you impossibly wet, "Art, please, I need-"

"Need what?" he glances up at you, neglecting your nipples coated in spit, the cool breeze clashing against your skin and prickling your dermis with goosebumps. 

You pant under your breath as his fingers play with the waistband of your shorts. You grab his hand and put it away, "I'll take care of you."

Your gaze descends to admire the outline of his cock, pushing against the thin fabric of his shorts.  "Let me taste you," you beg, tracing a finger down his chest and reaching the waistband of his shorts.

"Pretty convenient since I can't do much, huh?" Art suppresses a laugh. 

You don't say much. You come off his lap to drag him to the end of the bed, feet touching the carpeted ground. As you sink lower, you unconsciously smile at the things you will tell Diana tomorrow. 

You squat down on your feet, your hands positioned on Art's thighs, supporting your body in case you lose balance. You palm his clothed dick, rubbing your fingertips against the slim layer of clothing, anticipating how much you'll be able to fit in your mouth; you shoot Art an incredulous look, enjoying his heavy-lidded, lustful grimace. 

Your fingers hook around the waistband of those goddamn shorts, sliding them down, along with his underwear. In one fluid motion, his cock springs free with his reddening, glistening tip slapping against his stomach. 

You think this is the perfect situation to overpraise him. You assume these guys love it. Tennis players with a big ego —and a big dick.

"You are so big, Donaldson," you praise, prolonging the word so seductively and not breaking eye contact with the blonde guy. You admire him, captivated by how his Adam's apple twitches; he gulps.

Your fingers wrap around his length, gripping his base, starting to stroke, gingerly moving from base to tip, stopping to rub his swollen tip and spread pre-cum along his shaft, simulating lube. His muscles tremble at the touch, yanking at your hair. You dart your tongue out, flattening it, licking his cock up and down, kitten-licking his thick tip and sweeping your lips across it, loudly slurping the shiny, gooey substance leaking from his dick. Art's torso feels deficient in oxygen as you lock eyes with him, simultaneously stroking his cock mercilessly, sucking on his head; his lungs ache for air.

You bob your head slightly, and your mouth opens wide, taking him further and increasing your pace. Your mouth is warm and wet; he can't wait to stretch other holes if you feel exceptionally good like this. 

"How does it feel?" you take a look at Art's journey, who has his head thrown back. You want him so bad to praise you back. When his head returns to its place, you meet eyes with him and give a tantalizing squeeze to his cock, eager for more reaction. His fingers jump to run through his hair, exasperated.

You don't —and can't know that Art is holding it back already. He's been holding it back since the moment you straddled him, and he could feel the warm wetness of your pussy over his throbbing dick. 

In desperation, he pushes your head, positioning your lips straight over his dick, "Please, princess," you obey and put it inside your mouth again.

He lets out a groan when his tip hits the back of your throat, making you gag. You try to relax and breathe through your nose, allowing him to hit it constantly, deep-throating his length, drooling over his cock, swallowing around him. He strains his hips forward, tugs your hair, and essentially fucks your throat without requiring you to do anything but suck and be good for him.

His breathing becomes erratic, and you feel the muscles of his legs unconsciously twitching. He's close.

When his hand on your hair pushes you up, you resist and stay there for longer, anxiously waiting for his cum to hit your throat. With a rough jerk of his hips, you finally taste his sperm filling your mouth. You swallow it.

"Shit," Art mutters, hyperventilating and staring at you with heavy-lidded eyes. "You just made me reconsider if I'm still precocious."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Or maybe I give good head?" 

After catching his breath, his eyes fall over your figure. There's something so amusing about you, and it's definitely not the remaining mix of cum and spit over the corners of your mouth.

It's just you.

The rain continues to fall outside, a steady rhythm that matches the pulse of his heartbeat. It wasn't the post-nut clarity that made him philosophical, but he can genuinely feel that the only thing that matters is how amazing he has felt around you.

Art breaks the silence. "Let me take you out tomorrow night." 

-

[v1si0n]

JUST GIVE ME A REASON (J.JH)🪐

SUMMARY: you didn’t think think you could possibly hate performing at your schools spring showcase until you were paired up with your mortal enemy, Jung Jaehyun. but you guys are singing a love song, and god knows what love songs do to youngins like you.

GENRE: enemies(ish) to lovers , college au, performance arts majors! y/n and jaehyun, humor, fluff, tiny bit of angst, lovers in denial but its just y/n LMFAO

WARNINGS: profanity, jokes about death, inaccurate depictions of performance arts majors, jaehyun and y/n are constantly at each others necks but in a kinda cute way…?

NOTES: AHHHHHH my first actual written piece!!!! i’ve had this fic partially finished for a LONG ass time and i’m finally releasing it for you lovelies to read💗💗💗hope you love it as much as i do :)

WORD COUNT: 15.5k

TAGLIST: @shiningnono @stickwme2 @mmjhh1998 @bluedbliss @peachfulnight

♪(๑ᴖ◡ᴖ��)♪ (๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪ (๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪ (๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪ (๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪

its in the stars

it’s been written in the scars on our hearts

When Mark Lee told you that Professor Kim would choose the pairs for this year's talent show, you believed it wouldn’t be too bad.

You were wrong. So humiliatingly wrong.

There you were, staring at the bulletin board outside the classroom, shocked and angry to your very core. You read the line with your name over and over again hoping, praying, that it was somehow a typo.

“Jung Jaehyun?! He paired me with Jaehyun?” You shrieked, your best friends Mark and Donghyuck snickering from beside you.

“Hey, he’s a pretty good singer,” Mark nudges you. You glare at him and he holds his hands up in defense.

“He’s a dick is what he is, Mark! You can’t possibly tell me you still like him after what he did to me,” You huff. Mark is scared to answer, but much to his delight, Professor Kim steps out of the classroom to greet students.

“Ah, Y/N! I take it that you’ve seen who I partnered you up with,” he smiles.

“Prof, can I please switch? I’ll perform with anyone else just not him,” you plead and he laughs directly in your face.

“Nope. No changing or switching partners.”

Your eye twitches.

“Prof-“ Your voice is scarily low, and this cues Mark and Hyuck to whisk you into the classroom.

“I’ll kill him, I swear,” you grumble.

“Listen bub, just stick with it for this performance. Three weeks of rehearsal and two nights of performances. You can do that,” Hyuck says gently, patting your head in an attempt to calm you down.

You mumble a “fine” under your breath and make your way to your seat. You stare blankly as the students pile into the lecture hall, one of them being the one and only Jung Jaehyun himself. He catches your eye and smirks, obviously having seen the list outside the classroom. You see him stray away from his original seat, making a beeline for the empty seat next to you that you use to hold your bag.

“Hyuck, switch seats with me,” You slap his arm repeatedly.

“What? No, I always sit in the middle,” He brushes you off as he takes out his laptop.

“Mark?”

“Sur- Actually, I think I’m good,” He smirks.

You look at him in confusion and realize he’s watching Jaehyun as he approaches you. He taps Hyuck to alert him, and now they’re both laughing under their breaths. You make a mental note to get new friends.

Jaehyun is now standing in the aisle, beaming at you with a shit-eating grin on his stupid face.

“Hey partner, mind moving the bag?”

“The seats taken,”

“No, it’s not, just move your bag.”

“I don’t want to,”

“Y/N-”

“Here! I’ll take your bag my sweet,” Hyuck pipes up from next to you. You stare at him in horror as he takes your bag and winks at you, placing the bag under his feet.

“Thank you, Donghyuck,” Jaehyun smiles and plops himself down next to you.

“Of course Jaehyun! Any friend of Y/N’s is a friend of ours,” Mark quips, and you burrow your head in your hands with a groan.

You’re banging your head repeatedly on the table as the boys begin talking about the upcoming performance, and you silently pray to yourself that God would take you out at this very moment.

“Aw, don’t act like that, partner! We’re gonna have so much fun.”

Jaehyun puts his arm around you and pulls you closer to him, causing you to thrash around and accidentally elbow Hyuck in the chest. A loud groan is heard throughout the lecture hall and everyone turns to look at him, and Mark offers an apologetic smile.

“Donghyuck and Y/N. Let’s keep quiet back there, yeah?”

You both mumble apologies to Professor Kim and glare at each other. Mark shushes both of you and points toward the front of the class, and you direct your attention to the screen. The words “SPRING SHOWCASE” glare back at you in ugly bold letters.

“Students! As you all know, the spring showcase is only a month away. This year, the music department and I have decided to assign partners rather than letting you choose, as to avoid constant repeats.” (READ: Mark and Hyuck high-five under the table.)

A chorus of complaints is heard throughout the lecture hall, the loudest being you, Mark, and Hyuck. The Spring Showcase was your guys’ favourite time of the year because it meant you three doing what you love most together, then getting to show it to the entire school.

“Prof! The whole point of the spring showcase is to showcase our talents! What if we’re paired with people we don’t work well with?!” You exclaim, and Jaehyun scoffs next to you.

“Yeah, Prof! What if our partner constantly has a stick up her as-“

“Funny! Considering the fact that during the winter showcase the microphone stand actually almost went up your a-”

“That was the tech crew's fault! I didn’t know the mic would rise so soon!”

“Let's avoid talking about such things in the classroom, please.” Professor Kim pipes up. You both roll your eyes at each other and you feel Donghyuck pat your head again.

For the next hour, you’re pretty sure Professor Kim is probably mentioning crucial information about the spring showcase, but all you could think about was the living nuisance that was Jeong Jaehyun. His very presence next to you was driving you up the wall and knowing that you would have to see him every day for a month straight made your face feel hot with rage.

“That’s it for today's class! All pairs must submit their songs by the end of the week! Group rehearsals start as soon as every pair has submitted their song choice.”

Students start slowly trickling out of the lecture hall as others linger around to talk to friends. You slump down into your seat and stare into the distance, Mark and Donghyuck making small talk with Jaehyun as they pack their bags.

“Y/N? Are you listening?” Mark nudges your shoulder gently. You shake your head, still staring off into the distance.

“We said let’s go grab lunch near campus,” Hyuck holds your bag out for you.

“How can you even eat in this situation?” You sigh dramatically.

Your friends roll their eyes at you, while Jaehyun smiles, almost contently, at your misery. He puts a hand on your shoulder, causing you to scowl and turn your head to look at him.

“I’ll see you guys later. I’ll be waiting for your text partner,” He winks at you and you make a face.

“Please run in front of a bus.”

“Only if you’re next to me!” He calls out as he leaves the lecture hall.

You decide right then and there that it wouldn’t be too bad if you were sentenced to death row.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'♪(๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

Fridays usually meant two things for you and your friends: One, the canteen would be serving ice cream, and two, all of your classes ended early.

With that being said, it became a tradition for you three to meet after class at your designated table in the canteen with your respective ice cream cups in hand. However, this Friday was a little different.

“Is that Y/N I see?”

You’re picking at Donghyucks ice cream when you hear an aggravating voice shout from across the room. You cower in your seat out of embarrassment, your friends snickering at the boy desperately trying to get your attention. He rushes over and slides into the seat across from you.

“Y/N? My dearest partner?”

“What the hell do you want, Jaehyun?” you say through gritted teeth.

“Aw, did our sweet little princess Y/N not get enough sleep?” He reaches over to pat your head and you swat his hand away. “Did you think about what song you wanted to do with me?”

“Just give me a reason,” you mumble with a mouthful of ice cream.

“Um, for the showcase? For an honors student, you’re kinda dumb, babe.”

You choke on your ice cream and Mark stifles a laugh from beside you.

“The song. Just Give Me A Reason by P!nk and Nate Ruess.”

Jaehyuns smirk falters. The tips of his ears glow red as Donghyuck stares at him with judgment written all over his sunkissed features.

“Yeah, right.” He clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck. You could practically see the gears turning in his head as he searches for a comeback. “Bit of a hard song for you, no?”

“Worry about yourself and your pre-pubescent voice cracks,” You state calmly, not having to look at him to know you struck a chord.

“That happened-“ He shouts, lowering his voice upon realizing he was getting stares from the people around him, “years ago. My throat was dry.”

“It was last year,” Mark states, earning a pointed glare from Jaehyun.

“Whatever!” He throws his hands up in exasperation and stands up to leave.

“So that’s a yes?” You call after him as he walks away from the table, and he flips you off in return. You take that as a yes.

“Good song choice for you guys to fall in love,” Hyuck mumbles as he licks his spoon clean.

“Pardon?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“A love song for lovebirds. Good one,” He says almost matter of factly, and you look around the cafeteria.

“Are the lovebirds in the room with us?”

“He’s not wrong, you know. Every boy/girl duo that has done a love song ended up in a relationship within 24 hours of the showcase,” Mark points his spoon around as he talks.

“You guys seriously believe that? It’s just Music Department superstition, nothing else to it.”

You swirl your spoon inside your cup of melted chocolate ice cream as you ponder. You vaguely recall the buzz around the two seniors last year who kissed on stage after their duet.

“I can’t believe you’d call it superstition! It’s deep rooted lore thats an important part of our history as music students!” Donghyuck exaggerates.

You roll your eyes as he begins his deep dive into the stories surrounding your department. As he nears the end of his rambling, you feel a tap on your shoulder and turn.

“Yes, Soojin?” You muster a smile as you look at the girl in front of you.

Kang Soojin. Your campuses day one it girl and the bane of your existence. To be fair, you would’ve never had a problem with her had she been a decent human being towards you from the start, but for some unknown reason you found yourself bearing the brunt of her hatred since highschool.

“Why was Jae just talking to you?” Her high-pitched voice pierces your ears and you wince.

“Who?”

“Jaehyun? Jung Jaehyun? Don’t act stupid,” She snaps.

“Oh, he’s my partner for the spring showcase. He was asking what song we should do,” You blink at her.

“Try not to stick around him too much. You’ll rub off on him and I don’t need that,” She snickers before turning on her heel and walking away.

You’re left absolutely flabbergasted, processing her words before turning to your friends with your mouth agape.

“What the fuck?” You whisper, struggling to come to terms with what just happened.

“She does not play about Jaehyun,” Mark lets out a low whistle.

“Why is she talking to me like I want to be around him? I was literally forced into this,” You huff.

“Wait, hold on,” Hyuck starts, hands beckoning you and Mark to come closer. “You guys know Johnny? I heard him telling Doyoung that Jaehyun rejected Soojin in front of all her friends on Valentine's Day. She cried and everything.”

“What an asshole. No wonder why the poor girl is always pissy,” You mumble.

“Maybe she’s pissy towards you because her man wants you,” Mark wiggles his eyebrows and you make a face.

“Ew, no. Never put that into the universe,” You shake your finger at him.

“You won’t be saying that after the spring showcase,” Hyuck sings, licking the last bit of ice cream off his spoon.

You mumble profanities under your breath and narrow your eyes at the boy in front of you, but a tinge of anxiety bubbles in your stomach. As sure as you were that you could never possibly develop feelings for Jaehyun, you truly don’t know what could happen after spending that much time together.

You shudder. You can’t afford to spiral too deep into your thoughts right now, especially in front of Mark and Donghyuck who watch your every reaction like hawks. You let out a fake cough in an attempt to regain composure.

“So, what should we get for lunch?”

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'♪(๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

your head is running wild again

my dear, we still have everything

Your first week of rehearsals with Jaehyun was nothing short of a nightmare.

His incessant teasing and nitpicking had begun to drive you up the wall, and quite frankly you don’t think you’ve ever been closer to crashing out.

“Professor! Y/N won’t act like she’s in love with me and it’s ruining the stage chemistry!” Jaehyun calls out from the stage, much like a fifth grader snitching to their teacher.

It was a Friday evening in the auditorium where your class had been rehearsing for the spring showcase. You and Jaehyun had barely finished singing before his features were taken over by his stupid signature smirk and he asked to stop the song.

“Um, while I don’t believe she needs to pretend to be in love with you, I do believe you are lacking a bit of emotion, Y/N. This is a love song, and well, you don’t exactly look too pleased to be sharing the stage with Jaehyun,” Professor Kim articulates carefully, looking at you expectantly as if he could see the impending breakdown written all over your features.

You offer a tight-lipped smile to your professor, knowing that he was right but you could not, for the life of you, muster a smile in Jaehyun’s presence. “Can another pair go now? I need a minute.”

Professor Kim nods and you quickly walk off, stomping backstage and down the stairs before beelining for the auditorium exit. You push the doors open and step into the corridor, huffing out a breath as you try to collect yourself.

“Great, this is the perfect spot for us to practice,” Jaehyun pipes up from behind you as he shuts the door.

“God, why did you follow me?” You groan, making the mistake of turning around just in time for him to run right into you, “Ever heard of personal space?”

“I’m practicing,” He shrugs, not budging from his spot. You attempt to take a step back but he steps forward, and you swear you were on the verge of a psychotic break.

“Jaehyun, if you don’t step the fuck back-“

“You need to be better at pretending that you love me, so I’m helping you,” He remarks, his smirk widening at the way your face flushes.

“What the hell are you talking about? I don’t need your help,” You put both hands on his chest to push him away, but your efforts prove to be useless when he grabs both of your wrists with one hand and tugs them down.

You can feel the embarrassment start to settle in at the realization that Jaehyun was definitely trying to get a reaction out of you right now, and it was definitely working in his favor. Each step you took back, he took forward, his hand still holding onto your wrists.

“Now if I’m not mistaken,” He pauses, tapping his chin thoughtfully, stepping forward and effectively trapping you against the wall of the corridor, “I think you have a little crush on me, sweetheart.”

You try to rack your brain for any sort of comeback, but all that comes out of you is a weak scoff, “You are mistaken.”

Jaehyun chuckles darkly at your weak argument, the sound sending chills up your spine as you press yourself impossibly closer to the wall.

“Is that so? Is that why you can’t even look me in the eye right now?” He lowers his head so that you’re both face to face, and your cheeks burn a bright red when you indeed can’t meet his scrutinizing glare.

“That’s what I thought,” He scoffs, releasing your hands in favor or pressing both of his against the wall behind you, efficiently caging you in between his arms. “Tell me sweetheart, why do you keep pretending that you hate me?”

The question catches you off guard, your brows furrowing at the accusation that was just thrown at you. You manage to regain your composure for long enough to speak up, “What makes you think I’m pretending?”

“Just a feeling I have,” He shrugs, “and maybe because I let both of your hands go for quite some time now and you have yet to push me away. Would you like to tell me why that is?”

You look down at both of your hands and back up at him, heat rushing up your neck and painting your cheeks a scarlet hue. You shove his chest and let out an exhale when you’re free from the confines of his arms. You mentally curse yourself for standing there gawking at him like an idiot instead of pushing away sooner.

“Both of our lives would be much easier if you admitted it, Y/N,” He sing-songs from behind you, his voice giving away the obvious smirk that was plastered on his face.

“Admitted what?” You turn around with your arms crossed.

“That you like our little game. That you don’t hate me like you want everyone to believe,” He states simply, tucking his hands into his pants pocket.

Something about the way he was so sure of himself almost convinced you that he was right, that maybe you put on this act because there was something ugly and complex buried beneath the surface. Before you can allow your thoughts to consume the space between you and Jaehyun, you shake your head to get rid of them completely.

“You’re delusional,” You mumble weakly, turning to walk back into the auditorium. You can hear Jaehyun’s laugh from behind you and you grimace, quickly walking back to your spot where Mark and Donghyuck look at you with taunting eyes.

“So…you and Jaehyun took quite some time outside. Mind sharing with the class what you two did that has you looking like that?” Hyuck rests his chin in the palm of his hand as he tilts his head curiously at you.

“Looking like what?” You frantically smooth a hand over your hair, uselessly tugging at your top as you try to remain presentable.

“Let’s see. Red cheeks, shaky hands, glossy eyes, and,” Mark pauses to lean in closer to you, inhaling briefly before he nods and pulls away with a hum, “You smell like him.”

Your eyes widen as you bring your arm up to your nose, cursing when the familiar scent of Jaehyun’s cologne tickles your nostrils. “It’s not what you think, we just talked.”

Donghyuck furrows his eyebrows with a slight pout, rubbing his chin in mock thought. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong Mark, but talking to someone usually doesn’t end up with you smelling like them. Am I correct?”

“I’m afraid you are correct, Donghyuck. I’m curious, Y/N. Do you usually go home smelling like one of us after we’ve talked?” Mark prods, and you groan, running a hand over your face in frustration as your friends continue to tease you.

As Mark and Donghyuck continue their unrelenting jokes beside you, your eyes flicker towards Jaehyun’s form as he walks back into the auditorium with his hands in his pockets. His eyes catch yours and his lips immediately curl into a smirk, his left eye dropping to a wink as he regards you with a hint of amusement on his features.

Despite the way you narrow your eyes at him, your body almost doesn’t allow you to look away from him even after his eyes refocus on your professor. Your eyes trail from his eyes to his nose, stopping involuntarily at his lips as he rubs them together. You’re entranced by the way his tongue darts out to wet the surface, and you grow more frustrated by the second at the way the beating of your heart betrays the nagging in your brain that tells you to look away.

For a second, you’re almost convinced he’s doing this on purpose, putting on a show because he knows you’re watching, and your suspicions are confirmed when he turns his head to the side to look at you, his smirk resurfacing when he notices the way your eyes remain on him.

You will yourself to look away, clearing your throat as you try to calm the drumming in your chest. You straighten your posture in the uncomfortable wooden seat before your phone vibrates in your lap and you try to look down at it without drawing Mark or Hyuck’s attention.

jaehyun: still denying it?

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'♪(๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

you’re not broken just bent

and we can learn to love again

Monday mornings were on the long list of things you didn’t like.

It was the only day out of the week that you had a 9 AM class, and to make matters worse you shared that class with none other than the anti-christ himself.

“Psst. Y/N,” Jaehyun whispers from the seat behind you.

You rub at your temples and take a deep breath, doing your best to remain calm and not commit aggravated assault.

As your professor walks in, you turn to get your laptop out of your bag, only to notice it wasn’t hanging on the back of your seat where you left it. You turn to the boy behind you with a pointed glare, and your eyes flick down to your bag in his lap.

“Jaehyun,” You warn.

“Y/N,” He mocks your tone.

“Give it back,” You reach over to grab your bag but he leans back to avoid your touch.

“Why should I?” He teases.

You pinch the bridge of your nose to ease the headache that was forming. “You’re holding my bag and you’re asking me why I need it back?”

“Tell me what you need and I can give it to you,” A taunting smile makes its way onto his face and you feel your composure slowly slipping.

“Jaehyun, I swear to fucking God if you don’t-“

“Alright students, let’s begin our lesson for today. I need all eyes to the front,” Your professor's voice cuts through the room and you clench your jaw.

“You probably need your laptop, don’t you?” Jaehyun jeers, pulling your laptop out and waving it in front of your face. You start to wonder what you did in your past life to deserve this kind of karma.

You grab the laptop from his hands before he can change his mind, turning your attention toward the powerpoint that’s projected onto the screen.

As your professor carries through the lesson, you type your notes fervently to keep up with his words. Your laptop dings and a notification pops up in the corner, causing your eyes to divert from the powerpoint to your screen. Your face sours when you see Jaehyun trying to Airdrop something to you, and you quickly hit decline before refocusing on your professor. You’re only able to regain your focus for a few seconds before another ding catches your attention. You decline the Airdrop request, pulling out your phone and typing out a rather angry message to the idiot behind you.

you: can you stop being annoying im actually trying to pay attention

jaehyun: you’re texting me🥺🥺🥺

jaehyun: what’d you save my name as ;)

you: jaehyun ???????

jaehyun: no heart emojis ?? wheres the love ;(

you: there is none

you: now leave me the FUCK alone or you won’t make it home after class

jaehyun: just accept the airdrop i promise you won’t regret it :))

You roll your eyes at the message before a notification pops up on your phone that makes your jaw drop. It was an Airdrop request from Jaehyun, your screen showing a picture of him standing in the mirror shirtless with his sweatpants hanging low on his hips. You ogle for longer than you’d like to admit, your eyes scanning the dips of his abs and the way his hip bones peek out from the waistband of his sweats. You shake yourself out of your daze, tapping the screen rapidly to decline the request. You see a message from Jaehyun pop up.

jaehyun: like what you see baby?

You peek over your shoulder with your face twisted in disgust and Jaehyun winks at you.

you: not in the slightest

You shut your phone off and put it face down on your desk, attempting to return your attention towards the lesson in front of you, but much to your dismay your mind reels with thoughts of the picture Jaehyun had sent you. The image he sent sears itself into your brain and your heart beats a little quicker against your own will. You clench your teeth in anger that you could only really direct at yourself and the way your mind has begun to waver when it comes to Jaehyun, the line between hatred and something thats definitely not that blurring more as the days go by.

