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#silky smooth icon
catboyieejeno · 2 months
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gameboy :: p.js — one
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genre: gamer! jisung x gamer! reader, college au cw: female reader, fwb to lovers, explicit smut, pervy jisung, male masturbation, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, inexperienced jisung, cum play/breeding kink, pet names, slight humiliation kink, size kink, creampie, probably more wc: 18.257k
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The red letters that flash across your screen read ‘Defeat’, illuminating your dimly lit room with a shy, red hue. The instant the word appears on your monitor, a voice blasts through your headset, erupting in emphatic complaints and protests. You can hear the clatter of a keyboard and mouse being shoved around on the other end of the receiver, and it takes everything in you to stifle your laugh. 
“We definitely could’ve won that!” the boy scoffs, “I swear, sometimes it feels like you and I are the only people with any fucking game sense.” 
“Wow, thanks for the validation,” you joke, instinctively queuing up for another match. Your eyes trail up to the little icon in the corner of the screen that glows green every time he speaks.
“You know what I mean,” he grumbles, and you imagine he must not look all that different from the little crying cat picture he set as his discord icon. The thought makes you snort, but he ignores you, stating, “I think this is my last game,” 
You nod even though you know he can’t see you, “same, I have class tomorrow,”
“First day of the semester for you, too?”  
You nod again. “Unfortunately. My days of gaming until four and sleeping until noon have come to an end.” 
He laughs, leaning forward in his chair as he realizes something, “You know, I never asked what you’re studying,” 
“Oh,” you blink, “Well, the first class I have tomorrow is just a random credit I needed, but I’m actually majoring in-” 
It takes less than a few seconds for your words to drown out into a muffled buzz, and the only thing Jisung can focus on now is the silky, smooth sound of your voice. 
He would never admit it, at least not out loud, but your voice makes his heart beat just a little faster. The way each and every word rolls off your tongue makes his breath hitch, imagination running wild at the thought of what your lips look like when they mold to form each syllable and sound. 
Every night like clockwork, Jisung finds himself rocking side to side in his desk chair, eyes hanging low and round lips curved up into a smile as he listens to you speak.
It’s so easy to talk to him, too. By now, you’ve lost count of how many nights the two of you rambled off in voice chats, watching shows or playing video games or simply oversharing the details of your lives. It’s only been a few months since you met in a game chat, on that night where he practically harassed you for your discord after you carried him up a rank in-game. You’re secretly grateful he did, though you wouldn’t let him know that; the two of you effortlessly became part of each other’s daily routine, and now, calls with you are his favorite way to end the night. Tonight is no exception.
Jisung begins to mindlessly swing in his chair as usual. He’s humming passively between your small pauses to encourage you to keep going as his hands automatically start caressing his torso. It’s a somewhat innocent gesture, or at least it starts out that way: his palms sliding across the ridges of his abdomen as he listens to your voice. It’s better than music to his ears, and it urges his long fingers to dance closer and closer to his waistband.
“–and I thought about changing it, but I think with an degree in Lit, I could probably get a career in–”
Lost in your voice, Jisung slips his hands into his shorts, holding his balls as he fully zones out of the conversation. He knows you’re saying words and forming actual sentences, but his social awareness has dwindled completely and he absolutely can’t seem to get past how sweet you sound, and how much sweeter you would sound under… different circumstances. He moves up to hold his dick gently and furrows his brows. Almost accidentally, his thumb brushes along the underside of his tip, teeth clamping the inside of his cheek and gnawing on it to ground himself. Just as eager as its owner, Jisung’s dick jolts in his palm, progressively swelling up until it’s flushing bright pink. 
“You’re into English?” He manages to stop daydreaming and hone into the conversation for a fleeting moment, just long enough to ask you that simple question and keep your attention off of his rapidly shifting breath.
He’s blatantly playing with himself now, ever so distractedly. It’s an autonomous act: the way the pad of his middle finger trails over his slit to collect a bit of the pre-cum that has begun to dribble out in pearly beads. He hisses, then quickly snaps his mouth shut in hopes that you hadn’t heard him. 
“Yeah,” he can hear your smile in your words, “I think I always have been. I used to read all the time and—I swear, if you say I’m boring, I’ll personally come over and choke you–” 
As he acknowledges reality for a quick moment, his pace falters. His brows pinch, and he feels confused as he realizes he can’t stop or even moderate his actions, despite the shame slowly beginning to wash over him. The more you talk, the harder he grows. His grip is getting tighter, his strokes needier… he must be losing his mind. With a gulp, he thinks to himself, what would you do if you could see him touching himself like this to you? Would you think it’s sick and twisted or would you offer to help him out? His head begins to throb as the room spins around him, but he really can’t seem to slow his motions. By now, he’s bucking his hips up and into his hand while the other covers his mouth, silencing the whines that threaten to leave his throat. He’s breathing heavily, praying to god you don’t somehow notice his perverted actions. Despite knowing that he isn’t thinking straight, Jisung can’t help the thoughts that continue to fog his mind, rampant and obscene. 
Could you hear the squelching of his hand pumping his cock, covered in his pre-release? Or the way he’s practically panting, reduced to nothing at the mere sound of your voice? He’s not sure whether or not his mic would even pick that up, but even so, the corner of his lips curl into a lazy smile as his mind continues down his twisted rabbit hole. 
In spite of not knowing what you look like, there’s no denying that he wants to give you all of him. He wants to feel himself buried deep inside your throat, your pretty voice vibrating around him as you choke on his length. He feels himself twitch in his palm and he subconsciously nods, picturing it's your walls around him instead of his own inadequate hand. Jisung huffs out once, fucking his fist wildly, picturing how much he’d like to feel himself bust inside of your warm, tight pus-
“Sung? Sung!”
“Huh? W-what?” As he yanks his hand from his shorts, the waistband snaps against his skin and he yelps out at the impact, “Sorry! I promise I was listening, it-its just, I got a little caught up with–” words are tumbling out of his mouth, before he can catch up to them.   
“It’s fine, it’s fine! Hurry, just pick your agent before the match gets–” but the timer runs out, and the lobby screen appears once more as you sigh, “–canceled...” 
Jisung glances down at his hand, separating his fingers and watching how the sticky pre-cum leaves webbed strings between each of his parted digits. His stomach is also wet, and the tent in his pants is growing increasingly painful with each passing second. 
“What were you fantasizing about, huh?” Oh, fuck. The teasing edge in your words makes his nerves tingle, and he throws his head back as you hum into your mic, “Hmm. Well, I guess it was more interesting than what I was saying. Can’t blame you though, the topic of school is boring me too, and the semester hasn’t even started yet. Also, that can’t count as your last game. I literally won’t allow it.” 
You queue up for another game and Jisung sighs, watching the timer on the screen tick away. The picture changes, and the two of you are prompted to start a game. A few kleenex wipes collect the mess on his hand and torso, and he settles back in his chair after tossing them, deciding his neediness will have to wait for now.
Bidding you good night is harder than usual tonight, but he knows you need to get to sleep—you mentioned you had an early class and he had his own, so his selfish urge to keep you talking until he came in his hand would, unfortunately, need to take a raincheck.
After logging off of his computer, Jisung drops his head into his hands with a sigh.
What the fuck even was that? 
A mix of shame and arousal take over him as his cheeks begin glowing a deep shade of red. He lets out a small scoff, shaking his head to himself as he gets up from his chair. His dick is still as hard as a rock, and he can’t help but feel flustered at the fact that he has, quite literally, blue-balled himself. 
With a towel swung over his shoulder and a clean pair of sleeping shorts clutched in his fist, Jisung walks up to the dorm’s nearest communal bathroom. He turns on the faucet, freeing himself of his clothes. The moment his boxers come down past his thighs, his length slaps against the skin below his navel, making him hiss out as he steps into the shower. The cold water, running down against his heated body, seems to be doing the trick of clearing his mind, that is, until his hands find their way to his stomach, rubbing the soap over it.
It’s so hard to expel the thoughts of you when they’re so intrusive and tempting, and Jisung lets his mind drift off once more, imagining how it would feel to be touched by you, sucked by you. All the soft noises you would make are weirdly familiar; he can practically hear them. His head falls back, lips caught between his teeth as he twitches and gives himself an experimental stroke, shuddering as his thumb glides across the slit of his sensitive tip. He clenches his eyes shut tighter, letting out a shaky sigh and letting the water continue to trickle down his body. He doesn’t know what you look like, other than your hair color which you mentioned the other day. Despite that, he still tries desperately to piece an image of you together behind his eyelids, picturing what your lips are like. And just like that, thoughts of you flood him, and he shudders at the vision of you on your knees, looking up at him with big, innocent eyes, begging to taste him and take all of him. He longs to feel you swallow around him—to grab either side of your face and thrust into your needy mouth until the tears slip from your eyes and your pussy is dripping from the need to be fucked.  
Getting lost in the moment, he doesn’t even realize how loud he’s becoming and how fast his fist is working his dick. Jisung's highly anticipated release is only seconds away when a loud knock startles him, lunging him right back into his body.
“Yo, man! How long are you gonna take in there?” His friend and next door neighbor, Mark, shouts from the other side of the door, knocking again and ruining Jisung’s fantasy once and for all. 
The boy takes a moment to clear his throat and swallow, not trusting his voice to not crack otherwise, “Uh.. Sorry. I’ll just be a minute.” 
It takes everything in him to slow his hand to a stop and pry it off of his shaft, deciding that perhaps, he shouldn’t entertain his filthy thoughts any longer. He quickly finishes showering with another unnecessary interruption from Mark, then drags himself back to his room and gets into his bed, forcing his eyes shut in an attempt to sleep. The longer he lies there, however, the more restless he grows. 
His dick feels sore to the touch and it’s driving him absolutely crazy. Every time he adjusts his shorts or moves his legs, his balls throb from how full they are. Knowing he has class to get to the following day, he tries to convince himself that maybe he needs a release to get to sleep. It’ll tire him out, and then finally, he’ll be able to get some rest…There’s at least a bit of logic to that theory, or that’s what he tells himself, anyway. 
Against his better judgment that pleads with him to just shut his eyes and count sheep, Jisung huffs out and slips his hands into his shorts to begin touching himself for the nth time tonight. This whole time, he had been unknowingly edging himself and now he’s so, so undeniably and incredibly desperate to cum that it literally hurts. 
His free hand brings his phone up and unlocks it, thumb swiping quickly in search of the discord app where your contact resides, the little green bubble next to it signifying that you’re still online. He hovers over the call button, taunting himself with the idea of making a call to you at this time. One little click, and he’d hear your voice again. Just one click and he-
sung ᨐฅ started a call. Today at 11:54 AM
Shit, shit, shit. 
He rushes to hang up, but you’ve answered no more than a ring later. 
“Hello?” 
Jisung holds his rather unsteady breath, staring wide-eyed at his phone. His dick pulses in his palm that now rests still. 
“Sung?” 
As gently as possible, he lays the phone down on his puffed up chest, letting out his breath slowly so that you don’t hear him.
“I’m gonna assume you called me by accident… ” you sigh out in disappointment, growing quiet in uncertainty. For a second, Jisung is convinced you’re gonna hang up, but when you stay on the line, he peers down at the screen curiously. 
Your icon lights up green and there’s some shuffling on your end, presumably from you getting comfortable in bed. 
He hears you yawn and smiles fondly. 
“I’m tired,” you mumble, “are you asleep? I was actually excited that you called. Maybe it’s my fucked up schedule… or, maybe I’m just dreading tomorrow, but I couldn’t sleep. I don’t know…” 
You’re speaking slower and quieter than usual, but you’re speaking, completely oblivious of the fact that he’s thinking of the dirtiest things that involve you, getting off while you think he’s sound asleep. 
“It’s always easier to sleep once we’ve talked so,” you pause, then sigh out jokingly, “I guess I'll just talk your unconscious ear off until I fall asleep…You don’t mind, right?”
God, no, he thinks.  
Jisung silently celebrates your decision with a pump of his hand, shuffling a bit to get comfortable as you go on about genshin and cats and other things he can barely pay mind to. It takes no more than a few strokes, shallow ones where he caresses the angry head of his dick to the velvety sound of your slurred and drowsy mumbling, for him to bring himself to come so fucking hard. 
His knees lock as his cock springs up in his clutched palm, spewing streams of white cum all over his stomach, chest, and thighs. The muscles on his abdomen ache from the way they contract, eyes and jaw shutting tightly as he challenges himself to remain quiet. The sheets aren’t spared from his thick load either, his nut dripping down the sides of his tummy to make dark, round puddles on his bed. His toes curl as he tries his hardest to not gasp out when the pleasure dissolves into sensitivity, digging his head back into the pillow with a hand clasped over his lips. 
A few minutes later, the blurriness in his vision is relieved, along with the ringing in his ears. You’ve stopped talking; instead, the receiver picks up your short and shallow breaths, as if you’ve fallen asleep with your mouth open. Cute.  
As he assesses the aftermath of his much needed release, he wishes he could snap a picture and send it to you, so that you’d wake up knowing this pathetic mess he made was all for you, because of you.
Alas, he can’t, and he hangs up once he’s completely sure you’re resting. With his eyelids feeling much heavier than before, he manages to toss his phone onto the nightstand before he, too, drifts off to sleep.
•.¸¸☆*・゚
The following morning, Jisung wakes up in a bit of a panic. The first thing that throws him for a loop is the fact that his alarm didn’t go off at all. He quickly realizes he forgot to set it amidst the activities of the night before. The second thing that strikes him is his own hand that rests on his stomach, stuck in some kind of damp, sticky liquid. In his half-conscious state, he lifts his fingers and his puffy eyes widen as he identifies the clear fluid that decorates his tummy as his drying release from the night before. 
“Ugh…” He grimaces, sitting up in his bed. His phone, which is less than half full of battery since he forgot to plug it in, blinks back the numbers 8:38 at him. Jisung’s eyes widen as he remembers that his first class of the day, of the semester, is at 9. 
“Fuck!” In a flash, his blanket is flung off of him and his legs are swinging over the edge of the bed. He moves to grab some tissues from his nightstand, making aggressively desperate attempts at wiping away his cum. When the Kleenex sticks to him instead, he digs around his drawers for a pack of wet wipes, snatching a pair of pants off of the floor at the same time and practically yanking them up his legs. 
Despite almost falling over, he manages to get them on and clean off his torso… for the most part. A random sweatshirt is tugged on over his head and he runs his hand through his hair a few times to tidy it before passively telling his reflection, this will do. 
Moments later, he’s rushing downstairs and outside of the dormitory with his unzipped backpack hung over his shoulder. He rushes to unlock his bike, cursing as he fumbles with the keys. Once he’s on, he starts pedaling to the Science building on the other side of campus, heavily dreading checking the time in fear it’ll read some absurd number and he’ll wind up being much later than he anticipates.
The breath that’s been caught in his throat all morning is only released when he steps through the door of the lecture room to see that the professor hasn’t walked in yet, and that the clock reads that he’s 6 minutes early.
Finally slowing his rushed pace, Jisung does a quick once over the room to scan the faces of his fellow students before taking his seat somewhere near the back. Thanking the heavens that his notebook and textbook didn’t go tumbling out of his bag in the midst of his previous hurry, he tugs them out, flipping them open and writing the date on the first page. His laptop, which is where he had planned to take notes on, sits in his dorm room where he left it on his desk. Everyone else has theirs out, but he’ll just have to bring his own next time. 
There’s a distant click, and the door on the lowest level of the lecture hall opens. Through it walks a relatively tall and slender lady, heels echoing rhythmically as she strides over to set her dark bag down by the podium. Her hair is tied back high and tight, so much so, that all of her features look like they're blending into her hairline. She looks like she’s somewhere in her mid-to-late fifties, and from the instant she walked in, the entire class went silent.
She clearly has a presence that commands attention and undoubtedly, she fits the visual profile of a strict college professor quite well, especially when she picks up the chalk and scribbles her surname onto the green chalkboard beside the larger projector screen.
“I’m Professor Hwang. Welcome to AST1002, also known as Descriptive Astronomy. If you’re here, that means you took AST1001 with Mr. Kwon last year. He has since transferred to a different department.” 
There’s no audible response, although some disappointment does flash across the faces of the students in the room, all of whom did have (and seemingly would miss) Mr. Kwon. Professor Hwang doesn’t seem to notice the lack of responses, and continues speaking as she pulls some papers out.
“Firstly, I’ll take attendance. Then, I’ll pass the syllabus around. I would like for you to note,” she pauses to place a pair of red glasses high on the bridge of her nose, “that attendance is mandatory for my class, and worth 20% of your grade. I’ll go over pop quizzes and weekly quizzes, as well as the initial class project, when each of you have a copy of the syllabus. That being said, I look forward to seeing you all here every class. Please call out when you hear your name.” 
As she starts to take attendance, Jisung takes the time to sigh into his hands, both exhausted and dreading the fact that he’d have to spend three days out of the week rotting in a lecture hall to attend a class he expected to be fun, or at the very least a break from his much more difficult core classes. By the looks of it, that’s no longer the plan. 
It’s easy to zone out quickly while his mind is still foggy, no doubt from the lack of sleep and the subsequent abrupt awakening that followed. He had just begun an attempt to read the syllabus when something made his ears perk. 
Immediately, his head snaps up in pursuit of a soft and airy voice that just responded to Professor Hwang. It’s so quick and in passing that he almost thinks he might have imagined it in his delirious state, but the way the hair on his limbs stands on end is unmistakable. His eyes dart around the room, hitting his classmate’s heads like targets, but there’s absolutely no way to identify the individual who just spoke. 
Could it be… No. No way. 
Jisung is no stranger to daydreaming about you, but he isn’t completely delusional. He knows the chances of being not only in the same city, but the same university and class as you are absolutely slim to none, so he stops that train of thought dead in its tracks. 
It does segway him into thinking of you, though. You’re obviously not here, so he wonders instead what class you are in at the moment. He tries to picture what you’re wearing on your first day of class, trusting you look more put together than him in his old hoodie that is slightly sticking to the dry cum on his stomach. Do you like your classmates? Your professor? He sincerely hopes you have a more tolerable one than he does. 
“Park Jisung?” 
With a slight cough, he spits out a weak “h-here.” and instantly grimaces, raising his shoulders autonomously as if he would get scolded for stammering so pathetically. The professor, to his relief, doesn’t even glance up from the roster. Then, he feels quite silly for even thinking he would get reproached for that to begin with. In his defense, she’s a rather intimidating woman, and his inner monologue is so loud and flooded with thoughts of you that he fears she may have heard it. 
She finishes calling for attendance, resorting to striding up and down the aisles as she begins to dissect the syllabus. In an effort to pretend he’s paying attention, Jisung glances down at the size twelve font on the page, skimming over the words without really taking anything in. During one of the professor’s paces, a pen she had resting on her ear slips and falls towards the ground with a slight clatter, and it seems a student picked it up for her, because there’s a slight mumbling, followed by a sharp “thank you,” and a very, very recognizable,
“You’re welcome, Professor.” 
His eyes widen at once. Alright, call him crazy, but now he thinks that it really might have been your voice. The familiar timbre, warm and delicate; a sound he’s heard for months on end and knows embarrassingly well… The thought of being in the same room as you out of sheer luck and coincidence makes his abdomen twist and his palms sweat so bad, he has to wipe them on his pants.
He hates that he can’t fully tell, in fact, he’s almost ashamed that he can’t; before today, Jisung would have sworn up and down that he knew your voice better than even his own, but you sound so far and so quiet that he can’t completely bet all of his marbles. Then, he quickly realizes calling it ‘your voice’ definitely makes him sound delusional, even in the safety of his own forgiving conscience. He decides to call it ‘the voice’ for now, at least until he’s a hundred-percent sure. 
An irritatingly long hour and half later, the only sound that continues to ring around the lecture hall is Professor Hwang’s monotone one, reciting each and every itemized assignment and rule on the never-ending syllabus. There’s less than fifteen minutes until class is over, and she shows no signs of stopping her dissertation. 
“As for the class project: In pairs of two, you will research a constellation extensively to create a presentation on its formation, who cataloged it, and the Greek myth that may accompany it. Please note that this is the first and last time we will talk about constellations in this class, since they are not cosmic phenomenons but instead, a mere roadmap to the objects and themes we will be focusing on. Consider this strictly as an opportunity to familiarize yourselves with another classmate and show me your interest and effort in the subject. That concludes our syllabus,” Thank God, Jisung thinks. 
 “Any questions?” She glances around at a hand that floats in the air, near the front of the room, “yes?” 
“Will we be able to select our partners?” 
“No. Partners will be assigned at the end of the week. Yes?” She calls on another hand. 
“As for the constellations,” Wait, that’s it! That’s the voice—that’s your voice, he’s completely sure of it!  “Will you assign those as well?” 
Jisung elongates his neck to try and peek over the heads in his way. It is you, he’s positive now, but you’re turned away from him, and he can’t fully make out which ‘back of the head’ is your ‘back of the head.’ The echo in the hall makes it nearly impossible to pinpoint who just spoke which means he can’t pinpoint you. For some reason, he finds himself slightly panicking, desperate to finally see you in person.
He follows Professor Hwang's line of sight as she answers that she’ll assign the constellations on Friday too, and finally finds you, seated between a few other students. A few more questions are thrown around, but his eyes never leave you, anticipating the moment he catches a glimpse of your face. 
Naturally, his first instinct is to approach you as soon as class is out, but when he sees you spin around to pick up your bag that hangs off your chair, he finds himself glued to his own flimsy seat. Feet stuck to the ground, legs not budging, and air hitched in his throat at the sight of you. 
You’re so, so much prettier than he could have imagined with whatever unoriginal features he tried to piece together in his lacking mind, and that fact makes him both exhilarated and completely nauseous. 
He’s barely been looking at you for a few seconds when he feels his insatiable cock growing fast in the confines of his pants, with no regard for its owner and the fact that he has to stand up within the next minute or so to exit the hall. Jisung curses under his breath, awkwardly rising to his feet when most of his classmates leave, his bag clutched tightly in front of his groin. He prays you don’t glance over, not even because he has a semi-hard on he’s failing to hide with dissimulation, but because he’s staring at you like some sort of freak and can’t seem to look away. 
There’s nothing he wants more than to come up to you and say hi and confess he’s the person you’ve been gaming with for months. He’s pictured it countless times before, you’d think he’d have it down by now, but your beauty is intimidating, and he simply cannot and will not make a fool of himself in front of you by greeting you with a raging boner. 
You walk out of the classroom and Jisung’s heart settles in his chest as he sits with his decision to stay anonymous for now. 
•.¸¸☆*・゚
“She was obnoxious, you have no idea!” 
