#wish we could have properly seen her reaction when Daisy grabs her head

[cake-emu]

Coronation Street | Carla Connor + Daisy Midgeley (14th April 2025)

[slytherinwh0re]

Fresh linen, daisies, and a hint of honey

Draco Malfoy x female reader AU

Warnings: SMUT (18+ minors dni), a little fluff and maybe a swear word or two?

Summary: Where Draco has a crush on a girl and becomes her partner for a potions assignment.

Masterlist

*Draco’s POV*

The things I would do to that girl if she would just give me the time of day. I’m not quite sure why it happened, one day I noticed (y/n) walking down the hall with her friends and ever since I can’t seem to shake the image of her from my head, it’s no question she’s beautiful.

I have plenty of girls throwing themselves at me but why isn’t she? I mean I am Draco Malfoy. 

The witch has never even glanced in my direction and I know she knows who I am, we’ve had many classes together over the years and well, everyone knows who I am. I would never say it out loud but it truly bothers me that (y/n) seems to be the only person in Hogwarts who doesn’t care about being in my presence. It makes it much worse that I think I may even have a tiny crush on the girl. 

***

There she is, walking into our potions class right past me like I don’t even exist. I have to stop myself from staring at her for most the class. The girl makes it so hard for me to concentrate and she doesn’t even know it, luckily I’m godlike at potions or who knows what my marks would look like.

I’m not sure what it is about her that pulls me in so much. (Y/n)’s easily the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen but I don’t think that’s the only thing keeping my eyes on her. She’s also very kind, always smiling at every twit she comes in contact with and she seems to have this air around her that just reels you in.

“(Y/l/n), since you’re struggling so much you’ll work with Malfoy.”

Did I just hear Snape correctly?

I see her pick up her belongings and make her way over to the empty seat right next to mine. As soon as she sits down all I smell is fresh linen, daises, and something sweet. She turn to look at me with a small smile on her face and stretches out her hand.

“I’m (y/n) (y/l/n), we’ve never properly met.”

I look at her hand, a bit shocked at first but after a second I’m taking it into my much larger one. Her skin is soft.

“I’m Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.” I smirk at the pretty girl in front of me.

“I know.” She smiles wider. “I’m sorry in advance for how bad I am at potions.” Her cheeks turn pink and she turns back towards the front, listening to the rest of Snape’s instructions on our assignment. We had a week to figure out how to make amortentia, a powerful love potion.

As the class was coming to an end (y/n) turns back to me “So I was thinking we could actually start the assignment tonight? I could meet you in the library once my classes are over for the day?”

“Sounds good to me (y/l/n), I’ll see you later.” I wink at her and start heading to my next class.

***

Finally classes are over, all I could think about was how tonight would go and I may be slightly excited to see (y/n) again. I walked to the library as quickly as possible and to my surprise she was already at the entrance looking slightly disappointed.

“Hey (y/l/n), what’s with the long face?”

“It seems everyone had the same idea, there isn’t a single work table open.” She has the cutest little frown on her face.

“Well if you’re okay with it, we could always go to my dorm. I have a private one, being a prefect and all.” I like the idea of having her in my room but I wouldn’t want her to feel uncomfortable. She seems to think about it for a second and then shrugs her shoulders.

“Lead the way Malfoy.”

Once we get to my dorm we start setting up all the different ingredients and materials we’ll need on my work table. I could be imagining it but I swear I catch her glancing at me every once in a while out the corner of my eye. Not that I’m any better.

After the third time the potion explodes she lets out a frustrated sigh.

“Hey it’s okay, we still have all week to figure it out.”

“I know I just wish I wasn’t so useless at potions, maybe then we would’ve made a little progress.” She’s pouting.

“If it makes you feel any better, you’re a way better partner than Crabbe or Goyle.” She starts to laugh and I can’t help but smile at how beautiful she looks. Once she settles down she still has a little smile on her face and I feel good knowing I’m the one who caused it.

“I should get going, it’s past curfew.” She says starting to put away the materials but I lightly grab her hand to stop her.

“You could just leave everything and we could work here from now on.” I scratch my head, nervous to hear what she says. She smiles and nods her head in agreement, picking up her bag from my bed.

“Well I should go.”