“That’s it for today! Enjoy the rest of your week and I’ll see you next Monday,” Your professor's voice brings you out of your daze, your eyes darting around as if you were afraid that anyone could read your thoughts.

“Still thinking about it?” Jaehyun’s lips are dangerously close to the shell of your ear and you jump in your seat.

“Personal space, Jaehyun, Jesus fucking Christ,” You pant with a hand on your chest.

“Seems like you were a little distracted. Penny for your thoughts?” He teases, leaning his arms on the back of your chair as you gather your belongings.

“Thinking about ways to get rid of your body,” You mutter, reaching out to grab your bag but he holds his arm above his head.

“Not so fast, sweetheart,” He tuts. “Walk with me to my next class.”

“What’s with you today? Did you wake up this morning and decide that making me miserable was your goal?” You question.

“Just feeling a little lonely,” He shrugs, and you try to search his features for any signs of humor, your lips turning down into a frown when you realize he wasn’t joking.

“Oh,” You trail off, feeling a strange tug at your heart when he looks at you expectantly. “Whatever. Lead the way.”

He bounces on the balls of his feet before exiting the classroom with you in tow. He walks towards the glass doors that lead to the courtyard and you stop abruptly.

“Is your class in another building?” You quirk a brow.

“Yeah, something like that,” He smirks, eyes glinting with mischief as he turns back around and you continue to trail behind him.

You follow him as he walks off campus and eventually into the school's parking lot, your eyes narrowing at the back of his head as you stop in your tracks.

“You don’t have another class today, do you?” You stand with a hand on your hip as he turns around scratching his neck.

“Not really,” He laughs sheepishly, “but I need to ask you for a favor.”

“You couldn’t just ask me after class? You had to lie to me and practically kidnap me?” You look at him bewildered.

“I wanted to ask you in private,” He frowns.

“We’re in an open parking lot, Jaehyun.”

He looks around, suddenly realizing that there are students bustling around the parking lot. The tips of his ears burn a bright red as you run a hand through your hair in exasperation.

“Okay, whatever, I’ll just ask you. I need you to be my date for the sports banquet this Friday.”

You tilt your head quizzically, eyebrows furrowing as you look at the boy in front of you,“You’re joking, right?” You laugh.

“I’m serious,” He winces when your laugh trails off, shutting his eyes as if expecting you to freak out any moment now.

“Of all the people you know, you decided to ask me? What gave you the impression that this would be a good idea?” You question him slowly.

“I-okay hear me out. I needed a date and I can’t ask any of the girls I know because A. I’ve hooked up with some of them and B. they were already asked by my other friends and I can’t be the only one without a date Y/N, that shit is so embarrassing-”

“Okay, stop,” You hold a hand up to cut off his rambling and he quickly closes his mouth.

You ponder for a moment as you stare at Jaehyun, who shifts his weight from one foot to the other as he looks down at the ground. You’ve never seen him this nervous, his hands fidgeting with the keychains hanging from your bag that he’s still holding and his foot tapping on the ground. You don’t know what takes over you as you clear your throat to speak up.

“You owe me,” You mumble.

His eyes widen as he stares at you, expecting you to laugh in his face and say you were kidding, but when that never comes a smile slowly spreads across his features.

“You’re serious, right? Seriously serious? You can’t take it back- actually, I’m going to RSVP for the both of us right now,” He pulls out his phone and types quickly, and you find his excitement rather endearing. You catch yourself smiling and your face drops.

When the fuck did Jung Jaehyun become endearing to you?

You snatch your bag away from him as he types on his phone. “Text me the details. I’m going home,” You stammer, frantically swinging your bag over your shoulder and turning around.

“Wait, I can drive you!” He calls after you but you wave your hand in dismissal, pulling up your recent calls on your phone and tapping on the first name on the list as you speed walk away from Jaehyun.

“Donghyuck. You and Mark at my apartment tonight. I’ve lost my fucking mind.”

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'♪(๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

you stole my heart

and i, your willing victim

“And then I said yes! Like a fucking loser with no ounce of dignity, I said yes! Is that not the craziest, most batshit insane thing I’ve ever done?”

Mark and Donghyuck are currently sat at your kitchen island, distractedly munching on the array of snacks you put out for them as you debrief them on the events that had occurred earlier in the day.

“I had absolutely no reason to say yes. But it's like, he looked so nervous and I felt bad? Why the fuck did I feel bad?!” You huff angrily, squinting your eyes at your best friends when you notice them wordlessly chewing.

“Hello? A little bit of engagement would be appreciated, guys,” You wave a hand in front of their faces.

“Do you have juice or something? These chips are dry as fuck,” Donghyuck gets up to sift through your fridge.

“Are you even listening to me? Mark, what do you think?” You shift your attention to the glasses-wearing boy in front of you.

“I think,” He hums, staring off into the distance as he chews slowly on a tortilla chip, “that these chips need dip. Pass me the guac, Hyuck.”

“Mark!” You whine, your friend putting his hands up in defense as he takes the container of guacamole from Donghyuck.

“Bub, you’re not gonna like what we say so I don’t think there's any point in us saying it,” Donghyuck shrugs, sipping on the bottle of iced tea he took from your fridge.

“Anything is better than nothing. I’m all ears,” You push your hair behind your ears and motion for them to continue.

“I think you did it because you have feelings for him,” Hyuck states matter of factly and Mark draws his lips into a thin line while nodding.

“Wrong. Next,” You dismiss, the boys in front of you shrugging at your denial.

“Okay, next is he probably likes you too,” Mark points out.

“Even more wrong. Can we start being realistic please?” You plead, groaning when your friends shake their heads.

“Think about it! That man knows more women than you know people-“

“Okay, rude-“

“Yet he chose the one girl who, allegedly, hates him and isn’t trying to hop on his dick. He is very obviously into you, or at the very least he’s interested.”

Donghyuck’s hands are on his hips now, Mark nodding enthusiastically along to every word.

“Amen, brother,” Mark raises his hand in praise.

You roll your eyes at the two boys, scowling at the thought of any potential feelings involving Jaehyun.

“It was because he hooked up with all of them already and they all hate him!” You defend yourself. Mark and Donghyuck share a look.

“Is that what he told you?” Mark quirks a brow.

“Yes.”

Your friends share another series of knowing looks, smirks slowly adorning their features as your eyes bounce between them in confusion.

“Stop looking at each other and speak!” You shout impatiently.

“Jung Jaehyun, notorious non hooker-upper, told you that he hooked up with so many women that he’s out of options? That’s funny,” Hyuck snorts.

You blink, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion as you process the words you just heard.

“What are you talking about?” You ask.

“Oh poor little Y/N. So caught up in her own little world that she doesn’t know any campus gossip,” Mark rounds the corner of your kitchen island and swings an arm around your shoulders, ruffling your hair gently.

“What gossip?” You swat him off.

“Bub, Jaehyun doesn’t do hook ups. He has not hooked up with a single girl on campus, especially not the ones who throw themselves at him every single day like Soojin.”

You tilt your head to the side as the gears in your brain start turning. You could have sworn you heard stories of his fuckboy antics, his friend group being known throughout campus for having an ongoing hookup counter.

“Johnny and Yuta fuck anything that moves. I don’t doubt he’s the same way,” You laugh nervously, anxiety bubbling in your stomach at the way your friends study your reactions.

“His whole schtick is that he’s different from his friends. That’s why he’s such a babe magnet,” Mark sighs defeatedly and Donghyuck pats his shoulder in mock sympathy.

You let the information marinate for a second, the fuckboy image you’ve built of Jung Jaehyun slowly coming crashing down as you pick apart every rumor you’ve ever heard.

“Look at her face, you can tell she’s realizing she was wrong about him,” Donghyuck murmurs to Mark, breaking you from your train of thoughts.

“I-I’m-I wasn’t wrong! The rumors had to start from somewhere!” Your argument comes out weakly, making Mark and Donghyuck shake their heads in disapproval.

“See, now she’s denying reality. Poor thing,” Mark fake cries into Hyuck’s shoulder.

“Guys!” You whine.

“Alright, alright we’re just joking. But in all seriousness, sooner or later you’re gonna have to accept the fact that he’s not a bad guy and if you weren’t so dead set on hating him for something he did when he was in highschool, you’d probably be jumping his bones because lets face it, the sexual tension between you two is suffocating, and everyone loves a good enemies to lovers.”

You gawk at Donghyuck as he sips from his bottle calmly.

“I’m not gonna lie Y/N, for lack of better wording, he ate you up with that,” Mark pipes up after a beat of silence.

“I’m-you-whatever! I’m going to my room, don’t wreck my place,” You mumble as you retreat back towards your bedroom.

“We’re sleeping over!” Hyuck calls after you and you wave a dismissive hand in the air, knowing all too well that they knew your apartment like the backs of their hands.

When you reach the solace of your bedroom, you shut the door softly as your friends begin to argue over what movie to watch for the night. Your thoughts dizzy you as you slowly crawl on top of your sheets and hug a pillow close to your chest.

You wanted to believe that Jaehyun was a liar and that he somehow was able to trick your friends into believing he was a good guy. You wanted so desperately to believe that you were right, and that your long lived hatred for him has always been valid.

You think back to highschool, the teenage angst and awkwardness of it all making you cringe internally as you reminisce. As if it happened days ago, the image of you and Jaehyun on the bleachers during field day remains vivid in your mind. Every detail is burned into your memory; the way the wind felt, the sound of the students laughter that rang throughout the field, and even more specifically the way Jaehyun’s cheeks were tinted a light pink as he spoke to you.

“Are you saying that you, Jung Jaehyun, haven’t had your first kiss yet and we’re in our senior year?” You arch your brow at him, shifting the lollipop in your mouth to the side as you peer at him curiously.

“Oh, come on, don’t act all high and mighty. You haven’t had yours either!” He exclaims with a finger pointed at you. You shush him with a hand over his mouth, and he puts his hands up in mock surrender.

“That’s a different story! You..you’re Jung Jaehyun. Literally all the girls in our graduating class have dreamt about kissing you since freshmen year. You got the most cheers at the talent show last year even though you looked dumb as fuck singing ‘All I Want For Christmas is You’ in that Rudolph sweater,” You snort at the memory as the tips of Jaehyun’s ears are painted scarlet.

“Just because I allegedly have options, doesn’t mean I want any of them to be my first kiss,” He huffs, “And look who’s talking! We’re in the same boat, you know.”

You narrow your eyes at him scrutinizingly, “What are you talking about? If I had guys throwing themselves at me, maybe I would have had my first kiss by now.”

“What about Mark or Donghyuck? I’m surprised neither of them have asked you out yet.”

“Ew, what? They’re my best friends,” You look out onto the field where Mark is currently chasing Donghyuck with an inflatable flamingo in his hands. “I could never date them. And I’m almost certain Hyuck has already kissed Mark at some point.”

Jaehyun raises his eyebrows at the information he just heard, shrugging his shoulders as he watches your best friends with you. “Besides them. It’s hard to believe you don’t have guys throwing themselves at you. You’re…not ugly.”

It was your turn to blush at his bold statement, your hands instinctively coming up to tousle your hair shyly, “Same goes for you…I guess.”

Theres an awkward tension in the air as you two avoid eye contact with each other, opting to look out onto the field where Mark now has Donghyuck in a headlock. After a few moments of suffocating silence between you two, Jaehyun speaks up.

“What if we were each others first kiss?”

You choke on your own spit at his words, coughing erratically as you clap a hand over your chest in an attempt to stop. When you manage to catch your breath, you look at him in bewilderment, searching his eyes for any signs of humor but finding none.

“Are you serious?”

“Why not? We both haven’t had ours yet, and it’d be better than losing our first kiss to a stranger,” He shrugs a little too nonchalantly at the suggestion, and your face twists even more in confusion.

You stare at him for a moment as you think about his suggestion, his logic making more sense than you’d like to admit. You become increasingly aware of the butterflies in your stomach and the drumming in your chest as you continue to stare at him, and you force yourself to look away as you clear your throat.

“I guess it’s not a bad idea,” You mumble, and you hear him let out a breath.

“Great. Meet me in front of the vending machines in 15 minutes,” He shoots you a wink before getting up from his spot next to you and walking off the field, your eyes following his movements as he disappears from your line of vision.

You look down at the digital watch on your arm, watching as a minute passes, then five, then ten. When the fifteen minutes have passed you stand from your seat, taking in a deep breath before walking in the same direction that Jaehyun went. You could feel your heartbeat quickening as you near the vending machines and you wipe your clammy palms on your pants before you round the corner, your mouth opening in shock as you watch the scene that unfolds before you.

There, in front of the vending machines, stood Jung Jaehyun with his back facing you, and a rather happy looking Kang Soojin with her lips attached to his.

You don’t waste another second before you stomp away from the two of them, your cheeks burning in embarrassment as you angrily wipe away the stray tear that made its way down your cheek. You mentally curse yourself for getting your hopes up in the first place, the excited buzz you felt earlier being replaced with an overwhelming sense of stupidity. You let out a bitter laugh.

You suppose you were quite the idiot for believing that someone like Jaehyun could ever make space for someone like you in his heart.

A wave of embarrassment washes over you as you recall the events that happened that day and you shudder, urging your brain to think about anything else so you could bury that memory.

The moment of him asking you to the sports banquet pops into your head, the genuine excited glimmer in his eyes when you said yes still fresh in your memory making you sigh. As easy as it was to accept the rumors as truth, the way your friends spoke of him riddled your head with uncertainty. He was one of the few people you could never read, and if you were honest you found yourself thinking about him lately, more often than you’d like to admit.

You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head, physically trying to rid your brain of Jaehyun. You open your bedroom door to the sounds of what you could only assume to be Despicable Me and you smile, knowing it was Mark’s idea and Donghyuck was probably pouting on your couch right now. When you walk out you’re greeted to the exact sight you were expecting to see.

“Y/N, he’s making me watch this stupid fucking minion movie again,” Hyuck whines from one corner of your couch.

“Stupid minion movie? That’s literally you!” Mark points at the screen when a minion pops up.

You don’t know what it is but the presence of your two best friends eases the racing of your mind, a small smile decorating your features as you watch them argue back and forth about who was more of a minion.

“Why are you just standing there? We left your spot open!” Hyuck pats the spot between them that you claimed as yours ages ago. After you settle yourself between them, you feel Mark pat your head and you turn to him.

“Stop thinking so much, it’s bad for your brain. You’re gonna end up like Hyuck,” He smiles reassuringly at you and you don’t even get the chance to smile back before a handful of popcorn is launched in his direction.

“What does that even mean? My brain and I are perfectly functional, thank you very much,” Hyuck huffs from beside you.

“Don’t throw food!” Mark exclaims before promptly picking up the pieces of popcorn that were scattered on his lap and popping them into his mouth.

Even with the grimace on your face and the sound of Donghyuck going off on a tangent about how he has a higher IQ than Mark, you couldn’t be more thankful that your mind had started to stray far away from Jaehyun.

You just hope it could stay that way.

*･･*:.｡..｡.:*･'♪(๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

you’re still written in the scars on my heart

If you had realized sooner that getting ready for a banquet would be this stressful, you might have said no a lot easier.

As you viciously pat powder onto your face, Donghyuck stands in front of your closet door with a steamer to your dress and Mark wipes down your shoes.

“Are we sure you’re not going to bust your ass in these?” Mark holds up one of the heels and examines it.

“She’s fine. Don’t talk to her, she's already running behind schedule,” Donghyuck barks from his corner of your room.

“What’s his problem?” Mark quirks a brow in your direction.

“He’s a little upset because I dragged him to the mall with me this morning to get those because I forgot about shoes,” You point at the heels in Marks hand.

“I told you to have everything ready like what, a week ago? And now here we are running to Macy’s of all places to find you a pair of shoes?” Donghyuck nags as you two speed walk through the mall.

“God, why did I not bring Mark instead of you? I should have known you’d be no help,” You grumble under your breath.

“First of all, Mark couldn’t tell a stiletto from a kitten heel. You need my expertise if you’re gonna be Jung Jaehyuns date,” Hyuck scoffs.

“Not his date! His plus one!” You exclaim dramatically, cowering slightly when you realize you might have been too loud.

“Date and plus one are the same thing, but okay. Let’s just find you a nice pair of black platforms with ankle straps to go with your dress,” Donghyuck claps his hands together as you gawk at him for even knowing what that was.

The memory of Donghyuck and you this morning makes you giggle as you sweep glitter onto your eyelids.

“Don’t laugh! You’re gonna crease your makeup!” Hyuck shouts at you as he looks through your jewelry box and holds up different pairs of earrings next to you.

“Hyuck, you seem to be more into this than Y/N. Do you want to take her place?” Mark snickers.

“Oh, excuse me for not wanting my best friend to embarrass herself at the biggest event of the school year,” Donghyuck rolls his eyes dramatically, holding up a pair of sparkly silver hoops to your face, “Yes! These are it.”

“It’s just another sports banquet. They have like, ten of them every year,” You shrug.

“Just another sports banquet is absolutely insane, Y/N. You do realize he’s not even on the hockey team and yet he was still invited? Do you know why?” Hyuck has a hand on his hip as he stares at you expectantly.

“…He’s not on the hockey team?”

“Because of his friends! Johnny and Yuta are our schools top hockey stars and every year, they invite him to that damn banquet because you know whats better than two hot guys in suits? Three hot guys in suits. They are the trio, Y/N, and everyone there is on the same level of hot and popular as them, if not more. That banquet you’re going to is literally just an excuse for all the popular kids to show off their parents money and get hyped up for their shitty gameplay,” Donghyuck lets out in one breath and you feel your hands start to slightly tremble.

“Well, now you got her all nervous, dumbass. I’m pretty sure he didn’t tell her for a reason!” Mark points out and Donghyuck looks at you with worried eyes.

“Oh god, please don’t start crying or sweating, your makeup is almost done,” He gently smoothes a hand over your hair and you swat him away.

“I’m fine. A little nervous now, thanks to you, but nothing I can’t handle,” You mumble quietly to hide the shaking in your voice.

A ding! causes all of you to freeze in your spots and look at each other, Mark being the first one to move as he grabs your phone and unplugs it from the charger.

“Jaehyun says “be there in 10 sweetheart” with a heart emoji. Sweetheart?!” He exclaims as he reads the message on your phone over again.

“That’s not the point! He’s almost here and I’m not dressed!” You yelp as you douse your face in setting spray.

“Okay, its go time! Get dressed and take your hair out of the rollers. If he comes, I’ll greet him at the door and distract him so you have time for shoes and perfume. Go!” Hyuck claps his hands together and drags Mark out of the room with him. You walk up to your dress and remove the hanger, slipping into it quickly and easily zipping it up yourself. You walk towards your mirror and your eyes slightly widen at your own appearance.

You’ve grown so accustomed to your usual casual attire that the sight of you in a dress almost feels foreign, and you find yourself turning side to side to admire the way the dress accentuates your features.

“Heels,” You whisper to yourself before you perch yourself on the edge of your bed and begin strapping on the black heels Donghyuck picked out for you earlier in the day.

You hear your apartment door open and you recognize Jaehyuns voice as he greets Donghyuck and Mark. You mutter curses to yourself as you quickly spray on your perfume and deodorant, letting them dry down as you pack your purse with your necessities for the night.

You become increasingly aware of the anxiety that settles in the pit of your stomach at the thought of Jaehyun seeing you all dressed up, and you find yourself involuntarily double checking your appearance in the mirror. You take a deep breath before opening your bedroom door.

“Just have her back by midnight latest. It gets a little creepy around here at night,” You hear Donghyuck say and you shake your head in disbelief at your friend.

“Hyuck, I’m not your daughter you know,” You call out as you walk out of your bedroom, all three sets of eyes landing on you.

Donghyuck wipes a fake tear from his eye as he looks at you and Mark lets out a low whistle as he admires your form.

“You look great, bub. I did a great job,” Hyuck pats himself on the back and you roll your eyes, slowly turning your head to gauge Jaehyun’s reaction.

He stands impressively still as his eyes rake up and down your body, and you want to cower instinctively at his almost predatory gaze. His eyes trail up your body to finally meet your eyes and you swear there’s a hint of something, but Mark claps a hand in front of his face and it goes away in an instant.

“Hey. Stop staring at my best friend like that,” Mark scowls, regarding Jaehyun with caution as he narrows his eyes at him.

Jaehyun clears his throat, straightening his shoulders before turning to Mark with a smirk, “Is it my fault this is my first time seeing her in something that isn’t her church girl clothes?”

“Church girl clothes? I dress perfectly normal, thank you very much,” You scoff, walking towards the front door, looking at Jaehyun expectantly. “Are you coming or what?”

Donghyuck and Mark watch with knowing smiles as Jaehyun walks towards the front door, his eyes never leaving your figure as he stands next to you.

“Wait!”

You both turn your heads at Donghyucks voice, and you’re nearly blinded by the flash that goes off. When you regain your vision, you see Hyuck holding up his digital camera, and you groan.

“Dude!” You whine, Jaehyun chuckling as he gently guides you out of your apartment.

“Have fun listening to EDM all night! And make sure you stay away from Yangyang!” Mark calls out as you step into the hallway of your apartment building and you raise an eyebrow. When the door of your apartment finally closes, Jaehyun turns to you, his dimples on full display as he gives you a quick once over.

“Ready, my lady?” He offers his hand out to you and you scowl, ignoring the way your heart thumps a little harder at his offer to hold hands.

“You seriously owe me one, asshole. Let’s get this over with,” You mutter, walking away from him and towards the elevators.

Jaehyun watches you with an unreadable expression plastered on his face as you walk in front of him, and he lets out a laugh, speaking low enough for only him to hear.

“Let’s get it over with.”

･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

One hour into the banquet and you were starting to think that Mark had some sort of psychic ability.

Shitty EDM blasts through the speakers and you gulp down the remainder of your champagne with a grimace. Your eyes flit around the room, landing on Liu Yangyang as he shotguns a beer in the corner with Johnny. A chorus of cheers erupt when Johnny finishes first and he receives several pats on his back as he makes his way over to you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You need another drink, pretty?” He shouts over the music, and it takes every fiber of your being to not gag at the smell of beer coming from him. You eye the way his tie is now secured on his head like a bandana, and you offer him a tight lipped smile.

“I’m good, thanks,” You call out, shooting him a thumbs up and he nods, stumbling over to the table of new pledges and forcing them to take shots with him.

Against your own will, your eyes search the crowd for a certain dimpled boy, and you find yourself frowning slightly when you can’t see him. You feel a hand on your shoulder and you turn to see Jaehyun looking down at you with a small crease forming between his brows.

“Why was Johnny talking to you?” He leans down to speak over the music, and you start to wonder if the champagne is the reason you find the proximity dizzying.

“He asked if I wanted another drink. I said no,” You answer.

Jaehyun looks at you for a moment, as if considering something, before he leans closer to your ear and speaks.

“Let’s step outside for a second.”

You never agree to something quicker, standing to your feet and letting Jaehyun guide you out to the lobby and up a flight of marble stairs. His hand rests too comfortably on the small of your back, and you ignore the way his touch feels like fire on your skin.

Maybe you were a lightweight after all and maybe the effects of the champagne were starting to take place, making you more perceptive to the way he stayed close to you as you passed by groups of people.

He leads you to an empty room upstairs, walking towards the large glass doors at the end and sliding them open. You step out onto the terrace, your eyes taking in the view of the field below, decorated with fairy lights and flowers for the banquet. Jaehyun shuts the door behind him, walking up to stand next to you as you look up at the inky sky.

“Woah, you can see the stars so well. They’re so pretty,” You breathe out.

Jaehyun’s eyes study your features that are dimly light by the glow of the fairy lights, and he mumbles quietly to himself, “Very pretty.”

A light breeze creeps its way over your form and you shiver, crossing your arms over your chest to try to garner a little warmth.

Jaehyun doesn’t miss the way you cower slightly as the temperature drops, his arms moving quickly to take his blazer off and drape it over your shoulders.

“Oh, I’m good,” You protest, starting to slide the jacket off your shoulders but stopping when Jaehyun puts two hands on your shoulders to readjust the jacket.

“Keep it on. I don’t wanna hear your ass complaining when you get sick and can’t sing at the showcase,” He mumbles, the glint of fondness in his eyes going unnoticed as you grumble under your breath that you’re fine but slipping your arms through the jacket nonetheless.

“Even if I get sick, I’d still sing better than you any day,” You joke, a small smile making its way onto your face upon seeing Jaehyun’s dimples slowly deepen.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. My biggest hater yet you still agreed to be my date for tonight,” He tuts.

Despite the cool air nipping at your nose, you could still feel the warmth spread on your cheeks at his words.