“My teacher wasn’t much different,” he admits, a small, knowing smile toying at his lips, “she seemed like a real bitch,” 
It’s later that same evening, and talking to you doesn’t really feel the same anymore. It’s much harder, because now, Jisung can vividly picture you, sitting in your chair with your hands on your keyboard and mouse. Every word you say, his imagination is right thereafter, picturing your pretty face clear as day in the forefront of his mind. 
The moment he got home, he fucked his fist until he came in his hand. It took about five minutes, and then he pumped another one out in the shower, (a much needed shower, at that) where he finally washed away the remains of the night before. 
After he had lunch with Mark and the other boys from his floor, they had invited him to play basketball. At the same time, however, he received a direct message from you, explaining you didn’t have any other classes for the day and asking if he could get on earlier. 
It’s a little ridiculous, but now that he’s seen you, now that he knows you’re so much closer than he initially thought, he can’t wait to talk to you again. And so he quickly came up with an empty excuse related to his studies, took the berating from his friends like a champ, and rushed upstairs to log into his PC and open up your chat. 
“Not only do we already have a project, but we don’t even get to pick our partners.” 
I know! He thinks. 
“Like,” you start, and he pictures the way your cheeks fill up with air as you let out a huff, “what if I get stuck with some weirdo?” 
Instantly, Jisung stops palming himself, letting his hand climb back up to the mouse slowly.
He probably shouldn’t let that innocent statement affect him as much as it does, but he can’t help it. He has the advantage, right? Or, at least it seems that way. 
When everything is laid out, he has the upperhand of knowing who you are—you haven’t seen him, yet… but what if you did see him, and he wasn’t at all what you were expecting? Or even worse, what if you got paired together for the project and you thought he was weird or the two of you didn’t get along? That option is far less likely, since there are well over fifty students in AST1002. 
“I don’t know,” you start, “I’m considering switching out of the class-” 
“No!” Wow. Good going, Jisung.
He catches his slip-up and quickly blurts out, “I-I mean, it might not be that bad! You should… at least give it a shot before you try to switch out, right?” 
“I guess you’re right… The add and drop period at my school is until next Friday, so I'll try it out until then.” 
Great! Perfect! Good save. The only problem now is: Jisung has a little over a week and a half to somehow convince you to stay in his class and at the same time, not completely butcher his introduction to you. Approaching you now seems practically impossible, but he needs you to stay in the class, even if it means he has to come up to you first. He can’t be bothered to care that his insistence is for his own selfish intentions, if it means getting to see you three times a week. 
“But anyway,” he clears his throat, changing the topic as quickly as possible, “how did your other class go?” 
“Much better than the first, the teacher let us out early once he covered the books we’d be analyzing this semester and attendance isn’t mandatory since most of the material is online or in the library. I think I’ll swing by there one of these days to see if I can get ahead on some of the assignments.” 
“Oh, so you’re a nerd?” You gasp and smack his character in-game a few times. He laughs, calling out, “okay, okay, truce! You’re not a nerd then, just an overachiever.”
“How so?” 
“We’re barely a day into the semester and you’re already trying your homework that I’m sure isn’t due for at least a few weeks,” 
You roll your eyes, knowing he’s right. With a bit of playful flirtation twisted into your tone, you hum out, “What can I say? I like to please.” 
One of his eyebrows perks up, “is that right?” 
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He can hear your smirk through the screen, and now, he can vividly picture it, too. 
Jisung scoffs, backing away from your character so that he’s out of your sight. He cowers into a corner in game;  this way, you don’t notice how he stops moving when his left hand leaves the w,a,s,d keys to cup and rub his needy bulge. 
•.¸¸☆*・゚
Wednesday’s class is somehow packed and entirely uneventful at the same time. The first of Professor Hwang’s dragging lectures is so loaded that Jisung actually thanks the heavens that he remembered to bring his laptop. Otherwise, his notebook would have been about halfway full already, and his hand? It would have fallen off. 
On another relevant note, he’s struggling to stay focused because today, he is sitting much closer to you. Intentionally, of course. There’s still a few rows between him and you, but in this new seat, he can glance at you as often as he’d like without straining his eyes or stretching out his neck to make his gawking painfully obvious. He can clearly make out your smooth skin, along with other details he wasn’t able to notice before like your beauty marks and your dainty earrings. You’re paying unfaltering attention to the class for the first hour, but after the sixty-minute mark, you appear to have become bored. He catches the way your pencil starts doodling along the corners of your notebook and it takes everything in him not to snort when you scribble down a wonky looking cat. 
He’s so distracted by you, that every couple of slides, he glances back to the projector to see that the class is now on an entirely different topic than the one he last managed to jot down. He doesn’t mind, though. You’re a much more enthralling sight than quasars and supernovas. 
Halfway through the lesson, you decide to peel off your little black cardigan and hang it on the back of your chair, exposing your arms and neck and shoulders to him. Your hair is tied up neatly right after, giving him all the more to gawk at and envision. Jisung has to remind himself that he’s in a classroom just so that he doesn’t start fantasizing about how it would feel to grip your hair up in a similar fashion and fill your throat up with his dick.
With great difficulty, he directs his focus to the board instead, typing quickly into his laptop all the notes he manages to catch before the slide changes again and Professor Hwang’s narrow eyes can scan the room to see who’s paying attention. 
When the class is over, you start talking with the girl next to you, aimlessly reaching back for your bag. The gesture makes your cardigan fall, and Jisung has to fully bite his tongue to keep himself from calling out your name and giving himself away. He waits to see if you’ll notice, or if someone nearby will alert you, but neither one happens. Instead, you stand up, still engrossed in your conversation, and make your way towards the door. Instantly, he jogs down the aisle and between the seats to grab it and wordlessly hand it to you, but by the time he makes a move to head in your direction, you’ve already left. 
He feels disappointed at first, but the feeling quickly shifts into relief. Wordlessly hand it to you? Does he want your first impression of him to be awkward and borderline rude? No and definitely no. This problem has a simple solution—it’s a blessing in disguise; he’ll take your cardigan home and bring it to you on Friday and maybe, if his courage allows, he can introduce himself then. 
“Hey! I noticed you left your sweater here last class. I brought it for you. Oh, and by the way, it’s me! I’m @sung.ie. How did I know it was you? I can recognize your voice across a huge lecture hall.”
Yeah… he’ll think more on that later. 
With your cardigan clutched in his fist, Jisung sighs, making his way outside and towards his bicycle. He tucks the clothing item into his backpack and pedals back home, wondering how he’s going to manage to give it back to you since you always get to and leave class before him.  
He knows some of his friends and dorm-mates have their own class today, they had exchanged schedules during lunch a few days ago, which leaves him to hope and pray you’ve decided to skip your class and get online. As he parks his bicycle downstairs and locks it, he slips his phone from his pocket and opens discord, but your bubble remains gray and cold. You’re offline. 
Maybe you haven’t gotten home yet. He checks his phone again when he gets upstairs, and again when he goes inside his dorm, tossing his bag aside and crashing on his bed. He checks after losing a round of candy crush, and again after replying to a text from his mom. 
By the looks of it, you were in class, or at the very least, not available for the moment. Jisung sighs, pretending he’s not actually as disappointed as he feels. It seems a bit dramatic to feel the need to kill time until he gets to talk to you again so he resorts to doing physics homework—a short baseline his teacher assigned that wouldn’t be graded—and tricking his brain into thinking the former is not what he’s actually doing. 
When he pulls his bag off his desk chair to grab his laptop, your cardigan comes into view, and he pauses to look at it. He sits like this for a moment, wondering if he should fold it nicely on his dresser so he can remember to take it to you, but his hands act before his mind can catch up, reaching in and basically shoving the material toward his face. 
With his nose buried in your scent, Jisung inhales deeply, sinking into his chair as his legs grow weaker. The trace of your floral softener is the first aroma he gets, and then, the smell of your perfume peeks through, soft and sweet and very fitting for you. Once more, his treacherous hands are acting for themselves and he’s suddenly undoing his belt single-handedly. 
Once his dick, growing by the minute, is out and clutched in his palm, he finally retracts your sweater. With little hesitation, he wraps it around his erection and pumps once, throwing his head back in immediate relief.
It’s a fucking miracle that his room is the last one at the end of the hall, and that his next door neighbors, Renjun and Jaemin, are both in their afternoon lectures, because nothing would have been able to muffle the wanton moan that rips from his chest as he strokes himself with your scent. His hips are bucking up into the air, and in only a few minutes, he’s broken a slight sweat. His balls tighten from sheer sensitivity at the act of fucking something directly related to you. 
A cry of your name, followed by a few more pumps and he’s coming inside your mangled cardigan, his white release breaching the thin material. It seeps through it like light through a veil, gathering thickly on top before spreading into a dark, wet patch. There’s a shudder that passes through his bones as he sits back, burying his cock into the fabric and keeping it there until he’s given up every last drop. 
The only thing that snaps him from his post-nut bliss, is the distinct discord ring-tone that blasts through his headset. His computer monitor turns on as your icon appears and simultaneously, his heart and dick both twitch. 
“Hello?” With his output device swung over his head, he presses the green ‘answer’ button and speaks into the mic, hiding his slight shortness of breath with a yawn. 
“I’m so glad you answered,” you beam, and he does too, “I was worried I had called while you were in class or something,” 
As he speaks, he wipes the remnants of his cum off with your cardigan and puts it aside on his desk, tucking his softening (and still very sensitive) dick away into his boxers, “No, you’re good. I had a class earlier today but now I’m free.” 
“What a relief,” you sigh, “Would you want to have a little homework ‘sesh’ with me? I just found out the library doesn’t have any available labs. I doubt I’ll be able to concentrate much with you but at least I'll be in good company.”
“Like an e-date?” 
“We can call it that,” you grin, then he pictures your expression becoming a gloom one to match your slightly sadder tone as you admit, “Sometimes I wish we went to the same school so we could meet up and study at a coffee shop.” 
He snorts, unable to help but crack a joke, “Like a real date?” 
Your laugh makes his heart swell slightly. When you reply, “Maybe,” it starts flipping wildly in his chest. 
God, you can’t even begin to imagine how badly he wants that. 
“That would be nice,” he agrees humbly, a blush creeping on his cheeks. “What class are you gonna study for?” 
There’s a pause before you speak again where you hum in thought, flipping through a few pages and shuffling through your bag. Jisung joins you, grabbing his laptop and school supplies, “I have a project for my astronomy class. It’s related to constellations and I wanna start researching them so that I can make an outline for the assignment,” 
He looks through his math notes with his brows furrowed down, “I thought she was gonna assign them on Friday?” 
Your icon flickers as you reply, “She is, but I want to—wait. How did you know that?” At your words and the realization of his untimely slip up, Jisung’s body goes rigid. He can only imagine the confusion on your features, and he’s quite relieved you can’t see the look on his. If his eyes were to open any wider, he’s sure they might just slip out of his head. 
“Oh, um,” he clears his throat mechanically, then gulps in an effort to lubricate it and keep his voice steady, assertive, certain. “You mentioned it on Monday, remember?” 
“Did I?” You didn’t, but he really hopes you think you did. “Probably,” At that, he lets out the air he’s holding, shaking his head slightly at himself for being so careless. 
“But um, yeah,” he starts before you can give it any further thought, “If she’s assigning them Friday why are you working on it today?” 
“Cause she’s also assigning partners on Friday, and I don’t really know anyone besides the girl who sits next to me and I doubt I’ll get paired with her. I want to make sure my grade is secured, you know? I’ve never liked group projects. I feel like all the work gets dumped on me.” 
He’s still not entirely sure what you mean to do, or how you intend to create a blueprint of sorts without knowing what it was for, and so he stops flicking through his page of notes to look up at his monitor and ask, “But if you don’t know which constellation you’re gonna work on, how are you gonna make an outline?” 
You ponder his question for a moment, then mumble out, “She didn’t mention a rubric or anything, so I figured that as long as I plan out the different sections and give the project a structure, half of the work is cut out, right? I can just assign parts at that point.” 
“You’re that kinda person in a group project? I’m sorry to whoever gets partnered with you,” He’s not sorry, not at all. He’s rather envious, actually, despite his attempts to sound indifferent or amusing. Being granted time to spend with you at your place or his, or at the library or the local campus cafe, would be a no less than perfect ice breaker. Jisung would make sure you never felt like all the research and assembling depended solely on you—in fact, he could see himself now, spending countless hours perfecting the details of his assigned part and inquiring about other suggestions to improve the project, just to impress you or at the very least, satisfy you. The reality that someone else would get to do all of that in his place is disheartening. 
You guys had rarely ever talked about school before now, since neither of you actually were enrolled in any classes when you started chatting, but now that it’s relevant, he feels like he understands a whole different side of you. You’re organized, and obviously very studious. Hell, you’ve been itching to get started on assignments that haven’t even been assigned yet. You’re responsible, dependable, funny, beautiful, and every time he thinks of you lately, he realizes that his innocent crush is slowly becoming an insatiable one.   
“Hey! I’d be very nice if it was you, you know. Show you some favoritism,” the corners of his lips twitch upwards—“But I’m also glad it’s not you,”—and fall down again. 
“What? Why?” He tries to not sound too offended. 
“I’d end up talking your ear off, Sung.” 
“I’m already used to that, don’t mind it. Kinda like it, actually.” 
“Yeah?” 
“Yeah.” He nods curtly, even though there’s a monitor and an entire school campus between you and him and he knows you have no way of seeing his gesture. There's a moment of silence that you spend taking a brief breath as a glow tinges your cheeks. 
With a stifled laugh, you open your mouth again, “I think it’s just because you like me that you tolerate my rambling,” 
“No.” He’s quick to clarify, “I really do like it.” He loves it. 
“And me?” your voice is much quieter, almost giving the impression that you’re shy in asking something so decisive and direct. Jisung, emboldened by your vulnerability, and the distance the screen puts between you two, answers with certainty. 
“I like you, too.” 
•.¸¸☆*・゚
 “The constellation project, as I mentioned during your first class, is a tool for you to acquaint yourself with your classmates. It will be due in 3 weeks, and you can check the syllabus for specifications regarding that. After today, there will be no changing partners or constellations so should you need any changes to be made, you have until class is dismissed. Listen closely as I read out the pairs for the project. I will not repeat myself.” 
The sharp tone he’s growing more and more distaste for by the day drowns out as Jisung glances over at you. Today, you’re sporting a bone-colored long sleeve and corduroy pants with half of your hair held back in a shiny clip. You look ravishing. Truthfully, he can’t really tell if you’re wearing makeup or not—although he concludes it doesn’t matter. Your features are soft and pretty nonetheless, and your cheeks have turned rosy from the dropping autumn temperatures. 
“Yu Karina will be partnered with Lee Heesung. Your constellation is Cassiopeia.”
When you walked into the lecture hall this morning, there was a hot coffee cup with the campus cafe’s logo on it clutched in your hands, which you sipped on while shivering. Taking your usual seat, you greeted the girl next to you, who Jisung now knew was called Yu Karina. 
The dark haired girl perked up when Professor Hwang called her name and waved down the aisle at who he can only assume is Lee Heesung, her partner, then whispered something to you. You looked over at the boy and back at Karina, nodding and giggling with her. 
“Jennifer Huh, partnered with Ning Yizhuo,” Professor Hwang referenced her other list, “Constellation: Cancer.” 
The two girls greet each other with a look and a smile, but Jisung pays little mind. He’s listening intently—for the first time—in anticipation of hearing one of your names be called. He doesn’t exactly know your full name, only a nickname he refers to you as, the one attached to your discord handle. Otherwise, pinpointing you that first day of class would’ve been much easier. 
“Park Jay and Lee Sohee, your constellation is Orion.” 
Sitting there, he realizes that in all the months you’ve talked, he’s never once asked for your full first name. Is that strange? What kind of friend is he if he doesn’t even know your name? In all fairness, you never asked for his, either, so he supposes it’s okay. Would have been useful to know, though, at times like this. 
After his small confession of ‘like’ on Wednesday, the two of you went on studying your respective subjects, with the occasional (and inevitable) distraction here and there. Admittedly, he thought his comment would be forgotten rather quickly. It wasn’t like he outwardly poured his heart out to you, so he figured you’d move on and just crack a joke or two about it later. There was a change, though; a strikingly obvious one to Jisung, who hangs on your every word like it’s a tether that keeps him from floating. And, even if he didn’t pay such close attention to you, there’s no way he could have missed the new flirtatious ambiance that flourished afterwards. Flirting with you is not uncommon by any means—the two of you playfully tease each other with frequency, but it’s nothing he’d allow himself to look into too much, for his own sake. 
That changed in the hours following his comments. All of Wednesday evening, the two of you went back and forth, feeding each other compliments in the form of banter. Again, he thought it would end there, but on Thursday afternoon when you logged on, he asked how your progress was going with the outline, to which you texted back, “I was thinking of you all day. Didn’t get around to doing much else.” 
It wasn’t the only message from you that nurtured his feelings, either. There were enough substantially flirty messages from your conversation that night, that he was able to scroll through them and reread them a few times before bed. 
ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 6:49PM
hi did you smile when you saw my name pop up on your phone just now
ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 8:22 PM
you’re so cute
i can barely think 
ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 9:14 PM
i feel like my day doesn’t make sense if we don’t talk 
ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 10:58 PM
i should get to sleep 
but i don’t wanna stop texting you
ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 12:02 AM
goodnight, sung <3 miss you til’ you’re back
Now, as he eyes you with a boyish, lovesick gaze, watching you doodle your stupid little drawings as you await your assignment, he finds himself praying for the courage to come up to you after class.
Professor Hwang calls your name next, something he only realizes at the fitting similarity of your nickname and the way your pen meets the table in alert to being called on, head lifting up and eyes blinking expectantly. 
“Your partner will be,” 
Jisung holds his breath, chanting in his head ‘please, oh, please let it be me,’
 “Lee Chan.” 
Wishful thinking never got anyone anywhere, then. He ignores the way his heart sinks into the pits of his stomach, unable to help but observe your curious gaze as it looks around the filled seats. For a fleeting moment, you meet his eyes, but he doesn’t react or claim to be Lee Chan who you so evidently are in search of, and so you pass him and keep studying the aisles. After a few seconds, you find no one gazing back, even after you slightly stand to peer above the nearby heads that obscure your view. 
“Your constellation is-” 
With a cautious raise of your hand, you interrupt Professor Hwang gently, “Excuse me, Professor, but I don’t think my partner is here.” 
For a moment, her lazer-like gaze looks like it could light you on fire, a consequence of daring to interrupt her, but it softens only slightly as she realizes the truth in your statement, scanning the room herself and calling out for the missing boy. Upon receiving no call back, she thinks for a moment, then looks back down at her clipboard and crosses something out. 
“I did mention attendance was mandatory, didn’t I?” This she mutters to herself, “No matter. Instead, you’ll work with,” she gives the paper another once over, then clicks her pen and speaks, “Park Jisung.” 
In an awkward burst of both excitement and confusion, Jisung darts out of his chair. His knee hits his desk with a clang, and his laptop would have gone flying if it wasn’t for his quick hands that catch it before it can fall. The loud ruckus turns several heads in his direction, including Professor Hwang’s and more importantly, yours. 
Feeling an awful lot like a deer caught in headlights, Jisung blinks as the two of you make eye-contact, then he takes his seat again, very quickly by the way. “Uh, that’s me,” he announces, heat spreading across his face and eyes darting around, “Sorry.” 
Does he feel more sorry to his teacher and classmates for disrupting the classroom, or to himself and you for the absolute fool he has just made of himself? As much as he’d like to tear his gaze away from yours and cast it to the ground in embarrassment, it remains stuck on you, awaiting your impending reaction. 
You’re rather unsure how to feel, though given, a little surprised at the commotion. You offer him a small smile through pursed lips, and Jisung nods, willing with all his might for a hole to open in the ground beneath him and swallow him.  
“Thank you, Mr. Park, for your remarkably clear confirmation. Your constellation is Gemini.” 
You turn in your chair to face the front again, scribbling down his name in the corner of your notebook, as well as the constellation you’d been assigned.
“He’s cute,” Karina comments to you as you look over at her, and you finally let out a small laugh you had been holding in. 
“He is. Clumsy,” you snort, “but cute.” 
“We both got cute partners. We should meet up at the library later and all get started on the project together,” 
You nod enthusiastically, going back to your outline that sits at the ready on your laptop screen and making quick work of labeling the different sections evenly. If it wasn’t so obvious for you to spin around and steal a glance, you might have done so again. You’re certainly tempted to, thinking back to seconds ago and realizing you hadn’t really noticed him the last two classes. 
Jisung watches your exchange with his dignity at serious risk. He’s entirely unable to hear or make out what you’re saying to each other, and it makes his pulse pick up and his mind race. He considers many things as he watches the two of you talk: firstly, asking to change his partner, but then realizing that would be an awful idea. Once you knew who he was, how would you ever forgive him for immediately ditching you? Absolutely not. Cowering had gotten him nowhere so far. 
Then, he considers switching out of the class himself, and disappearing, never to reveal himself to you—but that wasn’t the right thing to do either. Incapable of checking out of your life so quickly and denying himself the treat that is seeing you three times a week (and now, possibly more), he cans that idea, too. 
As Professor Hwang finishes reading off the list of names, he begins planning what he’ll actually say to you, as that conversation is just minutes away. There’s less than a half-hour left of class, which means he has to think hard and fast. 
As he busies himself with the grueling task of picking an appropriate and redeeming introduction, he doesn’t hear the new instructions from Professor Hwang, which are to find your partner and begin brainstorming, as well as exchanging schedules to set aside time outside of class to work on the presentation. A shadow falls over his desk and consumes his work space in darkness. When his curiously squinted eyes trail up to find the source, only to land on you, hovering above him with your things clutched in your arms, he grips his seat to keep from jumping out of it for the second time today. 
“Is this seat taken?” 
So much for having time to figure out how to approach you. His heart does a leap of surprise in his chest in place of his physical body, and he resists the urge to clutch it.
“No.” He replies shortly. 
With your unfaltering, kind smile still present on your face, you laugh softly and place your things down, introducing yourself. 
“You’re Ji-sun, right?” 
“—Sung.” he politely corrects you. When you don’t immediately react, he wonders if you had even heard him. He doesn’t put it past himself to have imagined that he replied to you, between his sweating palms and nervous jittering, and your pretty self sitting just a foot away, he’s barely keeping it together.  After a moment that feels infinitely longer than it actually is, you raise your eyebrows slightly, round lips parted to ask your question with a palpable hesitance. 
“W-what?” 