“Come on, I’ll walk you to your room.” I think I see her blush but it’s too dark in the hallway to be sure. We make our way to her room in silence, the only sound is our quiet footsteps as we approach her door.

“Thank you for walking me back Draco.” My breath hitches in my throat, no one calls me Draco other than mum and father but it sounds like velvet coming from her lips. I must look as stunned as I feel because then she quickly adds, “I mean Malfoy.” (Y/n) looks so nervous thinking I’m angry but in reality I just want to hear her say it again so I just shake my head.

“It’s okay, you can call me Draco.” This time I’m positive I see a blush on her cheek.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, have a good night (y/n).” I smirk at the blushing girl.

“Goodnight Draco.” Before I even know what’s happening she stands on her tiptoes, grabs my shoulders and plants a short kiss on my cheek, with a little smirk of her own she turns and disappears behind the door.

I smile the entire walk back to my room.

***

When I walk into potions the next day (y/n)’s already sitting at the table I usually sit at. As soon as she sees me she smiles brightly making me smile back.

“Hi Draco, we still on for today?”

“Yeah of course, you can just come to my room whenever you’re ready.”

“All right, I’ll probably change into comfier clothes before heading over.” She says, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in anything other than her school uniform and robes.

***

I’m laying in my bed waiting for (y/n) and I can’t help but think about her kissing my cheek last night. What did it mean? I decided she was probably just being nice but I wouldn’t hate it if she did it again.

Finally she knocks on the door and I open it up to see her clutching her books to her chest, smiling, as per usual. Once she steps in my room I see she’s wearing jeans and a comfy looking black tshirt, even in such simple clothes the girl outshines everyone.

Once again we worked for hours on the potion and still no progress. However I really enjoyed myself, hanging out with (y/n) was more fun than I could have imagined. She’s funny and so sweet, I don’t know that I could ever grow tired of being near her.

Just like last night I walked her back to her room and to my pleasure she kissed my cheek again, this time a tad closer to the corner of my mouth.

***

The rest of the week went the same, she’d come to my room, we’d work on the assignment, I’d walk her to her room and then she’d kiss my cheek, a little closer to my lips each night. Now it’s Sunday and we have to turn the potion into Snape tomorrow.

“Draco I think we finally did it! If I put in this last ingredient and it doesn’t explode we’ve done it.”

She drops in the last ingredient and the mix starts to steam. (Y/n) squeals in delight and throws her arms around my neck but before I can even move she let go and starts doing a happy dance around my room making me laugh.

“Go smell the potion before you hurt yourself.” I tell the dancing girl. She makes her way over to the cauldron and takes a big whiff, making my heart pound against my chest.

“I smell apples, expensive cologne, and maybe mint?” I can tell she’s confused. “It smells exactly like you Draco. What does that mean?”

“Amortentia is a love potion, whatever the potion smells like to you is the smell of what, or who, you find most desirable.” I sniff the potion, looking right at (y/n) who’s bright red at this point. “For instance I smell fresh linen, daises, and a hint of honey. Sound familiar?”

The beautiful witch is lost for words as I get closer and closer. When I finally reach her I pull her small body flush against mine, putting my face in the crook of her neck and giving it a feathery light kiss.

“You’re an exact match.” I whisper in her ear making her shudder. I start to pepper light kisses on her neck making her moan softly.

“Let me show you just how much I desire you (y/n).” I pull back to see her reaction. She puts her arms around my neck and pulls me down until her lips are an inch away from my ear.

“Kiss me already Draco.”

It takes exactly one second for me to have her pressed against me again, this time with my lips on hers. I start walking us forward until the back of her legs hit my bed and she falls back, the sight of her laying on my emerald sheets has my pants tightening by the second.

She moves so she’s kneeling on the bed, eyes level with mine. She starts unbuttoning my uniform shirt, her (y/e/c) eyes never looking away from mine. Once she has my shirt all the way off she puts her small hands on my shoulders slowly moving them down my chest until they reach my abs making me groan, her hands are so soft.

I reach for the hem of her shirt, pausing to look at her for permission. She nods so I push the shirt over her head, revealing a black lace bra.

She moves one of her hands behind her back and unclasps the material around her chest, removing a strap from each arm and finally letting it fall to the floor by my feet. I take her in for a while, not quite believing that the girl of my dreams is allowing me to be with her this way.