“I am not your date…I’m your plus one,” You articulate, hesitating before you finally ask what had been on your mind all night, “Why did you ask me to go anyways? I know you had other options.”

Jaehyun ponders for a moment, his lips drawing into a line before he lets out a breath.

“I guess I did have other options. None of them were my first choice though.”

You’re thankful that the sky was dark enough to hide the stupid blush that blooms on your cheeks at his words. “And I was your first choice because…?”

“You’re kidding, right?” He snorts, looking up at the sky with a sigh, “Senior year field day.”

Your eyes almost bulge out of your head as those words leave his lips, and you whip your head to the side to look at him.

“W-what about it?” You stammer embarrassingly, your heartbeat quickening as you wait for him to answer you.

“We were supposed to be each others first kiss and you didn’t show up. I can’t say I wasn’t bummed, you know,” He’s still looking out at the sky as he speaks, and you hate that even in a situation like this, you couldn’t help but admire the way the moon dances over his features.

“I did show up and you were kissing Soojin. So I wouldn’t have even been your first kiss,” You mumble, and you hate the way you almost sound disappointed.

He lets out a dry laugh. “Yeah, I can’t blame you for leaving. But, just for the record, she stole it from me. I wanted it to be you.”

You didn’t think it was possible for your eyes to widen any more than they already were, your lips parting in surprise as you try to process what he just said.

“She…stole it?” You repeat his words and he nods slowly, choosing to ignore the part where he said he wanted you to be his first kiss for the sake of your own sanity.

“I guess she heard us talking about it or something. She followed me to the vending machines and just kinda…threw herself onto me,” He admits, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

Not only did Jaehyun just completely deconstruct the reason behind your hatred for him, but he did so while also admitting that he wanted you to be his first kiss. An unfamiliar feeling bubbles in your stomach and you rack your brain for something to say.

“Well that…sucks,” You wince at your own words, mentally smacking yourself in the head for not being able to think of anything else. A little sigh of relief escapes your lips when Jaehyun laughs.

“It did suck. I wanted it to be you,” He repeats his words from earlier and he turns to you, looking at you with sincerity written all over his sharp features.

You come to the conclusion that you’re definitely in way over your head right now. You blame the champagne, no, you blame the way the cologne on Jaehyun’s blazer completely clouds your senses.

“Why’s that?” You say quietly, your eyes locked onto his intently.

“Why do you think?” He says calmly, turning to face his entire body towards you before stepping closer.

The tension between you two is enough to suffocate you, and you blame that for your lack of rationality and judgement as you let him enter your space, your eyes never leaving his as he towers over you even in your heels.

“Jaehyun…” You mumble, not sure if it was an attempt to stop him or a cue for him to close the space between you two.

“I’ve really, really wanted to make up for that kiss. Can I?” He speaks quietly, his eyes searching yours for permission.

You’ve definitely had too much champagne tonight, and that’s why you end up nodding.

His hand hesitantly comes up to gently cradle your jaw, your eyes never leaving his as your heart pounds excessively in your chest. He inches closer, his lips barely brushing against yours before a loud bang in the distance causes you to jump away from him. You turn your head towards the field where Yangyang lights up a row of boxes, and you watch as sparks of red and white shoot into the night sky. Not even a second later, you hear a chorus of laughter from the room behind you and the glass doors slide open. Johnny and Yuta come stumbling onto the terrace with three other guys you don’t recognize, and they smile drunkenly at you before whooping at the next round of fireworks.

“Holy shit, we have the best view in the house!” Johnny slurs, whipping out his phone and recording the fireworks as the other boys clink their beer bottles together.

You’re suddenly very aware of the fact that you almost kissed Jaehyun just now, and you let out a small gasp. You look over at Jaehyun, who watches his friends with a scowl, and you quickly slip his blazer off of your shoulders and shove it in his arms, the smell of his cologne lingering on you far longer than you appreciated.

“I’m…I,” You can barely get your words out, so you resort to pointing your thumb at the glass doors behind you to signify you’re leaving. You turn to walk back into the venue but his hand gently wraps around your wrist, and you look back at him.

“Wait, let me take you home,” He nearly pleads, but you simply shake your head and pull your arm out of his grasp. He tries to speak again but Johnny wraps an arm around his shoulder and tugs him into a group selfie.

Your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts as you make your way back into the venue, your cheeks hot as you weave through the crowds of people that litter the space. You quickly pull your phone out when you reach the front, ordering yourself an Uber and sitting on the curb as you try to process what just happened. The single glass of champagne you had was slowly starting to wear off, and you’re left with no excuses for the way your heart still hasn’t stopped hammering in your chest even after you’ve left Jaehyun’s vicinity.

You’re almost certain you look insane right now, sitting on the sidewalk with your head in your hands as you mumble “I’m fucked” over and over again under your breath. A car horn causes you to jump in your spot, and you look up to see what you could only assume to be your Uber. You get in, confirming your address with the driver before he begins to pull away from the curb, and you lean back in your seat with a huff.

“Rough night?” The driver chirps, and you let out a dry laugh, the fog in your brain beginning to lift and leaving you feeling slightly disappointed and confused.

“Something like that.”

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'♪(๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

we’re collecting dust

but our loves enough

There’s a noticeably thick tension between you and Jaehyun the next day at rehearsals.

You’re well aware that his eyes had been laser-focused on you from the minute you walked into the auditorium and it left you with an unsettling pit in your stomach as you tried to engage in conversations with your friends to distract yourself from the boy shamelessly staring at you.

“Is it just me or is Jaehyun staring at you?” Renjun asks from the seat behind you.

Mark and Donghyuck snap their necks towards the boy in question, their eyes following his gaze to confirm Renjun’s statement, only to have it land on you.

“Come on now, why would he stare at me?” You smile sheepishly to feign innocence. Donghyuck gasps loudly and jumps out of his seat, causing the surrounding students to avert their attention towards him.

“Is this about last nigh-”

You clap a hand over his mouth and force him back into his seat before he can finish his sentence. His eyes are about to pop out of his head as you offer an apologetic smile to the students who glare at your group.

“What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you want the entire school to know my business?” You whisper-shout as you remove your hand from his mouth.

“Holy shit, I need to know what happened, start to finish. Better yet, I need a play-by-play of what happened from the moment you left the house,” He rambles, bouncing in his seat excitedly.

“Mark, make him stop,” You groan, rubbing at your temples.

“I would love to, but I’m also curious,” Mark winces when you shoot a glare in his direction.

You sigh. It would definitely make the load on your shoulders feel lighter if you vent about last night’s events to your friends. You barely get the chance to open your mouth before Professor Kim walks into the auditorium.

“Hello, students! Give me ten seconds to get the speakers and mics on and we’ll be up and running!” He chirps as he sets his clipboard down and walks onto the stage to set up.

“I’ll tell you guys after rehearsals. My place, tonight,” You whisper to the three boys before you all turn towards the stage.

Professor Kim stands on the stage with a happy grin, eyes scanning the students in the audience before he looks down at his clipboard.

“Today we’re going to try to do rehearsals with the curtains and lights. First pair up is Y/N and Jaehyun!”

It was your turn for your eyes to bulge out of your head. You look over to your partner, only to quickly look away when you realize his eyes are already focused on you, a taunting smirk adorning his stupid face.

“Come on up, guys” Professor Kim calls out.

You hesitantly stand up, looking back at your friends who give you reassuring nods. You trudge through the backstage doors and up the steps, walking onto the stage and positioning yourself at one of the mic stands. In your peripheral, you see Jaehyun only a few steps behind you, doing the same as the curtains close.

“I need to talk to you, you know,” You can feel the way his eyes bore into the side of your face as he speaks, and you sigh.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

The opening chords of the song starts playing and the curtains open, the stage lights shining directly onto you and Jaehyun. You start off the song, easily moving through the first verse and chorus. When Jaehyun’s verse starts, you tense up, doing your best to remember Professor Kim’s notes from your past few rehearsals. You watch as Jaehyun sings his lines while looking directly at you, your eyes getting lost in his as you both start singing together. The bridge approaches quickly and before you even realize it, you’re both standing in front of each other, the lyrics feeling more like a conversation between you two than the words to a song.

This is a performance. You’re both putting on an act.

You try to repeat those words to yourself mentally, but it all goes out the window when his hand reaches out to gently graze your cheek. Your eyes try to search his and for a second, you swear they’re filled with nothing but longing.

The last note of the song echoes throughout the auditorium and you’re both staring at each other. Something is definitely different, but you can’t quite put your finger on what. You feel something bubbling in your chest and your stomach, and if you weren’t so lost in the way his lips curl up into a smile, you’d be able to figure out what it was.

The stage lights dim and there's scattered applause coming from the other performers and the crew. You snap back into reality and look into the audience where you see your best friends looking at you with a knowing smile. You put the mic back onto its stand and rush backstage, where you sit down on a crate and collect your breath.

“Hey, that was great,” Jaehyun pants, slowly approaching where you’re sitting.

“Right, yeah.”

“I told you I’d make a great partner,” he jokes and you shake your head.

“Yeah, whatever. I can’t wait until this is over with,” you mumble to yourself, but he doesn’t miss it.

“You hate me that much, huh?“

“Why are you acting surprised?”

You finally look up at him and if it wasn’t so dark backstage, you’d be able to see the smirk on his features.

“Cause the way you look at me on stage says different.”

The look on his face is enough to send shivers down your spine, but you’re so lost in his aura that you still can’t distinguish what it is. You need to snap back to reality soon, otherwise you’ll lose complete control of the reigns you have on your feelings. The sound of the backstage door opening causes you to shift your attention to Mark and Donghyuck, who come rushing in with the biggest shit-eating grins you’ve ever seen. You’re suddenly very aware that your two best friends were watching it all happen, and you stand up abruptly.

“It’s called having stage personality and presence. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

You don’t even give yourself time to process the change in his face before you walk off, grabbing Mark and Hyuck along with you.

When you reach the audience, you collapse into a seat, and Hyuck is the first one to break the silence after a series of knowing stares between him and Mark. “So…you hate him, huh?”

“Hyuck,” you whine.

“Innocent question, Y/N.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and gesture for them to sit next to you. They’re now on either side of you, waiting for you to speak.

“I feel insane,” you almost laugh, but nothing was particularly funny in this situation. You just feel like you need to laugh to lighten the heavy feeling on your chest.

“Because you might not actually hate him?” Mark inquires, and you shake your head.

“Because I don’t think I ever really did.”

Your friends send you sympathetic glances, Hyucks eyes darting towards the doors that lead backstage when it squeaks open. He watches Jaehyun walk out seemingly disheveled, before he makes a beeline for the auditorium exit to avoid the stares of the other students. “Is it so bad to be wrong about someone?”

You sigh and rub your eyes. There were too many thoughts swirling around your head and it made you dizzy.

“Can we step outside?” You ask them and they stand, leading you towards the back of the auditorium. Mark pushes the door open but barely takes a step out before he freezes in his spot with Donghyuck doing the same, causing you to bump into their backs.

“Oh shit.”

You look up upon hearing those words leave Mark's mouth, and your blood runs cold.

Jaehyun was leaning against the corridor wall, Kang Soojin latching onto him like the bloodsucking leech she is. And just like that, you’re back in highschool watching Soojin kiss Jaehyun in front of the vending machines again.

You don’t know what it was about the sight but you felt sick to your stomach, your breathing becoming shallow and your hands shaking.

“Woah, Y/N, you okay?” You hear Mark ask, but your heartbeat is so loud in your ears that he sounds far away.

Your eyes finally break away from the sight and you stomp forward, walking through the corridor without another word. You keep up your speed until you’re sure you're far enough from the devil himself, and you turn the corner of the hallway.

“Y/N! Wait up!” You hear your friends call after you.

You slide down the wall and sit on the floor, tears sliding down your cheeks even though you’re not exactly sure why.

You thought you hated Jaehyun. You thought you’ve hated him ever since highschool. But why did the sight of him and Soojin make your chest ache? Why was it so easy for him to make your resolve crumble? Why couldn’t you get him out of your head?

“Jesus Christ, are you okay?” Mark pants, crouching down to examine your crying figure. The tears wouldn’t stop coming no matter how hard you tried to control it.

“Bub…” Hyuck sits down next to you and wraps an arm around your shoulder. You lean into him and you let the tears fall silently this time.

It’s silent as Donghyuck holds you close and Mark sits in front of you and strokes your hand. You didn’t know what to say, but you knew you didn’t have to explain anything to them just yet. You let them comfort you in silence, not worrying about the dread that came with knowing you’d have to talk about it at some point.

“Let’s go home.”

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'♪(๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

we’re not broken just bent,

and we can learn to love again

You skip the next two rehearsals despite every bone in your body fighting to be on the stage. You make up a lie about being sick to Professor Kim, and Mark and Donghyuck cover for you.

It wasn’t an entire lie. You definitely felt a churning in your stomach since the incident and it made you nauseous. Your phone had been on silent for two days, and your hand had been itching to pick it up and see if Jaehyun had texted you.

The clock blinks 2:14 AM as you shuffle back into your room after using the bathroom. You pull back your comforter and slip into bed with a long sigh, curling yourself into the same position you had been in for the past two days and letting your eyes flutter shut.

Your phone vibrates from your nightstand and you ignore it, assuming it’s either Mark or Donghyuck calling to check up on you. The vibrating stops and your room fills with silence for a brief moment before your phone rings again.

You reach behind you with your eyes still closed, swiping across the screen to accept the call before bringing it up to your ear.

“I’m alive, boys. I appreciate your concern but it is 2 AM,” You croak into the phone, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Not boys, just boy. And if I knew all I needed to do to talk to you was call you, I would have done it a lot sooner.”

Your eyes shoot open and you damn near jump out of bed.

“Jaehyun?” Your voice cracks. “Why are you calling me at two o’clock in the morning?”

“You’re gonna ask me that when you’ve been MIA for the past two days?” He scoffs into the receiver.

“If Professor Kim told you to check up on me, I’m fine. Are we done here?” Your voice is shaky as you try to maintain your usual cold demeanor towards him.

“God damn it, Y/N,” He snaps. “I’m calling you because I want to. Because I care. You can’t disappear for two days and not respond to my texts then expect me to not give a shit. Cut the fucking attitude.”

A tense silence envelopes the call as you fiddle with the drawstrings of your pajama shorts. All traces of fatigue have left your body upon hearing Jaehyun’s voice, making you sigh deeply as you lean against your headboard.

“I’m fine, Jaehyun,” You chew at your bottom lip in an attempt to keep the lump in your throat at bay.

“Stop saying that when both you and I know it’s not true.”

That was the final push that sent your last bits of sanity off the edge.

“What do you want from me, Jaehyun? Do you want me to sit here and cry to you about how shitty I feel right now? Do you want me to tell you that I wish I didn’t have to go back to rehearsals because I have barely been able to get out of bed for the past two days?” You cry.

It’s silent again, embarrassment slowly seeping into your veins as you wipe the streaks of tears from your cheeks.

“Do you want me to tell Professor Kim to excuse you from the performance? I can do it solo,” His voice is surprisingly gentle.

You stare ahead at your black TV screen as you think about Jaehyun’s words. Performing at the spring showcase has always been one of your favourite times of the year, and you knew that if you didn’t perform this year you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself. Especially knowing that it meant you’d have to admit that the reason behind your dejection was Jaehyun.

“No, I can…I can come back tomorrow,” Your voice is uneasy.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday, sweetheart,” He laughs.

You hate the way the pet name makes your heart clench.

“Right, then Monday. I’ll be back on Monday,” You sputter, smacking your palm to your forehead in an attempt to regain composure. You feel another surge of embarrassment when you hear him laughing again. “If that’s it, I’m gonna go to bed, Jaehyun.”

“Wait!” He calls out, and you hum curiously at his urgency.

“I know you didn’t ask but, there’s nothing going on with me and Soojin. She was on me. You guys really just came out at a bad time,” He breathes out and you feel heat rushing to your cheeks at the thought that he knew you were bothered by him and Soojin.

“I-the-um-that doesn’t matter to me,” You attempt to lie, the shaking in your voice not only apparent to you but to Jaehyun as well, who laughs at your failed efforts. You smack your palm to your head again at the embarrassment that has yet to leave your body since the call started.

“That’s a shame. I was told it did,” You hear the traces of a smile in his voice and you pale.

“Who told you what?” You squeak.

“Let’s just say one of them is a really bad liar and the other one is a chronic yapper. I’m sure you can figure it out from there,” He laughs into the receiver and you curse under your breath.

“Those idiots,” You grumble.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m glad it does matter to you,” He speaks, the blush returning to your cheeks as you continue to stutter embarrassingly into the phone.

“I said it doesn’t,” You muster, not even believing your own words.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart. Get some rest, yeah? I need my partner in tip top shape on Monday,” He chirps.

“Yeah, I will. Thanks for checking in, Jaehyun. I appreciate it,” Your lips slowly spread into a smile and he hums.

“Oh, and Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t care if you don’t reply to anybody else’s calls or texts. But don’t pull that shit with me or I swear to God I’ll show up to your house next time.”

You let out a giggle at his request, nodding to yourself and not missing the way he sighs, almost contently, into the phone. You hate to admit it, but this was the best you’ve felt in the past few days.

“Goodnight, Jaehyun,” You laugh quietly.

“You should laugh more often, Y/N. Sweet dreams,” He voices before you hear the noise that signals he hung up.

You return your phone to its place on your nightstand before falling back onto your pillows.

“What the fuck?” You whisper to yourself, clapping a hand over your mouth after a girlish giggle slips past your lips.

That night, you fall asleep peacefully with an undeniable smile etched onto your features, as soft brown eyes and deep dimples occupy your dreams. When you wake up in the morning you swear the sun shines a little brighter, and you go about your morning with ease and a small smile.

Getting back to rehearsals feels easy and you quickly fall back into routine, your performance with Jaehyun getting stronger as the day of the show approaches. Neither of you bring up what happened, and quite frankly you couldn’t be more glad that he seemingly swept it under the rug for your sake. The idea of having that complicated conversation nearly made you retch every time you thought about it, so you continually prayed that he would forget about it as time passes.

But unfortunately for you, the universe doesn’t seem to hear your prayers.

It’s the Thursday night before the performance and you’re the last one to pack up and leave the auditorium after a long day of rehearsal. You sling your bag over your shoulder with a sigh, fishing your phone out of your pocket to check the time and frowning when you see it was almost 8pm. The loud squeak of the auditorium door startles you, and you look up to see Jaehyun sauntering down the aisle towards you.

“Why are you still here? You scared the shit out of me,” You call out, a hand on your chest to stop the racing of your heart.

“I was waiting for you. Mark and Donghyuck left, and I wasn’t going to leave you alone,” He shrugs, stopping to stand in front of you.

Shit. Was he finally going to talk to you about what happened the other week?

“Why were you waiting for me?” Your eyes flit nervously around the room.

He lets out a soft chuckle, lowering himself to meet your eyes, “Did you think I forgot?”

“Forgot what?” You stammer, stepping back to allow for some distance between you two.

“That I know you were bothered by me and Soojin. That we almost kissed at the banquet.”

You realized with an alarming clarity that you were very much fucked, and there was no way you could back out of this conversation now. Your reactions were too obvious, your emotions too readable, and you let out a defeated sigh.

“It was the alcohol talking at the banquet. I wasn’t in my right mind,” You deflect, flinching slightly when he laughs at your weak attempt to dissmiss him.

“Okay, let’s say you were. You weren’t drunk when you saw me and Soojin though,” He mentions.

“So?�� You try to keep a stoic demeanor but it’s quickly replaced by surprise when he steps closer.

“Why were you bothered by it, Y/N?” He prods, tilting his head as he notes the way your eyes fail to meet his.

“Wouldn’t you be bothered by two people practically making out in front of you?” You scoff weakly.

He hums thoughtfully, before shaking his head, “Not really. Not unless I liked the person.”

“T-that’s not true,” You try to argue, but you know it’s no use. He’s got you right where he wants you, and just the tiniest push would send you over the edge.

“Be honest with yourself, Y/N. It won’t help either of us if you keep lying like this,” He almost growls as he steps forward to trap you against the foot of the stage.

“Why do you care?” You furrow your brows at him.

“Because I like you, god damn it. I liked you in highschool and I like you now.”

A strange feeling churns in your stomach at his words and you almost laugh. The idea of Jaehyun liking you made you feel strange, insecurity and disbelief pricking at your heart as you open and close your mouth pathetically.

“N-no, you don’t,” You dismiss, looking away from him as if it would change the tension between you two right now.

“Yes, I do. I like that you’re not afraid to speak up against people you don’t like and I like that I can tell what mood you’re in just by looking at your face. I like that you’re always humming even though I tell you it’s annoying and I like that you don’t let me tell you what to do. I like that you’re bothered by the idea of me and Soojin together, because I like you,” Jaehyun lets out all in one breath and you try to search his features for anything that isn’t the complete sincerity that was written all over it.

“You don’t like me, Jaehyun,” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you shake your head.

“Don’t tell me how I feel. I like you, Y/N. Too damn much for you to try to convince me I don’t,” His voice softens as he lowers his head to try to meet your eyes, a frown forming on his lips when you turn your head to look away from him.

“B-but Soojin…you like Soojin,” You can feel your heartbeat in your throat as you try to dismiss his feelings for you, not wanting to face the reality of your own just yet.

“I don’t care about, Soojin. I never have. I don’t even look in her direction because I’m too busy looking at you.”

It becomes increasingly difficult to convince yourself that he didn’t actually like you. You feel sick, the butterflies that only seemed to erupt when he was around begin swirling violently in your stomach. Your heart beats wildly in your chest as you look up at him and your brain works in overdrive to justify the way he’s looking at you, like you were an oasis in the middle of a barren desert. The line between hatred and something that was definitely not that was completely gone, and this time you can’t blame the alcohol or the tension for the way your heart nearly bursts when he gently tilts your head to look at him.

“Jaehyun…” You call out weakly, not missing the way his eyes are almost begging you to believe him.

“I like you, dumbass. So much,” His voice is barely a whisper as he searches your face for any type of emotion.

You’re not drunk, you’re not vulnerable, and you definitely can’t ignore it anymore. The pounding of your heart in your chest is loud, urgent, and the butterflies that clutter your stomach demand your attention. The startling realization that Jaehyun was the only person who could evoke such a visceral physical reaction from you washes over you, and everything becomes clear to you as your eyes meet his.

You like Jaehyun, and you probably have for a long time.

“Oh shit,” You mutter to yourself, looking at him with a newfound sense of clarity.

“What is it?” Jaehyuns brows crease slightly at your words.

“I like you too,” You breathe out, the ghost of a smile on your lips as you look up at him with a glint of adoration in your eyes.

Jaehyun lets out a breath, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as his body relaxes in relief.

“Thank fucking God.”

Without another thought, he tilts your head up and presses his lips against yours, his free hand securing itself on your waist as he tugs you closer. He holds you with the utmost conviction that you’d disappear from his very sight if he let go, his desperate hands holding you impossibly closer as your lips mold with his.

Your heart nearly bursts at the seams as you run your hands up his arms and past his shoulders, stopping to gently cup his face. You kiss him back with equal fervor, your body buzzing with what you could only describe as pure bliss. When your lungs begin to burn from the lack of oxygen, you both pull away, your chests heaving and cheeks tinted a bright pink as you both catch your breath.

“So you were pretending to hate me this whole time, huh?” Jaehyun pants, his hand sliding down to squeeze your hip.

You swat at his chest, your lips twitching into a small smile, “Shut up, before I take it back.”

His hands rest comfortably on your hips, as if they were meant to be there all this time, and he pulls you into his arms. “Nope, can’t take it back. You’re stuck with me.”

You laugh against his chest, wrapping your own arms around his torso as you rest your cheek against his chest. He sways you back and forth gently, a comfortable silence dawning on you two for a moment.

“So…now what?” You speak up, pulling away from the hug to look at him.

He considers you question for a moment as he looks at you, his adoration never fleeting as he tucks some hair behind your ear. “I’d really like if you were mine. How does that sound?”

You hum in mock thought, but the quckening of your heart and the unrelenting butterflies in your stomach know the answer to his question.

“I think I’d like it if you were mine too,” Your grin widens when you notice the way his eyes light up at your response.

“I was always yours, dumbass,” His dimples deepen as he lets out a laugh.

You hear what sounds like a wail coming from backstage, and you whip your head around in slight fear.

“Is someone back there? I can hear you,” You call out, your arms loosening around Jaehyun.

Donghyuck and Mark emerge from behind the curtains, sheepish grins on their faces as they wave at the both of you. You instinctively release your hold on Jaehyun, your face reddening as you realize that your best friends just witnessed everything.