“Jisung,” he quickly replies, pronouncing the ‘g’ clearly and masking the way his eyes widen with a heavy blink that honestly, may not serve as any better of a guise. He pleads with himself to get his shit together but luckily, you don’t seem to notice. 
“Oh, sorry… Sorry, It’s just—nevermind. Hi, Jisung.” 
“Hi, Y/N.” He savors the way your name feels on his tongue but keeps his enjoyment brief. 
“I hope you don’t mind,” you start, lifting the screen of your laptop to reveal the very same outline you had started working on during your last call with him, “but I already made an outline. If you wanna scrap it and start all over, we can—” 
“No, It’s fine, we can use this,” when you give him an unsure look, he smiles reassuringly, “It looks brilliant.” 
“Thank you.” There’s a pause that is filled only by you clearing your throat, “Ok, I have a literature class right after this one on Mondays and Wednesdays. The rest of my classes are online, so I’m free at any time, really. I usually like to study at the computer labs in the library, it’s nice and private there and I find it much easier to focus. But if you don’t want to go there, we could always go to the cafe or the square for some fresh air. Oh, and either one of our dorm rooms works fine if you’re okay-” 
To experience your presence on a phone call is one thing, but to experience it in real life, with your clear voice so arresting and your silky, smooth lips within reach, is absolutely mesmerizing. He’s fighting the urge to glance down at your mouth, but it’s becoming increasingly harder to sustain eye contact, as lovely as he decides your eyes are. Another thing that is becoming exponentially harder, and more sensitive all the same, is his cock, springing to life with an eagerness to greet you. 
There’s a bit of panic that flashes across his features as he senses the strain it’s causing in his pants, and only when you look down at your outline does he dare to sneak a glance down at his own groin where as expected, a noticeable imprint was beginning to develop. In a desperate gesture, he slides his notebook over his lap, suppressing a hiss, and leans forward to pretend to use his own laptop. 
“Any of those work for me,” 
“Okay, great,” You notice the time and turn back to him. “You can just message me when you’re free.”
“Sure.” 
“And here’s my number—” you reach over, sliding the protective notebook from his lap and placing it on your desk, scribbling your number in the corner. Jisung immediately readjusts his hoodie, throwing the hem of it over his boner. Professor Hwang dismisses the class as you pass it back. 
“Call me whenever you’re free.” With a spin of your heel, you wave goodbye to him and rejoin Karina, who waits for you  at the door with her partner.
Jisung lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and looks down at the number you wrote. Beside the digits, written in very neat handwriting, might he add, sat perched on a wobbly branch a little black cat that he recognized from his hours of staring as one of your doodles. 
•.¸¸☆*・゚
The time is 4:33PM, and Jisung has drafted over a dozen messages on the iMessage app addressed to your number. None of them have exactly made it to you yet, courtesy of his thumb that keeps pressing backspace and wiping out any trace of a remotely embarrassing text. It’s the next day and no introduction or invitation to meet up seems like it’s good enough to send, though he knows that inevitably, he has to text you first. You left your number behind with the doodle that he has since stuck to the corner of his PC monitor, but you never took down his; so now, the ball is in Jisung’s court, and he knows that if he waits too long, you’d think he was avoiding you or the project altogether. 
Realistically, he knows a simple “Hi, it’s Jisung,” will suffice, but he can’t bring himself to send you such an unoriginal and boring message. After pondering for a moment, he then decides the best solution would be to do some research, and then call you with his findings—this way, his interest in the project would be clear, and he knows how important that is to you. 
At once, he peels your cum-stained cardigan off of his lap, though not before stealing a glance at the day’s new additions, and places it aside. He tucks his spent dick into his short and turns on his monitor, typing the name of the constellation into Google and investigating nearly every website he could find with any useful information. 
In the nicest handwriting he can manage, Jisung bullets a list of all the facts and history he could find on ‘Gemini’ within the hour, including the stars that make up the constellation, the myth behind it, and other relevant statistics. It isn’t until he has filled up an entire page front and back—partially—that he picks up his phone again and makes another attempt at contacting you. 
Feeling slightly more confident, he types up his message. 
To: 555-111-0205
hi, it’s jisung from astronomy. i did some research and i wanted to show you what i found. let me
know if you’re free to exchange notes. Sent at 5:52 PM.
Jisung rereads over his message for any flaws, though there’s nothing he can do about it now that it’s sent, anyway. After he deems it an okay first message, he takes a breath and moves to put his phone down, but it buzzes in his hand instead. 
Incoming call at 5:54 PM From: 555-111-0205
“Hi-”
“Hi! Sorry to just call unannounced but I’m walking to the library with all my stuff and I can’t really text. I was able to book us a computer lab for the next two hours so If you want, we—can you hear me?” 
He sits up straighter, “Yeah! Yes, I can hear you,” 
“Oh, good, so—wait, hello?” Your voice shifts in volume and proximity, as if you pulled your phone from your ear to check the call screen, then brought it back, “Oh, sorry. I-I thought I had accidentally called someone else… nevermind.” Instantly, Jisung realizes instantly that you must have recognized his voice. It makes sense, seeing as you’re used to hearing it specifically on calls. You seem to show no further suspicion as you continue speaking, though, but perhaps, he should keep talking on the phone with you to a minimum. 
“Do you think you can make it? Otherwise I can go work on my own. I saw your text and instantly booked the room. Sorry for not checking in with you first,” 
“I’ll meet you there,” He replies quickly, grimacing at the instinctual effort it takes to try and make his voice deeper. 
“Okay! Great. I’ll see you there, then.” You hang up, and then your text message comes through with the lab room information just minutes later. 
Jisung all but lunges out of his chair and rushes to face himself in the mirror, taking in his reflection. Besides his hair that looks slightly disheveled, he looks alright. He doesn’t want to make you wait long for him, so he quickly grabs his laptop and his notes, shoves them all into his bag, and flies out of his dorm room with the laces of his sneakers left untied.  
In the brightly, yellow-lit hallway, Mark and Chenle are popping out of their respective rooms, a basketball clutched under the younger boy’s arm.
“We were just about to come grab you,” Chenle starts, “Let’s play some ball. Jeno’s meeting us at the court,”
“Can’t,” Jisung shakes his head, “I’m going to the library,” he tries to not get offended at the way the two boys snort loudly in disbelief, looking at each other as if they’ve both had the same thought. 
“Yeah, right.” Chenle scoffs. 
With a blink, Jisung replies meekly, “I’m serious.” 
“Since when do you go to the library?” Mark brows pinch and he adds, “It’s the start of term. You’re already studying?”
“Since now, I guess. I have a project for a class so I’m gonna go meet up with my partner at the library, but I’ll catch you guys later.” 
“Alright, alright. Oh—remember there’s a party next week at Jaehyun’s frat for syllabus week.” 
“Yeah, I’ll be there.” His answer doesn’t seem to fully convince Mark, Chenle, or even himself, but they seem satisfied enough, because they let Jisung go without any more pestering. He flies down the flight of stairs and out the front door of the dormitory. 
The cold September air is biting at this time in the evening, feeling particularly cool on the apples of his cheek, which glow from the light layer of sweat that develops during his jog over to the library. It’s a considerable distance away, which is part of the reason why he, in his two years of being a student at the university, has never seriously stepped foot inside of it. Studying in his room is much more convenient, but you seem to like the library, so the twenty-minute-walk there, or in this case, fifteen-minute-jog, will simply have to be adopted as a new way to get in some brief exercise a few times a week. 
More than likely, you have already arrived, and Jisung doesn’t want to make you wait too long for him, especially since there’s a two-hour time limit on the room and he intends to spend as much time with you there as he can. He wipes his cheeks with his gray sleeves and climbs up the stairs of the building quickly, swiping his student card at the door and stepping inside. 
The ceiling is massively tall, seemingly taller than when he once saw it during freshman orientation, and the endless rows of shelves are filled with books, ranging from thin, colorful novels to thick, leather-bound classics. It’s quieter than he expects it to be, even for a library, and he clearly can hear the pitter patter of his feet as he follows the sign labeled ‘Study Rooms and Computer Labs.’ 
The guy at the reception desk in this section seems to be a volunteer, his student ID and name tag shining on his shirt. He glances up from his book when Jisung approaches, nodding once. There’s an awkward silence that feels rather loud as Jisung fumbles with his phone, flipping it between his clammy hands as he searches for your message. 
“Computer Lab 4C?” 
Wordlessly, the boy nods again, then slides over a clip-board with a sign-in sheet clamped to it. 
It’s surprising to see how many lab spots are filled up so early into the term, names scribbled along the lines and time-slots. Your name stands out, partly because of your familiar handwriting, but particularly because of the empty line beside it, where he signs in before handing the clip-board back. 
“Down the hall, second door on your right.” 
It’s Jisung’s turn to bob his head once and the boy looks back down at his book. He makes his way down the hall until he reaches the correctly labeled door. His hand reaches for the handle, but he withdraws it. Should he knock? Or maybe send you a text? Or both? 
To: 555-111-0205
hey again. i’m outside :) Sent at 6:18 PM.
The door creaks open from the taps of his knuckles bumping against it, and he peeks his head in timidly, finding you sitting in one of the desk chairs, nearly hidden behind your laptop and a stack of books. You look up over the screen, eyes squinting in a smile. 
“Oh, I had left the door open for you,” you stand up, holding out a cup for him, “and I got you coffee… didn’t know how you liked it so I just got you the same thing I order,” 
There’s a fluttering in his stomach as he sets his bag down. There’s no chance he can manage to meet your eyes after such a gesture so he casts them to the ground instead, graciously reaching out to receive with both hands the drink you offer him, “You didn’t have to,” he mumbles, “but thank you. I’m sure your order is great,” 
“I wanted to! It’s just—I mean, I did drag you out of your room in the cold and on really short notice—A hot coffee was the least I could do,” you shrug, “One of my friends works at the cafe and I was there doing some work for my literature class before I got your message and I figured I’d grab us both something before I headed over here… Sorry, I’m talking too much. Here, sit down.” 
He’s not exactly sure what to say, so he takes his seat beside you in silence, but not without a small smile decorating his face. The notes he had taken down to show you are retrieved from his bag, as well as his laptop. There’s a low screech of your chair dragging across the floor, and he turns to find you’ve scooted closer and you're leaning forward with your cheek resting on your palm, eyes intently looking at his research. 
“It isn’t much. I’m sure whatever you found is much more substantial, but I couldn’t show up empty handed.” Jisung explains, sliding the paper over to you. As your eyes scan the page, you make a few comments along the lines of ‘Oh, this is a good point,’ or ‘We should mention this.’
You seem to be very carefully reading his work. Meanwhile, he takes advantage of your preoccupation to let his eyes rake over your person. 
The first thing he notices is that you’re wearing a different cardigan, and he suddenly remembers your black one is still on his desk, unwashed and covered in his cum. Your hair looks soft, and when you mindlessly swing it over your shoulder, he catches a whiff of your lavender scented hair wash, and it makes him gnaw the inside of his cheek. You’re not quite close enough for him to catch the perfume you’ve decided to wear tonight, though he can vividly picture the gentle florals that linger still on your cardigan. His eyes trail down, and it’s only then that he notices your skirt—or blatantly, the length of your skirt. Your smooth thighs are exposed, full and fleshy and pressed together, and he suddenly wishes they were wrapped around his head. 
“Jisung? You okay?” 
“I–Yeah, sorry.” It’s clear that you’ve noticed his staring, and he all but rips his eyes away in embarrassment, “I was just wondering if you were cold,” He gestures down at your legs shyly, pretending the content he’d written on the paper was more interesting the sight of your plush thighs. 
For a moment he expects some harsh comment or outburst, but you laugh instead, smoothing the material down a bit, “No, not in here, at least. And the walk over was short, so,” His lips are pursed and his cheeks are burning, but you spare him from any further humiliation when you reach across him to turn the page over and quietly gasp, muttering some surprise under your breath at how extensive his work is. “This is really good. We can use pretty much all of it.” 
Failing to hide his beaming at your praise, he snaps his head over to you, “You think so?” 
“Yeah, I mean—,” The screen of your laptop changes over to a page of notes, “I pretty much wrote down all the same things. I’m actually so relieved, I was worried I might get paired up with someone who wasn’t gonna contribute.” 
“Bet you’re glad you didn’t switch out of the class now, huh?” 
Distracted in the notes and in the taste of his coffee, he misses your quick, confused glance his way. Smoothly recovering before he notices, you slowly nod and present to him the layout where you had already taken the liberty to assign him his designated parts. Not that he expected anything else; it’s endearing to see his name labeled over specific sections, color-coded in a blue, bolded font. He wastes no time in pulling up the screen of his computer, exchanging emails with you so the two of you can get to work on the shared document.
The time passes quicker than he hopes, and he realizes just how much he likes spending time with you. Talking with you online is one thing, but sitting beside you as you sip your drink and hum mindlessly, fingers typing away or flipping pages in a book? Completely different game. He’s sure that if it wasn’t because he relieved himself earlier today, he might have popped a boner from the simple act of being in your presence. 
Every once in a while, you make an occasional comment regarding a point or two you thought was worth mentioning or adding, and he’d oblige, making a note of it and sharing his thoughts here and there. Occasionally, he manages to steal a look at your thighs, which he swears you’re bouncing and squeezing together on purpose, but for the most part he keeps his focus on the task at hand. 
Towards the end of the night, there’s a moment where your hands brush his as you point something out on his screen, and Jisung swears he’s never felt more like a teenage boy in his life. He practically flinches at the contact, failing to mask his awkward reaction and pretending he really meant to fix his hair.
Bidding you farewell is possibly the most difficult of the tasks this evening, even more so than pretending he isn’t completely infatuated with and aroused by you for a whole two hours. When you stand from your seat and walk with him out of the study room, and subsequently, out of the library and into the cold, Jisung faces another of his many dilemmas related to you. He’s not sure if he should offer to walk you back to your dorm, or at the very least halfway there. Perhaps, offering you his jacket would be appropriate, since your skirt wasn’t doing much of a job at keeping you warm. 
“You live close by?” 
“Yeah! Just a 5 minute walk,” you point your index finger, “In that dorm right over there.” 
Jisung nods once, then decides to indulge his impulses. “Here,” he slides his hoodie off with a little less coordination than he would’ve liked, holding it out for you to take, “so you aren’t cold.” 
He can’t tell if your cheeks are red from the temperature again or from his gesture, but he hopes it’s the latter. The moment you take his sweater, pretty eyes wide in thanks, he sucks in a breath. It’s much chillier now that the sun is gone, and he fights the urge to chatter his teeth when he offers you a lopsided smile. 
“T-thank you,” you tie the sleeves around your waist, covering your lap. 
 “I’ll see you in class?” he asks. 
“Yeah,” you nod, flashing him a final grin before you spin on your heel to head home. 
The twenty-minute-walk-fifteen-minute-jog back to his room feels eternal. All of his hair is standing on end, but picking up his pace too much means that the icy wind, which has so graciously decided to blow in his direction, would just become harsher. His palms soak up the little warmth on his stomach, tucked under his t-shirt, as he alternates between speed-walking and jogging. The minutes drag on and on until finally, his building comes into view and he breaks into a run. 
•.¸¸☆*・゚
The following morning when he walks into his astronomy class, he follows his usual routine of checking for you in your seat and is almost distraught when he finds it to be empty. It’s not like you to miss a class, and he contemplates reaching for his phone to check-in on you. It isn't until he pans his vision over to his own chair that he spots you. You’re accompanied by Karina and her partner, Heesung, taking up the empty seats beside his own. 
On your desk sit two coffee cups like the ones from last night, and he pulls his lip between his teeth to hide the grin that fights to break out.
You look up when you spot him, and Karina and Heesung look up, too. 
“Hi…” 
“Hi! Jisung, right?” Karina extends her hand out and he takes it, nodding to confirm, “I’m Karina and this is Heesung.” He mumbles another small hello to the boy, who acknowledges him before looking back at his computer.
“Good morning,” you greet as he sits, placing his cup on his desk. “You never told me whether you liked it or not, but I figured you’d grow to like it eventually.”
“I-thanks but,” 
“I know: Didn’t have to, but I wanted to. So just say thanks, yeah?” 
There’s a familiar burning on his cheeks that always seems to make an appearance when you’re around, but he doesn’t bother masking it this time. 
“I wanted to ask you if you would be free to study tonight?” 
Instantly, he bobs his head up and down, and you book the study room on your computer just moments before Professor Hwang strides inside the classroom, her glasses on the tip of her sharp, pointed nose. 
•.¸¸☆*・゚
The frat house where the seniors stay is practically next door to Jisung’s dormitory, which is why when Mark, Chenle, and Jeno come banging on his door on Saturday night, he realizes he can’t use walking so far in the cold as an excuse to stay home. He also can’t use studying as an excuse anymore, since Mark had already caught him leaving the dorm a few times throughout the week to go study with you. That, and he ran into Jeno as he was entering the library just the night before. 
“You’ve been studying plenty,” they’d say, or “We told you about the party last week, no way you’re not going.” 
Anyway—the point is, he’ll have to endure tonight, despite his wishes to stay close to his PC for the chance that you’d want to hop into a game. He’d prefer to spend the night talking with you, but that’ll just have to wait until tomorrow. With a somber look on his face, he shrugs on a jacket and opens the door for his friends, who practically drag him outside. 
Jeno slings his arm over the taller boy’s shoulders as if to prevent him from fleeing, and the four of them climb down the stairs and onto the path toward the frat. If Jisung strains his ears, he can already pick up on the sounds of the party, even from here. 
“You think Chaewon will be there?” Mark asks no one in particular, but the boys all respond simultaneously with groans of distaste. 
“You dated her three semesters ago, why do you care?” Chenle starts, “isn’t she seeing Jungwoo now, anyway?”  
“That’s exactly why I care,” Mark grumbles, foot kicking a rock along the pavement. “He’s one of the RAs. If he’s there—” 
“He’s always there,” Chenle interjects, earning a glare. 
“—then she’ll be there, too.” 
“So, what happened with… what’s her name,  Minjeong? Why don’t you hang out with her?” 
“Nah,” He turns to Jeno, “She’s sweet and all, but I found out from Giselle that her and Chaewon are friends, so,” 
There’s a chorus of understanding, albeit a bit pitiful, “aah’s” and “oh’s” as the building comes into view. A few people are gathered at and around the entrance while others litter the parking lot with phones and solo cups in their hands as they wait for friends. Among them, and Jisung has to do a double take to make sure, he spots Karina, who waves someone down from the direction of the main courtyard. For a moment, he thinks it might be you who appears from between the treeline, but it’s Heesung who jogs over to meet her and he realizes how silly his thought was in the first place. 
In the months he’s known you, you’ve never once brought up a party. In retrospect, you don’t seem like the type to like partying at all. He can picture you clearly now, tearing through textbooks or novels for your literature class, or maybe even typing away to him on Discord and asking if he was online. 
He isn’t and can’t be tonight, and he’s very sorry about that, for the record. 
Maneuvering through the crowd of tipsy college students isn’t too difficult,and neither is their entry. The door is propped open, and Jaehyun, with his signature snapback that he wears backwards on his dark hair, calls them over from the drink bar. 
“First problem I see here,” he starts, “is that none of you have a cup in your hand.” 
“We’ve barely made it through the door, man,”  Mark laughs, clapping up Jaehyun and moving aside so he can greet the rest of the guys. 
“That’s no excuse, you should be sipping on something by now.” He waves his arm, “Take a look around, boys! This is what life is gonna look like for you guys next year—and the year after for you, Jisung.” 
Jisung gives a curt, disinterested nod amidst being handed some fruity, fizzy, white claw resemblant that probably wouldn’t taste much different from an Alka-Seltzer. He cracks it open upon being prompted to by Jaehyun, who initiates a “cheers” between the friend group. The moment the alcohol touches his tongue, Jisung grimaces, taking a few long chugs in hopes that the effect will kick in quicker and make the long night that awaits him a little less long. 
“Do you know if Chaewon is here?” 
Wordlessly, Jaehyun fixes his cap and points a single finger toward the couch, where Chaewon sits besides Jungwoo, leaning in to hear him over the music and giggling at whatever he says in her ear. The boys look over at the couple, then quickly glance back at Mark, whose face falls despite the fact that he knew to expect this. 
“Tough,” Jeno gives him a pat on the shoulder, “Hope you have better luck the rest of the night. I’ve gotta bounce,” 
“Yo, what do you mean bounce?” 
He gestures toward a girl standing near the beer pong table, who looks slightly familiar to Jisung, though he can’t quite put his finger on it, and smirks, “She smiled at me the moment we walked in. I’ll see you later, but I honestly hope I don’t.” 
The realization that his friends, in search of their hook-ups for the night, would eventually be abandoning him one-by-one kicks in just then, inviting Jisung to down the rest of his bubbly drink in one go. 
Mark rolls his eyes, “You ever notice Jeno is always the first one to get a girl?” His comment earns a few hums of agreement.
“I’m gonna go find Jaemin,” with his phone clutched in his hand, Chenle turns towards the door, “he just texted me he’s outside with Sullyoon and her friend.” 
“Wait, Jaemin is—he’s setting you up and not me?” Chenle only shrugs at Mark’s question, replying with a blunt and concise “yeah.” 
“I’m not a dog like Jeno though, so I’ll definitely see you guys later.” 
As if noticing he was facing the same unfortunate fate as Jisung, Mark turns to the youngest boy with a fearful look in his eyes. Jisung only shakes his head and takes a quick look around, “I’m not planning on hooking up with anyone here, so…” At this, the boy sighs in relief, handing Jisung another drink in solidarity. The two lean against the counter as Jaehyun looks between them, snorting. 
“Mark, there’s so many girls here.” 
“I know, but—” 
“But Chaewon.” 
Mark nods, echoing Jaehyun in a quiet, maybe even embarrassed voice, “But Chaewon…” 
“Don’t worry, I get it,” he adds sympathetically, “I’m caught up on my ex, too.” 
“Uh…” there’s a pause. “Which one?” This comment lands Mark a shove, playful, for the most part. He rubs his shoulder and hisses while Jaehyun, on the other hand, sloshes around the little liquid left in his cup and grabs the closest bottle of alcohol to him, along with whichever random mixer he finds first.
“The only one that really mattered.” He tilts his newly filled red cup back to drink from it, but his eyes peek over the rim and he pulls it from his lips to sigh out,  “Speak of the devil and she doth come,” he raises his brows and announces, “there she is now.” 
Following his line of sight, Jisung trails his vision toward the front entrance and at once, the sight makes each and every one of his limbs seize up. There’s a twisting and turning in his stomach that almost invites the seltzer he chugged to make a reappearance, and he’s pretty sure the color has drained from his face as he watches you walk inside the frat house behind Karina and Heesung. 