“You’re beautiful (y/n).” With that my mouth is back on hers, our bare chests pressed together. I skim my tongue on her bottom lip asking for permission when I feel the little minx smirking into the kiss, keeping her lips sealed. Two can play that game, I bring my hand down on her ass causing her to gasp, allowing enough room for my tongue to tangle with hers.

I lightly push her back onto the bed, immediately climbing over her. I start laying kisses down her neck, sucking on the skin, wanting her to remember who made her feel this good. I go lower until I reach her jeans, once I unbutton them I tap her hip so I can slide them off her long legs.

“Are you sure about this love?”

“Hurry up Malfoy.” She demands.

“Yes ma’am.” I hook my finger in her underwear pulling them down as slow as possible just so I could watch her squirm. I haven’t even touched her and she’s already soaked, the thought makes me smirk as I settle in between her legs.

I start kissing the inside of her thighs, placing them behind my shoulders. I leave small marks as I get closer to her core.

“Draco, please. I need you to touch me.” Fuck, that was hot.

“I want you to watch (y/n), if you look away I won’t let you finish, understood?” She nods her head vigorously, eyes locked on mine.

I lick a bold stripe up her slick folds making her grab my hair and let out the sexiest moan I’ve ever heard. This girl is driving me mad and she barely even touched me.

I slowly start tracing figure eights on her clit making her squirm, I put one of my hands flat on her stomach to hold her down, with the other I circle a finger at her entrance before sinking it into her. Her eyes never leaving mine.

She moans my name and I’ve decided I would do this everyday if she allowed me, just so I could hear my name come out her mouth like that.

I sink another finger into her, thrusting them faster as her legs begin to shake. I can tell she’s close, she’s having a hard time keeping her eyes open.

“I’m gonna c-” she let’s go before she can even finish her sentence. She throws her head back screaming my name as I flick my tongue over her. When she comes down from her high I pull my fingers out and she watches as I lick them clean, a small smile on her lips.

I get off the bed taking my pants and boxers off, my dick hitting my stomach. I grab a condom from my drawer but her hand stops me before I rip it open.

“Let me do it.” (Y/n) grabs the condom from my hand and rips the foil open with her teeth, slowly rolling it onto me. Feeling her soft hands on me makes me hiss.

“Are you ready?” I line myself up at her entrance, when she nods her head I push myself in. She’s absolutely soaked. Her legs wrap around my waist as I hold her body as close to mine as possible.

“You feel so bloody good.” I moan into her neck as her nails dig into my back. Her little whimpers encouraging me to go faster.

I grab one of her legs and pull it over my shoulder, the new angle making her scream. I smirk at how thoroughly fucked the sweet girl below me looks as I wrap my hand around her delicate throat, her tits bouncing up and down with the force of my thrusts.

I push her leg down and flip her body so she’s laying on her stomach. I don’t even have to say anything, she’s already lifting her hips off the bed and parting her legs so I could fit inbetween them. I’m going to marry this girl one day.

With her ass in the air like that I can’t help but smack it before slamming back into her. (Y/n) buries her face in my sheets as I reach around to rub her clit.

“I’m close Draco.”

“Cum for me love. Let go, I’ve got you.” And that’s all it take for her to be pushed over the edge. Her walls tighten around me as she moans my name, my thrusts become sloppy and I’m seeing stars as I cum into the condom.

Once I get myself cleaned up I go back to the bed and pull the tired girl close to my chest, kissing the top of her head.

“Let me take you on a date tomorrow.” I break the silence.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

[early-sxnsets]

Roarin’ 20s

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16866697

Word Count: 2732

Summary:  At Watford's 1920s themed Halloween Party, a few questionable choices are made. There's one unexpected, yet welcomed, result of teenage drinking. (POV Simon)

Carry On Countdown 2018 Day 11: Time

(Bonus art because I had to draw Baz in the pinstripe suit I’d mentioned)

In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have dressed like Jack from Titanic.

Overall, there’s a number of reasons why. First, I look extremely dressed down compared to everyone else in this vamped-up overplaying for a student-run party. I don’t know how they managed to allow this to happen. Although, I doubt teachers really care to stop the majority of the student population taking over the courtyard and White Chapel for Halloween night. Especially not with the Humdrum off ruining the rest of the Magickal world.