“Are you guys stalkers or something? Why were you hiding back there?” You question as you cross your arms over your chest.

“I’m sorry, bub, but we couldn’t miss this. It was your boyfriends idea!” Donghyuck snitches, pointing an accusing finger at the boy next to you. You turn your head towards Jaehyun and raise an eyebrow at him.

“My fault?! I asked for your help, not for you to stalk us!” Jaehyun retorts.

“Same difference! What did you think we were going to do-” Hyuck defends himself, his words being cut short as Mark smacks him on the back of the head.

“If you were quieter, they wouldn’t have found out! You just had to start crying like a loser!” Mark points out.

“They were being so cute, I had to! I told you we could have played it off!” Hyuck sputters.

You shake your head as they both begin bickering in front of you, and you feel Jaehyun wrap a secure arm around your waist from behind you.

“Your boyfriend, hm? I could get used to that,” He speaks low enough so that only you could hear him.

You turn your head to look up at him and you’re tempted to deny the reality of the situation again, but the feeling of his thumb gently tracing shapes on your skin pushes any sense of insecurity you had out of the way. There was nothing to deny anymore, and you mentally confirm this when he gazes down at you, his eyes warm and reassuring.

“I could too.”

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'♪(๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

NOTES: she’s finished!!! thank you so much for reading if you’ve made it this far<33 i hope you guys love this one as much as i loved writing it :))) more work coming soon my pretties💞💞💞💞

[slytherinsmuse]

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ Domestic Chaos | Draco Malfoy ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem! Reader

Warnings: I guess mention of sexual activity and condoms

Summary: Fluff, Comedy | Draco navigates through muggle life with the love of his life.

Word count: 8966

author's note: I am so sorry that this request took so long. But work has been hell before the holidays. Now that I have some time off I managed to finish it. I hope you like it! @malfoy-mrsdracomalfoy

The first week of living together with Draco Malfoy had been… an adjustment, to say the least.

You smiled to yourself as you wandered down the stairs of your new house, recalling the mix of chaos and charm that came in the start of sharing a home with Draco. Moving in together had been a big step, one you hadn’t expected to take so soon. But after months of navigating your relationship between your cozy Muggle world and his pristine magical one following your graduation from Hogwarts, it only made sense to create a space that was truly suited for the both of you.

Granted, the transition had been smoother for you than it had been for him.

Draco, for all his poise and pure-blood grace, had little to no experience with Muggle life. Your enchanted house—a quirky blend of his velvet armchairs and your mismatched cozy furniture—reflected that perfectly. It was a home where magical portraits coexisted with photo frames from your favorite vacations, where your television and laptop shared a shelf with his collection of ancient spell books.

It was perfect. Except for the moments where Draco had done his best to interact with Muggle appliances.

The faint sound of muffled clattering pulled you towards your kitchen, curiosity outweighing your desire to get yourself a hot mug of coffee. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you padded down the hall toward the kitchen. As you stepped through the doorway, you froze, your grogginess instantly replaced by disbelief at the sight before you.

The dishwasher, a seemingly harmless Muggle machine, stood wide open. Inside, dishes were arranged in what could only be described as abstract art. Draco stood in front of it with his wand drawn, muttering incantations under his breath. A suspiciously green, bubbling potion had been poured into the detergent slot, and—Merlin help him—a set of silver goblets that were very much not dishwasher-safe glinted proudly from the bottom rack.

“Draco.” you said carefully, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe, “what are you doing?”

He didn’t flinch, though his wand froze mid-air. “Using this infernal contraption you insisted on bringing into our home.” he replied, his tone clipped.

You couldn’t help the grin tugging at your lips. Our home. The words still gave you butterflies.

“This ‘infernal contraption’ is a dishwasher,” you corrected, stepping closer. “It cleans dishes. Without magic. That’s sort of the point.”

Draco huffed, a faint pink tinting his pale cheeks. “Well, it’s doing a poor job of it so far.”

“Probably because you’re trying to curse it into submission.” You peered into the dishwasher, your eyes widening. “Wait. Is that—oh my God, Draco, is that the antique goblet from your mother’s dining set?!”

He glanced at the goblet, then back at you, feigning innocence. “What? It needed cleaning.”

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “It’s over 200 years old! You can’t just throw it in a dishwasher!”

“Well, I certainly can’t hand wash it,” he said indignantly, crossing his arms. “Do you know how much trouble the preservation charms require? It’s exhausting.”

“Then maybe don’t drink wine out of a priceless artifact?”

“Then maybe don’t serve wine in cheap glass cups,” he shot back, a smug grin tugging at his lips. “It ruins the wine taste…”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, fine. Touché. But seriously, what is this… potion?” You gestured to the green, bubbling mess in the detergent slot.

“It’s a universal cleaning tonic,” he said proudly. “Far superior to whatever chemical nonsense Muggles use.”

“It’s not even liquid! It’s oozing! You can’t put that in a dishwasher!”

Draco frowned, glancing back at the machine as if it had betrayed him. “So what’s the proper way, then?”

You sighed, grabbing the small box of dishwasher tablets from the counter. “Watch and learn, Pure-blood.”

With a sigh you carefully removed the bubbling mess he had poured into the detergent slot. Draco watched with a mix of curiosity and mild indignation as you wiped it clean with a paper towel.

“This,” you said, holding up one of the tablets from the box, “is what you’re supposed to use.”

Draco tilted his head, eyeing the tablet skeptically. “That tiny thing? How could that possibly clean anything?”

“It’s designed for this, Draco. It dissolves in the water and works its magic—well, not literally, but you get the idea.”

You slid the tablet into the designated compartment and snapped the dishwasher closed, pressing the buttons to set the correct cycle. “And this,” you added, pointing to the buttons, “is how you actually start it. No wand required.”

Draco’s expression was unreadable as the machine hummed to life, its rhythmic sounds filling the kitchen. After a moment, he muttered, “It still seems unnecessarily complicated.”

“Complicated? You were about to duel the dishwasher,” you teased, crossing your arms.

Draco smirked, his signature smugness returning. “And I would’ve won.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you leaned against the counter. “You’re hopeless.”

Before you could say more, you felt his arms snake around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. His chin rested lightly on your shoulder, and his breath tickled your neck.

“Perhaps,” he murmured, his voice softer now, “but I’m learning, aren’t I?”

You snorted, tilting your head slightly as you felt his lips brush against the curve of your neck in a featherlight kiss. “Barely,” you teased, though your tone lacked the bite to make it convincing.

Draco chuckled, the vibration of it humming against your back. His kisses trailed lazily along the side of your neck, his hands tightening ever so slightly around your waist. Just as you began to melt into his warmth, a sharp, electronic beep shattered the moment.

Draco froze, his lips pausing mid-kiss. “What in Merlin’s name was that?” he asked, his voice tense and laced with suspicion.

You laughed, turning in his arms to face him. “That’s just the washing machine.” you explained, finding his baffled expression entirely too adorable. “It beeps when it’s done with a cycle.”

Draco frowned, glancing over at the machine as if it were an intruder. “Why does it need to announce its accomplishments? It’s not as though I announce every time I complete a task.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You sure about that? Because I distinctly remember you declaring victory the last time you hung up a picture frame.”

Draco scowled, though the faint pink creeping back into his cheeks betrayed his embarrassment. “That frame was enchanted to repel nails. It was a triumph,” he muttered defensively.

You couldn’t help but laugh, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair out of his face. “Draco,” you said, still grinning, “the Muggle world is going to kill you at this rate.”

He grumbled, tightening his hold around your waist and resting his forehead against yours. “Life is unnecessarily complicated without magic,” he muttered, his tone dripping with indignation. “Why would anyone willingly choose this… process over a simple charm?”

You smirked, tilting your head. “Maybe because some of us didn’t grow up with the luxury of a wand to fix all our problems?”

Draco pulled back slightly to look at you, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “You’re saying you willingly endured this madness? What kind of resilience do Muggles possess that I’ve clearly been deprived of?”

“Patience!”

Draco scoffed, stepping back just enough to look at you. “Patience is for people with time to waste,” he said, though the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.

You rolled your eyes, slipping out of his arms and heading toward the counter. “Come on, your Highness,” you said over your shoulder, pulling open the breadbox. “Let’s see if you’re capable of making toast without burning it.”

Draco followed you with a mock-offended expression. “I’ll have you know I’m perfectly capable of operating a toaster,” he declared, though his hesitation as he glanced at the machine suggested otherwise.

“Uh-huh,” you replied, smirking as you slid a couple of slices into the slots. “Here, I’ll start it for you. You can handle buttering them when they’re done. Think you’re up for the challenge?”

Draco leaned against the counter, folding his arms. “You’re underestimating me again, love. I’ll butter the toast so flawlessly you’ll weep.”

You snorted, turning to grab plates from the cabinet. “Sure, let’s call that your triumph of the day.”

As the toaster clicked and the smell of warm bread filled the kitchen, Draco busied himself setting the table—his version of setting the table, which involved summoning everything with a flick of his wand and arranging it with the precision of a dinner party.

“You do realize breakfast doesn’t require formal presentation, right?” you teased, sitting down as he placed a perfectly folded napkin by your plate.

Draco smirked, sliding into the seat across from you. “Just because it’s breakfast doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be elegant.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he reached for the now-popped toast, applying butter with such deliberate care you half-expected him to use a ruler for even distribution. Shaking your head with a soft smile, you rose from your seat and quietly grabbed a mug from the cabinet, filling it with fresh coffee from the pot on the counter.

The warm aroma filled the kitchen as you set the pot down and returned to your chair, savoring the first sip in comfortable silence. Across the table, Draco finished buttering the toast and waved his wand casually, sending the coffee pot floating over to his side. It tilted gracefully, pouring a perfectly measured amount of coffee into his mug before settling back in its spot on the counter.

You raised an eyebrow at him over the rim of your cup. “So, pouring coffee is too much effort, but you’ll put on a show buttering toast?”

Draco looked up, his expression far too smug. “Presentation matters, darling. Coffee is utility. Buttering toast is an art.”

You snorted, biting back a laugh as you leaned back in your chair. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee and giving you a sly smile, “you can’t seem to get enough of me.”

“Debatable,” you shot back, though the way your lips twitched betrayed the truth.

As the two of you ate, the quiet hum of the dishwasher filled the air, mixing with the faint clinking of dishes and the comforting warmth of the morning. You couldn’t help but think that, chaotic as it was, life with Draco had its charm.

Halfway through breakfast, Draco cleared his throat, setting his mug down with a deliberate clink. “By the way,” he said nonchalantly, brushing a nonexistent crumb from his sleeve, “my parents have asked to visit for dinner this evening.”

You froze mid-sip, glancing up at him.“Tonight?” 

This wasn’t the first time Draco had invited his parents over since you’d moved in together, but it never got easier. The Malfoys had made their opinions about his choices abundantly clear. The arguments had been frequent and heated when Draco first announced his decision to move into the Muggle world. Dating mudblood, as Lucius had so delicately put it during one particularly venomous conversation, had been a sore point from the start. The disdain in their voices, though carefully masked in your presence, was never far from the surface. Still, Narcissa had tried to keep things civil, at least outwardly. Her maternal instincts, perhaps, outweighed her prejudices. Lucius, on the other hand, had never fully hidden his disapproval. The sideways glances, the veiled barbs—it all painted a clear picture. They saw your relationship as a deviation, something temporary that would inevitably pass. And yet, they remained fairly cordial in front of you, no doubt for Draco’s sake. Tonight’s visit felt like yet another test, one you were determined to pass—though it always left you walking on eggshells.

Draco nodded, as if this were the most natural announcement in the world. “Yes, tonight. Around seven, I believe.”

You blinked, setting your coffee cup down carefully. “Right,” you murmured, your mind already racing. “I’ll need to go shopping today before the shops close, then.”

Draco frowned slightly, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Shopping? Whatever for?”

“For dinner, Draco,” you replied, standing to gather your plate. “We don’t exactly have a stocked pantry suitable for hosting your parents.”

As you moved toward the sink, he waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll just send a house-elf to take care of it.”

You froze, staring at him over your shoulder. “Draco,” you said slowly, turning back toward the table, “We don’t have house-elves.”

He blinked, as though the idea hadn’t even occurred to him. “We don’t?”

“No,” you said firmly, placing your hands on your hips. “They don’t exactly come with Muggle homes, you know.”

Draco leaned back in his chair, a look of mild bemusement crossing his face. “Strange. Well, no matter—I’ll ask Father to send a couple over for the day.”

You stared at him, momentarily speechless. “You’ll what?”

He shrugged, as if this were a completely reasonable solution. “I’ll write him after breakfast. It’s hardly a problem.”

Your mouth opened, then closed again as you tried to formulate a response. Finally, you shook your head, rubbing your temples. “Draco, we are not borrowing house-elves from your dad.”

“Why not?” he asked, genuinely baffled.

“Because,” you said, sighing as you sat back down, “this is our home. I’m not dragging house-elves into it every time we have guests over. I’ll just go shopping, make a nice meal, and that’s that.”

Draco looked at you as though you’d just suggested cooking dinner over an open flame. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” you replied, sipping your coffee again. “This is how Muggles do things. Welcome to the real world.”

For a moment, Draco looked as though he might argue, but then he sighed dramatically, leaning back in his chair. “Fine,” he said, his tone begrudging. “But I’m coming with you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “To the grocery store?”

“Yes, to the grocery store,” he said, his expression a mix of determination and distaste. “If I’m going to endure this… experiment, I might as well see how it works.”

Smiling, you leaned over and gave him a soft kiss. “Alright then. I’ll go get ready.”

When you returned a short while later, Draco’s gaze immediately fell on the several empty shopping bags you were holding. His brows knitted together in confusion, but to his credit, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he simply followed your every movement with the intensity of someone trying to solve an unspeakable mystery.

You set the bags by the door and reached for the keys to the house, slipping them into your pocket before pulling on your shoes. Draco’s confusion deepened. “What are you doing?”

“Getting ready to leave,” you said, nonchalantly tying your laces.

Draco raised a perfectly arched brow. “And how exactly are we planning to get there? Apparition or Floo Powder?”

You snorted softly, shaking your head. “Neither.”

“Neither?” he repeated, the word dripping with disbelief.

“We’re walking,” you said matter-of-factly, straightening up and grabbing the empty bags.

Draco blinked, his expression torn between incredulity and exasperation. “Walking? Why on earth would we walk when we could be there in seconds?”

“Because,” you explained patiently, “the shop is close by, and it would be weird to just appear in the middle of it. Muggles don’t take kindly to people popping out of thin air near the frozen food aisle.”

Draco stared at you as if you’d just suggested climbing a mountain for fun. “This is madness,” he declared.

You laughed, patting his arm as you opened the door. “Consider it part of the full Muggle experience.”

Still grumbling under his breath about the absurdity of it all, Draco stepped outside with you, his silver hair catching the sunlight as he scanned the street. “Walking,” he muttered again, shaking his head. “What will they think of next?”

You only smirked, knowing the real fun was yet to come. Draco laced his fingers with yours as you stepped out into the crisp winter air, the snow crunching softly beneath your boots. He pulled you closer as you walked, his warm breath visible in the cold. The streets were lined with houses adorned with twinkling lights, wreaths on doors, and the occasional snowman standing proudly in a yard.

“I could’ve taken the car,” you said casually, glancing up at him, “but I don’t think you’re ready to experience traffic yet.”

Draco gave you a pointed look, though his lips twitched with faint amusement. “If it’s anything like the stories you’ve told me, I’d rather not risk my sanity—or my temper.”

You laughed softly, nudging him with your shoulder. “That’s probably for the best. One honking horn, and you’d be out of there faster than you could say ‘Pure-blood.’”

He sighed, his gaze drifting to the bustling scenery around him. The sidewalks were busy with people bundled in coats and scarves, some carrying shopping bags, others chatting cheerfully. There was a warmth to it all—a vibrancy that was so different from the cold, quiet grandeur of the Malfoy Manor.

“For all the stupidity the Muggle world has to offer,” Draco murmured, his voice thoughtful, “I’ll admit… I do enjoy how lively it is.”

You glanced up at him, surprised by the rare vulnerability in his tone. “Lively?”

He nodded, his icy eyes catching the glint of the snow-covered streets. “The manor was… beautiful, I suppose. Grand. But it was so isolated. Mostly empty land, save for the occasional visitor or house-elf passing by. There was nothing like this—” he gestured to the people around you, the soft hum of life that filled the air. “—no life, no… warmth.”

Your heart softened at his words, and you squeezed his hand gently. “Well, you’ve got that now,” you said, smiling up at him. “Even if it comes with grocery shopping and dishwashers.”

Draco smirked, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “It’s a compromise I’m willing to make,” he said, his voice teasing but sincere.

As the two of you continued walking, the snowflakes began to fall again, dusting the streets and your hair in a light layer of white. Draco tightened his hold on your hand, the moment between you quiet and peaceful as the world around you bustled with life.

As you approached the grocery store, you reached into your pocket and pulled out a coin, flipping it between your fingers before sliding it into the lock on a row of shopping carts. With a satisfying click, the cart popped free, and you grabbed it, turning to Draco with a smile.

He stared at the cart, then at you, his brow furrowing. “What in Merlin’s name are you doing?”

You laughed softly, gesturing to the coin slot on the cart. “It’s how you unlock them. You put in a coin, and when you’re done, you get it back.”

Draco’s confusion deepened as he examined the contraption with a critical eye. “Why would you need to pay for a cart? Isn’t that the store’s responsibility? Do you lose the money if you don’t return it?”

“Yes, you only lose the money if you don’t return it.” you explained, suppressing a giggle at his baffled expression. “It’s just a system to make sure people don’t leave the carts all over the parking lot… or steal them”

He tilted his head, considering this. “So, Muggles have to bribe themselves to do the responsible thing?”

“Pretty much,” you said with a shrug, trying not to laugh at the sheer disdain in his voice.

Draco narrowed his eyes at the cart as if it had personally offended him. “What a pitifully inefficient system,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Why not just enchant the carts to return themselves?”

You snorted, wheeling the cart toward the entrance. “Because not everyone has magic, Draco. This works just fine.”

He fell into step beside you, still looking slightly affronted. “I should write to the Ministry. There has to be some sort of international wizarding intervention for this level of absurdity.”

You smirked, patting his arm as you entered the store. “You do that. In the meantime, try not to hex anything while we shop.”

Draco grumbled something under his breath but followed you inside, his sharp gaze taking in the bright fluorescent lights, the neatly stacked shelves, and the bustling crowd. “This is going to be an experience,” he muttered.

“You have no idea,” you replied with a grin, steering the cart toward the produce section.

You wheeled the cart through the store, stopping in the produce aisle to grab fresh herbs and vegetables for the roast dinner. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Draco wander a few steps away, picking up various food items and squinting at the labels like he was deciphering ancient runes. It was adorable, really, but you couldn’t help but focus on your shopping. As you mentally ran through your list, you zigzagged through aisles, tossing essentials into the cart—seasoning, potatoes, stock, bread. Before you knew it, you were in the snacks aisle, debating between crisps and popcorn.

That’s when you realized it. Draco was gone. You glanced around, craning your neck to see if you could spot his silver-blond hair anywhere in the sea of shoppers. Nothing. You sighed, silently praying he hadn’t decided to duel the automatic doors or try to interrogate the self-checkout machine. Just as you picked up a bag of crisps, you heard his unmistakable voice behind you.

“Look at this!” he said, sounding thoroughly impressed.

You turned around, and there he was—holding a bright yellow plastic broom.

“They have brooms here!” he said, turning it over in his hands as if he’d stumbled upon the latest innovation in flying technology. “Never seen one like this… must be a new model.”

You froze, staring at him, your lips twitching as you struggled to keep it together. “A new model?” you repeated, barely managing to suppress a laugh.

Draco nodded, completely serious. “It’s so lightweight. And this handle… not wood, but some kind of sturdy Muggle material. I’ve no idea where the charms are hidden, though.” He ran his fingers along the bristles, frowning slightly. “Odd design, but maybe it improves aerodynamics?”

You pressed a hand to your mouth, fighting to keep your laughter under control. “Draco… that’s not… it’s not a flying broom.”

He blinked, his expression shifting from curiosity to confusion. “What do you mean? It’s a broom. What else could it be used for?”

“It’s for cleaning,” you managed, your voice trembling with suppressed laughter. “Muggles use it to sweep floors.”

Draco stared at the broom, then at you, then back at the broom. “You’re joking.”

“Nope,” you said, finally letting out a small giggle. “That’s about as far from a flying broom as you can get.”

Draco’s face twisted into a mixture of horror and disappointment as he looked at the broom again. “They’ve completely ruined it,” he declared, setting it back on the shelf with a level of disdain usually reserved for cursed objects. “What’s the point of a broom that doesn’t fly?”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing, earning a few amused glances from other shoppers. “Oh, Draco,” you said between giggles, grabbing his arm. “Come on. Let’s get the rest of what we need before you find something else to ‘improve.’”

You couldn’t stop grinning as you watched Draco hover near the cleaning aisle, his gaze fixed on a row of mops. He tilted his head, his brow furrowing as he gingerly poked at the mop’s sponge end.

“What’s this for?” he asked, holding it up like it was a weapon he needed to disarm.

You chuckled, wheeling the cart closer. “That’s a mop. Muggles use it to clean floors—specifically, to scrub them when they’re wet or dirty.”

Draco’s lips parted in disbelief, and he blinked at you as if you’d just told him people used quills to sew fabric. “You’re telling me… they manually drag this thing around on the floor instead of just casting a Scouring Charm?”

“Pretty much,” you replied with a shrug, struggling to keep a straight face.

He shook his head slowly, muttering under his breath, “Primitive. Absolutely primitive.”

After returning the mop to its place like it had personally offended him, he stuck closer to your side for the rest of the trip, steering the shopping cart with surprising enthusiasm. At first, he pushed it tentatively, testing its movement, but before long, he was zipping down the aisles like a child with a new toy.

“Draco,” you called after him, trying not to laugh as he gave the cart a small push and watched it glide forward. “It’s not a racing broom.”

“Of course not,” he said, smirking but not stopping. “It’s much slower.”

Despite his antics, he peppered you with questions as you continued shopping, picking up random items and holding them out for inspection.

“And this?” he asked, holding up a box of instant pudding mix.

“It’s dessert. You mix it with milk, and it thickens into pudding.”

He frowned. “No wand required?”

“No wand required,” you confirmed, tossing the box into the cart.

He sighed dramatically, moving on to the next item. “And this?”

“A tin opener. It opens cans.”

Draco’s expression fell further. “What’s wrong with an Opening Charm?”

“Not everyone has one, Draco,” you said patiently, biting back a laugh as his disappointment deepened.

Item after item, his curiosity turned into sheer disillusionment. “Muggles really have to work this hard for everything, don’t they?” he muttered, picking up a manual whisk and giving it a dubious glance.

You smirked, taking it from him and placing it in the cart. “It’s not all bad. You’re surviving, aren’t you?”

“Barely,” he replied, pushing the cart forward with a little more flair than necessary.

By the time you made it to the checkout line, Draco had perfected his ‘long-suffering Pure-blood enduring the trials of the Muggle world’ expression, but you couldn’t help but notice the occasional glint of fascination in his eyes as he took in the bustling store around him. You were focused on unloading the cart, placing items neatly onto the till conveyor belt while Draco hovered a safe distance away from the machine. His cautious glances at the moving belt made it clear he wasn’t entirely convinced it wasn’t alive. Out of nowhere, he called your name, and you turned just in time for him to shove a small box into your face.

“What is this then?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and bewilderment.

You froze, your eyes widening as you recognized the box of condoms he was holding with an almost clinical detachment. Your face turned scarlet in an instant.

“Draco!” you hissed, snatching the box from his hand and glancing around to see if anyone had overheard.

“What?” he asked, genuinely confused, tilting his head as he looked down at you. “What are they for? Some kind of… candy perhaps?”

You swallowed hard, trying to find the right words without alerting the nearby cashier or the couple in line behind you. Pulling Draco closer by the sleeve of his coat, you whispered urgently, “They’re… for, um, protection. During, uh, intimate moments.”

Draco’s brows furrowed, his confusion only deepening. “Protection? From what? Are Muggles frequently attacked during—oh.”

The realization dawned on his face, his pale cheeks tinging pink as he took a slight step back. He cleared his throat, glancing at the box still in your hand. “I see. That’s… efficient, I suppose.”

You groaned, pressing a hand to your burning face. “Can we please not discuss this here?”

Draco, however, seemed more intrigued than embarrassed now. “Do they… work reliably? Or—how do you even put it on?”