So many things go through his mind in such a short amount of time that he fears he may have had some sort of out-of-body experience or hallucination episode; it wasn't really you he was seeing, it couldn’t be. The way your skirt clings to your hips makes him grip his cup tighter within his sweating palm, and the lacy, corset top you’ve decided to wear, which shows off a tasteful bit of cleavage, causes him to swallow down the saliva that had pooled on his tongue. 
It was a more provocative outfit than he’d even seen you wear, and if it wasn’t for the fact that Jaehyun opened his mouth to speak, he’s sure he would’ve instantly become bricked up. 
“And of course she’s wearing that shirt…” Jaehyun fixes his cap for the second time tonight and straightens out his shirt, “Alright, wish me luck.” 
It’s not like Jisung would have interjected anyway, he didn’t really have the grounds to, but he couldn’t even entertain the thought before Jaehyun headed in your direction with decisive confidence. Part of him hopes he was referring to someone else as his ex, perhaps even Karina, since there isn’t another girl in your immediate vicinity besides her, but his bit of hope is crushed as he spots Heesung’s hand intertwined in hers. Surely, Jaehyun wouldn’t be coming up to her if she showed up with someone to his party. It leaves him to reach his regretful conclusion just as his friend and you make eye contact, recognition flashing across your features, along with something else. 
Unable to torture himself further by watching your exchange, Jisung tears his eyes away and grabs another drink to make this very, very long night ahead of him somewhat bearable. He turns to Mark, who he didn’t even realize had been talking this whole time, but the loud music and the cloudiness in his mind muffle out his speech. 
“—I mean this just sucks! I guess we still have each other, maybe we can find some girls who—” 
When did you even date Jaehyun? You hadn’t mentioned him once in the months he had known you. And also, why  did you date Jaehyun? Not that there was anything wrong with him, other than his habit of cycling through girls every semester. Mark’s “Which one?” comment had some truth to it, but he would have never expected you to have been on Jaehyun’s roster. It takes him a second to remember that Jaehyun is still his friend, but even then, he can’t fight the bitterness that settles in his bones. What did he mean when he said that you were the only one that mattered? How significant was your relationship with him? There’s too many questions circling his mind, and it isn’t until he downs the fifth drink that they start to blur. 
Currently, he’s passing the time conversing with Mark and following him around the party, but more importantly, avoiding you in fear he’ll steal a glance and you’ll be locking lips with your ex. He spots Jaehyun by the bathroom a bit into the night, but thankfully, you aren’t near him. It’s in the middle of a beer pong game with Mark when he dares to glance around in search of you. 
First, he spots Karina and Heesung, making out on the couch where Chaewon and Jungwoo once sat. You aren’t near them. Then he spots Jaemin and Chenle dancing with the girls they had met up with, but you aren’t dancing, either. 
He’s relieved to find you aren’t with Jaehyun when he spots him, finding instead that his friend is flirting it up with a different girl who is certainly not you. The sight completely pisses him off, and somehow makes him feel immense relief simultaneously. Right around this time, he decides he’s had more than enough of the party. You aren’t here anymore, and Jaehyun’s face is making him fucking sick. Mark is slurring his speech enough that he wouldn’t notice if Jisung just slipped, so he does just that, though he does make sure to mention to Chenle that he’s leaving on his way out so he can keep an eye on Mark.  
Outside, the cold is unbearable. The previously crowded lot is empty for the most part, except for a few people puffing clouds of smoke into the air by a bench. Not even the alcohol in his system is enough to warm him up, so he can’t even imagine how a joint could be worth sitting outside for.
The only other person sitting outside is squatted down by the curb with their knees curled up to their chest. As the autumn leaves crack under Jisung’s feet, they turn their head around. 
“I told you I don’t wanna—Jisung?” 
Your big eyes widen in his direction, and you shoot up from the ground. Jisung’s brow lowers in concern and he notices the only thing you have to cover up is a flimsy cardigan. You and your damn, flimsy cardigans. 
“What are you doing out here?” 
“Sorry for snapping I—sorry,” you shiver involuntarily as a gust of wind blows through, wrapping your arms around yourself, “I thought you were someone else.” 
There isn't a sliver of hesitation before Jisung shrugs off his leather jacket and begins to wrap it around you, grumbling, “Are you crazy? You must be freezing,” 
“I’m fine—“ 
“This should help,” 
“But- Jisung, how many of your jackets am I gonna take—” 
“As many as you need to.” Your lack of a response makes him look back up to meet your eyes, round and much warmer than the rest of you was right now. He clears his throat, guiding your sleeves into the arms of the jacket as he jokes, “or until you bring your own.” 
You smile, muttering a small ‘thank you’ as the warmth engulfs you, along with the smell of him and some cheap cologne only a college student would buy. He’s tugging the collar closer to cover up your exposed neck and chest, eyes flickering down at your bare skin despite being well aware that you’re looking. Where this newfound boldness came from tonight, he doesn’t know. What he does know is that his boldness is always rather short-lived when it comes to you, and tends to appear and disappear like random spurts of energy—he’ll take advantage of it this once. Especially now that he knows you’re Jaehyun’s ex and the most he might even get to do is gawk at you, he intends to make it worth it. 
“You must be freezing now, though,” you start, “should we go somewhere warm?” 
“How about the library?” 
You laugh, looking at him in disbelief, “The library isn’t open at this time, much less on the weekend,” “Right…” 
“Wanna go to mine?” Your suggestion makes his breath hitch for a second, but he manages to respond with decent clarity. 
“You live by the library, though. That’s like a half-hour walk. I don’t think you’ll make it that far without turning into an icicle,” 
“Well, I don’t really wanna go back inside…” he knows why, so he offers something else. 
“My dorm is five minutes away. We could go there if you want, b-but if you’d rather go somewhere else—”
“Okay,” you nod eagerly, “let’s go.” 
As Jisung leads the way, speed-walking to beat the chill that spreads through his newly uncovered limbs, he turns his face to you, watching as you tuck the lower half of your face into his coat. 
“I don’t know if you want to work on the project or—” 
“God no,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “I’m not that much of a buzzkill, dude.” You jog a little to catch up to his longer strides, “Besides, I have like three shots of Pink Whitney in me,” 
“Foul.” 
“I know. Can’t think about a project right now,” 
“I’ve had a bit to drink, too.” he admits.
“I can tell. You’re stumbling.” 
He snaps his head around, down to his feet, then back to you. “What? Am I?” 
There’s a small, stupid smile on your face as you shake your head. “No.”
He can’t pinpoint why this banter with you is so easy, why it feels so right. Or perhaps, he can, but regardless, his heart leaps in his chest as he scoffs, not fighting the shit-eating grin that spreads on his frosted cheeks. 
"It’s that building right over there,” he points.
“You weren’t kidding when you said it was close,”
The two of you climb the stairs and he opens the main door for you, watching you sigh out in bliss as you step into the warmth of the hall. You bounce around in a cute way that once more tugs at his heart-strings, still looking all puffed up and adorable in his jacket that entirely engulfs your frame. He leads you up another flight of stairs and onto the floor his room is at, and once the two of you stop in front of his door, he pats his jean pockets. 
“Oh my uh- my keys are in the pocket of the jacket.” 
You mimic his recent action, patting around until you find his keys, holding them out for him to take. 
Somewhat awkwardly, he fumbles with them until he manages to fit it into the lock, opening the door with one hand. He gestures for you to enter his room with a small shrug, “Make yourself at home.” 
As you step inside, Jisung makes it a point to quietly thank whatever higher power compelled him to make his bed this afternoon. The rest of his room wasn’t perfectly organized by any means, but at the very least, his bed, which you now sat at the foot of with your legs bouncing, was neatly made. 
“You have your own room?” You mutter in surprise as you look around the small space and notice the lack of a second bed. The tall boy beside you just shrugs again, toeing off his shoes in the corner as he pulls the door closed. 
“Yeah, uh… I’m one of the RAs for the sophomore class.” 
“Wow,” you sigh, “I wish! I mean, I love sharing a room with Karina, but it’s nice to have space for myself sometimes.” 
“That’s why you’re always at the library?” 
You nod, sliding your palms across his duvet, “It’s nice and quiet,” your fingers move to grip and release the material, and he blinks harshly to erase the sight of that from his mind before it causes him to spiral. It didn’t prove to be very useful, though, because your still-exposed thighs move and press together, just as they did at the library, and his dick gives a little twitch in response.
“I’ll get you some clothes to change into, that way you’re more comfortable.” he decides, more for his sake than yours. You don’t answer, continuing to look around, taking in the details of his computer that flashes in a bunch of different colors. 
“You know I gave up extra storage in my bedside table to be able to keep my PC? I let Karina take it to her side of the room so I’d have space for my setup.” 
Rummaging through his drawers, he pipes up, “you game?” as if it wasn’t something he already knew about you. 
“I love it. I stayed here for most of the summer just because I had my computer here.”  
Jisung picks out a pair of sweats for you and one for himself, along with a t-shirt he knows he recently washed, then he turns, handing it over to you. “I’ll change in the bathroom down the hall and then wait outside. You can crack the door open when you’re done,” 
“Thank you, Jisung.” 
There’s a gentle sincerity in your tone that makes him wanna say “anything for you,” but he settles for pursing his lips instead, leaving to let you change before he can embarrass himself with any baseless comment you wouldn’t really get. The effect of the drinks still hadn’t completely faded, and he fears he’s capable of saying just about any of his stupid thoughts out loud right about now. 
You weren’t completely sober either, not by any means. The trashy vodka your ex offered you in an attempt to reconcile was as bitter as the end of your relationship with him, and it was flowing through your veins and giving you that light-headed buzz. You stand up and slip off your boots and Jisung’s jacket, along with your skirt. Your top requires a bit more precision, the lace getting twisted and tangled in your uncoordinated fingers. There’s little huffs and puffs of frustration that leave your lips during your struggle, and you’d almost consider asking for help if it wasn’t completely inappropriate. 
Finally, though, you manage to get it off and slip on the change of clothes Jisung has so graciously provided. They’re warm and they smell good, and they’re much more comfortable than your outfit which is now folded on Jisung’s gaming chair, alongside your purse. 
When you look up in admiration of his impressive keyboard, which looks to be custom made, and your eyes trail up to his monitor, you notice something on the corner of the screen. The mindless doodle you had drawn beside your phone number that day in class had been very carefully cut out and stuck onto his screen with tape. 
“You okay?”
His voice calls from outside, quietly as if not to disturb you even though it’s you who is occupying his room. 
“Yeah, I’m almost done!”
“I thought that she was gonna assign them on Friday?”
Sung had asked you that on call, in regards to the constellation project you mentioned you wanted to start working on. Not Jisung, Sung. Sung, who is not in your astronomy class and would have had no way of knowing when or even what your professor would be assigning. 
“You’re Ji-sun, right?” 
“—Sung.”
The nickname sounded very right coming from his lips, from his voice. You never gave his nickname too much thought, because truly, Sung could just be a display name. And if it is his real name, it could stand for anything: Sungmin, Sungwoo, Daesung, Ilsung, Jaesung… Jisung. 
And then, you recall the time you spoke on the phone—specifically, the time you had to do a double take at your screen to make sure you hadn’t actually called Sung. It was the first time you had spoken to Jisung on the phone, and it’s the only way you had even spoken to Sung… something about it seemed so, so strangely familiar. 
Could it be… 
“Alright, I’m done!” Your announcement comes after the realization that he’s been waiting outside for a few minutes already. 
“Coming in…” He warns, eyes still cast to the ground in case you weren’t decent. They slowly make their way up, and something flashes across his features at the sight of you. You try to ignore it, still preoccupied by your growing suspicions. His computer is on… meaning…
“Let me let Karina know I left… I kinda just walked out on her.” 
Jisung nods and takes a cautious seat on his bed a few feet away from you. 
As you open the discord app on your phone, you scroll to the top to find his contact and type out a simple Hi, clicking send with your heart beating faster than usual. It’s an impulsive act, but you can’t help yourself. If there’s even a chance… 
Instantly, his screen lights up and through his headphones you hear the familiar chime of the notification coming in. 
“I knew it! I fucking knew it!” 
If it’s possible, Jisung’s face grows even paler than it already was naturally, and even more gloom than it appeared earlier in the night when he identified you as Jaehyun’s ex. All of his features are alert and in shock, watching as you spin around to face him. 
“Sung? Right? That’s you?” 
He’s struggling to read your expression, and it’s beyond obvious. The only change in his demeanor is the now tensed up shoulders and the redness that takes over the white on his cheeks. 
“I—” Are you mad? Should he apologize?
“Did you know all this time? That it was me, I mean?” 
He nods slowly, unable to find the appropriate words to say. 
Two things happen just then. First, your hand smacks his arm, hard. “You fucking idiot!” and Second, you topple into his arms, hugging him. Initially, his hands hesitate to wrap around you, hovering above your waist as you squeeze his neck. 
“You’re not mad?” He asks shyly. You shake your head against him, then lift off with your hands on his shoulders to take a real good look at his face. 
“No! I’m so glad, I thought I was going crazy. Why didn’t you tell me?” 
He shrugs again, a gesture he seems to do a lot around you. 
“Since when did you know it was me?” 
“Since I heard you speak on the very first day in class. I recognized your voice.” 
Your eyes soften at this small confession, and you look back towards his desk, “So, this is where you were this whole time while we played? This close? A twenty-minute walk away?” You shoot up from the bed and cross the small distance to the desk, swiping an index finger along the surface, then his mouse, then his keyboard, and all of his other equipment. Your eyes are beaming, looking around and familiarizing yourself with his things. All the things you wondered about him are now laid out in front of you, and it’s exhilarating. 
“I was so excited when I found out,” 
“You should’ve told me,” you repeat, still taking in his pictures and personal items, your profound curiosity surfacing within you. 
“I was worried about making a good first impression, you’re…” 
“I’m…?” you press, turning to him for a moment. 
“You’re really pretty in person.” 
In that moment when you turn away to hide your blush, with the words “you’re really cute in person, too” ready to spill from your tongue in a sweet and shy whisper, a small black pile on the corner of his dresser catches your eye. 
“What’s that—” 
“Oh nothing! It’s just—” 
“Is that my cardigan?” 
Forget distraught, forget embarrassed, forget every possible synonym for the word humiliation. Not a single one would do what he’s feeling in this moment even a sliver of justice. Jisung is convinced his soul has left his body, that he’s passed on or that the ground has swallowed him whole. In fact, he’d prefer it that way. He has never felt more panic in his life as you quickly approach the cum-stained cardigan that he took from you, that he pleasured himself with countless times, that he still hasn’t washed…
“You dropped it in class, and I-I meant to give it back to you, you know, a-after I washed it, but then—” 
As you turn the material over in your hands, taking note of and examining the stains, Jisungs breath completely cuts off. You spin slowly on your heel, facing him. There’s an unreadable expression on your face, and it takes every bit of the little pride he has left to not squeeze his eyes shut. 
“Are these—” His voice is no more than a sputtering squeak, “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. Fuck, you must think—” 
“Jisung.” 
“I didn’t mean to keep it for so long, or-or at all, really, it’s just—”
“Jisung.” He’s pretty sure you can hear him gulp. “Were you using my cardigan to get off?” 
“I-” 
“Were you?” You ask sternly. 
He sucks in a breath, unable to look at you any longer as the faintest of yeses leaves his pouty lips. 
There’s a moment of silence. A terribly long, excruciating moment of silence where Jisung can think of no way to make this up to you. He’s beyond ashamed, palms clasped together and sweating, face red with horror, inside of his cheek clamped tightly between his teeth, the whole nine miles. So much for mulling over how he’d reveal who he was to you, and so much for all the overthinking he did, all the times he planned out exactly what to say to you and how. Now, it’s all coming to an end because of this damned cardigan. He should’ve just washed it and given it back to you after the first time—no, he shouldn’t have used it at all. His mind is filled with thoughts of everything and nothing at the same time, and he’s already beginning to mourn the loss of your friendship when you say the unthinkable: 
“Show me.”
*. * ·
taglist: @heartlvrrss @albedoloser @zp00ks @simpforarmihn @toroufriteh @quokkatss @jising-jisang-jisung @camstqr @tangerinehyuck @ma-riiii @minlvrpage @hancafe
there are some users that couldn't be tagged, as tumblr did not recognize their accounts. sorry :((
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jazzysnazzys · 6 months
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🍝Pasta🍝
(2K WC)
Summary: You find Joel’s voice to be a little too attractive while on the phone with him.
AN: HI GUYSS!! I’m finally back !! This took me a while and like always I lost motivation as soon as I started. But it’s out!! I hope you all enjoy!! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated!! Okay, byeeee!! 🐝🐝🐝
WARNINGS: smut, fem mb, unprotected p in v (wrap it up people), creampie, blowjob, slapping.
MDNI!!
Hot, humid, and excruciatingly sweaty. That’s how it was today. You had just finished making love with the love of your life next to you, Joel. As you both catch your breath, he peels his sticky body off of the covers reluctantly.
“Sorry sweetheart, gotta run some errands. Be back soon, ‘kay?” He stands nexts to you while you lay on the bed, exhausted. Joel’s body is glistening with sweat. He always looks so angelic when he’s basking in his afterglow, you notice. His disheveled curls fell in all different directions, especially because of his bed hair at the moment.
You nod your head and hold his hand for a moment before he lets go and runs a quick shower. Usually, you’d be way too fucked out to move at all. After all, Joel had coerced orgasm after orgasm out of you. But you felt somewhat…empty.
As Joel began to get dressed and ready for the day, you couldn’t help but still want him…need him. He kissed your lips softly before patting your head and leaving to his car. You sunk into the cool covers again when you heard his engine roar to life and slowly fade away.
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You get up off of the ruined sheets and begin to pry them off to wash them. You throw on one of Joel’s shirts that fits snug on your hip. After throwing the sheets to wash, you try and keep yourself busy throughout the day. Anything to keep your mind off of the very prominent throb in your core. Scrubbing the sink, Mopping, Sweeping, and redressing the bed. You were doing everything you could to keep yourself from running to the bed and burying your fingers deep inside yourself. As you scrub the sink for the third time, you hear your ringtone. Turning off the sink, you walk over to see who it could be.
Joel’s icon filled your screen.
It was a photo of you and him from a while back, when you first started dating. You and him had been at a local fair eating cotton candy. You had held your phone out to take a quick photo of you together. As you smiled and snapped the photo, you quickly revised it to see if it was worthy. In the photo, you looked great, the carnival lights hitting you just right and the cotton candy looked fluffy and delicious. Joel? He was mesmerized by you. In the photo, his big brown eyes were on you with a faint smile on his lips. He looked as if you were the most beautiful person ever. And that’s what you were to him.
Snapping out of your thoughts, you remembered you had to answer the phone.
“Sweetheart?” You answer, a little confused as to why Joel is calling.
“Hey, darlin’. Sorry to bother you, but I need to know what kind of pasta you were in the mood for tonight.” Joel’s silky smooth voice replied, his accent making you melt.
Your core was loving his voice.
You silently crawled onto the bed and slipped under the freshly washed covers.
“Darlin’?”
“Oh, yeah. Uhm. Could you list off the pastas you see?” You bite your lip.
Joel goes silent for a moment as he browsed the isle to find the pasta section.
You sneakily slip your hand past your panties and your fingers brush over your swollen bud. You jolt with electricity as you await Joel’s voice.
“So…we got..Penne, Ziti, Rigatoni…”
As Joel began listing off different types of pasta, your fingers were slowly circling your clit, teasing. You bite your lip and hold back a moan.
“U-Uhmm…whats farfalle?” You obviously knew, but wanted to stretch out the conversation as much as possible.
“Farfalle? Baby, we’ve literally eaten it before. You know? The butterfly pasta?”
You dipped a finger inside yourself and bit your lip harder, hiding a moan.
“O-Ohhhh….Yeah. I remember.”
Joel paused for a moment.
You were pumping your finger in and out of yourself, a second one protruding in.
“Baby girl, is everything alrigh’?” He spoke concerned.
Two fingers were now stuffed in your hole, going in and out, slick noises filling the room.
“Y-Yes…everything’s—mmph. Fine.”
Joel furrowed his brow at this.
“T-Tell me about uhhmm…the—the fusilli one..” You practically moaned out. You sped up your pace as he began to explain the pasta type.
“Well, its like the swirly pasta. It’s a little cheaper, if you’d like that one darlin’. But whatever you want.”
You were getting close to your climax.
Your fingers kept hitting that sweet spot inside yourself and your back began to arch.
All of a sudden, a moan slipped through your lips. A loud moan.
“Darlin’?” Joel questioned.
“J-Just keep talking…please…” You begged.
“Woman, are you—?”
“Joel, please!” Your thighs began to tense up, expecting sweet release.
The phone went silent.
You looked at your phone.
That motherfucker.
He hung up on you!
You called and called but he didn’t answer. You were left high and dry.
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Two hours later, you heard the familiar noise of gravel crunching in the driveway.
Joel was home.
You awaited on the couch, your palms clammy.
You were never nervous to see Joel, always jumping into his arms and spoiling him with kisses. But the atmosphere was thick and tense as the key jittered inside the lock for a moment before the door swung open. Joel’s boots thumped on the wood floor. You heard him place grocery bags on the counter before his stride became more meaningful.
He was looking for you.
You spared him the time and got up off the couch, walking towards the sound of his clunking boots.
“Joel? Hi..baby. How did it go?” You nervously smiled as his head craned in your direction.
Almost instantaneously, he grabbed you by your neck and slammed you into the wall. Of course, he was careful enough not to hurt you terribly, but he wanted you to be a puddle for him.
“Joel—“
“Shut the fuck up.” Joel glared at you.
It was embarrassing how wet you were for him at the moment.
“As soon as I leave, you start to fuck yourself huh? You’re never satisfied are you?You brat.” He applied pressure to your neck with his one hand, his other snaking under the hem of his shirt you were wearing. He grabbed your laced panties and tore them to shreds as you let out a whimper. He cupped your sex and his eyes widened for a moment, before his pupils dilated completely.
“Fuckin’ whore…already this wet, huh? Haven’t even touched you.” He tutted.
“Joel, please..”
He shook his head and scoffed.
“You think you’re getting what you want right now, brat? Maybe if you would have waited. But no. You couldn’t even get off the phone. Such a whore for me aren’t you? Now, get on your knees.”
Your eyes widened.
“Joel—“
“Now.” He commanded.
You sunk to your knees as he undid his belt fro m his belt loops. He unzipped and his hard cock bursted out. The tip was swollen, leaking pre-cum. A large vein ran through the length and it looked like it was throbbing. You looked up almost innocently at Joel. He rolled his eyes at you.