Second, I think I picked the wrong time period, as Penny ended up lecturing me over the moment she saw this getup.

“1909, Simon! Some of the most powerful Mages in the world died on that trip! And that wasn’t even really close to the 20s!”

“Well, why didn’t they just make the boat not sink, then?”

“Because it would’ve revealed too much to the Normals, Simon. Merlin and Morgana, you’d think they’d see the entire ship levitate.”

Despite her tutting, I’m still standing here with straight ironed hair (don’t ask how I got a straight iron) and a half unbuttoned shirt with suspenders and trousers that sort of make me look like a 1800s beggar more than a 1990’s heartthrob. Thank Merlin for whatever kids snuck in the alcohol, because I’m nursing my second drink and I could give less of a fuck about the fact that I’m not really fitting this year’s theme. Instead, I’m thinking about things that I could theoretically do now without being tied down to Agatha.

It’s funny, because she’s in sight right now, seeming more out of place than ever, despite being properly dressed. She’s all set up like a flapper girl, all down to the single-feather headband and frilly bottom of her dress. She looks like a costuming department put that together for her.

I remember watching The Great Gatsby with her one year (she has a thing for DiCaprio), and looking at her now, she looks spot on like Daisy.

Wonder if I’ll have to sit across a pond with her and Baz living a posh life together with a bullshit green light blinking on my dock ‘til I’m finally shot dead.

Now I think of it, maybe I probably picked the wrong DiCaprio to come as...

Penny cuts my pool-death-daydreams short with a nudge of her elbow against my side. She’s got a big fur (“Faux fur! I wouldn’t dare use real fur!”) coat and one of those super smooth hats, which doesn’t quite accommodate her hair, even in a bun. There’s spirals of brown sticking out around the edges.

“How much have you had to drink?” she questions, narrowing her eyebrows at my drink as she adjusts her glasses. I just hold up two fingers, shrugging as I sway to the remixed obscure trap-jazz music. She just squints at me, seeming to try to decide whether or not to scold me before sighing and going to get her own drink.

It’s relatively boring; nothing’s really “happening”; drunk teens and dancing, mostly, until he decides to grace us with his presence.

Of all people, I’ve never known Baz Pitch to go to a student party, and in actual costume nonetheless. But, despite, that, here he is now, and in full getup.

I take back everything I’ve said about him looking like a vampire ever. Tonight, right now, he looks like nothing but an old-school gangster. Head to toe pinstripe tailored outfit, stuffy to the t and all color coordinated. Hell, he’s even got a pocket watch tucked from the part of his waistcoat. Part of me refuses to believe he just had that lying around, but another part of me has full trust that this is something he’s had hidden in his closet that I just haven’t seen and it’s driving me absolutely mad.

His head’s tipped up, his slicked, black hair staying set into place. The nerve of this prick, too; he’s got a cigarette dangling from his upturned lips, eyes shifting from side to side as he makes his way through the crowd of students.

Mind you, I’m using “makes his way” lightly; he’s practically parting a sea. Everyone in the bloody bottom floor of the chapel turns to get an eyeful of this arse. Fucking hell, he even gives a few people one of his long, cold stares just for safekeeping. Once he makes it to me, though, he just scans over me and gives me a bored look before opening his mouth for an expected taunt. “Not surprised you can’t count your years, Snow.”

I try not to step back, keeping my chin high as I keep a leveled eye. “Seems like you never take a second from being a villain, hm?”

His lip curls up into a smirk as he takes the cigarette from his mouth, tapping it onto my feet. “Pity, you’re even worthless in your fantasy dress-ups too. Couldn’t even survive some cold water.” He reaches around me, not breaking eye contact as he grabs one of the drinks. He pops its top, raising an eyebrow to me before coolly strolling off.

I exhale slowly, letting my chest deflate as blood rushes back through my limbs. “Tosser,” I grumble into my drink, taking a long sip as Penny stares at me for a minute.

“What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?” I respond quickly, maybe sounding a bit too defensive. I should finish this drink off.

“What was what?” She blinks at me incredulously, her mouth hanging open before she laughs. “Shit, I thought either of you was about to pounce each other, and I’m not quite sure whether it was to fistfight or to snog.”