“Draco!” you hissed again, cutting him off as you stuffed the box back onto the shelf behind you.

He smirked at your reaction, leaning closer and lowering his voice. “You’re blushing, darling. It’s adorable.”

“Because you just asked about condoms in the middle of a grocery store,” you muttered, turning back to continue unloading the cart, your face still burning.

Draco chuckled softly, clearly finding your embarrassment far too amusing. He stayed quiet for a moment, but out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him lingering by the shelf where he’d found the box. His eyes narrowed in concentration as he examined the options: strawberry, ribbed, ultra-thin. Before you could say anything, he plucked one off the shelf and, with exaggerated caution, tossed it onto the conveyor belt from a distance, as if it might attack him.

You blinked at him, your confusion only growing as you stared at the box sitting innocently amidst the rest of your groceries. “Draco… what are you doing?”

He avoided your gaze, suddenly very interested in straightening his coat. “What? I want to try them,” he mumbled, his voice almost innocent.

You bit back a laugh, shaking your head as you leaned closer to whisper, “Draco, you do realize these aren’t, like, some kind of Muggle novelty item, right?”

He finally glanced at you, his pale cheeks tinged with pink. “I’m perfectly aware,” he said, straightening his posture. “I just… want to see what all the fuss is about.”

You covered your face with your hand, torn between exasperation and laughter. “You are unbelievable.”

The cashier began scanning the items, and Draco, determined to prove himself useful, did his best to place them into the bags you had handed him. His movements were deliberate and almost comically precise, as if packing groceries was a skill to be mastered.

You watched with quiet amusement as he gingerly placed eggs into a bag, his face a mask of concentration. He only paused when the cashier announced the total and you pulled out a card to pay.

Draco’s eyes widened, his gaze darting between you and the small machine where you inserted the card. “That’s how you pay?” he murmured, half to himself.

“Yup,” you replied, suppressing a grin as the machine beeped, signaling the transaction was complete.

But what truly left him speechless was the receipt. The small slip of paper emerged from a hidden compartment with a faint whirring sound, and Draco stepped back slightly, his brow furrowing in suspicion.

“What now?” you asked, noticing his confusion.

He pointed at the receipt, his voice low and serious. “Is it enchanted?”

You chuckled, taking the receipt and tucking it into your pocket. “No, Draco, it’s just a record of what we bought. No magic involved.”

He said nothing, though his expression suggested he wasn’t entirely convinced.

Once outside, with the shopping bags evenly distributed between you, Draco slid an arm around your waist, pulling you close as you walked through the snowy streets. His grip was firm and grounding, but his face was set in a deep, pensive frown. You glanced up at him, his furrowed brows and slightly parted lips betraying the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind. Deciding not to interrupt, you pressed yourself closer to his side, letting your head rest lightly against the side of his chest. The walk home was quiet, save for the crunch of snow beneath your boots. Draco remained silent, processing the bizarre journey into Muggle life. You didn’t push him, knowing he’d speak when he was ready—or maybe not at all. By the time you reached your house, his frown had softened, though his eyes still had a far-off look. As you unlocked the door and stepped inside, you caught the faintest glimmer of a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Next time,” he said as he set the bags down, his tone a mix of humor and resignation, “I’ll handle the receipt.”

—

You busied yourself in the kitchen, determined to make a flawless roast dinner for Draco’s parents. You knew they weren’t particularly fond of you or the fact that Draco was immersing himself in the Muggle world. Still, you were set on showing them that you belonged in Draco’s life, no matter how many raised eyebrows they threw your way. Draco leaned casually against the counter, arms crossed as he watched you work. His silver hair caught the warm light of the kitchen, and though his expression remained neutral, you could tell he was intrigued. You chopped, seasoned, and kneaded everything by hand, and it was clear he wasn’t used to such a process.

“You really do all of this without magic?” he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

“Yup,” you replied, sprinkling some herbs over the potatoes. “From scratch. It’s not so bad once you get the hang of it.”

Draco hummed in response, clearly not convinced but unwilling to argue. The quiet shuffling of aluminum caught your attention, and you glanced over your shoulder.

What you saw nearly made you drop the salt shaker.

Draco stood there holding an unpackaged, rolled-up condom in his hands, a deep frown etched on his face. He was holding it between his fingers like it was a particularly slimy slug, his lips curling in disgust.

You bit back a laugh, trying to focus on the potatoes as you replied casually, “You have to unroll it.”

“Aha,” Draco mumbled, clearly no less confused, as he turned and disappeared into the other room.

You shook your head, unable to stop the grin spreading across your face. For a moment, the kitchen was quiet again, save for the sound of the roast sizzling in the oven. Then came muffled grumbles from the other room.

It didn’t take long for Draco to reappear, still holding the condom. His face was a mix of defeat and lingering disgust as he held it up. “I have no idea how this thing works,” he admitted, his voice low. “And why does it feel so… disgustingly slimy?”

You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing, clutching the counter for support as tears sprang to your eyes. “Oh my God, Draco,” you managed between fits of laughter.

He scowled, tossing the condom onto the counter as if washing his hands of the whole ordeal. “It’s not funny!”

“It is!” you replied, wiping at your eyes. “You look like you’ve been wrestling with it!”

Draco sniffed, clearly unimpressed. “I don’t understand how Muggles deal with this nonsense. Magical contraceptives are far less… revolting.” He glanced down at the discarded condom with a look of pure disdain. “It couldn’t even go on.”

You bit your lip, barely holding back your laughter as you stepped closer to him. Reaching up, you cupped his cheek gently, guiding his attention back to you. His silver eyes softened slightly, his frown easing as you leaned in and kissed him softly, your lips lingering against his just long enough to distract him from his frustration.

When you pulled back, your voice was low, your tone teasing. “You need to be… excited for it to work, Draco.”

Draco blinked, his cheeks immediately flushing a soft pink. He straightened, his usual composure cracking for a brief moment as he processed your words. “Excited?” he echoed, his voice slightly higher than usual.

You grinned, brushing past him to check on the roast in the oven. “That’s right,” you said casually, as if you hadn’t just sent his mind spinning.

Draco stood frozen for a moment, glancing back at the discarded condom as if it had betrayed him yet again. Then, he turned to you, his voice laced with indignation. “You could have told me that earlier instead of letting me wrestle with it like some kind of fool!”

You laughed, glancing at him over your shoulder. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Draco huffed, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter once more, his pink cheeks still betraying him. “Muggles,” he muttered under his breath, though there was a faint, reluctant smirk tugging at his lips.

“Alright, Malfoy” you teased, brushing your hands off on a towel. “Go set the table before your parents get here, and I promise no more surprises. For now.”

Draco gave you a mock glare before turning to do as you asked, his mutterings about Muggle nonsense fading as he left the kitchen. You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head as you returned to your cooking. Living with Draco was chaotic, but moments like this reminded you just how much you loved having him in your world—even if he’d never quite understand all of it.

The table was set perfectly, as if Draco had spent as much time arranging it as you had cooking. You took a deep breath, smoothing your hands over your clothes as the knock on the door echoed through the flat. Draco opened it with his usual composed grace, greeting his parents with a stiff nod.

Narcissa stepped inside first, her expression polite but guarded as she glanced around the house. “Draco,” she said softly, pulling him into a quick hug. Her gaze flicked to you, and she offered a small, tight smile. “Y/N.”

“Mrs. Malfoy,” you greeted, doing your best to keep your voice steady.

Lucius followed behind her, his sharp features betraying nothing but disdain as he surveyed his surroundings. He inclined his head slightly toward you, though his lips never moved to form a greeting. It was clear that he was only here under duress, likely at Narcissa’s insistence.

“Do come in,” Draco said, stepping aside and gesturing toward the dining room.

As everyone settled at the table, the tension was palpable. Narcissa sat with perfect posture, her delicate hands folded neatly in her lap, while Lucius sat rigid, his cane resting against the table. His icy gaze swept the room, his disdain evident in every furrow of his brow.

Draco, however, seemed unbothered. He stood proudly, bringing out the food you had spent all afternoon preparing. He set the dishes on the table with a flourish, clearing his throat. “Dinner is served,” he announced, his voice filled with pride. “And before you ask—yes, it was cooked entirely without magic or the help of house-elves.”

Narcissa’s brows lifted slightly, a spark of genuine surprise in her eyes. “Really?” she asked, glancing at the dishes. “That’s quite impressive.”

Lucius, on the other hand, let out a scoff, his lips curling into a faint sneer. “Why anyone would willingly endure such a process is beyond me,” he muttered, earning a sharp glance from his wife.

You bit your tongue, focusing on serving the food as Draco sat down beside you, clearly unfazed by his father’s comment. The meal began in awkward silence, the only sounds coming from the clinking of cutlery and the occasional scrape of a chair.

Finally, Narcissa broke the quiet, turning to her son with a warm, curious smile. “So, Draco, what did you do today?”

Draco sat up straighter, his face lighting up as he launched into an enthusiastic recount of the grocery store trip. “We went to this… Muggle establishment,” he began, his voice carrying a mix of awe and incredulity. “You wouldn’t believe it, Mother. Rows upon rows of food and supplies, all sorted into sections. It was fascinating.”

Narcissa listened intently, her eyes softening as he spoke. “That does sound rather intriguing,” she said, her tone genuine.

Draco continued, describing the shopping cart, the conveyor belt, and the curious beeping machine at the till. “And did you know they have these tiny coins you put into the carts to unlock them?” he added, gesturing animatedly.

Lucius let out a low groan, pinching the bridge of his nose as if Draco’s enthusiasm was physically painful. “I fail to see the appeal,” he muttered under his breath, casting a glance toward the window as though contemplating apparating away.

You stifled a laugh, watching the stark contrast between Draco’s animated storytelling, Narcissa’s interest, and Lucius’s clear misery.

“I even packed the bags,” Draco added proudly. “It’s a ridiculous system, but I managed.”

Narcissa smiled warmly, her pride evident. “I’m glad to see you adapting so well, Draco. It’s important to understand how others live, even if it’s different from what we’re used to.”

Lucius muttered something unintelligible, his knuckles whitening as he gripped his cane.

Draco turned to you, his eyes bright with satisfaction. “See, love? Mother appreciates it.”

You smiled back, your heart warming at his excitement. “She does,” you said softly, glancing at Narcissa, who nodded in agreement.

Lucius, however, simply sighed, leaning back in his chair with a resigned expression. “Let us hope this… experiment of yours doesn’t last too long,” he said, his tone dripping with disdain.

Draco’s jaw tightened slightly, but he kept his composure, reaching for your hand under the table. His fingers squeezed yours briefly, a silent reassurance that he didn’t care what his father thought. The rest of the meal continued with a mix of awkward small talk and Draco’s detailed observations of the Muggle world. Though Lucius remained unimpressed, Narcissa’s quiet encouragement made the effort feel worthwhile. As the conversation wound down and the plates were nearly cleared, Draco suddenly leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the table. His sharp blue eyes glimmered with something unreadable, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I have something to show you,” he muttered, his tone casual but with a hint of mischief.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “What is it?” you asked cautiously, your brow furrowing as you tried to guess what he could possibly be up to now.

Draco stood up, strolling out of the dining room with the air of someone retrieving an important artifact. Lucius and Narcissa exchanged puzzled glances, while you felt a flicker of dread creeping up your spine. He returned a moment later, holding a familiar box in his hand.

Your heart sank as your face turned beet red. No. No, no, no, no.

He placed the box of condoms on the table, directly in front of you, and tilted his head with a curious smirk. “You never explained properly,” he said smoothly, though the faint pink on his cheeks betrayed his nonchalant demeanor. “I think it’s time I fully understood how they work.”

The silence in the room was deafening.

Lucius froze mid-sip of his wine, his expression a mixture of horror and disbelief. Narcissa’s lips parted slightly as her eyes darted between the box and her son. Meanwhile, you felt your soul leaving your body as your entire face burned hotter than the roast in the oven earlier.

“Draco,” you hissed, your voice a mix of mortification and desperation. “Not now.”

“Why not?” he asked innocently, his smirk widening as he clearly enjoyed your discomfort. “You said it was important to understand Muggle things if I am living here.”

Narcissa cleared her throat delicately, clearly trying to suppress a laugh. “Draco, darling, perhaps this is a… conversation better suited for another time,” she said, her voice calm but tinged with amusement.

Lucius, on the other hand, looked like he was ready to sink into the ground. “For Salazar’s sake, Draco!” he snapped, his pale face turning an uncharacteristic shade of red. “Have you lost all sense of decorum?”

Draco shrugged, unbothered. “I was merely curious, Father. Isn’t that what this move is about—understanding?”

You buried your face in your hands, groaning. “I’m going to die,” you muttered under your breath.

Draco leaned closer to you, his smirk softening into something almost endearing. “Don’t be dramatic,” he said quietly. “It’s just a box. Besides, you’re the one who said they’re important.”

“Not during dinner with your parents!” you shot back in a harsh whisper.

Narcissa stood gracefully, reaching for her wine glass and glancing at Lucius, who was visibly seething. “Perhaps we should take a moment to admire the décor in the living room,” she suggested, her tone light but firm. “Give them a moment to… collect themselves.”

Lucius rose quickly, eager to escape the situation, and followed her out without another word.

As soon as they were out of earshot, you turned to Draco, glaring at him through your lingering embarrassment. “What is wrong with you?”

He grinned, his pale cheeks still faintly pink. “I couldn’t resist.”

“Draco,” you groaned, covering your face with your hands. But despite your mortification, a reluctant laugh bubbled up, escaping your lips.

Draco chuckled softly, nudging you playfully with his elbow. “Hey,” he said, his voice laced with mischief. “It looks like my parents knew exactly what the box contained.”

You groaned louder, shaking your head as you peeked at him from between your fingers. “Why are you like this?”

“Because it’s more fun than I had ever experienced in my life,” he replied, smirking. “And because your reactions are priceless.”

You swatted his arm lightly, biting your lip to keep from laughing again. “You’re going to pay for this later.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Draco said smoothly, leaning back in his chair with an infuriatingly smug expression.

You shook your head, standing to start clearing the table. “Unbelievable,” you muttered, though the corners of your mouth twitched despite your best efforts to remain stern.

Draco stood as well, grabbing a plate and following you to the kitchen. “For what it’s worth,” he said, his tone softening slightly, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen my mother look that impressed. You’re winning her over, you know.”

You glanced at him, your irritation melting a little as you caught the sincerity in his eyes. “Maybe,” you said with a small smile. “But your dad looks like he’s ready to disown you.”

Draco shrugged, setting the plate down on the counter. “He’ll survive. I’d say this visit is going better than expected.”

You arched an eyebrow, gesturing toward the box still sitting on the table. “Even with that little stunt?”

He smirked, leaning closer to press a quick kiss to your cheek. “Especially because of that,” he whispered.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile lingered as you turned back to the dishes. Life with Draco was unpredictable, embarrassing, and absolutely worth it.

After a while, with the kitchen cleaned and dessert plates neatly arranged, you rejoined Draco’s parents in the living room. You placed the cake and a small pot of tea on the coffee table, smiling as Narcissa complimented the presentation. “It looks lovely, dear,” she said warmly, her eyes lighting up as she tasted the first bite. “And delicious.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy,” you replied, feeling a small wave of relief at her approval.

Meanwhile, Draco stood by the TV, flicking it on with the remote. The screen lit up, filling the room with sound and color. He had been obsessed with it ever since the two of you moved in, constantly exploring its features and marveling at the variety of channels.

“And this,” he began, gesturing to the screen, “is called a television. It’s a Muggle device that streams moving pictures and sound. There are different stations—some show plays or sports, others music or news.”

Lucius, who had been seated stiffly on the sofa, cast the TV a disinterested glance at first. But as Draco flipped through the channels, his gaze lingered, his eyes narrowing in a mixture of curiosity and intrigue.

Draco settled on a music channel, where a pop song played over vibrant, fast-moving visuals. Lucius leaned forward slightly, his cane forgotten at his side as his eyes remained glued to the screen.

Narcissa, meanwhile, sipped her tea and turned to you with a soft smile. “The cake is truly wonderful, Y/N. You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, glancing at Lucius, whose face was now bathed in the colorful glow of the TV. Draco was explaining the concept of music videos, his voice carrying a mix of excitement and pride.

“And these stations,” Draco said, pointing to the remote, “play music continuously. The visuals match the songs—like this one, see?”

Lucius didn’t respond immediately, his eyes fixed on the screen as if he were analyzing every detail. Eventually, he gave a slow nod. “Remarkable,” he muttered under his breath, clearly fascinated despite his obvious disdain for anything muggle.

Narcissa glanced at him with a knowing smile but said nothing, letting her husband enjoy his unexpected discovery.

After a while, Narcissa stood gracefully, placing her empty teacup on the table and smoothing the fabric of her elegant robe. “It’s getting late,” she said gently, her tone warm but firm. “We should be heading home.”

Lucius didn’t move. His gaze remained fixed on the television, where a lively music video was playing. His normally composed expression was slightly softened, his eyes darting between the screen and the remote in Draco’s hand.

“Lucius,” Narcissa prompted, her voice holding a hint of exasperation. “It’s time to go.”

He finally tore his gaze away from the screen, his brows furrowing slightly. “Yes, yes, in a moment,” he muttered, waving a hand dismissively as if he needed just a little more time to understand the contraption.

Draco smirked, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. “I think he likes it,” he whispered to you, his voice filled with amusement.

Narcissa gave you a knowing glance, her lips twitching into a faint smile before turning back to her husband. “Lucius,” she said again, a bit more firmly this time, “we’re leaving. Now.”

Lucius sighed dramatically, rising from the sofa but casting the TV one last, reluctant glance. “I suppose,” he said, his voice tinged with regret, “we can continue exploring this… device another time.”

You exchanged goodbyes at the door, Narcissa giving you a soft pat on the arm and a smile that felt almost maternal. Lucius remained as formal as ever, though there was an unusual glint in his eye as he glanced at the living room one last time.

As the two of them stepped outside, you lingered by the door with Draco. The crisp night air carried the faint sound of their voices as they walked toward the apparition point.

“You know,” Lucius muttered to Narcissa, his voice carrying just enough for you to catch, “we should consider getting one of those televisions for the manor.”

Narcissa’s laugh was soft but unmistakable. “I’ll make the arrangements,” she replied, her tone indulgent.

Draco closed the door, leaning against it with a triumphant smirk. “See?” he said, turning to you. “It wasn’t so bad.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I think you just converted your father into a TV enthusiast.”

“Not bad for one evening,” Draco said, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Though I’d say the real victory was your cake. Well done, love.”

You smiled, leaning up to give him a gentle kiss. “Thanks, but I think your TV demonstration might’ve been the real winner tonight.”

He smirked, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Of course. I am rather persuasive.”

Shaking your head with a laugh, you turned off the living room lights—a concept Draco still found mildly perplexing. He mumbled something about how inconvenient switches were compared to a simple wand flick as you guided him upstairs to your bedroom.

By the time you finished washing up and changed into your pajamas, Draco was already tucked under the covers. The glow from his nightlight—a softly enchanted orb you’d insisted on for his comfort—bathed the room in a warm, golden hue.

You paused at the vanity, applying cream to your face while sneaking a glance at him through the mirror. He was sitting upright, his brow furrowed as he read the label on the back of the box of condoms. His lips moved faintly as if he were trying to work out some sort of  instructions.

Biting back a laugh, you shook your head and turned off the main lights, leaving only the dim glow of his nightlight. Crawling into bed beside him, you couldn’t resist teasing him.

“Still trying to figure that out?” you asked, propping yourself up on one elbow.

Draco looked over at you, holding up the box with a faint smirk. “The instructions are absurdly detailed for something so… basic.”

You chuckled, resting your head on the pillow. “I’m not sure what you expected. Magic?”

“Honestly, yes,” he replied, setting the box on the nightstand and settling under the covers. “Everything’s unnecessarily complicated without it.”

You leaned over, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Well, if it gets too overwhelming, just remember—I’m here to guide you through it.”

Draco turned to you, his smirk softening into something warmer. “I’ll hold you to that,” he murmured, brushing a thumb lightly over your hand before pulling you closer.

As the nightlight cast its soft glow over the room, you snuggled into his side, grateful for the quiet comfort of the moment. Life with Malfoy was a whirlwind, but here, in the stillness of your shared space, everything felt just right. Draco was silent for a while, though you could feel him thinking, his body slightly tense beneath yours. Finally, his voice broke the quiet, soft and hesitant. “Could you show me how to use them? Tonight?”

You lifted your head to look at him, his silver eyes meeting yours, a faint blush creeping into his cheeks. Leaning in, you placed a soft kiss to his lips, lingering just long enough to reassure him. When you pulled back, you smiled gently, your voice a quiet whisper.

“Of course.”

The room fell into a quiet calm, the only sounds the faint rustle of the sheets as you moved closer to him. Draco’s arms wrapped around you, his touch steady and warm. Life in the muggle world had turned out to be far more surprising than Draco had ever expected. It wasn’t as grand or as effortless as the magical life he’d always known, but there was something about it—something real, unpolished, and oddly comforting.

Though, as he discovered later that night, the condoms were nothing special after all.

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© slytherinsmuse. please do not copy, claim, translate or steal any of my works as your own.

[siconetribal]

Beyond the Bookshelves (2)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: When you're forced to work in pairs/groups when you don't want to work in pairs/groups, work life, slice of life

Summary: You're a Resource Management Specialist at S.H.I.E.L.D. normally referred to as “The Librarian”. You've been assigned the nightmarish task of digitizing all the physical resources currently owned by the agency, with a few new computers and one extra helper.

A/N: Thank you to all the readers who have loved this story so much already, I did not expect so man tag requests! I'll do my best to live up to your expectations in this story that is pretty much writing itself. If I missed anyone who asked to be tagged, please let me know!

Please comment/like/reblog. If you'd like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know!

The lovely banners used in this fic are from @cafekitsune.

The walk back to the library was longer than usual, but that was because you were now burdened with a task that was nearly impossible to complete with what was at your disposal. Not only was there so little provided, the personnel allotted was the complete opposite of what was necessary. It would have been laughable had it not been so pathetic. You, someone who normally worked with a set number of others, (most of which were virtual) was now forced into a group with two other members whom you have never even properly spoken to.

Loki probably hates me, he has to hate me. The man-person-god-prince-whatever-he-is has never even uttered a word to me until today! You thought back to the very first time you ever met the silent and brooding raven haired Asgardian.

It started off just like any other day, quiet and peaceful. It was just you, the books, and the sun. Though it was a state-of-the-art facility, the library was given a more soothing design with wooden shelving and tables, soft carpeting, comfortable seating of chairs and sofas, table lamps, and desks for laptops and computers to promote productivity and security. There were a few high-tech things, such as the book trolley being robotic and the security measures equal to the rest of the complex; but overall it evoked a sense of tradition.

You were leading the robot trolley filled with books through the shelves, returning items to their proper place, when you heard the chime at the door. Peeking your head out of the aisle, you were awestruck by the handsome young man whom you have never seen before, slowly walking in and looking around in what you could only describe as pure wonder. There was a sparkle of life in those blue eyes and the faintest of smiles tugging at the corners of his lips. Setting the book in hand back on the trolley, you stepped out and gave a big smile.

“Hello, my name is Y/N. I’m the librarian. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You cheerily greeted him, but only received silence in return as he walked further into the room without even a passing glance. There’s no way he didn’t hear me, right? I didn’t shout, but I wasn’t quiet either. He seems to be really excited about the library, so maybe he was too busy looking around? She opened her mouth to let him know she was here to assist if he needed anything, but he was nowhere to be seen. “I guess he really was just that eager.” You muttered to yourself as you finished your task and made your way to the main desk.

Who is he, anyway? He looks oddly familiar, but I just can’t put my finger on it. You dug through your memories, trying to find a name to the face. When it was clear that it was not something that would come to you right away, he let it be for now and tried your best to see if the newcomer was still here. Had it not been for the occasional sightings, you would have sworn your mind was playing tricks on you. When he finally settled on a few books, you waited for him to come to the desk to check out.

“Excuse me, sir!” You shouted after him as he went straight towards the door. His nose was already buried in one book, and two more were under his arm. It was too late. The alarm at the door began ringing, and a female computer voice came through the speakers.

“Please return the books to the library or check them out at the main desk. I repeat, please return the books to the library or check them out at the main desk.” You watched his head snap up and look around for the source of the disembodied voice when holographic floating arrows directed his attention towards you. You gave a slight wave and put on your best welcoming smile once more. He looked down at the books he held briefly before making his way over to the desk.