All of a sudden, his large hand was pushing your head down to meet his cock. Your lips wrapped around the length, taking him all in, as that was your only option. He bobbed your head back and forth roughly, spit bubbles collecting at the side of your mouth. You were aching for him, bad. You were probably dripping at this point. Muffled moans came out of your mouth as he fucked into it. He didn’t let up for a moment, your vision blurring.
You closed your eyes and tears began to fall. Slowly and silently, you decided to slip your hand to your bud, desperate for any form of pleasure. You were barely able to touch your clit when Joel smacked your face roughly.
He tutted again.
“Oh no baby. You’re not getting a lick of pleasure unless I say so. Now be a good girl and let me use that mouth.” Joel smirked.
Joel continued to ram his length into your mouth at an unruly pace. You were gagging on his thick cock, unable to even think anymore. Finally, once Joel seemed satisfied, he spoke.
“Bedroom, now.”
You quickly stumbled off of your knees and shuffled to the bedroom, Joel guiding you with his hand on your lower back.
Once you both got in the bedroom, he slammed the door shut and turned to look at you.
He gave you a glare and you knew what je wanted for you to do. Immediately you started to shed off your clothing. You hurriedly took off your shirt and bra.
“So fuckin’ needy, aren’t ya.” Joel scoffed.
You ached for him, desperate for any form of release. Joel pushed you onto the bed. You propped yourself up on your elbows. For a moment, he caressed your face. He looked at you with caring eyes for a split second, before they filled with lust.
He pumped his hard cock in a closed fist, letting you watch.
You needed him inside you, now.
“Joel…I need you.”
“I don’t think so, babygirl.” Joel smirked as he continued to rut into his hand.
“Joel—“
“Beg.”
“What?”
“You heard me. You’re not getting an inch of my cock unless you beg.”
You blinked for a moment before deciding to comply.
“Please, Joel.”
He gave you a harsh slap.
“I asked you to beg, stupid girl. Not use your goddamn manners.”
“I need you, Joel. God, please. Please fill me up!” You whimpered, your clit throbbing.
“Good girl.” He lined up his length between your folds. He gathered the slick that was in your hole. Then, without warning, he rams into you. He sets an unruly pace from the start, the sound of skin slapping echoing in your room.
Your mind is foggy and dizzy. You’re barely thinking. Your mind is just consumed with him. Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel. Your moans come out broken, tears streaming down your face.
“Jesus, I’m fuckin’ you dumb huh?”
His name came out of your mouth like a prayer as he railed into you.
Your climax was coming fast and Joel could tell by the way your cunt clenched around him. He squished your cheeks in his hand, forcing you to focus on him.
“I don’t think so baby, you know the rules.” Joel rammed into you as you tried to speak through your moans.
“Joel!! Please, God let me cum!!” You spoke in between slurries of moans.
Joel thrusted into you a couple more times before they came sloppy. He let out a few whimpers before speaking again.
“S’alright baby, cum for me.”
Immediately, your cunt fluttered and your back arched, the room filling with his name.
Not long after, his groaned while spilling into you. You felt his softening cock still inside of you as it throbbed semen into you.
He pulled out, collapsing on the bed next to you. It was silent, besides the sound of the two of you catching your breaths.
“Fettuccine.” Joel breathed out.
“What?”
“I bought fettuccine.”
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ROCKSTARS AS DOGS
What more could a person want when rock musicians and dogs exist? What if I told you that the two are much more similar than you might expect?
Let's have a look at some of the most iconic rockstars and the adorable dog breeds that they look strangely similar to!
[this article is satire and should not be taken seriously]
Slash as a Bouvier des Flandres
With his long, dark curls that cover most of his face, Slash closely resembles the soft-tempered Bouvier des Flandres.
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Duff McKagan as a long-haired Dachshund
Now, don't shoot me, but Duff's long blonde locks and elongated, lanky shape instantly remind me of a long-haired dachshund!
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Axl Rose as a silky terrier
Long, silky smooth auburn locks, and a quick temper. Am I talking about Axl Rose or about a silky terrier? The answer is; both!
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James Hetfield as an Airdale terrier
If you squint your eyes you wouldn't even be able to tell the difference between these two friendly, moustached faces.
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Kirk Hammett as a black poodle
This one should be obvious. Both Hammett and a black poodle share luscious black curls, big brown eyes, and a soft temper.
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Lars Ulrich as a chihuahua
Okay, I hear you. I may have done Lars a little dirty with this one... But you can't deny that these two bear a striking resemblance.
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Lemmy Kilmister as a Scottish terrier
It's the long hair and handlebar moustache that really makes this one convincing. What do you think?
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Alice Cooper as an Afghan hound
Long black hair, intense gaze, slender face... Alice Cooper totally looks like an Afghan hound and you can't tell me otherwise.
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Dave Mustaine as a Cocker spaniel
Whenever Dave doesn't wear his usual snarl, he looks awfully similar to a Cocker spaniel. What kind of magic is in this man's shampoo?!
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Steven Tyler as a Shih tzu
Cheerful, fashionable (arguably), and the ability to reach some of the highest notes. I'd use those words to describe both Tyler and a Shih tzu.
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Jimi Hendrix as a Portuguese waterdog
Both Jimi and the Portuguese waterdog sport a head full of dark hair, friendly eyes, and an optimistic and energetic personality.
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Ozzy Osbourne as an English bulldog
How could you not feel happiness when looking at these pictures? The Prince of Darkness is nothing but a ball of joy, just like an English bulldog.
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Whelp! That concludes the list. For now. I'm planning to add more rockstar-dog breed comparisons to this list as time goes by. If you have any suggestions, please do share them!
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tinselxoxo26 · 2 years
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Ascendant Signs Series
𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆!!!
Part 2: here
[Note: This is just what I've observed in women through researching so don't take this personally if I got it wrong, btw this is not in order!]
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≿ ——————————- ❈ ———————————- ≾
𝐆𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐀𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐭
They look like mischievous foxes ngl
They're usually the ones who often get mistaken that they look younger than their actual age
Their eye & hair colour tend to be more on the lighter side even with brown eyes or being a brunette.
The chin might be prominent, kinda pointy in a way.
I've noticed that some of them likes to wear coloured contact lenses that lighter than their original eye colour or a completely different light colour.
They might like to dye their hair into a lighter colour as well, some with red/orange undertone
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(The iconic Lindsay Lohan has this placement!)
≿ ——————————- ❈ ———————————- ≾
𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐭
[Side note: Tbh I find it hard to fit cancer ascendant in one group considering the moon changes its phase very often and so does the variety of different looks in Cancer ascendant.]
They tend to have naturally pale/smooth silky skin. They might also like to show off their breasts whether it's in public or social media.
With the chart ruler of the moon they tend to look like their mother more or more feminine look regardless of the gender.
There are two symbols for cancer one is the crab the other one the moon. Ppl tend to forget that the crab symbol can be applicable to cancer ascendants as well. For those who look more like the moon, they tend to have more fuller chubby cheeks as for those who look more like the crab, they tend to have a more prominent cheekbones with a sharper jawline.
Their eyes stands out a lot too, they can have rlly big eyes or eyes with prominent eyelids, maybe they have an extra fold on the eyelids that makes their eyes look big even if it's not.
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(Versace model Cindy Crawford from the 90s has this placement!)
≿ ——————————- ❈ ———————————- ≾
𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐀𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐭
For those who don't know, the symbol for leo is a lion & lions are related to cats, so you might find ppl who has a leo ascendant looking like cats
The hairrrrr, very thick & voluminous. Ofc there are some who doesn't have thick hair but it's still noticeable nonetheless. For those who have thick hair I wonder how long does it take y'all to brush your hair-
The tip of their nose are usually wide or rounded off kinda like a triangle if you get what I mean, it's spread out, bigger than their nostrils. One more thing to add is that their nose tends to be quite short, yk how cats have short noses compare to horses? Yea-
The corner of their lips tend to tilt upwards too
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(Famous celebrity Selena Gomez has this placement!)
≿ ——————————- ❈ ———————————- ≾
𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚 𝐀𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐭
They usually have a beauty mark to them like freckles on their face (if there's aries/mars placement) or moles plastered around their eye area.
Their face shape is usually oval or more on the longer side.
Another thing I've noticed is that they usually have a lighter eyebrows compared to those bushy darker ones
They naturally might have wide plump lips as well
They might have dimples or chubby cheeks
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(Ah yes, Kate Winslet the famous actress from the titanic has this placement!)
≿ ——————————- ❈ ———————————- ≾
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𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢'𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜💓, 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚞𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝!!! 𝚃𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗, 𝚏𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕✨
~ 𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑥𝑜𝑥𝑜26
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witchofthesouls · 23 hours
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IDW/MTMTE fic idea,
A cultural exchange is proposed in the Council of Worlds to show a little bit of each other in good faith:
Cancer shows its deep militaristic culture in its oldest tradition: a dance competition. A no-contact sport where partners' tests constantly test each other’s skills: flexibility, speed, reaction time, strength, and coordination. A violent, vicious whirling to the rhythm that's both entertainment and discipline.
No one was surprised by Velocitronians setting up a race track in the city, but this particular style emphasizes acrobatics, flair, and efficiency as speedsters parkour through the infrastructure. This kind of race allows teams who will be judged on collaboration and creativity as many utilize immense drops to act out iconic or playful scenes. One pair had a full gamestation set up in freefall.
The Devisen showed off their food culture, which is dominated by molecular gastronomy. They enjoy playing with properties and compositions of ingredients. Thermal sense is a very popular technique among the locals.
The Eukarian tribes had settled with an art exhibition. The Scale Walkers shown off pottery with fascinating grooves and whorls with patterns of their planet. The Fur Walkers had submitted bone carvings ranging from delicate jewelry of native fauna to intricate designs recreating battles. Guests were able to interact with Cloud Walker furniture: elaborate hanging seats embedded with different textures, designs, and compartments. The Fateweavers sent beautifully woven, silky smooth fabric, each one with its own specific geometric design. The Wave Walkers' exhibit was done in a dark room where visitors watched a reconstruction of how marine life reacts to their sonata. Twinkling jellies, haunting kelp forests, the wild explosion of color from massive reefs, dancing phantomish creatures, and synchronized schools of fish.
Earth demonstrated a surrealistic fashion show based on Marissa Faireborn's observations on what Cybertronians focused on.
The Camiens had invited everyone to come enjoy a sacred rite that embraced all aspects of Solus: a widespread, drug-enhanced sex festival and revel at a monstrous bon fire.
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“There are also key phrases that each principal royal like to use. Like you’ll hear “keen” a lot with Kate - that’s Kensington Palace speaking. “Olive branch” is Meghan…There are other ways to tell whose PR has sourced a story. These are just the ones off the top of my head. If anyone else can think of others, please share them!”
This sounds like fun lol! We need a light-hearted palate cleanser after all of the recent Sussexdotcom “we are (royal) family” PR. Meghan’s PR is so easy to spot. “Olive branch,” as you mention, is classic Meg-speak. She likes olives: olive branches, Casa Olive Garden, olive oil lemon cake, guacamole olive green garments, even inadvertent Olive Oyl cosplay. She likes lemons, too (preferably from her Casa Olive Garden lemon trees): lemon olive oil cake, lemon Oscar de la Renta dresses, FLOTUS gift baskets of lemons, Lemonada podcasts.
Other telltale Meghan PR phrases are: 
- “a sweet nod”: if this phrase is in an MM or BRF-adjacent article, it’s from MM’s PR.
- “community”: any reference to “communities” or fostering/building a sense of community is from MM’s PR…maybe because, from childhood on, she has felt isolated/ostracized from a true sense of family or real community?
- “standing in your (fill in the blank)”…“power,” “elegance” (lol), “truth,” yada yada yada: maybe because she has such difficulty standing on her own two feet w/o clinging onto H’s arm or holding his hand?
- “strong, independent woman/feminist”: so ironic, given that Meghan has never been independent, having been supported her entire life by men…father Thomas, hubby Trevor, bf Cory, Harry Charles, and whoever is stupid enough to become her next gazillionaire stooge. And she ~ain’t no feminist, either! Feminists don’t put down other women (cough HLMQEII, Catherine, Charlotte, Ninaki, Melissa Toubati, etc cough), or start false rumors about them (cough Catherine, Rose cough).
- “Princess”: if an article refers to MM as “Princess,” “Princess Meghan,” or to her being seen as a “princess” by young girls/the public, it’s from MM. (Her only valid princess title is “Princess Henry,” and there’s no way she’ll deign to use that.)
- references to MM as a “humanitarian” or a “philanthropist”: in reality, she is neither. MM is a fauxmanitarian, a fake smoke-and-mirrors PR-curated phony who has only ever used poor people as photo-op props. One and done, never to be seen by them again. And “philanthropists” GIVE their own money to charitable causes…MM (and H) TAKE money from charitable causes (Invictus) or from charity scams (Archewell).
- references to MM as a “style/fashion icon,” a “beauty,” to her “glorious mane of hair,” to her “glowing silky smooth skin,” etc: pure MM PR! In fact, her clothes consistently are wrinkled, ill-fitting, untailored, not color-coordinated (does she have some form of color-blindness?), too large, too small, and out of season. She routinely wears fake hair extensions and wigs. And her skincare routine is, well…non-existent? 
These are just a small contribution. No doubt, a future doctoral thesis can, and will, be written about MM’s PR strategy. Perhaps you, Rumor, and Plant can co-author it?
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Two more from the inbox!
“Shine a light”
and 
word salad garbage that sounds like an AI chatbot - meaningless nonsense.
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seobstarr · 4 months
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Star-Shaped Keys ☆
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paring!: street racer!Keeho x street racer!fem reader
genre!: action, fluff?,
tropes!: mutual pining, rivals to lovers (kinda),
synopsis!: After a few bets within the lower ring of the street racing business you and your brother decided that it was time for you to move up to his league, not knowing that the person you would go up against for your first major race was Jiungs longtime rival, Yoon Keeho and he is pretty damn good at his profession (and the sweet talking he does to you and only you)
warnings!: profanity, dangerous actions(like stunts NO SMUT DONT THINK LIKE THAT), iilegal bidding, iilegal racing,
songs!: shut up and drive- rihanna, teenage dirtbag- wheatus, baby- brandy, yes or no- jungkook,
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Stretching out from another long ride to the backstreets of Seoul, you turn the engine off to your car. The rustling and loud rutter dim into a silent growl. Opening your eyes from the godly stretch, you observe the crowd blocking the main street. The atmosphere here is different—nothing compared to the slow and small crowds from the streets you've played. Your posture naturally crouches over the steering wheel out of habit, scoping out the competition and the cars you and your baby are up against.
Somewhere in between the crowd of ladies and men surrounding the cars, you spot your brother and some of his friends. Red cups in their hands as they lean against his iconic bumblebee yellow Mitsubishi, a staple from his rise to power in the ring.
A knock on the tinted windows of your Mustang derails your train of thought. Your head snaps to the window, the knuckle that knocked once about to do it again, but before it can, you roll the window down halfway. In the cold air of summer, there he stood, hands dug deep into his jacket pockets, face blocked by the roof of the car. He wasn't bent down to talk face to face.
“Y/N?” he asks
"Who’s asking?" you respond, the constant reminder set in your head by your brother making you cautious. You hear him chuckle a bit, and his lower half bends down, hand resting on the hood of the Corvette to stabilize him.
"Yoon Keeho, It's good to finally meet Jiung's infamous sister, everybody from the lower districts has been talking about," he says. You examine his face, trying to place where you've heard his name before.
The slight smile on his face never fades as you make eye contact with him, staring him down. His jet-black hair barely covers his forehead, and the leather jacket fits his muscular build perfectly. "Not much of a talker, are you?" he remarks after your lack of response.
"Nah, I prefer to stare," you sarcastically smirk. His laughter is prominent, and his head hangs low for a second.
"Anyway, Keeho, did you come here for something?"
His eyebrows furrow for a minute, unsure of what you were asking. "To race?"
"No, to my car. What brings you to my car?" you explain slowly, and his face finally lights up. You sigh at how dense your brother's rival is. "Well, I saw the blue Mustang and bet it was you. By the talks, you’ve sure made a name for yourself out in the racing world, as expected she's a beauty."
His voice is like smooth hazelnut butter, silky and thick. His free hand caresses the headlight as he admires the customized car he's stretched over. You can feel his fingers tap the top of your hood in anticipation. "Good to hear you approve," you huff out a response, your hands clutching the steering wheel harder as the conversation rolls on. "Now, if you don’t mind taking your hands off my baby, I just shined her," you smugly smile.
His hands go up in a sarcastic defense as he stands up, now showing you his full body proportions. "I should get going; my brother's waiting."
"Oh, I think your brother has waited enough," his smile reaches the tips of his ears this time, showing the eye smile that naturally graces his face. "Hey, I saw you pull in, why haven’t you come say hi to the guys—"
Jiung cuts his own sentence short as his eyes connect with Keeho's. "Keeho," he deadpans, leaning against the passenger's side of the car, arms folding in.
"Jiung," Keeho's smile fades quickly into a serious thin line, chin following up into a stare. His hands slide into his pockets. "Planning on beating me this round?"
"I would, but my name isn't on the lineup for tonight."
Yoon Keeho. His name almost melts off your tongue, seems natural from the way Jiung says it. Your eyes widen at the instant click in connection your mind realizes. "Don’t play with me, Choi. You know whose name is there, who?"
How could you have not known from the way his voice had comfortably strayed with you “Hers.” Jiung says again and you could just picture the smirk in his tone. Yoon Keeho, Jiung's racing rival since you could remember.
The way you've been swirling your red cup, you could've been mixing drinks as a bartender by now. If Keeho was Jiung's rival, then why would he be openly friendly - dare you say flirting with you? Isa scoots toward you, making a spot on the hood of your car that you previously parked next to Jiung. Isa, your best friend, had gotten into racing at the same time as you. She had opted for a 2009 C6-R Corvette and had it wrapped a hot bubblegum pink. Perfect for her personality, although some in the racing arena thought it was stereotypical. She didn't care. “You okay?” she questions "Yeah, why?" you giggle forcibly. "You’ve been swirling that drink for a hot minute now, and you’ve barely been conscious for half of the two hours you’ve been here." Rolling your eyes playfully at her, she nudges your shoulder. "I’m fine! Don’t worry about me; worry about who you're against after this." You point through your cup at the guy next to your brother. "Sungho? Oh, you’ve got to be kidding." She scoffs. "He doesn’t nearly have as much experience as I do; the only reason he's here is because of Mark."
Isa’s voice fades into the background noise, meshing with the crowd surrounding the various cars laid around the lot. Almost naturally, your eyes follow his tall figure, and land on his contagious smile that seems to make him even more attractive. Your lips go up to sip out of the cup you’ve been fixing for the past hour, but your eyes don’t dare to disconnect from his almost-perfect side profile.
Without taking your fiery gaze off him, when he's done talking, he does the same as you, and his eyes lock with yours almost as if he was taking quick peeks at you when you weren’t looking as well. You hesitate to look away in a panic, but he squints slightly, his brown pupils doing the talking he couldn’t. The moment quickly becomes tense with both of you not breaking the lustful gaze you had for each other.
"Y/N? Are you even listening?" Your eyes blink rapidly from not breaking eye contact for what seemed like too long. "Yeah, yeah, sorry, what were you saying?" You cough out, and Isa frowns. She was rambling to nobody. "Maybe you shouldn’t race tonight—"
"I can do it; don't worry about me." Your hand knocks Isa’s hand from your forehead gently. "When do we start anyway; I’m getting bored." That was a lie, and even though there was no detection of how it could be a fib, you had a hunched that Isa had caught on. "Right now, actually," Jiung cuts in, giving you no time to react as he grabs your hand and drags you to the driver's seat of your car so you could roll up to the starting track.
The crowd was big, lined with people along the makeshift track of Seoul's empty backstreets. Your Mustang revved loudly as you pulled up to the starting line, doing some last-minute fixes as Jiung explained the map of the track in the passenger's window. "Just whatever you do, don’t embarrass me…" Jiung complains, eyes rolling his head. "You’ve got to be joking."
"I’m just saying, you tend to get fired up when you think your opponent is not great at this, but trust me, Keeho is one of the best. So if you're going all in, you better mean it." His voice darkens a bit as Keeho pulls beside you in his Nissan, the outer darker paint job contrasting well with the neon purple LED lights he had strapped to the bottom of the base. His tinted passenger window slides down, and you can take in the inside of his car a little more now, examining it, eyes fluttering with how well he had fixed the old 1999 model up. "You look like you’re gonna carjack me." His gravelly tone had broken you from the car's trance. Genuinely giggling at the little bit he had made you look up at him. "I’ve seen worse," you shoot back at him, his face becoming visibly frustrated. "Just when I was about to compliment your customization skills…" you scoff playfully before putting the car into park and stepping out of the lowered deck. At the ends of the cars, where the trunk meets trunk stands Isa and Jiung, along with some of Keeho's friends who are continuously hyping him up with comments that aren’t so pleasing to the ears.
Your hands fidget with your car keys in your palms, working it around your index finger as the star figurine attached to it for spunk swivels around at fast speeds. As Jiung gives you the rundown for at least the 15th time, Irene, the main organizer of all the events you and your brother have been going to, speaks up among the crowd of people on the sidelines. Her hair is slicked back into a tight bun, held by a beautiful diamond-encrusted hair clip—a glint and tease at the old money she comes from. A headband straps over the elegant hairstyle, making her look even cleaner.
"You must be the new racer." Her voice is a nice, light, airy tone, similar to Isa but higher pitched. It makes you feel at ease, contrasting the nervous feeling you had mustered up watching her walk up to you. Hands sweating and becoming clammy as she talks to you with a smile on her lips. "Yes, happy to be here." A hearty chuckle comes out from your vocal cords, and she nods in approval. "Well, don’t be nervous; it’s your first race after all. So, bottom line, make sure to have fun." Her pep talk feels refreshing from the pressuring eyes Jiung had been giving you. Like a tiny bit of weight had been lifted from your shoulders.
She gives you a wink before walking back to the starting line, which was just the crosswalk markers. You take her stance as a sign to get ready and get back into your car, but something feels off. A stumbling tilt in the atmosphere had destablised it, and the balance grew heavier to one side. Your hand clutches the handle to your Mustang, but a cough stops you from pulling open the door. Your head whips from the sudden jump Keeho had given you. "You really think we weren’t going to bet anything?" he states, the jacket he wore slipping off his shoulder a little as he leans against the bulky build of his ride.