I scoff, slamming back the rest of my drink before immediately turning for another. “I am not going to snog Baz,” I say aloud, maybe more for myself. No, wait, no not for myself; I already know I’m not going to snog Baz. Why in the world would I snog Baz?

I don’t dwell on that too long, opening my next drink and starting on it as I push myself into the crowd to dance.

There’s a lot of things I’m no good at, and sadly, dancing’s near the top of that list (next to talking and existing). Right now, though, I don’t care. I’m dancing with someone in the year below who urged me over, so I don’t think I really have to care anymore. The glow of the party lights and the thump of music in my feet drag my thoughts away.

Someone taps my shoulder as I pull myself away, catching my breath. It’s Sophie, a girl from our year, who’s holding a scarf and grinning at me. “Simon..?” She drags, smiling like she’s got some secret to share. Except there’s a scarf in her hands.

“What’s up, Soph?” I ask, leaning against the table. I finished my third drink not too long ago.

She flutters her eyelashes at me, offering the bandanna. “We may be playing seven minutes in heaven and I know you and Agatha broke up, so…”

Am I thinking? No. Absolutely not. I’m grabbing the bandanna, shrugging and saying “Why not?” as I tie it on myself. I don’t even gauge Sophie’s reaction, I just go for it and spread my arms out. “Lead me to my fate.”

I hear her giggle. “Alright,” she says somewhat weirdly (alright, maybe I should’ve thought about this).

Definitely should’ve thought of this, because now she’s pushing me forward, where I bump into people occasionally before I’m walked into what’s definitely a utilities closet, nudging into someone else before the door shuts.

It’s dark as shit. I can’t see anything, but I can definitely feel. I feel the beat of the music outside, I feel the swirling of my brain (if I could see, I’d be looking sideways). I feel the hands of someone against mine, their fingertips brushing against me.

Their breath is soft against the muffled outside of the party, coming out in soft puffs by me.

I sort of instinctively think ‘she’, but I’m not quite sure. The way their breath’s hitting me, I think they’re taller than me (and I don’t know too many tall girls in the school. Granted, there’s roughly three, but still…) They’re definitely drinking too; I can smell it on their breath. Fermented, like cider, but their scent's mixed with something so familiar, so everyday that I can’t even pin it down. It makes me feel like I’m back in my bedroom.

Their hands close around my wrists as I tumble towards them, knees wobbling and heart racing. This was probably a shit idea. I should’ve probably said no, but I can’t care too much right now, and I actually want this right now. My arms grasp out and feel the fabric of a suit. I think my mind might be playing tricks on me now because I’m grabbing the suit jackets and yanking whoever this is closer. The thought of Baz flashes through my brain, but I try to will it away. It’s just a suit jacket; there was plenty of people wearing suits.

Now, I usually think of myself as a straight man. I think. Or, really, I don’t think. I’ve never snogged a bloke before, but the breath near my forehead’s driving me nuts and there’s something in my bloodstream telling me to not think and just go for it.

Who knows, maybe I’m not straight.

I slam my lips forward gracelessly and start kissing and oh, definitely not a girl. My hands rest on the smooth dress shirt and I feel slight muscle over a masculine chest.

He presses back against me, stumbling us back towards the back of the closet wall as his arms drape over my shoulders. I break back, feeling his breath on my face as I open my eyes to still find darkness. I wish I could see. I wish I could know why this feels right. Part of my mind is filling in Baz's features as my fingertips graze the skin of this bloke's face, but I'm nearly sure I'm imagining it. I try not to dwell on why I'd be imagining me kissing Baz, though; his face just sticks in my mind.

While my hand presses to his cheek, I find that he’s still got his blindfold on. I leave it, a little too scared to cross that intimacy line (suppose I’ll find out before he does, when the door opens for us again).

There’s not much of a pause, though, because he’s going at it again, snogging the breath out of me as his hands travel. They push aside the fabric of my mostly undone shirt, straining the bottom few buttons. Long, bony hands trailing against my skin and flattening against my chest. Without hesitation, I press forward, hands pushing into his hair and kissing him with every ounce I can really give right now.