“I guess you didn’t hear me, I was trying to get your attention before you left. It’s fine, people make that mistake most of them the time when they're busy. May I please see the books?” He held out your hands, but he deposited the stack on to the desk and pushed it towards you. Ok, you pulled them closer. “Your ID as well, please.” You held out your hand once more and the man simply stared at you, bewildered, with scrunched eyebrows and a growing frown. Lifting your lanyard up, you pointed to your pass holder, which held your ID. “Your ID card, the one that gives you access to the various parts of this facility.” The continued silence was deafening as one of his hands slipped into one of his pockets and he pulled out his ID and placed it on the table. “Uh, thank you,” you mumble as you pick up the piece of plastic and tapped it against a panel to the right of your monitor. Loki? You stared at the name for a moment, the gears slowly turning in your head as you scanned the books one by one before handing them and his ID back to him. “You have two weeks to return or extend your borrow time. Please do not damage them or return them late, you will incur some fees if so. Thank you, I hope you enjoy them. If you need any,” you began to strike up conversation once more, but he took the books and left without a word, leaving you to awkwardly watch.

“Talk about intimidating! I had no idea they brought him here!” You let out a heavy sigh and plopped back into your chair. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize him without those big gold horns! Did he really just ignore me, though? Maybe he’s shy? I don’t recall ever hearing him speak, though,” you muttered to yourself, swinging left to right. “He must’ve proven that he’s not dangerous if he’s allowed to be part of the Avenger’s team.” You shrugged and let the topic slide for now. You would give him time to grow accustomed to you…or so you thought.

The encounters that followed were nearly identical to the first. He would come in and completely ignore you, read for hours, check out books, and leave. Not a word came from his lips, and he only ever looked at you with you were not sure whether it was disdain or disgust. At some point, you completely gave up on speaking to him and simply took note of the books he liked. When he would go searching for something of interest, you would set a book that you believed he would enjoy beside the sofa he usually sat. It was clear she chose well, since he would always read and check it out. With all this in mind, you had come to the conclusion he cannot speak for some reason, and you were a rude stranger constantly chattering on to him. Not wanting to spoil his time in the library, you quickly adapted and remained silent in return. 

You dryly laughed at the memories that dropped on you like bricks. You were clearly thinking too highly of yourself, since today you had heard him speak quite clearly. Why would someone remain quiet for so long? After all attempts made to strike up conversation? There was only one valid solution: he hated you. The reason, you were not sure, but it was the only thing that made sense, and that meant you only had one Asgardian to rely on for assistance in your assignment.

Thor can only do so much since he is a main team member and one that is sent out on multiple missions globally. You pinched the bridge of your nose. Even if they forced Loki to assist, he’ll also be sent on various missions as well. I’ll have to wait for them to return every single time because those take priority over what I need to do. Then there’s training for the missions, training to keep working well as a team, meeting, and the press! The work is never going to get done! You wanted to rip your hair out from frustration as you roughly tousled it about and let out a loud groan of frustration once inside your sanctuary, the library. “And this is all if they say yes to helping me out. I doubt Fury is going to demand it, and Agent Hill isn’t going to go out of her way to persuade them. Just forget it, Y/N, fix the report and file it. Then just go on with your day just like you always do.”

“Thor, Loki, thank you for taking the time to meet with me.” Agent Hill greeted the brothers that came into her office.

“Of course we would come. It is not often that you call for anyone other than Stark or Rogers.” Thor gave an amicable smile, while Loki simply took a seat in one of the chairs in front of her desk. “What is it that you wish to discuss with us?” Thor took the seat beside his brother.

“I won’t take much of your time, it is a new assignment that only the two of you can assist us with.” She took her seat once more and faced the two of them. “Director Fury has given a task to our Resources Management department, the lead of which works here at HQ with us. She is the Librarian. I’m sure you have seen her most of all.” She looked towards the younger prince.

Loki kept a passive outwardly expression while his mind quickly tried to pull out the information of this librarian. He was no stranger to meeting a multitude of people, but he was not foolish enough to assume he would be able to memorize everyone’s name and face. He was a prince of Asgard, the only people he needed to know of in detail ere dignitaries and other royals. This librarian was hardly someone he would have considered amongst the two categories.

“So what if I have?” He coolly questioned, unsure of what the agent was trying to get at with all of this. Is this the reason she requested an audience with us the week before? What task could they have possibly given such a department that requires our assistance? I am not some scribe! He wanted to snap at Hill, but he held his tongue. Though he was an Avenger now, he was still not fully trusted by anyone. He knew even Thor had his reservations, but they knew how the Mind Stone worked. They knew he was not lying, but they were clear in stating they did not know him and this chance was only given because of his brother, Thor.

“Well, it will make things easier for us. She needs assistance in translating all of our texts into English. The department needs to create digital copies of all our books and paper resources so that we can access them anywhere and any time. We do not have the means to simply assign large groups to this task, because it would lead to suffering in on ground missions and recon. The both of you have the ability of AllSpeak which can translate anything you say to English. When you are available, please assist the Librarian in translating the various texts to help speed up the process.”

“This is a side request?” Thor asked, wanting to clarify the priority of this.

“Yes, we do not wish for this to hinder any missions you are needed for. We are requesting you head to the library when you have the time to speak with her and set up a tentative schedule so that she can report back to Director Fury by the end of this month. By that time, she will have the necessary equipment as well. If he approves, then we can move forward in starting this task.”

“You want us to dictate books to her? So she can type it up? Do you not have programs that can instantly translate for you?” Loki frowned, crossing his arms in disapproval at this waste of time.

“Though there are plenty of translation software programs out there, none of them are a hundred percent accurate. They may translate directly word for word, which could destroy the concept of the passages. It may attempt to try to understand the concept, but get it completely wrong. Both of you will be able to read the text and understand the context of it, which will help her type a more accurate translation.” Thor loudly hummed as he considered the task. It was not something he was rather fond of, however he wanted to be of assistance if this would help the organization.

“I am to deployed on a mission with Rogers and Stark in a couple of days. I am not certain how long we will be away. Is it possible to extend the time of meeting with the Librarian?” 

“I am to head out with the spider and bird tomorrow evening and return in four days.” Loki added.

“Very well, I will have her look into your schedules and reach out to the both of you.  If it cannot be done together, I will have her meet with you separately. Your missions will always be a priority, and she is well aware of that. Thank you for your assistance, I’ll inform her of this development.” Agent Hill stood from her seat and the two brothers followed, stepping out of her office and making their way towards the common room.

“Have you actually met this Librarian, brother?” Thor was the one to break the silence.

“I have not the faintest clue on whom they are referring to. No one speaks to me in this sterile place, how am I supposed to meet anyone?” He scoffed. Who would want to talk to a monster such as me? “It doesn’t matter, we will meet this woman at some point and better understand this waste of time that we are being dragged into. If you’ll excuse me, I have a debriefing to sit through.” He turned down the hall on their left, leaving Thor with the harsh words of his reality.

Tags: @vbecker10 @huntress-artemiss @softestqueeen @thegodofnotknowing @princess-ofthe-pages @firedrakegirl @rcailleachcola @cabingrlandrandomcrap @lotrefcp @lwtannie @kats72 @kneelingformyloki

[jarofstyles]

Sugar Sugar 8

Here we are… the first taste of sugar sugar smut 🫶 I’m sorry to have kept you waiting but it was for the world building 😭

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Warnings: talk of body issues, internalized fat phobia, etc, smut 😁

—-

It was that bad.

Sitting in her back office on the couch, their thighs touching, Y/N looked at him a bit slack jawed as she listened to him list off what he had.

“Harry… babe.” She whispered. “You have a bed… a dresser… a arm chair… a coffee table, maybe?” She shot him a look. “How does one maybe have a coffe table?”

“Cause it’s like… I think it’s supposed to be a entryway table.” The man scratched the back of his neck, a bit embarrassed. “I told you it wasn’t good! I didn’t have much.” He whined, looking down at the paper pad in her lap. It was cute, he noticed, with her shop’s logo on the top. “I need help. And who better than my pretty, creative, talented girl.” There was a bit of schmoozing going on, Y/N cutting him a look with a tiny smirk on her face as she scribbled down what he needed.

“So we need to get you night stands, a desk, a dining room table and chairs, a proper couch or love seat… a tv stand?” She looked at him but scribbled it out when he shook his head, clarifying his was mounted. At least that was done. “And bookshelves. Luckily with the look you're going for, it can be a bit mismatched. It’s easier to thrift.”

Harry and Y/N had sat on her couch with her laptop pulled up on Pinterest, beginning to make the board for his place. He was very 60s and 70s inspired, with the warm colors and round edges he seemed to like. Funky and cool but also grown. The color palette was her favorite part, considering she was on board with it too. There would be stuff they’d need to buy new, like paint and stuff like that, but it would be easy to get art and frames.

It was almost embarrassing to be this excited to decorate someone’s space- but it was Harry’s. Her lovers.

It still shocked her to think about. Her lover. He had his arm around her shoulders and his fingers absentmindedly fiddling with the ends of her hair, looking at her hand as she wrote things down. Clingy was a good word for him, physically, and Y/N had never imagined herself craving it just as much. But here she was. Eating up every single touch he gave her.

Delilah was manning the front of the store as Y/N took her break, sitting with Harry and getting a head star in it. “We can go thrifting this week when I’m off, and I know you’re letting Anika start her full time tomorrow yeah?” She placed the pen down, turning to look at him. What she hadn’t expected was his face to be so close, causing her to squeak a little as she jumped.

“Easy, darling.” He grinned at her reaction. There was no move made to go back. It was hard to keep his behavior good right now when she smelled so good and was so warm pressed against his side. Maybe it was partially how new the relationship was, but he was aching to get and keep his fingers on her. To be as close as physically possible. “I think we can do that. But you’re already stressin’ yourself out.”

The deep croon made her want to shiver. His voice was so close, and she could feel his body heat as he angled further towards her. His fingers tucked some of the stray hair from her face right behind her ear, leaning in slowly to kiss the underside of it. “You’re doing me a favor, Sugar. And m’so grateful for it, but you’ve got t’relax. Didn’t come to see you to get you all worked up. At least…” he chuckled against her skin, making the shiver she suppressed come to life. “Not like that.”

Her throat dried.

Holy fuck.

Harry was hot. He was attentive and smooth and sexy and his large hand held her thigh while his opposite fingers had moved now to trail down her neck. It wasn’t as if she was a blushing virgin with no idea how to handle a man- but god, this man was one that had her feeling frazzled.

“You’re a menace.” She huffed, squirming slightly in her seat as she felt the heat in her cheeks. “I just… I want to make it nice for you. Especially considering I think we should spend some time there ourselves. I can’t date you if you’ve got the whole lawn chair and TV set up, H. I can’t.” The tease made his mouth drop, a gentle smack given to her leg as he scoffed. Realistically though, he found it hot too. Knowing she could keep up with the banter. Enjoyed it.

“Okay? I have an arm chair. It’s upholstered and everything. Not a lawn chair. I am not a Reddit post.” He scoffed again, rolling his head back on the couch. “Jesus. What do you think I am? Hm? So rude t’me. Breaking my heart here, Sugar. Maybe I should start callin’ you salt.”

“Absolutely not.” Y/N quipped, scrolling through Pinterest with a chuckle. “I’ve got a sweet tooth and I’m dating a baker. A bakery owner, actually, so how could I be your Salt?” She nudged his knee with hers. “Blasphemy, actually. Can’t believe you’d even joke. I’m sweet as peach pie. I just don’t take your shit.”

Harry smirked. Oh, she set herself up good. The back and forth, the close proximity and in relative privacy, it was making him feel bolder and comfortable and his attraction to her feeling like it was bubbling over the pot… it was getting to him, really.

Cool fingers gently nudged her chin away from the laptop screen, Y/N jumping again slightly at how close his face was when she turned her eyes. Their noses almost brushed, a shaky breath exhaled over his lips. All the smart ass remarks dried up as he quite literally stole her breath, a slightly predatory glint in his eye. “Trust me… I know you’re sweet. Want t’find all the places you taste like peaches. Maybe strawberries..: though, I’ve got my money on my girl tasting like honey.” The drawl went straight to her chest, zapping her right between her legs.

Green glanced at her lips, back up at her eyes. She was so sweet, even with her salty moments. But never, ever bitter. Even then, he’s pretty positive she would find a way to make bitterness taste like citrus. “Lots of places M’gonna taste. You just got to let me.” He rubbed his thumb over her chin, leaning in to peck her lips with a quiet hum.

It lit her up. The nervous breath she released was covered again with another kiss, Harry taking his time with this one. His biggest addiction was her lips, feeling them press against his own. It was insane to him to think that so quickly in their relationship that he would be needy like this, that he felt like all he wanted to do was be around her. Yet here he was. Pressing slow kisses to her lips, warming her up a little bit. The warmth of her cheek bit into his fingers, caressing the smooth skin as he pulled back for a moment, letting the soft snap sound of their lips pulling apart fill the air.

Y/N swallowed the tiny bubble in her throat, making no move to pull away. It was hard because she had been thinking about his kisses since their date. He kissed her with a confident ease, a natural ability it almost made her jealous. She had found herself overthinking it a bit at first, but Harry was a natural leader, able to show her exactly how to follow him. She had the ability to lead, she had in most of her past relationships, but Harry gave her a bit of a choice. Letting a moment pass, she decided- fuck it.

Fingers curled into his shirt, shifting in her seat so she was facing him fully, she brought herself back to him. Kissing him again, there had been a weight lifted. Like Harry had been waiting for her to give him a signal, their undeniable tension cutting in as he mirrored her. He didn’t hesitate anymore, covering her lips with his. The buzzing she felt rang across her body, chills going over her arms as she leaned further into her and his hand went to her waist. There was no self conscious feeling, nothing but longing for his hands in more places.

The man could kiss. He could kiss and kiss and kiss and she would let him until her lungs gave out, a soft whimper leaving her throat as she felt him go ton pull away for a moment. His sticky lips pulled into a slight smirk against her swollen ones, nudging her nose with his own. “Shh. S’alright. Need you to breathe, sweetheart.” He teased, pecking her bottom lip and pulling back again. “Want you closer. C’mere.”

There was a slight hesitation in her as he tried to help pull her into his lap. Old Demons on her shoulders trying to pull her back as she took a breath, trying to move again only to be stopped by Harry’s lips pulling away from hers. “Shit. M’sorry.” He swallowed. He had felt her stop, her hesitancy and was acutely aware that they were in her place of business and the relationship was still new. His addiction to her had been clouding his mind but he hadn’t meant to push. “Don’t have to do that, got a bit carried away.” His fingers fluttered over her flushed cheek, feeling the heat he was quite fond of already. “It’s your pace.”

“No- no.” She squeaked. “Just- I want to. I really, really do. I love being close to you.” She reassured him. This was definitely not too fast, in fact she could go a few miles over his current speed limit- but the mental hang up was something she was trying to get over. “Just… don’t want to hurt you. I’m kind of heavy.” As muscular as he seemed, he was also not her size.

Harry felt a twinge of pain in his chest. Christ. It made him sad that she even had to think about that. That it was even a thought in her mind. That someone in the past had probably made her feel like she wasn’t able to do that to them. It was relieving to know he wasn’t the issue, but this was almost worse.

“Baby…” he coaxed. “I know that you’ve probably had these types of thoughts for a while, but it won’t hurt. Trust me.” He met her hesitant gaze. He didn’t like the nerves. Part of him wanted to get mad, wanted to feel insulted that maybe she would think he would be hurt by this or woulnd’t want it. But he remembered that she had mentioned being slow with it, to be cautious with her unlearning the things people had tried to hammer into her head. “Come sit on my lap. Been dying for it for ages. Want you on top of me… trust me.” He grinned lazily up at her, a dirty tinge to his words. “Love these hips,, your thighs. I’ve been thinking some dirty things about them.” He said bluntly. Hopefully it wasn’t too much.

“You have?” She whispered, looking down at his chest and back up to his eyes. All she had to do was look into them again to know he was telling the truth, but he nodded anyways. It had her flushing under her skin. Harry had thought dirty things about her, just as she had for him. “O-OKay. But you’ve got to promise to tell me if m’hurting you.”

His look was pointed. It wouldn’t hurt- but he sighed. “Yes. I’lll tell you. But you won’t hurt me, Sugar. Just get up here.” He tugged again, knowing she probably needed him to push her a bit to climb on. Her eyes avoided his for a moment as she finally gave in, straddling his thighs. It elevated her a bit, and she was extra cautious to not put too much weight on his body as she leaned back down to kiss him.

Harry, though? He wasn’t having any of that. His hands collared her hips, groaning into her mouth as he pulled her down to sit on his thighs. Y/N merely squeaked, being pressed into his body as he fully leaned back into the couch and pulled her with him. He had been dying to get his hands on her, but was something that the man had been hesitant about. Her comfort was key, though now he saw she needed a bit of a push. To be shown that it didn’t hurt. If anything, it turned him on to feel the heat, the weight, feeling her push forwards.

Y/N was shockingly aroused by his direction. How he took it without asking because she had been hesitant. Her kisses got a bit deeper, grabbing a soft handful of the couch behind him to keep balance as she sunk into the feeling. Harry felt so right, the fluttering in her stomach sinking lower to the hot place between her thighs. It wasn’t often that an actual man got her aroused, though harry never seemed to have that issue with her. The giddiness in her veins urged her forward, wanting to feel him squeezing something else. The languid stroking and squeezing of her hips and waist was amazing, but… she had a feeling he wanted more than just that.

Harry was curious when he felt her hand grab at his wrist, pulling it down slightly. If she wanted to have his hands somewhere else, he welcomed it, but when he realized the direction, he groaned. Her hand positioned his right on her ass, placing it directly where he had been thinking of grabbing. With the go ahead, he smirked a little against her lips and did as he pleased.

His hands were big, they knew where to touch, and it made her moan a little against his mouth. Cupping the bottom of her ass, he pushed her closer and squeezed. Fulfilling the dreams he’s been having every time he looks at her with her pretty dresses that clung to it, the jeans that accentuate it, he was in heaven. Feeling her warm, soft body leaning into his own, given the blessing to touch as he needed. “Fuck’s sake.” He whispered, awe in his tone as he pulled back for a moment. “You’re fucking amazing.”

Her flush felt hotter as she nervously giggled, looking down from his eyes to his lips. It was almost juvenile, their make out session on the couch, but she could feel her heartbeat in between her thighs and she wanted to feel more of it. “Shhh. I know.” Pulling from the confidence she had worked so hard to bring up, she pressed her ass back into his hand and gave him a smile that went straight to his damn dick. Nibbling lightly on her lip, she ran her fingers through the locks ahain and watched as he licked his own lips at the vision in front of him.

“Thank fuck. You should know.” His other hand came down and took hold of the other side of her ass, shaking his head in awe yet again. He hadn’t been able to touch her ass before and honestly, it was one that filled his palms and then some, which made him feel giddy. “If only you knew the things I’ve been thinking. You’d run far, far away.” The wolffish grin on his face made her brow raise. The half hard length she could feel on her thigh said otherwise.

“Try me.” It was a dangerous thing to ask perhaps, but Y/N was a glutton for punishment. She wanted to know exactly what it was that made his eyes darken like that, feeling the pride in her chest knowing she was the cause.

“Hmm.” He pretended to think about it. Of course, he knew he was taking a risk and it could be too much for her, but he wanted to see. Maybe she would like it. “Well…” he ran his palms over her ass, feeling the warmth through the fabric. “I’m thinking about how pretty my marks are going to be on this.” Starting a little tame for all intents and purposes, he watched her face and saw her tilt her chin a bit in interest. Not too much. “Want to feel it get hot from taking a few spanks, maybe even a bite. There’s plenty to play with.” A squeeze given made her exhale sharply, but she pressed back into it to show just how much she liked it. Still, no scaring her off.

“I’ve been looking at it since we met. I’d apologize but I think you like that I have been.” He murmured, leaning his head back on the couch. “Been thinking about how i moves when you walk, how perfectly shaped it is. There’s a lot for me to do with it. How I really want to see you in something short, see you bend over in it and give me a peek.” The experimental words had her attempting to clench her thighs, but he could feel it. Harry was well aware that she was liking this, liking the slight roughness in his grab. “And when you bend over t’tease me, how I’ll just…” he kept his eyes on hers as he pulled his hand back, giving the fullest part of her ass a swat. Her eyes widened for a second before hooding, a visible swallow as she shakily gripped his hair a bit harder.

The spank had gone straight to her cunt. Making her even more wet than she already had been, it was a miracle he couldn’t feel it. At least she hoped he couldnt. There wasn’t a man before who handled her this way, not in the fearless way she had wanted. “Shit.” He breathed, breathing getting heavier as the tighter grip in his hair had extrabated the arousal. She liked it. And he liked her. “Y’like that?” His hoarse voice was quiet, but Y/N heard him loud and clear, licking her lip before nodding quickly. “The spank, the image? Which one, sweet girl?” He wasn’t satisfied with just a nod.

“Both.” Her voice was weak, feeling hotter in the cheeks as he examined her every expression. Somehow it wasn’t too scary now, being under his scrutiny. He wanted to know what she liked, where to go from there. “Both, a lot.”

“Good.” His face became a bit more relax, a bit more cocky, and she found it to be extremely hot. “S’good. Cause I’d love to do more of that. It’s hot. You’re so fuckin’ hot, Sugar. Even more than you know.” Rubbing circles around where he had spanked, he continued. “You’re good for me. Haven’t scared y’off, cause that’s the tip of the iceberg. There’s lots more I’ve been thinking of, but you’re already makin’ me hard and aching. Just sitting here and kissing on you like a damn teenager, gonna make a mess of my pants. You’re amazing.”

The confirmation it wasn’t just her made her feel even better. He was hard against her thigh, she was getting sticky in her panties and honestly she was wondering how worth the risk it would be to just beg for him to fuck her. She wanted to melt and beg for him to turn them over and slip into her. That was too soon, but it didn’t have to be too soon to do anything, right?

In relative terms, maybe. They’d hung out quite often but gone on two dates. They were officially boyfriend and girlfriend but when was the definitive time when it started being okay? Y/N always thought it was silly, these unspoken rules of society. How time dictated what was appropriate even if both parties wanted it… maybe it was okay, if he wanted it, to touch.

“H…” she whispered, smoothing her hands over his shirt and placing them around his face, cupping the sharp jaw in her palms while the fingers curled around her cheeks. “I don’t think you could scare me off when I’ve been having dirty thoughts about you since we met.” Shuffling slightly in his lap, she sat herself fully on top of him. It took a bit of mental prep but his eyes gave her all the answers she needed. He was genuinely attracted to her, really going wild just by having her in the palm of his hands. The confidence boost was major.

“What if I want you to make a mess of them?” The words hung in the air for a moment as she watched him absorb them. “What if…” she released one hand from his face to hold the couch behind him. “I want you to feel good? Because I’ve been making a mess of myself since we’ve been kissing. Probably before that.” Her lips brushed his with every word she whispered. “You look so good today. It’s almost offensive. To come into my shop and be so.. beautiful.” She shook her head as she rubbed their noses together just a little in affection. “Made me want to get on my knees right then.”

The whispery tone of her words had him shuddering. Harry had been trying to be good with how far he took things. He really had only meant to kiss her, to make out like they had done since they’d first kissed, but she had the effect on him that made him feel like he was going out of his mind. “You did?” He hoarsely replied, sliding his hand up her back. “You’re just as bad as me, hm? What a perfect match we are.” The tease wasn’t much of a tease, though. It was the truth.

“Suppose I am.” She mumbled, lifting herself off of him a bit as she gave him a look. His face fell to confusion as he mourned the warmth of her body from his own, but froze as he watched as she sunk to her knees right between his parted thighs.

Oh.

Oh.

“Baby- y’don’t have to if you don’t want to, I’m fine.” The last thing he wanted to do was make her feel obligated, but she cut him off with fingers tugging at his belt. There was this look on her face, this mix of arousal, nerves and cockiness. Need. He wanted her to be sure, but Y/N simply shook her head as the belt was slid through the loops, clanging to the floor. Warm palms met his thighs as she teased, throwing her hair over her shoulders as she gave him a soft pout. Barely there, but he could see it.

“I want to. I’ve wanted to since you’ve stepped in here, and you said such dirty things about what you wanted to do.. I figured I may as well show you what I want to do with mine.” Their locked gazes fed reassurance to him, and she felt comfortable. He did too. There was no pressure. He had made her feel confident today, made her feel even more at ease with him, and she wanted to express her gratitude.