You had completely forgotten about the bidding, and you mentally pinch yourself for making a fool out of yourself. "Take it easy; it’s her first." Irene's eyes roll under her painted lids at Keeho's antics, at his greediness. A smirk, one that seemingly never faded from his face greeted you when he looked at you, playfully followed by a laugh. To the contrary, the comments on this being your “first” had made your heart tighten, lingering a small tint of naturally flushed red on your cheeks. Not that they were wrong; it most definitely was your first actual bidding race, but the comments seemingly held an underlying snarky tone, as if they were laughing at how inexperienced you are.
"Sorry, y/n, but it is required for you to bid something. You know, for the stakes to be high," Irene explains, and you nod in understanding, not daring to speak yet. "But I can change the rules a little. How about instead of money, it’s just something valuable to you?" A thought crosses your mind as you look at the now annoyingly cocky smile your rival wears with pride. "I can get behind that," he shrugs in agreement. "Alright, Keeho, you're up. What’s your bet?"
The air thickens as you watch the gears in his head turn as he thinks. You had come to hate how confident he was in himself, wanting to wipe the sly smirk off his face with this race. To let the world know that Jiung's amateur little sister had beaten "One of the greats" in her first race. Yes, the competitiveness was getting to you, but would that stop you? Absolutely not. His eyes lock with yours, and he finally speaks, "I have a couple of new cylinders coming in tomorrow. I’ll bet those." Trying to hide your smile with a wipe of your nose, you gleam with delight. New cylinders were just what you needed for your car; you had been dying to upgrade from V10 to V12. When you look up from your hand, your eyes lock with his. They had a slight change in mood, becoming a sharp gaze, mocking you for not being able to go higher than the brand-new item he had put out. And that was it; you were in it to win it. A couple of looks into his siren eyes had made you so frustrated that your hand goes up to show your star car keys slightly. "I’m ready to put it on the line," you say, smugly smirking up at the taller figure slightly towering above you. "Put it on the line?" His deep voice chuckles into a slow response. "What would you put on the line, little lady?" An eyebrow perks up at the unexpected nickname.
A few minutes go by as the city’s lights shine on them dimly before he feels a poke in his abdomen. His head looks down, and your hand is holding out your keys, the keys to the midnight blue Mustang you rested on. Keeho tries to conceal his shock, the tightness in his heart when you held up the keychain to spin around on your ring finger. But it fails as his eyes dart to Jiung, only for a split second to make sure that this was serious. He had been in races where people had bet their cars, but it had only turned out for the worst. Lord knows if he was ready for Jiung's wrath if you had lost not only the race but the car you had customized perfectly.
Somewhere in his heart, in the pit of his stomach, he cheered that you had put the vehicle on the line, knowing that it was the most amazing custom that had pulled onto the lot that night; he craved for it. When he and Jiung meet each other's gaze, he nods and goes to calm you down. The two of them had only been rivals for the fun of it, but deep down, they both knew that they were cool with each other. It wasn’t anything too important to fight about, but you? You hadn’t known that, and therefore Keeho was scared shitless out of his mind. You were willing to bet the car for your brother’s reputation, and his mind lights up with the thought of how attractive that was.
"No, I’m sticking by it," you had said loudly enough for the surrounding people to hear. "If I win, I get your new cylinders, but if you win, you get the keys." Both of you hear Irene take a deep inhale inward from the constant thick air the lot had found. "Deal," his voice booms towards you, and you take his hand to shake it firmly. "Deal."
"Alright, all racers to your cars, please," Irene announces loud enough for the front crowds to hear, the people listening first sending the message that the race was starting backward into the crowds. "The rules are simple: no cheating, no illegal moves, and stay on the track," she says again, and you start your car up, the wheels rattling with the beautiful sound the engine was creating. "Racers, on your mark…" Her hand pulls the bandana from her back pocket, raising it up into the air. The engine revs even more as both your feet switch quickly between the brake and the gas pedal. "Get set."
When you take a breather before she calls the final marking, your eyes open and fall naturally to Keeho beside you. For the second time that night, his eyes were already on you, the once fierce siren eyes that sharply bored into your gut to make you nervous, relaying a soft, almost flirtatious gaze on you. "Go." Irene’s hand swipes down in a fast motion, and the both of you are off, Keeho taking off first due to the impelling look he had you under.
The neon lights of the empty streets looked like blurred lines with how fast you were going, one hand steering while the other tightly held the gear stick in place. Your eyes are focused on the makeshift track, and it feels like your breathing has stopped, not taking enough time out of the concentration to let out the breath of relief you had been hoping for. Normally, when you raced, a gap would have occurred in the running where you would take off, and the other opponent would be left in the dust of your car's tires. But this time, oh, this time was way different.
Keeho had somehow managed to make your body jerk backward slightly from the sudden speed of his vehicle, a grin on his face as he pulled ahead. Panic set in briefly, but you quickly regained control, shifting gears and pressing the gas pedal harder. The engine responded with a thunderous roar, and your Mustang surged forward, chasing after Keeho's Nissan.
The cityscape blurred around you, the night lights streaking past like shooting stars. Your heart pounded in rhythm with the revving engine, the thrill of the race intensifying with each passing second. Keeho's car and yours weaved through the labyrinthine streets, a dance of speed and precision.
As you approached a sharp turn, the adrenaline in your veins spiked. The neon lights reflected off Keeho's car, creating a kaleidoscope of colors. Gripping the steering wheel, you braced yourself for the maneuver. Keeho took the turn with finesse, and you followed suit, feeling the gravitational force pulling at the side of your car.
The tension in the air was palpable, a silent competition between engines and drivers. Your eyes flicked to Keeho, catching a glimpse of his focused expression. The thrill of the race was now entwined with the challenge he posed. The streetlights above cast dynamic shadows, emphasizing the speed at which you navigated the urban terrain. Up ahead, the track stretched into a straight line. This was your chance to catch up. With a burst of speed, you closed the gap between your cars. The wind howled around you as the engines roared in unison. Keeho glanced your way, a smirk playing on his lips. It was a silent exchange of determination and rivalry.
The finish line loomed ahead. You pushed your car to its limits, the horsepower responding with a surge of energy. Keeho, however, seemed to have an extra burst, inching ahead. The race was reaching its climax, and the anticipation was electrifying.
As the finish line draws near with one more sharp turn, keeho swerves his car into yours, clipping the front side of your mustang, “fuck,” you mumble as you start to skid off the track.
With the pressure and speed the car and cylinders are going it isn’t so easy to get the car back under your control, with the unstable feeling it makes your left hand quickly take itself off the stick and onto the wheel for a good 9-3 position, tightly trying desperately to control it.
You made a split-second decision. With a swift maneuver, your hand finds the gear stick again as your left takes a firm grip onto the steering wheel by itself. You push the stick back into 1st gear, letting your car slow down and let yourself lose sight of the black nissan and release the gas just a tiny bit until you feel yourself rock back due to the sudden change of speed and then you hit the clutch with your free foot, creating a perfect half-circle behind Keeho and creating streak marks on the blacktop and earning the first place spot. The move caught Keeho off guard, and for a moment, he hesitated. It was a risky move, but the element of surprise was on your side. Emerging from the drift, you shot towards the finish line. Keeho, recovering from the surprise, accelerated to catch up. The crowd's cheers and gasps filled the air as the two of you raced neck and neck. The finish line was now just a heartbeat away.
In the final moments, you pushed your car to its absolute limit. The engines roared in a symphony of power, and you decided to take a quick peak in the rearview to see where your rival was, a car honk throws you out of your state of confusion as you quickly scan beside you, Keeho had already caught up to you and worked up to take a higher speed, reaching the finish line almost an inch above you. When the back tires of your mustang reached beyond the line you had punted the break hard, putting you at a complete stop
Breathless and exhilarated, you turned to see Keeho pulling up beside you. There was a mixture of surprise and respect in his eyes. The tension that had fueled the rivalry now shifted to a mutual acknowledgment of skill. The moment hung in the air as both cars idled, engines ticking as they cooled down. As Keeho steps out of the car to receive congratulations from his buddies, solid thud resonates through your tinted window, prompting you to open the door without hesitation. A warm embrace from your big brother greets you immediately. "You did amazing!" Isa exclaims, her hands clapping together eagerly as you wobble out of the car.
"That sweep you did on the corner was actually sick," Jiung says with a wide grin glued onto his face. "I lost though…" you sigh disappointedly, shaking your head downward to look at your feet.
"Hey, you did better than the majority of the people Keeho has raced, except for me, of course. You should be proud of yourself," Jiung shakes you by the shoulders enthusiastically, and you manage a small smile at his encouragement. "Drinks are on me. Let's go." Both Jiung and Isa's smiles manage to cut through the harsh self-criticism, making you grin.
"Alright, let's—" you pause, letting your sentence linger as your eyes quickly check Keeho's facility. The crowd has mostly faded, leaving only small cliques created before your race.
The taller figure stands alone, checking something on his phone. "I'll catch up; I gotta inspect this clipping I got," you say, stretching out one side of your mouth for a risky expression. Both Jiung and Isa nod before walking to the bar located across from the lot. Once you're sure they're far enough, you carefully walk over to your opponent, holding your keys in your hands.
You could have sworn that he feels you coming towards him by the way his head springs up at the sound of your footsteps. His hand slides his phone into his pocket before pushing himself off of his car. "You surprised me out there tonight," his voice urges as he walks to meet you halfway. You scoff playfully, "I wasn't going to go out like that," waving it off as bothersome. "I have a rep to uphold." He chuckles at you as you twirl around, hand out to the front. "Where's the car?" he questions.
"What car?" Your smile fades off into a confused manner. "Oh, come on now, don't tell me you forgot about our deal," he fake pouts, slouching down for effect. "Of course, I didn't. I'm not a cheat, you know." Your hands take his, and you fold his palm out to give him the star keychain. "I told you I'd give you the keys, not my car." His eyes widen as you close his palm back up. He had never been played like that before; his heart raced with excitement and confusion. "Then how—"
"You didn't think I don't have backups?" you laugh at him, shrugging before digging into your back pocket to fetch a set of keys, identical to the ones you just gave Keeho. "I cannot believe you tricked me," his voice airs out in disbelief, hands gripping the car. "Y/N! Jiung is dancing on the tables again!" You hear Isa in the faint distance yell your name, and on hearing this information, you shake your head in annoyance, "I've got to go," and jogging back to the bar's direction.
"By the way," you strut backward as you stray further and further from him, "my number is on those keys. Call me if you've got something other than cylinders to bet." Keeho's eyes glint with amusement.
As the adrenaline slowly subsided, you couldn't help but grin. The shared experience with Keeho created a bond that went beyond rivalry, mixed feelings consumed your thoughts as Isa drags you into the club. In the world of racing, respect was earned on the asphalt, and tonight, you had earned it.
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footnotes!.
keb notes!: literally do NOT know where this idea came from, where it generated from but i think i absolutely killed this and its one of my best works loll. I was originally going to make this a Haechan long fic but i could not pass up the opportunity to make it about piwon hope u guys enjoyed :p
also if anybody wanted a refrence of what the base cars look like! (there are customizations in the fic, this is just what the cars look like bottom line)
keeho-Black 1999 Nissan skyline
jiung-Yelllow 1995 Mitsubishi Eclipse
isa-Pink 2009 C6-R corvette
Y/N-Dark Blue 2014 shelby gt500 mustang but without those ugly strips down the middle
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michi-tala · 6 months
Text
Crunchyroll Will Let Anyone Watch These Anime Series For Free During October
Hmm..just in time for Call of Duty binging of Alucard too.
Both Both versions of Hellsing, the original and the later Hellsing Ultimate, are free to stream on Crunchyroll. Though each series lacks the emotional depth of Hell’s Paradise and Tokyo Ghoul, they make up for it with some of the best action scenes in anime. Alucard (it’s Dracula spelled backward) is one of the most iconic characters in anime, and he does have a striking look, made even better thanks to the silky smooth animation.
Integra Fairbook Hellsing leads an organization protecting England from supernatural forces, with Alucard as their secret weapon. Hellsing came first, but Hellsing Ultimate is closer to the manga, though really, each is short enough (13 and 10 episodes respectively), that they can both be binged during the month.
@amikartest @artsy-jandi
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petersvenom · 2 years
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Hello! Could u write a imagine where Timmy and y/n dated and after a painful breakup they meet each other again at the Oscar ?
oooh, YES absolutely i can. i was so inspired that i made this a oneshot instead of a blurb. enjoy🫠
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ask box | timothée masterlist | main masterlist
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As you stepped onto the red carpet, you felt the atmosphere around you change. You’d only just stepped out of the black SUV a few minutes ago, and you’ve already spotted him.
Well, not exactly. You couldn’t see much with the blinding flashes of cameras pointed directly at you, but telling by the shouts from the paparazzi talking about the both of you, you found out he was just a few yards away, at the end of the carpet.
You refused to look. It wasn’t only for your dignity, or for the sake of your makeup that took way too long to get done. It wasn’t just because of the cameras capturing your every movement and pose.
But because Timothée cheated on you a few months ago, and you refused to let the man who had hurt you so badly have any more of an impact on your happiness.
Not after all the pain you’d been feeling since you’d broken up. Not on your special night, your first time being at the Oscars and being nominated.
You focused on hitting all the right poses, basking in the attention of all the photographers calling your name and singing your praises.
You looked hot as hell, you felt like it, and you sure as hell were about to act like it.
Once you stepped off that section of the red carpet, Timothée was completely off of your mind. You stopped hearing calls of his name, so you assumed he’d fled the area or went off to do interviews. Just to be safe, you made a beeline towards the screaming fans who were more than eager to take a picture with you.
“You look so good!” One fan yelled, making you cackle as she took the selfie. You signed posters and posed for a woman’s polaroid camera, sending her a wink and reminding her to tag you if she ever shared the photo online.
You sauntered the carpet with grace, walking on your own until you were beckoned over by an overly-excited Andrew Garfield, who was eagerly taking photos on his phone. He’d just taken a selfie with Zendaya with fans in the background, and now he was making his rounds taking pictures of his surroundings and his favorite celebrities.
“Y/N!” he called, bringing you into a warm hug as you approached him with excitement. The photographers zoned their cameras in on you both and snapped pictures and videos at your interaction.
You and Andrew had met very early into your careers at a party in Amsterdam once. You still hadn’t had the pleasure of working with him on a film, but the two of you were fairly close and spoke to each other now and then.
“Andrew!” you beamed, pulling away from the embrace and grabbing his arm excitedly, “Congratulations on the nomination, again. I’m so happy for you.”
Andrew bowed his head and grinned, “You’ve told me that multiple times since I was nominated, but thank you. And you as well! I’m crossing my fingers for us both.”
“Well, I’ll be crossing all of my limbs for you.” you promised, chuckling at your own joke. “I’ll catch you inside? I heard we’re seated near each other.”
Andrew nodded and squeezed your hand, leaning in for another friendly hug before you stepped away to participate in some quick interviews before heading inside the Dolby Theater.
When inside, you truly got to fangirl. You met some of the greatest actors of all time, along with some icons and favorite celebrities of yours.
You were speaking with Jessica Chastain when you spotted that familiar mop of messy curls out of the corner of your eye. You tried to ignore it, but when Jessica sent you a look of pity and excused herself, you knew you were fucked.
Timothée, who’d been looking for you since he was escorted into the theater, approached you the minute he spotted you, a pang hitting his heart at your beauty. You were wearing a beautiful Versace dress, a high slit accentuating your silky smooth legs and a dainty looking neckline that kept your cleavage modest, but highlighted your collarbones perfectly.
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(imagine something like this, but in black! yes, queen lily james wore this beautiful gown)
And yes, Timothée was proud of the way he looked tonight, he was aware of his clearly handsome appearance. But Timothée hadn’t seen you since that day. The day you discovered and caught him cheating.
And although Timothée had made the decision himself to be unfaithful to you and your relationship, he desperately wanted to get back together with you. He knew what he did was probably the biggest mistake of his life, but he was willing to work to make up for it all. He just needed to convince you to let him.
The dramatic chiffon train that sprawled out on the floor around you provided Timothée with enough room to weave his way around the celebrities all around and approach you.
A small, gentle tap to your bare shoulder startled you, making you flinch a little. You knew it was him. Slowly, you turned around, a grimace on your face.
If Timothée wanted to approach you, this was the absolute worst time. Well, not the worst, approaching you on the red carpet would’ve been worse. However, this was also terrible because there were still photographers all around, capturing every little interaction.
If the photographers saw you speaking with Timothée, the media would have a field day. Your breakup was a pretty publicized ordeal, especially considering the way you’d discovered he was cheating was through paparazzi pictures documenting his escapades with a random woman while filming overseas.
Everyone knew Timothée cheated on you. Everyone knew there was drama. And absolutely everyone would be interested in getting a peek at the altercation that was bound to happen between two of the most popular celebrities at the moment.
“Timothée.” you spoke, your tone cold and standoffish. There was even a hint of bitterness that Timothée could sense, but overall he felt pained.
“Y/N, you look beautiful.” he mustered out, gesturing towards your figure as he internally cursed at himself.
“But not beautiful enough for you to stay loyal to me, right?” you snarked sarcastically, narrowing your eyes at him while he visibly shrunk into himself.
“Listen, I wanted to talk to you about that. What I did was-“ he began, but you were quick to cut him off.
“Unforgivable.” you finished for him, your serious, monotonous voice practically slicing his heart in two. Timothée frowned and opened his mouth again to speak, stuttering for a bit before any words actually left his mouth.
“Y/N, I’m so so sorry. Can we please talk about this later? I need to talk to you.”
“For what?” you sassed, chuckling defensively. “There’s nothing left to talk about, nothing for you to explain. You cheated on me, I dumped you, we’re done. Plain and simple.”
Timothée sighed and reached out for your hand, which you pulled away from his grasp quickly and moved to your hip instead. “I just—please. After, at the after party. Somewhere. I just want to make things right—“
“Y/N!” a voice called out, an exhale of relief passing your lips as you looked over your shoulder. Andrew waved his hand at you as he walked up to you and Timothée, sending you a knowing look. You looked to your feet and smiled, thankful you had a helpful, caring friend around. “Darling, I believe the show is about to get started. We should probably head to our seats now, yeah?”
You looked between the boys as you nodded at Andrew, Timothée’s look of confusion and a twinge of jealousy not going unnoticed by your watchful eyes.
It made you smirk, chuckling under your breath. “Yeah, of course, let’s go.” you smiled sweetly at him before you adjusted the train of your dress and grabbed his arm for support, taking one last look at Timothée’s shocked face while Andrew led you to your seats.
“You looked really uncomfortable over there.” Andrew pointed out once the both of you were far enough away from Timothée, who was still standing in the same spot you’d left him, frozen with confusion.
You sighed exhaustedly and squeezed his arm, a silent thank you for saving you. “I was. That’s the first time we’ve spoken since, well y’know.”
Andrew nodded understandingly and held out his hand, gesturing for you to slide into the makeshift booth where the both of you were assigned to sit for the show. He followed in after you, quickly unbuttoning his jacket and getting situated in his spot. “Yikes, that’s not fun. What he did—it was absolutely terrible, Y/N. Let him suffer.” he joked, nudging your elbow with his own.
“I know. I just wish I could make him feel the way he made me feel, you know?” you explained, feeling like you sounded odd before Andrew nodded. “Even just a smidge of that hurt, that confusion, that jealousy.”
Andrew hummed in understanding tapped his fingers against the table in front of you, remaining quiet as he thought. Moments later, he proposed an idea that had you smiling so sinisterly.
“Well, if you’d be comfortable with it of course, maybe I could help you?” you furrowed your eyebrows, persuading him to explain further, “Make him feel the way you did. I noticed how he was looking at me a couple minutes ago—and I think if we make it believable enough..”
“We can make him jealous.” you mumbled, Andrew smiling enthusiastically as you cracked the code. You pondered on it for a few seconds, the picture of Timothée’s tense figure as he watched you and Andrew act all cozy together at the after party making you smirk.
“Would you be comfortable with it? I wouldn’t want to put you in a position where—“ you began, but Andrew motioned for you to stop by placing his hand over yours.
“Darling, I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t comfortable with it.” he reassured you. “So what do you say?”
You looked down at your hands and then over to where Timothée had been standing, now awkwardly chatting with another celebrity. You turned your head back towards Andrew, interlacing your fingers together as you smiled widely and nodded, “Let’s do it.”
And as Andrew smiled back just as sinisterly and beckoned you to “get comfortable”, all you could think was this night was about to get chaotic.
part two where andrew and y/n work together to make timmy jealous?? idk! someone send a request!
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the-nameless-juan · 11 months
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So guess what just came in the mail today! (Err well not technically today as I was out of country but y’all know what I mean!)
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That’s my copy of the 2nd edition Oracle Dice by @publishinggoblin, as you might know by my posts I am a big fan of Tarot and tarot adjacent practices but I also a big fan of the first oracle dice which I got as an add-on in one @publishinggoblin’s previous crowdfunding campaigns (believe it was for The Narmol Tarot 2nd Edition) which I absolutely adored. Haven’t really posted it much about it mostly because it more than an other form divination seems to almost gleefully cut to the heart of things and hit nothing but nerves, but not in a bad way? Honestly don’t know how to explain it, it’s just the reading we’re always intensely personal and raw, so I never felt comfortable posting about my readings with them.
Anyways, when this 2nd edition was announced I backed it almost immediately at the Etched in Stone tier, to get those fancy dice made of, you probably guessed it stone. So I’ve decided to do this rambling review first impression thing for… well anyone who wants it!
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First a look at the mat
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The very that jumps out at me is what an improvement it is over the first one! Not to say the first mat is bad, the things takes center stage of my tarot reading and in fact has shaped it radically I love it to bits but the design of this new mat is just 💋.
Plus the texture is just fantastic, has that fantastic smooth silky thing going that I just love to glide my hand along.
And then there is the second side, while the loss of the rubber bottom to prevent slippage is regrettable this second reading space is wonderful. I haven’t even cracked open the guide to see the traditional use and interpretations but I am already feeling inspired. I cannot wait to get started, and I have a distinct feeling this may well be taking over as the centerpiece of my divination practice going forward.
Now then, onto what is probably the main event, the Dice
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Ahhhhhh they’re so preety 😍 As a reminder these are the fancier Etched in Stone tier dice, each is made of a different stone and the faces are all etched in and inked and look absolutely stunning in person. Just holding them is a treat and the noise they make when you shakey-shakey them in preparation for a throw is fantastic. I fear now that I have experienced non-plastic dice I will never be able to go back, I have yet to even properly cast them but I love them already.
But wait, there’s more!
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There were two Oracle decks on offer so of course I had to get both.