This feels right. This feels so, inexplicably right. I push my hands into his hair, letting myself grip it lightly. Soft, slightly gelled down strands running through my fingers as I urge his head closer. This even smells right; he smells so comforting; like a candle I’ve had burning next to me for years. He tastes lightly of cigarettes, and he’s much cooler than Agatha ever was, but it doesn’t matter. He’s all I want right now.

A hand cups his jaw while the other stays locked in his hair, tugging at the strands and urging him onwards.

Neither of us tread anywhere below the belt. Seems too risky, too stupid. I’ve been drinking too much (who knows how much he’s had) and it’s not worth being that stupid. Fuck it, if it works out well, we won’t really stop after this. I don’t fancy myself as a romantic, but I also don’t fancy myself as someone to snog the life out of someone just to leave them.

As our lips part, his resting against my jawline, there’s a rattling knock to the door, giving us a few seconds to break apart before it swing open. The soft, changing lights of the party filtering into the small room and gives everything a harsh glow.

And there he is. Alll six feet (give or take) of him; slicked back hair, pinstripe suit, cheekbones to kill.

Tyrannus Basilton fucking Grimm-Pitch.

I stand slack-jawed, leaning against the wall we’d just been up against as he slowly lifts his blindfold off, staring at me with an expression I don’t think I’ve ever seen on him; guilt, and maybe a little fear.

He’s not angry, though. He’s nowhere near angry, but in the falter of his stone-cold persona lies this scared teen that looks away the moment we lock eyes. Before I can even form a coherent word, he’s pushing past whoever’s holding the door.

By the time I gather my thoughts to follow him, he’s mostly nudged out of the room and ends up slamming the doors open to the courtyard.

It’s frigid when I get there. Most people migrated to pack into the Chapel, but Baz isn’t interested in mingling. He’s going in whatever direction the crowd’s not, making me push through clusters of people as I shout his name.

It takes a solid distance for us to stop, hanging at least five yards apart from each other as he whips around, staring at me with wet cheeks. I feel my magick bubble and spill, working as an almost fog between us; I want him closer. I want to know what he’s thinking.

I can only really figure out one thing to ask right now.

“Did you know it was me?”

His jaw sets, arms crossing defensively over his chest as he stiffens. “Of course I did.” His voice cracks mid sentence. “I always know its you; I can feel your magick from a mile away.”

“Then why didn’t you stop?”

He huffs, laughing so bittersweet that I step forward on impulse. I want something that I’m not even sure about. “You’re so fucking thick, Snow,” he grumbles.

“You could’ve stopped me, Baz. I--we--”

He just stares silently as his arms drop, exposing his chest and his heart; exposing more of himself to me than I could’ve ever imagined. He’s so vulnerable, so weak. It's like he wants me to do something. Kiss him or kill him, he looks like he’d stop neither.

“That felt right,” I say, heart hammering in my chest. What the fuck did I drink? “That felt really really right, Baz.” Cross that, I don't think it's anything I drank.

“Don’t say anything you don’t mean, Snow.”

I swallow, eyes locked on his as I exhale slowly, trying to keep myself steady. “A lot of things don’t make sense to me,” I start, deserving me a cocked brow. I close my eyes, trying to continue. “There’s a lot that I’m clueless on, and there’s a lot that I just ignore, but Baz, that’s something that felt right. And I don’t really know every word I’m saying right now, and I don’t drink a lot so I’m feeling a little fucked up, but I’m still absolutely sure that that was right.”

As I speak, the ground in front of me crunches in a slow, hesitant manner. It stops just short of where I'm standing, the sound of Baz’s breath and the smell of home clinging to him as he stands. I dare myself to open my eyes, taking a moment to look up to him and swallowing any type of pride I’ve got left.

His cheeks are still streaked, jaw clenched shut, but lip quivering in the slightest. “Say that again,” he whispers after a minute, his hands stuck to his sides. I reach out, looping my fingers around his as I stare up.

“This was right.”

He lets out a shaky breath, looking down to me and taking what feels like an eternity to hold my hand back. “You need to get to bed and sleep this off.”

“I’m not going to sleep off feelings,” I huff.

“I know,” he utters back, causing my breath to catch as his hand lifts and pushes a stand of my straightened hair behind my ear. He leans in halfway, waiting for me to react as he whispers “Can’t sleep off mine either.”