“I could feel you.” She rested her cheek upon his thigh, trailing a finger over the bulge in his jeans. “Against my thigh. I could feel it pulsing a bit. You really liked having your hands on me. Made me feel… so sexy. Adored. Haven’t felt that so strongly, let alone so soon.” You could hear a pin drop as he stayed quiet, his heavier breathing the only interruption to her words. He was full of anticipation, seeing her lay her head so close to his covered cock driving him mad. She was a tease, but in the best damn way.

“I love your body.” He replied. “It’s… you’re incredible. Of course m’hard. Been hard for ages. Since I’ve met you, never gotten off as much as now.” His knuckle brushed her cheek as she continued laying on his thigh, adding another finger in her stroking of him over the material of his pants. “You’re making me crazy, baby. Just looking at you like that. Can’t wait to get my hands back on you.”

“Mm… not today.” She mumbled. Before he could retort, she popped the button of his pants. “You’re going to wait to touch me, and just know what when I’m all alone, I’m thinking about this.” Fingers slowly undid the zipper. “Right now, it’s about you. I want to get you off. Want to feel you in my mouth, give you a taste of what I can be like for you. And then maybe… when you’ve got proper furniture in your place… I’ll let you touch me on it.”

The wicked smile grew as her cheek left his thigh, tapping it to lift up as she began to tug down the pants. “How can someone be so utterly sweet, but so cruel?” He croaked. “I’m not selfish. I want to return the favor. But I can wait… if that’s what you want.”

“It is. You’re good for me, Harry.” She cooed back, pleased with how he gave her the reply she had been hoping for. The pants down left him with a pair of briefs, a slight stain from his own arousal making her smug as she tugged at the waistband. Her hand slipped inside, preening at the gasp turned groan that left his mouth as she fished him from the fabric and exposed him to her eyes for the first time.

He was beautiful. As beautiful as cocks could be, anyways. Neatly trimmed hair met a smooth shaft, large vein going up the side that made her mouth water. A ruddy pink tip, wet from the slit. Weighted in her hands, she could feel him twitch as she dragged her hand up him and closed her fingers around the tip with a hum, fully freeing him from the confines.

“Such a pretty boy.” She praised, taking him back in her fist before looking up at him. “May I?” The softness of her voice seemed to do something for him. He looked pliant and soft, but his eyes were heated. His hand went to her hair, gently pulling it from her face.

“You can do whatever you want to me, darling. I know you’ll be sweet. I’m not going to last very long at all, though.” It had his cheeks flushing to admit it but she had to be warned. Simply seeing her hold him in her hand was making his head a bit light. It had been quite a while. Before he had even left his old town, it had been a while because casual sex wasn’t his thing. Even still, he never felt the attraction quite like this beforehand.

“That’s okay.” She soothed, leaning her head down and pressing a kiss to the wet tip. “You’re quite big. Don’t want my jaw to be too sore tomorrow anyways, hm? Though I don’t know if that’s an option.” Her words caused hot breath to wash over the length, his body shivering again. Lips pursed as she spit thickly over him, using it as lubrication to stroke. Slow, tight, Harry’s mouth opened in a soft moan as she did so.

“Damn it.”

“Damn what?” She laughed under her breath, moving her hand so she could take a lick. Starting straight from the base, the hot tongue ran slowly from bottom to top, eyes locking with his as she did so. There was slight disbelief in them as she rubbed the head over the tip of her tongue while her hand returned it’s languid strokes. “Does it feel good?”

“It does. Feels fucking incredible.” He swallowed, spreading his legs further so she could get closer. “You look… perfect. Like you’re the only one meant to be there.” Any other fantasy he’s had about anyone else was suddenly null and void. No way would anyone else look as right sitting between his legs like this.

“Maybe I am.” Lips wrapped around the sensitive head of him, making him bite down on his own lip to keep from being too loud. He could feel her sucking him slowly into her mouth, tongue flicking right against the slit as she sunk down just a bit. The wet stroke of her fist was steady and firm, just the way he wanted it right now.

“You are, you are.” His breathing picked up as he cautiously wrapped the gathered hair around his fist. “Just like that, Sugar. Bein’ so sweet to me. My sweetest girl.” He praised, watching her pop off of him to spit again. It was a bit of a sloppier blowie but fuck, did he prefer it this way. Slow, wet, her eyes doing their best to keep on his. This was intimate. Hot. Of course she knew. Somehow, she had known what he needed since they met.

“Want to me your sweetest girl. Hope I’m the only one.” The tiny bit of possessive edge to her words was amplified as she took him into her mouth again, sucking a bit harder. Harry moaned in surprise, hips jerking slightly and making her take more- but she took it in stride, gagging a bit but pushing herself further. Trying to prove a point.

“Oh- f-fuck, you are. The only one, the only- shit, baby.” He gasped as he felt her gag again. This time though, she did it to herself. Stroking him slow and tight but feeling her contract around his cock with her mouth, it was bringing him close quicker than he wanted to. “I’m not going to l-last long if you do that. It feels too good. Been waiting so long for you.” Their natural chemistry had made the sexual one even better, Harry panting heavily as she paid attention to exactly how he liked it. Replicating the things that were making his breathing hitch or deepen. He couldn’t wait until he could do the same for her.

The mere sight was enough to bring him to the edge. Wet hand stroking up and down, lips stretched around as she lazily sucked before pushing deeper to make herself gag a little because she knew he liked it now, teary eyes and a few stains when she did it too hard and made herself cry a bit. It was a filthy painting come to life.

“You’re so beautiful. A fucking vision, Y/N. Been imagining it for ages but it’s even better.” His praises continued as she pulled off for a breath, a smile on those pretty swollen lips. Somehow, that made him throb. Her smile itself. It made him horny. As soon as her mouth went back down on him again, he knew. It was almost over. “M’gonna cum so soon, darling. So fucking soon, you’ve made me feel so good.”

The wet sound of her hand pumping him was dirty and hot, her other hand cupping his balls delicately as she brought him further down her throat again. He hated that it was so close to the end because it felt so good; this entire thing did, and he wanted to last longer. “Could spend hours in this pretty little mouth, down your throat. Feels like heaven, baby. Fuck, just keep doing that. I’m almost there. That’s good, good fuckin’ girl.” The depth of his voice changed, and Y/N knew. She could feel him pulsing, twitching as she continues the pace just as he had liked it. She only pulled off once more to speak to him in a slightly wrecked voice.

“Give it to me. Cum for me, I want all of it. Please.” She didn’t waist for his reply before going back, tightening her hand and sucking a bit harder, trying to coax it from him. It didn’t take much more at all before he was tensing, a groan that was a bit too loud of her name leaving him as he began his orgasm. The load spilling inside of her mouth which she swallowed promptly, stroking until he placed his hand over hers and used the grip on her hair to pull her off and back on top of him.

Hungrily, his mouth descended on hers, licking into it and getting a taste. It was then mixed together, her sweet mouth and his slightly bitter cum that she had taken from him without complaint. He was dazed and hot, pulling some more wet kisses from her before pulling back to breathe, her forehead resting on his as she tucked him back into his briefs.

“Fucks sake.” He exhaled in a puff, shaking his head with a laugh of disbelief. “Where did you come from, hm? How did you do that so easily?” His hands gripped her thighs and pulled her to lay on top of him, Y/N following with the newfound sense of comfort.

“Hm. Some say heaven, some say hell. I’d like to think I grew from the flowers.” The voice she gave was hoarse, a bit wrecked from the gagging she had inflicted in order to give him pleasure, but she would be fine tomorrow.

“Hm. I’d agree. Beautiful flower you are.” His heart was going a kilometer a minute which she could feel as she placed her head on his chest for a moment. Hers matched the pace, all for a different reason. “Wish I could I could be returning the favor but… you’ll give me what I want soon, yeah?” The words were playful but she knew he genuinely meant them. It kind of made her giddy, if she was being honest. No one had ever been this impatient to pleasure her, so part of her didn’t want to believe it but… Harry wasn’t lying. She knew that. Y/N had a good radar for that.

“I will. I’m not going to hold out too much. I don’t think I could take it, honestly.” Her poor cunt. It had its own heartbeat and her panties were wrecked, but she had perfect material to get off to later. “But thank you. For being so… you. I’ve never felt more comfortable doing stuff like this and… I dont know.”’she flushed, hiding her face back in his shirt. “Just.. know that I’m really comfortable and happy with you. And it means a lot that you aren’t truly upset I’m making us wait to do more.”

Harry sighed. It made him angry that he could feel that other people had most likely done that to her in the past. Sex and pleasure was all about consent. With no consent, no mutual understanding, there was no point. Harry wouldn’t do it. It was his most serious rule. “Sugar, I want more than sex from you, just to be clear. And consent is serious with me. You said not today, regardless of the reason, that’s good with me. Besides… I’m perfectly happy right now. A bit tired though.” The yawn ripped through him without meaning to.

“Sorry, sorry. You sucked the soul out of me. Literally.” The pair giggled, the giddiness of post sex catching up to them. Before the reality sunk into Y/N.

“Fuck. We definitely took longer than an hour. She’s going to kick my ass!” Y/N squeaked, sitting up from Harry’s lap and adjusting her clothes. “We got to go, I owe her an hour break too.” Delilah’s glare was no joke. Y/N did not want to be on the receiving end of it. She may be her best friend but even Y/N was secretly a bit intimidated by the power she held.

“Oh, oops.” Harry’s lazy smile was not understanding the magnitude of Delilah, but he zipped his pants back up as she tried to fix her hair. “Hey, relax. It’s okay. I’m going to run to the bakery and grab some more muffins and fix it.” No one could resist muffins, let alone the blueberry crunch. Right?

[hils79]

Hils Watches Mysterious Lotus Casebook - Ep 40 (and bonus episode)

God, okay, here we go. I'm so anxious. I remember how Heroes ended and how much it broke me

I've come this far though so I guess let's do this even if it's going to hurt. I have a packet of tissues on standby just in case it all goes horribly wrong as I fear it will

Well, we're off to a good start. Li Lianhua is practicing his martial arts and imagining Di Feisheng is there with him. I'm definitely not crying less than 5 minutes in

It's okay though because Fang Duobing is there to take care of him and make sure he keeps warm 😭

Okay, I suspected he rigged the mechanisms to be easily seen and destroyed because Fang Duobing mentioned it but I didn't realise the whole thing was him trying to take down Jiao Liqiao from the inside. I feel bad(ish) for him now

Oh shit! Well, it wouldn't be Mysterious Lotus Casebook without one final (I hope) dramatic poisoning

I love that he just calls him Xiaobao in front of everyone now. Everyone clearly knows they're together.

God, he's about to do something stupid isn't he? I'm having Word of Honor flashbacks. GDI even I didn't clock that he was deliberately sending Fang Duobing away so he could do this

Oh fuck

I am sobbing

I do not understand these two at all. First of all I thought she left him when she ended their engagement (that I thought was a marriage - that whole wedding that wasn't a wedding was confusing), then I assumed she must have left him when she took the sect leader job from him. Apparently after all that they're still together??? But maybe they're breaking up for real this time?

I suppose Xiao Zijin is going to blame Li Lianhua for this too

I knew he was going to get free and leave before Fang Duobing got back 😭

FFS I was already crying and now Huli Jing is crying so I'm crying even more. I knew this was going to be sad but FUCK

He just rescued a trapped bird like a fucking Disney prince

I knew the 'recipe book' was going to be all his martial arts notes

FFS Xiao Zijin let it go! I swear to god if he kills Li Lianhua because Li Lianhua is half blind and ready to die I am throwing my laptop out the window

OH FUCK IS HE GOING TO DO IT HIMSELF?

Oh, I think he was talking to his sword

Well fuck.

Oh, he landed in the boat. Maybe he's okay? Let me have my denial!

It feels like forever ago but I think this dude was telling the story of Li Xiangyi and Di Feisheng in the first episode. If he was that's a nice touch that we've circled back around and he's now telling stories about Li Lianhua

I have to laugh because the alternative is crying even more. But I love all these randos know that Di Feisheng is in love with Li Lianhua and they're acting like him not showing up at the beach is like jilting him at the altar (even though they're already married)

His stoic but clearly sad face 😭

Well he's still alive. At the moment at least.

I know he's talking about fighting, but he probably also talking about their relationship

I want to hug him

I'm fine 😭

Onto the bonus episode. This is either going to be hopeful or painful and I honestly have no idea which way it's going to go

Painful so far!

Well, that was very ambiguous so I'm choosing to believe they found him at the beach and are living happily ever after 😋

I did really enjoy that despite the pain. Thanks to everyone who has been yelling along with me in the comments and notes while I've been watching. This is why I enjoy liveblogging dramas

[the-wayside]

I'm at the laptop with not my first alcohol beverage but definitely my bougie-est - a salted caramel espresso martini.

I am once again bountiful of unnecessary opinions, my drum a lonely beat. This is not a complete rundown, an initial pass shall we say.

Firstly, the issue with this episode is a ripple effect. Tharn was involved in multiple plot points and in multiple capacities. So getting the breathing space was hard to come by, but I'm going to focus on the culmination and why it worked for me.

The groundwork. The veil/tether that Tharn has been holding onto is made of gossamer. His front, made of paper. His yearning was a whole moment last episode (thank you, Babe, your face is a blessing). But Way, all of the arguing--exactly. Phaya and Tharn with other people and Phaya and Tharn together in their bubble are two very different things as we know.

I will tell you the exact moment I knew it had flipped. Tharn standing with Phaya's art, the deep expressions of his creativity, his passion and Phaya admitting his fear and the steps he had taken to overcome it and Tharn saying I'm trying too. He's trying to get to a place where he isn't terrified to love Phaya because he does have these feelings which he goes on to inadvertently admit with tears in his eyes.

What I find so beautiful about them is that it isn't explosive. To have loved someone in a previous life (lives), it's like coming home and recognizing on a deeper level, it's you. Phaya voices it in his own way, that he feels like he has longed and liked Tharn longer than he can remember. Sometimes the world doesn't end with a bang but with a whimper. One man shooting his shot with his beloved reincarnated soulmate who *chooses* to lean in and kiss him.

Tharn and Phaya don't function like they do alone with other people. It's honestly so interesting to see the walls, esp. Tharn puts up. He's so secretive and squirrely about Phaya that if someone hears a lick of emotion from him the whole deck of cards will come falling down. And I still feel in my bones that Dr Chalothorn's presence fucks with people. Like a poison, he seeps in everywhere. It hypes Phaya up because he's so scared Tharn will disappear like smoke and Tharn, in his denial/not as in tune with his true self, can't understand.

So I see the tenseness in Tharn but also how it unspools as he spends an evening with Phaya's family. How naturally he could fit, how easy it would be to be with Phaya. He is in a constant state of war and when Phaya says, I'll take care of it. I will carry your burden, your heart and keep it safe. Karma, past lives, it's ephemeral. Phaya. Phaya is real. Doesn't Tharn deserve something real for once in his life? To take one chance in a sea of doing exactly what he's told? Him allowing himself to allow Phaya in...*emosh*

And I love intimate scenes because you can't bullshit with them. If the emotion is off, it won't land. It won't feel honest. When I tell you the DETAILS had me chomping, I was full fang into it.

Tharn being covered by Phaya and his hand over Phaya's wing tattoo. Phaya is the freaking bird god. He is covering Tharn and protecting him with his wings (tattoo) being exposed to the rest of the world (side note: feral for the camera angles because Billy *covers* Babe) and Tharn is embracing and stroking them intimately. Like *growls*.

The straddle of showing desire versus intimacy versus delicacy over Tharn's first time. It's not awkward but the details, Phaya's hand is tucked under Tharn's chin and he checks in with him wordlessly before he touches the curve of his hip, slope of his rear (Babe, thank you again, your body is *nonsensical hand gestures*). It's the unspoken question and answer that flows between them. Tharn biting his finger when he's entered. You don't see it, you don't need to. It plays out perfectly. All of Phaya's feelings and care go into how slowly and carefully he cherishes his/their first time.

It's not an explosion of feelings but a steady confirmation of them and I--. Rawr. With them, it was never gonna be about the high heat horny bang, god how we love her. They're beyond that. They're an epic, spanning continents, destruction and death in their wake. Them being together is taking a breath and coming home. Being afraid but being taken care of anyway.

I just really, really loved how they did this; however, I do think it got a bit mishmashed in the convergence of plotlines but no one's perfect and I'm having a great time.

[jacobbaeluvr]

you can flirt now?

genre: fluff

pairing: (the boyz) jacob bae x gn!reader

summary: in which you try many ways to flirt with jacob but it suddenly backfires

warnings: uh uses of pickup lines (non-sensual ones), kissing on the neck and lips obvi, whispering, a lil cursing, uses of love, babe, cob and baby, bad humour cause i have em

notes: my woo fic is still ongoing lol idk when i'm gonna finish it

word count: 460 words

warnings pt2: this fic is not real! it's all fake so if you're uncomfortable pls block me

you sigh, the book in your hands no longer you find interested. instead, you're interested at your boyfriend's back profile. god he even looks good sitting there with his headphones on. jacob had a day off today but it seems that he's too focused on his work that it doesn't look like he has a day off.

feeling bored you got up and grabbed an extra chair before making your way beside jacob. noticing you, he placed one side of the headphones aside.

“hey baby, what's up?”

you shrugged.

“the ceiling obviously. anyways when are you done? i'm bored.”

you whined and placed your head on his shoulder. his head rested on yours after, rubbing it against yours.

“just a bit love, i'm almost done”

he then took out his headphones and started typing on his laptop.

still bored, you thought of a good idea. pickup lines.

grabbing your phone, you went on safari and searched 'pickup lines for flirting'. pressing on the first link, you tap jacob on the shoulder.

“babe, something’s wrong with my eyes because i can’t take them off of you.”

jacob chuckled.

“thanks a lot baby but i need to get this done”

giving a short peck on your lips, he continued typing on his laptop. damn it, it didn't work.

hm, let's see. ah huh, what about this one.

“babe, i’m going to complain to spotify about you not being in this week’s hottest singles.”

jacob let out a smile and ruffled your hair gently, putting your hair behind your ear before going back to his laptop. letting out a big exhale, you went back to bed. all your flirting doesn't work, fuck. hm, maybe some kisses would work.

getting up again, you tiptoed behind him carefully placing your hands on his chair before getting near his neck and giving it a peck. he made a sound of surprised but quickly recovered from it. going back to his ear, you whispered.

“cob”

“hm?”

“are you done?”

he shook his head.

“do you really need me that bad?”

“yes badly, you don't understand”

jacob laughed, it was the cutest thing ever.

“alright alright, i'll be there. let me just save this and i'll be cuddling with you okay.”

“okay!” you smiled before getting under the covers.

realising jacob is done, you open the covers before making grabby hands at him. making himself comfortable, he spooned you with one of his arms under your head and one on your waist.

“happy now?” he whispered.

“very” you replied happily.

“you know i must be in a museum because you truly are a work of art.”

did he just...

shocked, you turned with your eyes wide open.

“since when you can flirt now?”

he smiled before kissing your neck like you did to him previously.

“aww come on, i'm not that innocent love”

he rubbed his nose against your neck, kissing it at the same time. you were hot from blushing really hard.

your boyfriend can flirt now.

masterlist <3

[moss-lovingtransmasc]

Hello everyone!!

I'm writing a cherik fanfic and posting my work for the first time somewhere - when I finish it I'll put it on ao3, but for now I'll post sections of it here! Advice, comments, etc. are very much appreciated! (Also my writing style might change between sections/ chapters bc I'm still learning what my style is, just a heads up. :)

(modern AU, college/uni AU, no powers, alternate meeting)

-Monday-

Charles woke up to the sound of his phone beeping. 

The morning sun and late summer air spread through his room from his open window. 

Bird calls echoed from the tree outside.

Groggily, he reached over to his nightstand to turn off the alarm. 

7:30 AM

It was the beginning of his fourth year at Queen Mary University, and by the end of this year he was going to get his Bachelor’s degree in Biology. He checks his university app to look at what his new schedule is. He had Cellular Biology and Calculus III today. Then, he checked his reminders for the day. 

-Do laundry on Tuesday

-Finish graduation project for bio - due second semester

-Fill in empty class period for first semester (ASAP)

-Get groceries

-Pick up anxiety meds for Hank from pharmacy (Wednesday)

Fuck. He forgot to talk with his counselor about that free space in his schedule. 

--

In the middle of his second period, Charles checks his schedule again- and finds he doesn’t have enough time after his last class to talk to Ms. Frost. So when his second class ended, Charles spedwalk to his counselor’s office. 

Ms. Frost’s office was at the end of the hall in the East Wing. He always had a feeling that she didn’t like him very much. Or anyone for that matter. Every time he saw her, she always seemed cold, and occasionally just outright rude to students. Like she was always tired of them. Why the hell did she become a college counselor?

Arriving at Ms. Frost’s office, two faint voices inside got his attention. 

“You can go fuck off for all I care”

“What- What did you just say to me?!”

“You heard me Summers - now get out…Please.”

“Alright I’ll fuck off then…” Scott replied under his breath as Charles heard footsteps towards the door. 

The door swung open, and he caught a glimpse of a pissed off guy leaving the office. His face had looked slightly familiar, and Charles vaguely remembered seeing him pass in the halls on the way to some of his classes.

Grabbing the door knob and stepping inside, Charles saw Ms. Frost at her desk, looking down at some student files.

“Hello! Uh, I’m here about an additional class credit I need for graduation.”

“Okay. Sit down” She replied curtly, opening her laptop and clacking on the keyboard. 

He took the single office chair across from her desk and sat down. A beat of silence passed as Ms. Frost got the student registry up. Charles looked around her office in the meantime. 

It wasn't very cluttered like some other school staff’s offices were. She did have a few decorations and knick-knacks scattered around. Silver little objects on her bookshelves, posh-looking white and diamond decorations on the walls, the light blue picture frames that held her degrees and documents that she was required to hang up. Now that he’s thinking about it, her name really matches up with her room. 

“Name, year and major?”

His head snapped up as he heard Ms. Frost’s voice.

“Charles Francis Xavier - 4th year Genetics Major”

She gave him a look that probably silently judged why he said his middle name. He wasn't quite sure why he did either. As far as he knew of, there wasn't another Xavier in the Science department.

“Lets see…You need one credit left of a creative class, since you've taken almost all of the possible science classes here…”

Oh God no. Charles had never had an interest in drawing, painting, or any other art form, and to be honest, he was never good at it anyways. “Please don't make me take a class with painting or something - I'm terrible at it.”

 “Alright- Well, there is a metalworking class- which happens to be the only class that fits your preferences and your schedule, so I’d recommend that.” 

When did the university have a metalworking class? Sounded interesting enough…

“Uh- sure. I’ll take that. Thank you”

“Okay, I'll sign you up for it then. The next class is tomorrow.” 

“Alright Thank you Ms. Frost!” 

“Bye.” Charles heard her say - in a slightly annoyed tone - as he opened the door to leave. 

That went surprisingly well.

He really shouldn’t have put it off until the first day though…

-Tuesday-

It occurred to him that his new metalworking class might not be that great, or that popular at the very least if they had late scheduling available.  

Oh well - he just needed to graduate and then he could explore genetics outside the restraints of school. First, he had his favorite class of the day: Study of Human Evolution III. He had taken the intro course his first year and loved every minute of it. 

He found it fascinating how thousands of millions of years on Earth had changed tiny single-celled organisms to the conscious and complex beings humans are today. Capable of thought, capable of studying themselves and building societies. Yet still so animal - having base human instincts ingrained into their genetic make up. 

After that class though, he had his first day of metalworking - in room 109B. 

He was not looking forward to this. 

--

As he walked down the art hallways, he eventually recognized the room number. 

Opening the door and peering inside, to his surprise, he found that the class was almost completely full. All except for one seat at a large workshop table in the back of the class. 

Charles stepped inside and walked over, hearing the bell ring seconds after. 

Oh shit he was almost late. 

Charles was almost never late, being the top student in most of his classes, he prided himself on being punctual. He just had some trouble navigating the art hallways, was all, never stepping foot in them before. He had to admit that it was a little embarrassing, studying here for the past three years…

He sat down on the stool, looking at the tall student next to him. He looked about his age, if not a little bit older looking. Not by much though.  

“Hello! I’m Charles.” Introducing himself and offering a smile.

… 

The guy next to him didn't say anything, just smiled politely at him. 

Charles just assumed didn’t like much conversation. 

The professor started introducing himself and his students to the class, mentioning something about the syllabus. Charles normally would have paid more attention if it was any other class, and if it was any other person next to him. 

Charles didn’t normally stare at people this much, even people who he was attracted to, but for some reason he couldn’t stop looking at the guy next to him. As secretly as he could of course, looking at him through the corner of his left eye while facing the front of the class. He knew his face from some of his classes last year, and his Cellular Biology class yesterday. He was usually too interested in the subject matter to talk with anyone, and this guy was quiet and always sitting in the back. 