On the right we got the Dice Face Oracle which turn each dice face into its own individual card along with a guide to reading them as cards, but also encourages you to read them as their dice versions meaning you have options when performing readings and I love that shit, there is nothing that I love more than a reading that evolves and shifts the more you stare and stew on it. Also every one of the dice face icons are excellently designed and having them in a bigger blown up form is wonderful.
On the left we got the 22 card Lords of Oracle deck. Each of the dice has its own lord who is an embodiment of their die with their own lore and my god I love this art! I can absolutely see myself pulling one of these cards and having on of these lords color a reading in a completely new light, the potential is just breathtaking.
And last but certainly not least, the tomes.
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I haven’t had a chance to truly sit down and read the guide, but from a quick skimming it is still written in the same easy to understand way as the 1st edition. The first edition was a fantastic guide to a admittedly complex divination practice and as long as this second edition continues that with the new dice it is a welcome edition to the books I reference on the regular, plus having page size version of the Lords of Oracle art is just wonderful.
The reading journal is a fantastically designed tool especially for those beginning with these dice. I would have loved something like this for when I started with the first edition as it was a tad bit overwhelming with it’s… everything. I will most certainly be making use of it
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Righto, that’s my first impressions/ review of the Oracle Dice 2nd edition done. Will be trying a few reading when I have a chance and will hopefully remember to talk about is here! So if you got any questions or if I forget to talk about the reading experience feel free to textually yell about it here or in my ask box, see y’all!
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a-moth-to-the-light · 26 days
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Most-Listened of February 2024
[last month]
Out of all the releases I've been interested in these past two months, I feel like I've listened to barely any of them :( But I've really, really loved the ones I've gotten around to checking out, so I've been having a great couple months of music anyway! My music taste is in its seasonal transition--plenty of bleak winter stuff this month, but I've been craving big heartstopping pop anthems, too (G-IDLE's "Revenge" isn't on here, but I've been loving it lately).
1. Ahora y Aquí -- Ramon Mirabet, Bely Basarte
So I keep saying I'm tired of the 80s-inspired synthpop trend that's taken over our post-"Blinding Lights" world, but here I am with this at the top of my list. No but this one's DIFFERENT, SHE'S NOT LIKE OTHER SYNTHPOP. As with most tracks blessed by Bely Basarte, the vocals are what elevates this for me--they're unexpectedly gritty for a sleek pop track like this, and when both singers let it all out in that last chorus, I understand what it means to go feral. It has all the uncontrolled chaos of a real dance party, and I love it!!
2. Lejos -- Andrea Santiago
This is a pretty by-the-numbers Andrea Santiago song, but even the most average of her music is a world of its own to escape into. I'm not sure how to feel about this new album--something feels really off about the production--but "Lejos" is absolutely hypnotizing! Definitely going to be bringing this one out at karaoke sometime, because it's exactly my type of angst (and the chorus jumps are SOOO fun to sing???).
3. Turning Tables -- Adele
I sulked to this song all month, and I don't regret a minute of it.
4. Goodbye, My Danish Sweetheart -- Mitski
Do I win sapphic points for having Mitski in the top 5?
5. Is It Over Now? (Taylor's Version) -- Taylor Swift
LETS FAST FOWARD TWO THREE HUNDRED TAKEOUT COFFEES LATER !!!!!! Yeah I'm completely obsessed with that line. Taylor Swift always releases songs that are just SO fun to sing along to, so I'm running around my apartment like YOU SEARCH IN EVERY MODEL'S BED FOR SOMETHING GREATER, BABY !!!! This song is such an off-balance mix of humor and agony, so like I don't really understand it but I can't take my eyes off it. And that intro is GORGEOUS.
6. Easy -- Le Sserafim
I didn't get the hype for "Perfect Night", so I didn't particularly care either way about this comeback--until I heard it. And oh my god "Easy" got me on first listen. ("Smart" has been working its way up my On Repeat playlist, too.) Le Sserafim stole all my new-release energy this month, but my appreciation for "Easy" still hasn't died out. A silky-smooth song like this is perfect for my mood right now--their delivery is so casually confident, contagious enough that I can't help but feel stronger when I listen to it; but it's not so energetic that my poor gloomy winter-brain is overwhelmed. The production is really crisp, too, complimenting the vocals well and making for some really iconic moments. And yes i'm aware this is gg "Sticker". I still can't listen to "Sticker" (it gives me a headache), but this version isn't too annoying for me, I guess?
7. Unstoppable -- Sia
I actually don't have a real explanation for this one? I remembered this song existed mid-month (after having forgotten about it since 2016), had a crisis with it as a soundtrack, and now it's in the playlists.
8. Roaring 20s -- Panic! At The Disco
Burnout anthem?? Burnout anthem.
9. Outta My Head -- Jeon Somi
My commentary on every Somi song ever is just "Somi sing so pretty SQUEEEEEEEE". So, that's my review for "Outta My Head". I don't know if people still like this one, but my love for it hasn't died since "Birthday" era!
10. Budget (feat. Latto) -- Megan Thee Stallion, Latto
@shyreol got me with her Megan Thee Stallion agenda! I don't think I'd ever cared for a Megan Thee Stallion song before this year, but "Ungrateful" and "Budget" have me HOOKED.
11. Now That We Don't Talk (Taylor's Version) -- Taylor Swift
I don't know, I just really like it when the title drop goes BOOM !!
NOW THAT. WE DON'T. TALK.
12. Tinnitus (Wanna be a rock) -- TXT
WHOOOOO AFROBEATS !!!
13. There Will Be Tears -- Faux Paz
Faux Paz is back for round two on my 2024 monthly lists! They're my favorite holdover from my acappella days--their arrangements always hit hard, and there's something about the really gloomy, and also cathartic, acceptance in the phrase "there will be tears" when its repeated by this giant wall of voices? It really gets me. This isn't my favorite Faux Paz cover, but it's a song I can't look away from.
14. Escape Room -- fromis_9
I'm a gg stan, so this was going to show up on here eventually. Next up, Chung Ha's "Roller Coaster" ?
15. Hold The Girl -- Rina Sawayama
Stole this rec from @nayeonline a while ago (thank you for sharing!!), and it really hit this month :) This song goes all out with the angst, and Rina Sawayama has more than enough vocal power to do it justice!
Five-Star Songs (& Albums) This Month:
Ahora y Aquí -- Ramon Mirabet, Bely Basarte (bely basarte is two-for-two in 2024's five-star songs lists, and wow is it deserved)
DNA -- Yena (i have no idea what about this song makes it so perfect for me, but i love it 100x more than "good morning" for some reason?? it just hits SO hard)
Pirate Radio* -- Jean Dawson (okay i'm actually not a huge fan of dawson's voice, but this instrumental is too wonderful to leave off the list. i watched & enjoyed school spirits on netflix this month, and this is by far my favorite from the soundtrack! string instruments make my heart go BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ and this song is just a delightful confection of them !!)
Vision -- G-IDLE (a sixth star added for that layering where someone's murmuring underneath the whispery vocals in the chorus??????? like it should NOT sound as good as it does but here we are ?????)
Prenderle Fuego a Todo -- Andrea Santiago (i want to start including albums on here, mostly to get myself to listen to more albums all the way through! i've been obsessed with a few songs from this album for years now, but i finally listened to the whole thing this month--and it's even more wonderful as a complete set. the CLOSING SONG ?? I CAN'T BELIEVE I'VE SPENT YEARS OF MY LIFE IGNORING IT. when i'm listening to andrea santiago's music, i see the world with completely new eyes, and this album captures that wanderlust, an emotion i've actually never felt without help from music, even in its slow moments.)
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🦀👑
Aah! I can’t believe you’re doing another event! I absolutely adore your writing and congratulate you on 1.5K followers!
Could I request “Keep it. It looks better on you.” For Hancock?
Once again, I love your writing and can’t wait to see what you come up with! ❤️
Thank you so much! Gosh, this was difficult to choose... Hancock has so many iconic pieces of clothing 😅 But I loved this!
The content isn't too NSFW, but it is definitely suggestive, so just a heads up there!
"Whatchu doin', baby?" Hancock's eyes reluctantly blinked open as he felt the mattress shift beneath your moving weight.
"Gotta go, honey. I'm getting dressed."
He heard your footsteps patter around the room. A drawer opened here, the drag of cloth over the wood floor sounded elsewhere. Slowly, he dragged himself into a seated position, his sore muscles protesting with each movement, just as his half-awake consciousness protested the words that left you.
"Now? Nah, it's too early. Whatever it is can wait."
You paused. In the dim of the room he could see the outline of your form as you considered him. Hancock was so close to smiling, victory was in his sights--
But then you were moving again, pulling on a stark white shirt from one of the dresser drawers.
"Come on, baby, come on back to me. Let's stay in bed 'till the sun rises, whataya say?"
Indecision roiled in your gut at the sound of it, at the thought of curling up with him again, the warmth of his touch, the softness of his voice...
"I'd love to," You forced out, "but I can't flake on this. Amari would be furious if I was late again."
You pulled on your pants from the night before, brushing at the fabric with your fingers to smooth it over.
Hancock's eyes narrowed.
"Amari? Hell, I'll talk to Amari for ya. It's no big deal."
You plopped down on the mattress, leaning down a bit to pull on a pair of socks.
Big mistake. Hancock scooted towards you, a smirk forming over his lips.
"It is a big deal. If I keep missing appointments, she's never gonna want to see me again. Besides, I'm already dressed."
Hancock reached you just as you pulled the second sock on, but his arms sprung around your shoulders before you could rise from the mattress. You rolled your eyes as his lips pressed to your cheek. The action was teasing, less of a kiss, and more of a brush over your skin as he trailed back to nip lightly at your ear.
"Well, sunshine, I can change that."
An involuntary shiver ran up your spine as his breath washed over you, as his hands brushed over the silky fabric of your shirt and encouraged it to fall off your shoulders and leave you bare to him again.
He almost got you, but you steeled yourself to his tantalizing touches, and at the last moment, pulled the shirt tighter around yourself, and began doing up the buttons.
"Shit," he said below his breath, "You win. I guess I've gotta... Sweetheart, this mine?"
You felt the way his fingers still played with the fabric as his hands rested on your shoulders.
You bit your lip as his head tilted to look you in the eye.
"Yeah..."
Hancock chuckled, and it pulled a smile from you, even as you felt your cheeks warm.
"Not that I'm not thrilled you like my style and all, but I coulda sworn you were wearing a shirt at some point last night... brief as it may have been."
"Yeah..." You said again, not wishing to elaborate much further.
You were wearing a shirt last night, that much was true, but amidst all the excitement, it had ended up staying on the bed through yours and Hancock's activities, and now, well... you couldn't wear that to see Amari. You couldn't wear it to see anyone until it was thoroughly washed.
"Yeah?" He repeated, one brow raised over those dark, mesmerizing eyes. You felt the burn in your cheeks rise to the tips of your ears as you pointed to the shirt in question, still tangled within the sheets.
"...I see. Heh, it was nice on you last night, but I think I like it even more now." He said with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle, and you pushed at him playfully as you laughed.
"No, but you know what? Why don't you keep this one." His fingers still brushed at the silky ruffles around the collar, "It looks better on you anyway."
You smiled at that, pressing a light kiss to his lips before pulling away and standing before he could try to convince you to stay again. This time, you weren't sure you'd be able to deny him.
BONUS:
"Hold on a minute, now that's takin' it too far, sunshine."
You laughed as you looked at yourself in the faded mirror, smooshing his tricorn hat to down on your head before nodding at it decisively.
Quickly, you checked the time on your pip boy.
Still got 20 minutes.
"You want it?" You turned back to Hancock where he was seated at the edge of the bed as a wicked grin spread over your lips. "Come and get it."
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officialdaydreamer00 · 8 months
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"My liege, may I have the pleasure of dancing with you?"
The loyal hunter bowed strictly, arm outstretched and soul yearning for acceptance. He felt gentle, silky smooth gloves sliding into his calleused palm and beamed.
"My hunter, it is my pleasure to accept."
Siren gave him a warm smile.
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hello irene!! i'm here for your event - i'm so excited to see how it will all turn out!
i'm going to do myself (me as a yuusona) and Rook Hunt!!
Rook Hunt - he'll be wearing the suit from 'Ghost Marriage' but the suit will be a soft pastel blue instead of rich, velvet purple.
Siren - her dress is exactly the one below! for her hair, she has this iconic half-up, half-down hairstyle that she normally wears. in this scenario, can she have a crown? as the "liege"?
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for the pose, im not super picky but something that shows both of them super happy will be great! if you don't mind, can you sneak in an extra kiss? hehe maybe it's time for their confession ;)
thank you and have a lovely waltz with jade, irene! i'll see you on the dance floor~
love, siren <3
rennie darling :D sir rook seems to look forward to partnering with lady siren ^^
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you didn't specify your actual hair colour and eyes so i had to improvise ^^; your dress lowkey gives ariel vibes and i love it :D i can't zoom in on the gold accessories so that'd do i guess ^^; rook's arms are a little wonky but i tried my best :'D
i hope you like it!
pose reference: villainesses have more fun (again, i love this manhwa a normal amount ^^)
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aftout · 1 year
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An Actual Delve into JD’s Fashion and Design
Hi! I started this post in a completely different way but when I went to save the draft Tumblr had a complete meltdown, so I’m a bit pissy about that! Oh well!
I wanted to make a genuine post addressing the choices made for the costumes and outfits shown in Juliette’s Draft, because while a lot of it is admittedly eye-candy there are a few columns that characters can fall under that provide visual narration regarding their societal position. While I won’t be discussing every possible subculture (because, hey, it’s fashion! And that changes from person to person!), there are a few Main Ones that pop up consistently throughout the story’s entirety, and I’d love to gush about them under the cut!
The Aristocracy
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“Marriage A-la-Mode: 2, The Tête à Tête”, William Hogarth 1743
When it comes to period-accuracy, the Aristocrat lifestyle is as close as it gets. Consisting of noble families and the wealthiest of the wealthy, Aristocrats live comfortably and almost in ignorance of the struggles going on in the world beneath them. The fashion is rich, gold lace trims and silky smooth fabrics, expensive and modest. Men clothe themselves in deep, darker colors whereas the women wear creams and soft pastels. Corsetry is never exaggerated, the heels of a shoe never longer than an inch, and the makeup is kept dainty and light. Perfume is used yet not abused, floral scents (typically lavender) are most popular.
Though they statistically take up only a minority of the population, most of-- if not all-- of the social norm is catered towards their comfort. They are typically viewed as icons of inspiration: the outcome of living a successful and fulfilling life. This is ironic since pretty much all members of the aristocracy have their origins rooted in nepotism, making their lifestyle near unachievable to others.
JD EXAMPLE(S): Juliette’s parents, Dr. Elliot Hobbes and Ms. Danaye Lambros, are members of the aristocracy; making Juliette aristocratic in origin. The Frankenstein family is also a (notorious) example of an aristocratic lineage.
Industrialists
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Industrialists are, to put it simply, the working class. They take up a majority of the population and live pretty much as expected. Though not nearly as wealthy, their fashion standards replicate that of the aristocracy’s. Men of higher status in an Industrialist space tend to wear suits, whereas the women wear loose fitting dresses that are easy to move around in. Corsets are uncommon, and if they are used barely any sort of lacing is done. Bright pastels are uncommon in Industrialist fashion, but deep reds and greens are popular choices. Shoes are barely heeled at all for efficiency, and makeup is scarce; perfume even scarcer (though it isn’t unheard of for daughters to receive a small vial of perfume as a birthday gift when they turn 21).
The one thing an Industrialist yearns for most is to be taken seriously. This is the reasoning to why they seem to walk in the shadows of the aristocracy. They mirror instead of deflecting, preferring to follow orders and walk in line with what society wants to prevent “stirring the pot”. An Industrialist may try to view their jealousy towards the more fortunate as encouragement to work twice as hard by the same rules, instead of questioning the rules completely.
JD EXAMPLE(S): The Morlock family is the staple image for what a successful Industrialist household looks like. Filby Morlock is a successful business man who has strict beliefs in orderly behaviour, and many of his relatives follow.
PURISTS/NATURALISTS
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Though only a small subsection, Purists/Naturalists maintain mostly the same status as Industrialists excluding their vocal distaste for industrialism as a whole. They dress in loose, flowing clothing; usually in blues and whites to resemble clear skies. Most Purists/Naturalists live in the countryside and refuse to engage in any sort of factory work; usually taking jobs as teachers or artists. It’s a form of revolt, a protest against machinery and a belief (stemming from fear) that the concept of humanity is getting lost in smog and metal.
JD EXAMPLE(S): The Eloi family are strong Naturalist activists, actively protesting the use of factory work. Basil Hallward also comes from a Naturalist family, though his beliefs aren’t quite as strong.
Steampunks
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Original Illustration of Jules Verne’s Nautilus engine room
Steampunk is a widespread political movement that applauds and glamorises the industrial revolution. It’s Industrialism but exaggerated by a tenfold, firmly believing that humanity can and should actually go even further with the machinery. These ideologies are expressed by loud, public displays of outlandish inventions. The slogan for the Steampunk movement is “Bring machine to the human, and humanity to the machine”. Some Steampunks gain massive traction and money for their inventions from sponsors; richer, usually anonymous inventors/researchers who wish to see the movement’s fruitions without public involvement.
It’s accessible to all; most Steampunks being minorities in one capacity or another. There is a prevalent distaste for the aristocracy’s ignorance and the oppressive forces set in place from others in power. Steampunk fashion is very much centred around the concept of androgyny and/or breaking the norm. One usually shows skin and wears tight clothing, the idea being that our bodies needn’t be covered in shame, for no one cares about a machine’s “modesty”. Goggles, cog-shaped jewellery, makeup resembling tar smears or soot, and gas masks are just a few popular Steampunk accessories. More extreme Steampunks may coat their teeth with metallic dentures. Common colors are browns, blacks, golds, and coppers; though this isn’t a rule set in stone and can be bent to any degree.
JD EXAMPLE(S): Penny Tinker is the most obvious example I have of casual Steampunk. Dr. Emit Pendulum is an example of Steampunk extremism, where their appearance and demeanour is altered to make them seem almost uncanny-- nearing robotic. Lady Cog is another extreme example, coating her arms in metal to give off the impression that that’s what she’s made out of.
Glampunks
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Portrait of Marie-Antoinette painted by Jean-Baptiste Gautier Dagoty, 1775
Glampunk is a subculture of Steampunk. Though the ideologies heavily align, Glampunk fashion is less accessible in nature due to its femininity and how costly it is. Glampunk takes heavy inspiration from Marie-Antoinette’s extravagant wardrobe.
It’s a direct mockery of the aristocracy fashion scene: with tight-laced corsets, exaggerated accessories, exaggerated makeup, exaggerated heels, exaggerated... well, everything. Another prevalent theme in Glampunk is sexuality, where showing skin in a sexy instead of neutral manner is done frequently. Short skirts, stockings, and showing cleavage are common outfit elements. Dying one’s hair in flashy colors is also not unheard of.
JD EXAMPLE(S): Gillie Tine is a good example of Glampunk, going as far to being a direct parody of Antoinetts’ execution. Other examples would be Duchess Josiana and Lady Brandon.
Progressives
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The name is somewhat ironic. Think mad science. That’s literally the simplest way to put it. Progressives pride themselves in scientific advancement, whether it be at the expense of themselves or others. Though any scientist can succumb to this, Progressives have a very distinct look to them. Modified lab coats with potential disregards for safety, leather gloves, fancy eye-wear, and tons of decorative vials are the go-to. A Progressive may also cover their face in some aspect, medical masks being the most common. The whole gist is to somehow maintain a sense of anonymity, most Progressives going by aliases.
You tend to know a Progressive when you see one, if you see one at all. What they stand for tends to be extremely immoral and illegal, so coming face to face with one in the wild is usually a sign that you need to run.
JD EXAMPLE(S): The Love Doctor, The Tooth Fairy, and Dr. Dagny Faust.
Gothic and Romantic
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“First Class: The Meeting… and at First Meeting Loved,”by Abraham Solomon, 1854 (bottom)
In the context of Juliette’s Draft, these two are less standalone political statements and more popular aesthetics that sneak their way into pretty much everything; so I feel like it’s worth bringing up.
If something is Gothic, it focuses more on the macabre and supernatural aspect of things. Blacks and reds are the most common colors found in gothic fashion, with bat, spider, rose, and skull motifs being popular. If something is Romantic, there’s an undeniable appreciation for the beauty of the free spirit woven into the subject matter. Romantic fashion doesn’t have as much of a distinct look as Gothic fashion, but within literature it is extremely prevalent. These two can even intersect with one another, creating Romantic Gothic: a neat mishmash of the two; arguably less supernatural-focused than pure Gothic.
JD EXAMPLE(S): Dr. Codrin Dracula is an example of someone being casually gothic. Lucy Westenra is an example of Gothic Glampunk. Henry Clerval and Justine Moritz both cater to Romantic world-views, though it’s driven by heavy themes of revenge.
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eventseeker789 · 6 months
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Jazz Virtuosos Move and Groove the Stage at The Birchmere in Alexandria, VA
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Euge Groove
In the realm of contemporary jazz, where melodies flow like silk and rhythms groove like a gentle ocean breeze, one name stands out as a true maestro of the saxophone – Euge Groove. With a career spanning over two decades, Euge Groove has not only mastered his craft but has also become a torchbearer for the smooth jazz genre.
Born as Steven Eugene Grove, he adopted the stage name "Euge Groove" as a reflection of his musical persona. His journey into music began at an early age when he picked up the saxophone, and it soon became evident that he possessed an innate talent. As he honed his skills, he ventured into the realms of jazz, pop, and R&B, creating a unique fusion that would become his signature sound.
Euge Groove's music is characterized by its silky-smooth melodies, infectious grooves, and his soulful saxophone mastery. His ability to craft tunes that are both soothing and groovy has earned him a dedicated fan base worldwide. Tracks like "LIVIN' LARGE" and "Get 'Em Goin'" are prime examples of his ability to make listeners tap their feet while getting lost in the serenity of his melodies.
What sets Euge Groove apart is his versatility. He seamlessly navigates through different musical styles, infusing elements of funk, blues, and gospel into his compositions. His albums are a testament to this versatility, with each release offering a fresh perspective on contemporary jazz.
If you are looking for upcoming events near me, then this concert is the perfect one for you. Head over to the Birchmere and watch him perform live on October 25, 2023 at 7:30p as part of the ongoing Euge Groove tour.
Boney James
 When the soulful sounds of contemporary jazz fill the air, one name resonates profoundly: Boney James. This maestro of the saxophone has carved a remarkable niche in the world of music, captivating audiences with his unique blend of smooth jazz, R&B, and soulful melodies.