Without hesitation, I close the distance.

[because-cur-non]

@flowersfangsandfire caught the specific kpop reference so here is the belated André bonus!

André hunched his shoulders up, slouching down at his desk at the front of the classroom.  He could hear whispers and giggles from the back corner of the room without even turning around and he tried to concentrate his attention on the English worksheet in front of him, but it was hard to act like a close reading of The Great Gatsby was very important when the last class when he had offered an answer about Tom and Daisy and Why They Were Like That it had been met with the kind of careful response that gave away that everyone thought they knew where he was drawing that insight from.

“--he takes his shirt off in the live recording from Japan--”

André tried to sink even lower but wasn’t able to if he wanted to at least pretend to still be working.  The desk was new and white and smelled like whatever factory it had been produced in.  It didn’t have any graffiti or even accidental scuffs on its surface yet and if he tried to write on it with his head almost below the height of the backrest of his chair it would tip over on him.

Overlapping squeals behind him kept him from seeing just how close he could get to unfortunate physics and product design taking over anyway.  Just imagining the kind of delighted reaction he’d get if he knocked it over onto himself a second time was far too embarrassing.

Faint pop-y music began to play, followed by a fast chorus of shushing and what he knew by now was the sound of earbuds quickly being stuck in a device and passed around.  Somehow it was worse that the song they were listening to wasn’t even one he had cared much for at the time his group had come out with it and he hated in that moment that he knew all his lines perfectly.

It wasn’t supposed to have gone like this.

He was supposed to have come to the States to get a normal high school experience--or, well, something close to normal, normal if normal meant a personal driver and private tutors and spending Spring Break in the Swiss Alps--instead of the public and expertly controlled one he would have had back in Korea.  It had been his mother’s idea, just like it had been her connections that got him noticed in the first place, but he had mentioned casually to a new friend that he was busy after school not because of a club but because he was obligated to put in his hours at a nearby recording studio in order to uphold his end of the compromise that had been worked out in his contract and, well.  By the end of the week everyone not only knew but had seen his music videos.  They had not only seen his music videos, they had seen the interviews where he talked in carefully scripted Korean and English about his experiences moving between cultures and what he liked in girls, they had seen the variety show sketches he had done with his bandmates where he wore fashionable makeup and not-so-fashionable costumes, and they had seen the tearfully recorded goodbye video he had shot for his fans where he asked them politely to continue to support the group and apologized for leaving.  They also, he knew, had seen the fanfiction.

Behind him he heard giddy whispering and he wished study hall was over, or at least had a stricter supervisor.

The whispering continued, nervous now and a little frantic, and then chairs pushed back and footsteps approached him.  He tried to stare a hole through his worksheet, gripping his pencil so hard he half-feared he would crack the plastic.

“Um.”  A voice at his side.  “Um, excuse me.”

The voice was high but male and André was surprised enough to not slip the blank practiced smile on before he looked up.

The school was large enough and he was new enough that he didn’t know all of the students and he didn’t know who he was talking to or if he had ever even seen him around.

The girl next to the student giggled anxiously and nudged him, both of them blushing hard and looking even younger than they were.

“Um,” the boy said again, and André remembered his manners and sat up properly.  “You don’t know me but I--we all think you’re really good,” he began in a fast stream of unpracticed consciousness, hurriedly motioning between himself and his friend and then at the other girls sitting and watching them eagerly from the back of the room.  “I want--we want--can we get a selfie?”

“I can’t do that,” André said automatically.  He saw both their faces fall and he quickly tried to backtrack.  “Sorry, I mean, I’m not allowed to do that.”

“Oh.”  He nodded.  “Oh, okay.  Sorry.  Thanks anyway.”

“I’m sorry.”  André began to turn back to his work, but something stopped him.  “Hey.”

The other two students had been starting to walk away and they looked back.

“I can, like, take a group picture with you guys though.  If we’re friends,” he added.  “I’m not supposed to give autographs to fans or anything like that, but we’re in class together so, like, if you want to do homework together and hang out or something...  And if you stop looking me up YouTube when I’m, like, right here.”  He got up, grabbing his worksheet and bag.  “Also did any of you read The Great Gatsby?  I can’t find the scene question four is talking about. ”