Besides that, he was just a very handsome man. His strong facial structure, his slightly stern eyebrows. His black turtleneck sweater complimented his neck and captured his figure so well.

“Erik Eisenhardt?” 

“Here.”

Erik then. That was his name. 

Charles listened to the rest of the roll call but didn't hear his name. The roster might not have been updated yet. He made a mental note to talk to the professor at the end of class. 

They first learned about basic safety measures of metalworking, like the protective equipment, hazards, and mentioned a safety contract. He also introduced the class to the tools they had at the stations, what they were going to be using most often, along with techniques like cutting and welding. 

“And remember, metalworking can be a very useful skill to know for trade jobs, but it can also be an art form. And since you all aren't in trade school, I’m going to assume you all joined for the art aspect of it, which is what we’ll be focusing on anyways.” 

The professor stood up and handed out the contracts to each table. 

“Here’s the safety contract I need you all to sign if you still wish to continue. I’ll need it by next class, so I’ll give you all some time to read it today. And please don’t be shy -  feel free to ask any questions.”

As he got to Charles’ table, he realized that he didn’t hear the professor’s name. There was a chalkboard at the front, but it was blank. 

“Hey - Erik was it? Did you catch the professor’s name?”

“Professor Azazel I think.”

“Thank you”

They didn't talk to each other for the rest of class. 

--

As the period came to an end, Charles went up to the front of the room to talk to Prof. Azazel. 

“Hello Professor! I believe that my name isn’t on the list yet? I registered for this class yesterday, but I just wanted to let you know that I was present today.”

“Okay, I’ll mark you down. Next time though, tell me during roll call.”

“Will do! Have a good rest of your day.” 

As Charles went back to grab his laptop bag, he saw that Erik left a small spiral notebook. Picking it up, he decided to return it in his Cellular Bio class tomorrow.

[luvrodite]

helloooo aurore sweetheart how are you today?? i’m humbly sneaking up for some rosoap crumbs and thoughts tehehe

so earlier i was passing by and saw an interesting show playing on the tv. there was this doctor whose patient was a guy quite annoying who seemed to be a bit too intrusive and comfortable around and one day she just comes and well he left suddenly (thank god). but then while she’s checking his file she discovers that he left a gorgeoussss drawing of her on the back of his diagnosis paper (and she tells herself that he’s a weirdo but she actually keeps the drawing lawl). literally a couple of nights later she spots him at a club while she’s dancing and he’s just watching her and for some reason the next day she decides to visit him (he lives in a tent and the only valuable thing he owns is a motorcycle) and discovers that he’s a traveler that has been kind of everywhere so she asks him to help her translate some books (specifically about her trauma) and the next day he’s over at her house helping her out over some wine. one thing leads to another and now he’s in her swimming pool and she’s screaming at him that they’re not done yet but they just end up fucking in it lmaooo and then scene shifts to her resting after their banter and he’s just laying behind her drawing her naked form (his notebook is full of sketches of her) before he decides to squeeze closer to find out that she’s actually crying and he just holds her close and soothes her with kisses :((( i couldn’t help but think of rosoap and it got me thinking!!! you’ve mentioned before that one thing that makes you realize how serious and deep john’s love for you is is actually how many detailed drawings he has of you, do you think that this passion of his holds a big symbolic significance in your relationship? like do you think it evolves into a subtle way for him to communicate some of his thoughts and feelings to you, almost like a love language? love u mwahhh

ariel, my angel! hi darling, i'm tired today but it's beautiful out so i'm sitting in a sunspot and trying to do some work! (trying = getting my laptop out lol). this show sounds so interesting, and the characters seem so incredibly like ro soap to a tee!!

oh my gosh, i think 100% yes and i hadn't considered that it would have a bigger role in our relationship before but, thinking about it, i would say yes.

i think his art is something that's not inherently really personal to him but still special when shared, if that makes sense? like i don't think he'd go out of his way to hide his sketchbooks and if i found it for the first time and was flipping through it, i think he'd be the type to sneak up to me and act very normal about it. says something while peering over my shoulder like, och that one's no good, dinnae pay it any mind, lass – this one's better. and laughs a little when i jump because i hadn't heard him enter the room.

but i think the more our relationship evolves and the more he draws me in, i imagine there are moments when the both of us are doing our own things in my flat or his and sometimes i'll come and just peer over his shoulder at what he's drawing this time. he grumbles a bit about that, but it doesn't have any real heat to it – 'f ye wanted tae look just say so, woman. and i'll sit with him and flip through the pages of his recent pieces. i think my favourite thing about his drawings is the attention to detail. he's got a sharp eye for that sort of thing, and it always lodges the cupid's arrow in my heart a little deeper every time we share that.

i also think there's a lot that goes unsaid with visual art that it's up to us to parse out. with his drawings of me specifically, it just echoes what he already claims to feel (that i more often than not brush off because it's difficult to believe) but like. quieter? idk if that makes sense but it just reaffirms what's being said and it feels more credible ?

in one of my classes this semester we're learning about the kinds of evidence that are admissible in a court of law and i think the best way i can describe it is like. his words are hearsay (not admissible but with exceptions) but the drawings are real documentary evidence that satisfy the other rules of evidence (would be admissible and would be used to make your argument and carry a LOT of weight). it's the kind of stuff that you can't really argue with - you can resist it but it's quite simply a Fact.

i rambled a lot but it's definitely a love language i think and it's one of those things that bolsters his case that he is serious about me, that it goes beyond wanting what he can't have and surface level, shallow obsession. that there's substance to his feelings. anyway. thank you for asking me this, beloved :( i hope you are so so well <3

[stevethehairington]

20 Questions For Fic Writers

i was tagged by @scimitar-and-longsword, ty Lolo for the tag!! 💕

How many works do you have on ao3? 118

What's your total ao3 word count? 667,938

What fandoms do you write for? the most recent fandom i've written for and posted for is stranger things, and i am still writing for it! i have also recently been dipping my toes into writing for both the terror and challengers (though i have not posted anything ~officially~ for either yet)

Top five fics by kudos:

good for my boy - steddie; wayne pov, the first time wayne meets steve! | 4,4,564 kudos

can't hide the way you make us glow - steddie; sequel to good for my boy, also wayne pov, this time how wayne finds out steve and eddie are together | 3,154 kudos

i want to hold your hand - steddie; steve has a crush on eddie and really reaaallly wants to hold his hand | 2,361 kudos

sloe gin fizzy, do it till you're dizzy - steddie; steve and eddie make a habit of getting high together... and also making out | 2,204 kudos

the world will follow after - steddie; steve accidentally kisses eddie on his way out the door | 2,000 kudos

Do you respond to comments? yes!!! i'll admit, i'm suuuper behind on this (a combination of being ridiculously busy and not having my laptop for a hot minute) but i absolutely do respond to every comment at some point! the way i see it is if you're kind enough to take the time to say something nice i'm gonna take the time to say thanks!

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? ooh angstiest ending? i fear i end all of my fics happy haha, but i suppose... well, i suppose keep you on a rope would fit the bill. this one is my tommy pov hs reunion fic, and tommy sees steve happy with eddie and then goes home drunk and upset soooo yeah that's a pretty unhappy ending for him lol.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? god, like everything else i've ever written?? lmfaoooo. i truly don't have one specific answer here because ALL my fics are happy endings if i can help it.

Do you get hate on fics? nah. i've gotten like a couple dumb comments before but they haven't been like mean outright hate or anything. i hope to keep it that way!

Do you write smut? hah, so, technically yes. but it's been a REAL hot minute, and every time i've tried to write smut recently i feel like i just get so stuck with it and then give up. soooooo.

Craziest crossover: i Do Not Like crossover fics so none! lol

Have you ever had a fic stolen? ummmm, i don't think so?

Have you ever had a fic translated? i've had a couple people ask before, but honestly idk if they ever actually did? so maybe lol

Have you ever co-written a fic before? i've tried! several times! but the, like, motivation/inspiration for those fics sort of fizzled out before they could be finished, so nothing has ever been posted.

All time favorite ship? oh man!!! this is a hard question!!!! because like, my favorite ship is obviously going to be the one i'm most invested in at the moment, but like i do still hold a very special place in my heart for the ships of the past i've fallen out of the fandoms for.

the current ships i'm coo coo for cocoa puffs over at the moment are steddie, fitzier, and tashi/art/patrick (honestly do not know what the "official" ship name for them is lol)

but if i had to pick my favorite out of all the ships ive ever written for... man i think i have to go with stucky!! there's just something about that ship that reaaaaally hits, and even though i don't really write for it anymore, just thinking about it makes me go bananas and feel so much, so yeah, stucky my beloveds.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? HAH okay i have an answer for this one: my steddie two night stand au!!!!! it was going to be my fic for the steddie big bang but i had to drop out of that bc irl got in the way, but i have like. at least half of the fic written already and a solid plan for the rest and i was totally loving what i had for it, and ive been DYING to write a two night stand for literally any fandom i've ever been in so i REALLY want to finish this one at some point... i hope i will!!!

What are your writing strengths? i would probably say my characterization!!! i try really really hard with that and i've gotten lots of comments that have pointed this out specifically, which makes me extra proud!

What are your writing weaknesses? i feel like sometimes when i get too in my head about things i end up, like, getting kind of repetitive, like i'll start using "smile" or describing eyes too much lol. i always try to like fix this when i edit before posting, but it's definitely something i notice myself doing.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language? i don't really have an opinion on this, like, whatever fits your fic best, so long as there's a translation somewhere that is easily accessible to the reader!

First fandom you wrote in? skam!!

Favorite fic you've written? oooh okay. i think i'm either going to go with keep me on a rope or under my umbrella!!

i'm going to tag: @withacapitalp @steddielations @henderdads @stevesbipanic @greenlikethesea @toburnup @thefreakandthehair @heybluechild @steddieasitgoes and anyone else that wants to do this!!

[localplaguenurse]

I am just nosy, forgive me. Can you describe each one of your mutuals?

Buckle up people and prepare to get complimented >:3c

First and foremost, they’re all absolute sweethearts to me.

There are my irl friends, such as @wretchedshade, @granolabird, @siriuscitrus and @scales-of-stardust or beta as I usually refer to them. I share the same braincell with these people.

Wretchedshade has been my best friend since we were ten, we’ve been there for each other for 11 years. I initially got her into anime, and then she got me into jojo, and every once in a while we cry about Doukyuusei again. She’s a great artist and is really good at writing sad shit, which is why I write sad shit; to have the glory of finally making her cry. She kicked cancer’s teeth in a few months ago so it’s about goddamn time something good come her way and I WILL fight someone on that.

Granolabird is the dm for my dnd campaign, and like I said, absolute sweetheart, chaotic adhd haver (actually like most of my friend group is like this lmao we’re all queer and neurodivergent). Either way, we used to share thoughts on each other’s original stories, and we still do sometimes but it’s mostly just sending each other tiktoks/reels like “this you” or “this your oc.”

Siriuscitrus is usually pretty hyper, but also tries to be v considerate of everyone’s feelings. If you said that the McDonald’s employee put pickles on your burger when you said no, they’d probably be the one to tell them. They’re also scarily good at vibechecking people and told me I give “future he/they vibes” and like a week later I said “fuck you’re right oh my god.”

You’ve probably seen me and beta’s interactions on here or in the ao3 comments. We enjoy our like playful rivalry/enemyship. I like to torment tease her and she usually gets me back pretty good, it’s all in good fun. It’s also really funny to me whenever we meet up, I tell myself “you are friends with them for reasons other than fic so do not make it about fic” and then we’ll spend literally hours talking about and brainstorming fic ideas. It just Happens.

I’m also gonna add @memory-mortis into here because while we’ve not met irl I’ve introduced him to my friend group. Yet another sweetheart, love her art style a lot, and she was one of the first comments I got on ginkgo trees to motivate me to keep going. I was kinda worried about bringing him into my friendgroup because like if I’m not overthinking I am not thinking At All. I was super relieved and happy that she like IMMEDIATELY fit in with everyone so :D

For some of my other close but only on tumblr/ao3/outside my general friendgroup mutuals! (There are too many so I’m sorry if you’re not here it’s mostly people I interact with more regularly ;-;)

@crimson-ashes who I have occasionally with absolute love called my “askbox gremlin” because they live in my inbox. I need to stress this is affectionate because genuinely, I love opening tumblr and seeing I’ve got asks from them. They gotta stop posting Astarion though because I’m feeling So Tempted to play BG but I know my laptop would kill itself (joking).

@crystalflygeo and I know I’ve called everyone sweethearts but genuinely, she’s probably one of the sweetest people I’ve had the pleasure of talking to. She’s really wholesome (unlike her writing which is never gonna be a complaint in my book, good soup) and super supportive of other people.

@madamemachikonew who’s super polite and really kind. She’s also really creative/smart when it comes to referencing real world art and philosophy in her writing and integrating it into her own worldbuilding. I would have never thought to have done that, and it makes her writing very unique!

We don’t interact as much but @probably-doesnt-exist, @ethve, @euniveve and @ainescribe are such talented artists and super sweet, have literally made me screech and cackle with utter joy whenever they draw the characters from ginkgo trees. I rotate through which art becomes my phone’s lock/home screens.

This is long af but fuck it, I wanna brighten people’s days and I told myself to say “I love you” to my friends and family more, so consider this one big “I love you!” to y’all. It’s a pleasure talking to y’all!

[ladylilithprime]

The Tales Grow Taller On Down The Line

Rated: M

Word count: 21582

Summary: When Bobby Singer got the call from Dean Winchester - "This case is weird even for us and Sam's been compromised, we need help!" - he had expected the hunt to be unusual but still fairly straightforward. Being introduced to Loki, the Norse god of mischief and patron of tricksters, and being told the pagan was Sam's soulmate? Definitely not so straightforward!

Warnings/tags: Soulmate AU, episode rewrite, S2Ep15: Tall Tales, references to canon off-screen violence and noncon/dubcon, descriptions of off-screen minor character death, canon derailment, discussion of Sam's powers, references to demon blood, angels are dicks, canceling the Apocalypse, Gabriel is Loki, Loki is a trickster, Bobby knows and accepts the risks, brief mention of dog death by old age, Dean is both a porn fiend and a prude, mentions of nonmonogamy and polyamory, Gabriel's nicknames

@spnsabrielbang in co-conspiracy with @alexiescherryslurpy ! (Art post here!)

THE MOTEL ROOM just outside Springfield University was stifling with the tense, angry silence that practically vibrated between its occupants. The first of them was pacing irritably in front of the windows, pausing every so often to glance up and either glare furiously at one of the other occupants or cast furtively worried looks at the third. The object of his ire lounged across the bed furthest from the windows with his legs crossed, a large red lollipop periodically vanishing into his mouth and reappearing a few seconds later, all with a very carefully contrived expression of unconcern even as he avoided looking at either of the other two. The third occupant of the room sat at the tiny motel table with his laptop, shoulders tense and set, face expressionless as he typed or clicked, paging through paragraphs of information almost faster than they could load in a valiant effort to avoid looking at or even acknowledging the man who kept pacing.

A knock on the door drew the attention of two out of three sets of eyes, and then Dean Winchester scrambled to get the door open. "Bobby! Thank fuck you're here, man!"

"Good to see you, too," Bobby Singer replied dubiously as he gave Dean a concerned once-over. "You said it was an emergency, but you don't look hurt. Where's Sam?"

"Over here, Bobby," Sam Winchester called from the computer, not looking up from the screen even as he waved. "And it's not actually an emergency, no matter what Dean thinks. He just doesn't like what I told him and thinks you'll give him a different answer."

"Won't know until you tell me what's going on," Bobby pointed out as he stepped fully into the room, finally spotting the third occupant on the bed. "And who's this?"

"Part of the problem," Dean growled, glaring at the figure who flipped him off without looking.

"Dean," Sam scolded, a wealth of exasperation in his tone. Finally looking up from his computer, the younger Winchester brother gave Bobby an apologetic smile that looked more like a grimace. "It's complicated, but not a problem, or at least it doesn't have to be. Bobby Singer, meet Loki, Norse god of mischief and fire, patron of tricksters and pranksters... and my soulmate."

There was a moment of silence. Bobby surveyed the faces of all three individuals in the room, from Dean's scowling face and disbelieving eyeroll to Sam's strained projection of calm over acute distress mingled with grim certainty, to the third man who apparently wasn't even actually a human man but a god and was looking at Sam now with surprise and a certain amount of his own uncertainty. Like he hadn't expected Sam to say that and didn't quite know what to make of him. Bobby heaved a sigh.

"I'm gonna need a drink for this one," he informed the three of them.

Dean went and got out a bottle of whiskey.

Read the rest on AO3

[blurrymango]

Drop some 2doc thoughts 🙏🙏

Hmm.

In spite of Murdoc's prissy personality I think he does have a drive to do physical work instead of just mental. Like he supposedly painted the plastic beach pink, I honestly think he was involved in the building process of the y'know. The actual building. What I'm trying to say is I think he has the work ethic of my grandfather, who in addition to building an entire new room on the house, is still doing other shit too. I think Murdoc is like that, the constant need to be doing something constructive or creative. Oh yes he certainly enjoys relaxing and indulging in lavish and stupid shit, but if he has to, I think he would do physical labor well. I think. Heavy emphasis on that lol. I mean the man built a whole ffucking cyborg, not only is he smart but he's good at the physical stuff.

On the other hand, 2D is moreso into the mental stimulation of activity. He needs to occupy his mind y'know. Well. Ffucking OBVIOUSLY lol. I mean like. Think about The Fall. I like to think he was extremely bored to have done that lol. And I know we all love to harp on him being an idiot, I especially love to make him a dumb boy but before phase 3 homeboy was getting a degree in law for some god forsaken reason. Law degree. Ok man.

So. Basically. Also forgive me for how unintelligible this all is, without my laptop and thus my access to being able to do digital art I see no reason in taking my ADHD medication. Anyway. What I'm trying to say is.

Imagine Murdoc sweaty and sore and exhausted from doing some hard work and 2D is practically frothing at the mouth from how attractive he is. Like I think 2D would absolutely jump at the opportunity to give Murdoc a massage. Listen to his satisfied groans and whatnot. I think it would get 2D horny as all hell to Murdoc fall so deeply into relaxation because of his hands. I think 2D would lean down and inhale deeply the smell of Murdoc's sweaty armpits. And only after 2D has had his fill of Murdoc's scent and the feeling of the man pliant and warm beneath him would he let Muds go lol.

2D as an opportunistic nasty little pervert is something very fun to me. Like y'know how Murdoc has a lot of acne and whatnot on his ass, I think 2D would get a lot of joy out of popping his blackheads and whiteheads and pimples and whatnot. Maybe even give it a little lick. Ok look. The guy picks his own nose and eats the boogers like canonically ok I have no doubt he would he lick the pus off a pimple he pops on Murdoc. 2D can be a little freak, as a treat.

I imagine after a long night, on a day where they don't have to do anything, that Murdoc would have to pry 2D off him to get out of bed. Like Murdoc needs to go piss right that instant but 2D's limbs are wrapped around him very tight. And it is just not happening. And when he finally does manage to escape and go piss, he comes back to 2D looking pathetic and very betrayed that he left in the first place. Like "wha' the hell Muds?! I wan'ed to cuddle!" And he'll sniffle and do puppydog eyes and Murdoc will huff and sigh and take pity on this boney brat and get back into bed to continue being used like a body pillow.

Murdoc loves his little idiot, very unfortunate for both of them. Because if 2D wants to nuzzle him like a plushie then he can't resist. And if 2D wants to buy a plushie, then he can't resist. Also, I fully believe Murdoc has financial control over 2D like he is absolutely not letting that boy have access to his own money. Because 2D belongs to him and by extension any money 2D makes also belongs to him. It's obviously not a healthy dynamic lmao. I think Murdoc spends most of 2D's money on unnecessary shit like drugs and alcohol and hookers and. Glitter. And if 2D wants to use the money he has to ask Murdoc for permission.

I also think. And this is very self indulgent. That 2D needs to hold Murdoc's hand when they cross a road. Like a little kid, y'know. I think 2D likes holding hands with Murdoc honestly. Like fidgeting with his hands too. Leathery greeny clawed hands. I think 2D will instinctively grab one and just. Bring it to his face and rub his cheek on it. Depending on where they are, Murdoc might yell at him and slap him for it. Or he'll let it happen.

Good lord. I love them. Or whatever. Lol.

[afpwestcoast]

Union Transfer, Philadelphia, 6/7/24

At the top of the show Amanda announced that she was having a very bad day and then proceeded to take out her frustrations during the performance, which was tinged throughout with angry undertones. The result was a show that was very high energy, but with some imperfections and tattered edges. As you’ll recall from my deriding the Portland show last December as “too perfect,” this is my preferred type of Dresden Dolls show. Like a high-wire artist who seems about to plummet to their death at any moment, but never does. Chef’s kiss!

Annotated Set List:

Good Day (Brian on guitar to start)

Gravity

Missed Me

Sex Changes

Backstabber

My Alcoholic Friends

During the lull between songs a woman in the audience yelled out “Hi!”

Amanda replied, “I’m too sad to talk … Let’s play the most ridiculous song we’ve ever learned, shall we?”

At this point an entire sketch ensued with Brian pretending to type on a laptop, then text on a phone, all the while being chastised by Amanda (been there, buddy!). “No texting. No typing. No communicating with anyone but MEee!”

Welcome to the Internet (Bo Burnham cover)

Ultima Esperanza

Amanda: “You know, the longer I do this fucking job the more I wonder if I need this more than you do. I’m just lucky cuz I get paid.”

Brian: “You would do this if you DIDN’T get paid.”

Amanda: “I would still do this if I didn’t get paid.

Delilah (featuring Veronica Swift)

Amanda: “We’re working on a new record. We might only ever play it tonight. And start working on it again next month with a new batch of songs. Cuz we’ve now done that twice.”

Brian: “YEP!”

Amanda: “I’m not joking.”

Mister God

Veronica Swift appeared next to me and said, “I never get to see the show from here.” She hung out and danced with us for a bit.

Houdini

While talking about getting stuck in New Zealand during COVID Amanda mentioned Philadelphia-based photographer Kyle Cassidy, who was the principal photographer for the Who Killed Amanda Palmer book, and was in attendance. She said that Kyle had created a book of photos of front-line nurses during COVID. “It’s like one of the most stunning and heartbreaking things I’ve ever seen, and no one wants to publish it. Because no one wants to see pictures of COVID right now; everyone’s still fucked as far as I’m concerned.”

Whakenewha

Another Christmas

Amsterdam (Jacques Brel cover) Amanda headed up to the balcony and Brian came out front with his guitar, as is tradition.

Mandy Goes to Med School (Brian on guitar to star) They were very playful with this one tonight, which was fun. “Sometimes I feel like songs can be kind of curse. Sometimes art can be kind of a curse. Like having a gift - like being a really gifted musician - you kinda can’t not do it, or you feel like you’re wasting your time. … This is the song that I’m proudest of. I think this is the song that scares the shit out of me the most. Which probably means it’s good.”

The Runner In the final verse she replaced “a lover,” with “the lover,” indicating that it was the same person from the first verse (which is true). This subtle change made the song even more powerful.

The Nail (Amanda on synth)

Mrs. O - ABORT! They had not made it through the intro when Amanda stopped and said the tempo was too fast. Brian asked if she wanted to start over from the beginning, but Amanda said they should take a request. It had recently been announced that The University of the Arts, a Philadelphia institution, was closing down. There were several people in the audience who were enrolled and were basically left holding the bag. So Amanda asked for a request from Ginger, one of the students impacted, and the result was …

Bad Habit The band hadn’t played this one in months, but Amanda adopted a “Fuck it” attitude and powered through with no regard to flubs and forgotten lyrics. This is my favorite Dresden Dolls mode!

Coin-Operated Boy After the line “I can even fuck him in the ass” Amanda yelled out, “Happy Pride!”

War Pigs (Black Sabbath cover)

——

Girl Anachronism Things started innocently enough with a tinkling piano version of ‘Call to the Post,’ the traditional bugle call used before a horse race, but soon enough the traditional count of “One! Two! ONE TWO FUCK YOU!!” was bellowed and we were truly off to the races.

Afterwards someone in the crowd asked if Amanda’s night was going better now and the answer was a resounding YES!

Photo Gallery:

Amanda Palmer

Brian Viglione. I like how the lower right image captures Brian’s power and kinetic energy.

Veronica Swift on Delilah.

Another Christmas

Amsterdam

Best drummer in the world!

The Dresden Dolls, ladies and gentlemen!