Born James Oppenheim, he embraced the stage name "Boney James," a nod to his childhood nickname, bestowed upon him by none other than jazz legend Dizzy Gillespie. This moniker became synonymous with musical excellence and innovation.
Boney James embarked on his musical journey with the iconic fusion band Morris Day and the Time, where he fine-tuned his skills and honed his distinctive sound. His prowess on the saxophone was undeniable from the start, setting him on a path to become one of the most revered contemporary jazz artists of our time.
James' music transcends the boundaries of genre. It's a sonic journey that weaves together the sultry tones of smooth jazz with the infectious grooves of funk and the heartfelt emotion of R&B. 
What distinguishes Boney James is his commitment to pushing the envelope of smooth jazz. He seamlessly fuses a myriad of musical influences – blues, gospel, Latin rhythms – into his creations, resulting in a rich, multilayered tapestry of sound that resonates with fans across the globe.
Watch him perform live at The Birchmere on November 08, 2023 at 7:30p as part of the ongoing Boney James Detour tour.
Author Name Barkat Dhanji
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no-one-fuck-a-man · 2 years
Text
Berry Blues
Season Two
Part Two - (Britney/Brittany) There's Drugs. And There's Whatever The Hell That Is
Quinn Fabray x Reader
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Summary: It was only the second week of the new year, and you were already scarred by your sister, disgruntled by your teacher, sick to your stomach, and confused by the head cheerleader... this truly bode well for the school year.
Word Count: 6,982
WARNINGS: Shitty teacher, bad reaction to medication, some feelings.
(A/N): A week late. Sorry about that. Life threw me a curve ball and brought some shit. But we’re here now!
-----
'Christopher Cross'
"All right!" Mr Schue spun on his heel after writing the name down on the board, facing the club. "Who can tell me who Christopher Cross is?"
'Someone who I don't want to know anything about?'
"He discovered America," Brittany said assuredly. With Finn nodding along with a dopey smile.
"That's Columbus, honey."
"Close. He did write an iconic chart-topper, 'Sailing'."
"And this was when?" you asked.
"I have a bad feeling about this lesson," Kurt spoke beside you, leaning closer to Mercedes.
"Never heard of him. Don't wanna hear about him," Tina was next to voice her disdain.
"Now. Some people think of the term "easy listening" as a bad thing, but I'm gonna let this music speak for itself." He nodded, pointing to the sheet music in his hand. "You guys love Lady Gaga and The Rolling Stones, and you guys are really good about putting it all out there. But really good music can also be controlled and restrained."
"Are you trying to tell us what you're into, Mr Schue?" you asked, voice taking on a mock cautious tone, "Because I think that's a case waiting to happen."
He ignored you.
"It doesn't have to attack the audience. It can let them come to you." He finished by handing Quinn her sheet music personally.
"How can you get caught between the moon and New York City?" Finn asked, "They're like a hundred miles apart."
"Try almost two-hundred and forty thousand miles away," you corrected before turning to your teacher, "And dude, my grandpa listens to this song. He used to play it on repeat when he would take me and Rach out for ice cream."
"So, you'll know it then."
"Mr Schue, if I may?" Kurt raised his hand. "I think I speak for all of us when I say that it's not that we don't love the idea of spending a week on this silky-smooth adult contemporary. It's just that, as teens, this isn't the easiest music for us to relate to. However, there is a burgeoning Facebook campaign that has swelled to over five members. The ardent demand? That this week, at the fall homecoming assembly, the McKinley High School Glee Club perform a number by, wait for it, Ms Britney Spears."
Gasps sounded once Kurt had finished talking. Excitement buzzed throughout the room at the suggestion.
"Free Britney!" you said, arms shooting up into the air, fists clenched.
Artie waved his hand. "Yo, Spears is fierce, yo."
"Sorry. Kurt," Mr Schuester interrupted the chatter flowing around the room from the excited teens, "Kurt. Sorry. No. No." He shook his head vehemently.
"Uh, Mr Schue," you input before the man could finish, "People in this school actually want to hear us perform something. Maybe if we do this, people may start liking us more, and we may even get some new members. I mean, wasn't that what the entirety of last week was about?"
Rachel looked awkward and guilty when you finished your sentence, but everyone ignored it.
"I-I just don't think she's a very good role model."
"And neither are most of the adults in this school. What's your point?"
"Yeah, Mr Schue, we kind of grew up with her," your sister added.
"You try being in the media since you were a kid and not be messed up by that."
"She's literally why I wanted to become a performer," Tina said, defending one of her icons.
"I don't want to do Britney," Brittany spoke up, looking discouraged.
"Why no Britney, Brittany?"
"Because my name is also Britney Spears."
In one fluid motion, everyone turned to face the girl. Curious as to what she meant.
"What?" you and your teacher asked at the same time. Mercedes soon followed.
"What the hell is she talking about?"
"My middle name is Susan. My last name is Pierce. That makes me Brittany S. Pierce. Brittany "Spierce"," the ditzy blonde explained.
"Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me," you whispered to yourself, lowering your forehead into your hand, shaking it lightly. All the while, the team's eyes dulled with what the girl was saying, not believing what they were hearing.
"I've lived my entire life in Britney Spears' shadow. I will never be as talented or as famous. I hope you'll all respect that I want Glee Club to remain a place where I, Brittany S. Pierce, can escape the torment of Britney Spears."
"Well, there you have it, guys."
"By 'it', do you mean 'destroyed brain cells."
"Shut up!" Santana called over.
"It's been decided. No Britney. Sorry."
"Thanks, Britt. Thanks a lot," Kurt said sarcastically.
"Leave Brittany alone."
"Gay," you muttered when Santana reached over to rub the girl's back in comfort. Jumped to her defence, once again.
"Thank you for understanding. It's been a hard road."
"Um, can we move on?" your sister asked, raising her hand.
"Yes." Mr Schuester jumped at the chance. "Let's talk about Michael Bolton."
"The Christmas guy?"
"That's Michael Bublé," Tina corrected you.
"How did my gay ass forget that?"
---
"I'm gay."
Was the first thing you said when the dentist Mr Schue had brought in to talk to the club entered the choir room.
"I'm gay."
You repeated when he introduced himself as 'Carl', Miss Pillsbury's Boyfriend.
"Am I gay?!"
Scared now by the attractive man standing at the front of the class, you glanced to your left, spotting Tina. Looking the girl up and down, you confirmed what you already knew with a nod.
"I'm gay."
Mike swiftly threw his arm over his girlfriend's shoulders after you had so obviously checked her out, pulling her into his side as he peered at you with a soft glare.
"I'm gonna steal your girlfriend, Mike," you teased your friend.
"All right. Here's the deal." Carl brought the attention back to him, showing a pill between his fingers to the class. "You chew this little capsule. And if there's any plaque you missed, the dye will stick to it and turn your teeth blue."
While the man was talking, you caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye. Causing your brows to furrow and a spike of jealousy to flair within you.
Quinn, -just like you had Tina- checked the man out from head to toe and back again. Only much slower, with a dreamy smile splattered across her face.
Now that you took the second to fully look at them, more than half of your team were looking at him the same way.
"Can I just say that you are the hottest dentist I've ever seen?" Santana informed, raising her hand.
"Yeah, I get that all the time."
"No. Like, seriously, you can totally drill me whenever-"
You burst out laughing at her innuendo joke as Miss Pillsbury clapped her hands and spoke up to stop the girl.
"Santana! Okay. Let's stay focused."
Carl brushed it off, "It's all rock'n'roll, Ems. And besides, this guy-" He pointed towards your Spanish teacher, soon making his way over to his side. "Now, this guy's pretty easy on the eyes too, huh?"
"Well..." you remarked, disbelieving what the dentist said, "He never made me question my sexuality. Even if it was for only a second."
"And you know what? No matter how hard I tried, I bet I couldn't sing and dance like him."
"Ah, probably not."
"All right. Let's take a look at those chompers, huh?" Carl said, throwing you a capsule of your own, as he made his way back to hand out the rest.
Almost timidly, Kurt raised his hand into the air. "Before we chew, I would just like to alert Mr Schue that there's been a new addition to the Britney Spears Facebook campaign."
"Sorry. The answer's still no," the teacher said, not sounding sorry in the least bit, if anything, he was annoyed by the boy's information as Miss Pillsbury looked at him, disapproving of his answer. "Capsules, guys."
"Yes, chew away." The guidance counsellor clapped. "Chew, chew."
The capsule did not taste the best. But call you Thomas, because you still chewed along with your friends.
"Do you swallow it?" you asked.
"Oh, well, you can, but-"
"Good, because I already have."
"-You don't... have to..." Carl finished slowly.
Everyone showed off their -still- pearly whites.
"How's mine looking?" you asked, leaning over the gap between your and Tina's chairs.
"Good," the girl notified. Mike, nodding along, behind her, eyes on your teeth, "Little blue around the edges, though."
"Yeah, I slept in this morning. Kinda had to rush everything."
"Is that why you're wearing dad's shirt?"
"I'm what-?" You looked down to find that you were, in fact, wearing your dad's T-shirt. About to say something more when you were stopped by Finn's outcry.
"Oh, my God," Kurt uttered, looking over his shoulder.
Rachel's smile fell just as you turned to face her. Spotting her luminous blue teeth.
"Holy hell!"
"What?" she asked, hastily digging around in her bag for her compact mirror to evaluate her teeth for herself. "Ah!" She covered her mouth with her hand to hide the blue. "I don't understand! I floss between classes."
"That's insane."
"Well, sometimes it's genetics," Carl said.
This confused Puck, who uttered, "Wait... so, if that's the case, why aren't your teeth blue?"
"I don't know how many times I've gotta tell everybody I'm adopted," you snarked, "I've already told you three times, Puck."
"I think I might be better at brushing and flossing if I could see myself in the mirror," Artie said, bringing the attention to his own blue teeth.
"Then move the mirror down," you suggested, "Or get another mirror."
Santana then spoke up to tease the boy, "There you go, blue tooth."
"I don't brush my teeth," Brittany said, "I rinse my mouth out with soda after I eat. I was pretty sure Dr. Pepper was a dentist."
You felt sick.
"Haven't you kissed Brittany?" Tina asked, turning to you.
That's exactly why you felt sick.
"Please don't remind me of that right now."
"I got this, em," Carl said, calming his girlfriend, moving to give Brittany's teeth a closer look. "With some deep bleaching little scaling, you'll be as good as new. All right, open up." The man grew disgusted himself. Waving for the girl to lower her lips. "No. No. Close. Close again."
"You should probably go too, Y/N," your sister said, referencing the man's dental practice.
You were slightly insulted, to say the least, "What? Why?"
"You haven't been in four years," she pointed out.
"It smells too clean!"
---
Brittany left school early for an emergency dental appointment with Carl once the club had finished the meeting.
Which left you to walk along with your sister and best friend, considering you and Finn had Spanish together next.
"Are you all right?" Rachel asked her boyfriend, "You seem a little down. Didn't you like the banana bread I baked you?"
"Yeah. It was awesome." He smiled.
"Wait, hold up. He gets banana bread? Why don't you make me anything?!"
"You're not my boyfriend."
"No. But I'm your sibling." She playfully rolled her eyes at you, and you looked over her short head. "But she's right. You okay, bro?"
"It's just- How do you feel about me not being on the football team anymore?" Finn asked her, and you nodded solemnly, knowing what this was about.
"I'm actually kind of happy about it. Then I don't have to fantasize about what song I'd sing at your bedside if you were in a coma."
The boy gestured his head to the side. "Yeah."
You snorted lightly at him.
"But I'm just so not cool now, you know?"
"Well, it's just less of a chance of you running off with some cheerleader."
Your eyes widened at your sister's petty words. Obviously, she was still sore about the whole thing with Finn, Santana, and Brittany last year.
"Wait. So, you want me to feel bad about myself?"
"No. I just... I want to be the only thing that makes you feel good."
"That's psychotic," you said as she moved to lean her back against the lockers beside Finn's.
Rachel shrugged softly. "I'm just trying to be honest."
"Hey, dwarf," Santana's voice sounded, pulling her attention to the Latina walking down the hall with Brittany -back in school- by her side, "Anyone ever tell you you dress like one of the bait girls on 'To Catch a Predator'?"
"Also, I'm more talented than you," Brittany added.
Now, you love your sister, and you would have defended her.
However, you were too busy laughing to really do anything.
"You could have defended me," Rachel said after Finn's chuckle.
"Well, Santana has a point." He shut his locker with a clang. "Just trying to be honest."
Following Finn to class, you turned to walk backwards so you could still talk to the brunette.
"You're my sister, and you know I love you. But." You shrugged. "They're right. You can like how you dress. That doesn't make it any less true."
"Can you believe her?" Finn asked as soon as you caught up with him.
"I know, dude. Trust me." I've known her basically my whole life. Except for those peaceful four months before she was born."
---
You shoved Finn lightly when he startled awake in the Glee Club lesson the next day.
"-Making Christopher Cross a Golden Globe, Oscar and five-time Grammy Award winner."
With Brittany's raised hand, Mr Schue paused his lesson on the man you would soon forget everything about once you exited the room.
"Brittany?"
"I would just like to say that from now on. I demand to have every solo in Glee Club." Your sister startled at the blonde's words. Whilst you were just amused.
"What?"
"When I had my teeth cleaned, I had the most amazing Britney Spears fantasy. I sang and danced better than her. Now I realize what a powerful woman I truly am."
"I went with her," Santana said, "And I had a Britney fantasy, too. Although, now that I'm thinking about it, I'm not really sure how our fantasies combined. That doesn't make any sense."
"You see, Mr Schue? I told you," Kurt spoke up next, much to the teacher's dismay, "Britney Spears busted our Britt out of her every day, fragmented haze of confusion and gave her the confidence to step up and perform."
"I'm more talented than all of you. I see that clearly now."
You chuckled at the girl's arrogant words in your seat beside Tina.
"It's Brittany... bitch."
"Guy's, we're not doing Britney Spears, and that's that."
"What is it with you and this woman, huh?" you asked, "Why does she grind your gears so much?"
"Mr Schue, you're letting your own personal issues get in the way of something that we are all telling you we really want to do." You moved your hand to point in Kurt's direction while still staring your teacher down. "I mean, this club regularly pays tribute to pop culture, and Britney Spears is. Pop. Culture. To suggest otherwise is heretical-"
"Kurt!" he snapped. "I'm done talking about this."
"Jeez! Let loose a little, would you? Stop being so fricking uptight all the time!"
Along with the rest of the silent club, your eyes were wide, and a smile on your face. Shocked by the usually tame boy's frustration. Knowing that he had just yelled himself into punishment. Even when your teacher was also in the wrong.
"Kurt," Mr Schuester spoke slowly, "I'll see you in the principal's office."
Kurt strode out of the room with everyone watching on.
"So, I'm gonna be the one to say it?" you asked rhetorically, turning to your teacher, "He was right. You gonna send me to the principal, too?"
Before speaking slowly, Mr Schue's jaw ticked, "Back to Christopher Cross."
---
"What are you wearing?" you asked as soon as your sister stepped out of her room, "What the fuck are you wearing?!"
"Language!" LeRoy called throughout the house.
"She's wearing a sexy schoolgirl outfit!" you yelled back.
"She's what?!"
"My eyes! Oh, God, my eyes!" you blinked harshly as if your retinas had just been burned out by the sun, quickly moving to cover them with your palms.
"Would you stop overreacting?"
"Oh, you're one to talk," you snarked back, "God, you look like you're gonna do porn."
What you didn't know was that your father had just walked up behind you, intent on investigating what was going on with his children.
"How would you know that?" LeRoy asked with his hands on his hips.
'Shit'
"Uh... common knowledge?"
---
"What's up with you?" Quinn asked as she came to sit beside you in the choir room as everyone was still filing in.
"I'm traumatized."
And you looked it.
Sat staring straight forward at the shiny floor. Unblinking, with a tight jaw and crossed arms.
"Why are you traumatized?" Mercedes asked next.
Santana groaned. "You didn't catch the Hobbit and Finnosance doing it, did you?"
You shook your head,
No. Thankfully, you did not see that.
And God, you hoped you never would.
And then in walked Rachel.
Only making you let out a painful whine, covering your eyes once again as everyone watched Rachel with wide, shocked eyes and open mouths.
Santana spoke up again once everyone had settled into their seats.
"Well, Rachel, congratulations. Normally you dress like the fantasy of a perverted Japanese businessman with a very dark, specific fetish, but I actually dig this look. Yay." The Latina finished by miming clapping, and you let out yet another of your pained noises.
"Thank you." Your sister smiled brightly.
Tilting your head back, you finally pulled your hands from your eyes, moving to look at the blonde at your right without having to see your sister.
Only to find Quinn with her head tilted to the side, peering at your sister, sitting in the chair just in front of you.
"What are you-?" Realization dawned on you. "Why are you checking out my sister? Stop checking out my sister."
"I wasn't checking her out," she said, no longer looking at Rachel, instead moving to straighten out her Cheerios skirt.
"Oh, really? Because it sure fuckin' looked like what you were doing."
Just then, Kurt slowly began to rise from his seat. "I think, what Santana's trying to say, Rachel, though I risk expulsion by saying so." He juts his palms out for the teacher at the front of the class. "Is that it seems Britney Spears has really helped you blossom." He looked directly at Mr Schue. "That's all."
"Wait. Rachel, is that true?" he asked, "I mean, you are sort of dressing differently."
"Oh, now you care," you said, "As if we didn't already know you had favourites."
Quinn nodded beside you.
Artie, however, ignored your words and decided to comment upon how your sister was dressed, moving his hands as he did.
"Bouncy. Bouncy. Bouncy."
"Hey, hey," Finn stopped him at the same time as you exclaimed.
"Hey! Do that again, and I'll roll you out on the field while the football team's practising. Without pads."
After both your and Finn's scolding, Artie looked down, ashamed of himself.
"All I know is that I had a very vivid Britney Spears fantasy at the dentist, and since then, it's made me feel free to get out of my own way." Rachel shrugged as Brittany nodded, silently telling her that she was welcome. "I think I've just always been afraid to dress like a pretty girl because I've never really felt like one before." You felt a pang of hurt for your sister at that. "Now I realize it's okay to feel that way about yourself every now and then. Maybe it's a good thing."
"It's such a good thing. I can't believe it," Brittany said.
"That's all well and good, but-" You winced. "My eyes."
Quinn rolled her eyes at your antics as you jokingly began to shake like you were crying. And yet, she still reached over and rubbed a palm up and down your thigh. Shaking her head lightly all the same.
"William." You were all brought to see Sue Sylvester standing in the doorway. "A word."
---
"Listen, Y/N, about earlier. I'm really sorry," Artie said. Pulling your attention away from one of the shitty magazines sat in the dentist's waiting room. "It was inappropriate. And I really don't want you to push me out onto the field while they're training. With no pads on."
You chuckled lightly at the boy before nodding. "Okay, Artie. Don't worry, you're safe. I forgive you. But you better not do it again."
"I won't. I swear." You hummed, looking back down at the article. "And thanks for driving me here.
"Don't mention it. I was coming anyway."
You hated to admit it.
But Rachel was right.
You needed to get your teeth checked up, so here you were.
After helping Artie into his own dentist seat, you took a seat in the one just across the cabinets.
Apparently, Carl could work on two patients at once. Coming between the two as he did.
"Well, your teeth look fine," Carl told you as he poked around your mouth, "But you do have a small hole in one of your molars. It's gonna need a filling. But I have to drill you first."
He stepped away from your mouth, giving you the chance to say, "Santana's gonna be jealous."
Carl snorted. "I bet she is. All right, I'm gonna put you under with your friend." He gestured to Artie. "You won't feel a thing. Don't worry." He turned the radio on. "You'll have some music to listen to the whole time."
"Oh, well, that's a relief."
---
"I'm serious. You should put ranch dressing on it."
"On pizza?"
"Yeah. It's delicious. You should try it."
"I'm one-hundred per cent in love with you right now."
"Hey, Britney." Artie smiled, waving bashfully at the woman. Who sure enough was Britney Spears.
"Oh, hey, Artie!" She greeted. "Hi, Y/N."
"Hi," you replied back, mildly confused by the woman's presence, "What are you doing in our school? And why you wearing a Cheerios uniform?"
"Spending some time with you guys."
"Right..."
"Girl, you are such a fool for being up with such a sweetheart." Britney turned to Tina.
"I know, Britney," the girl said, "Artie, I'm sorry."
"And I'm stronger." He rolled away, hi-fiving Britney as he did.
"What the hell is going on?"
"It's okay, Y/N," Britney soothed, "Just let it happen."
"What?"
"I'm serious. You're hot."
"Brittany?" You turned to the girl in confusion etched across your face at the whole situation.
Suddenly, you were out on the football field. Sitting in the stands. Clothes changed into 'McKinley High' apparel.
"Okay, what the hell?"
Ohh, hey yeah
Your attention was snapped up to the boy rolling onto the field in full football gear.
"Why is Artie singing?" you asked nobody but yourself.
Hush, just stop
"Why are Finn and Puck there?"
You were eternally confused as to what was going on right now.
There's nothing you can do or say
Baby
I've had enough
I'm not your property as from today
Baby
You might think that I won't make it
On my own
But now I'm stronger than yesterday
Now is nothing but my way
My loneliness ain't killing me no more
I, I'm stronger
Oh, yeah
Wait.
That wasn't Artie's voice.
Looking down at yourself, you realized that-
'Why am I singing?!'
Here I go, on my own
It was like you weren't in control of your body as you stood and walked from the bleachers.
I don't need nobody
Better off alone
Thankfully, you didn't walk out onto the field like you predicted you would.
Instead passing up and down the sidelines, eyes intent on the team gathered upon the field.
Here, I go, on my own now
I don't need nobody, not anybody
Here I go
That was Artie again.
You really wanted this to stop now, please.
You were starting to feel dizzy.
Here I go
Stronger than yesterday
It's nothing but my way
My loneliness ain't killing me no more
No more
I, I'm stronger
The last thing you saw was Tina standing glumly on the bleachers, behind a giant sign that read 'loser'. Before you were once again back in the dentist's office.
Faintly, you heard Artie hum and say, "Britney."
You, on the other hand?
"Oh, fuck," you gasped. Making Carl rush into your line of sight.
"Calm down," the man said in a soothing tone, as your hand came to rest on his shoulder, your stomach turning and eyes wild with panic and confusion, "You're gonna feel nauseous. Man. You fought the anaesthesia the entire time."
"Ugh, I never wanna do that again."
---
"I was pretty sure Artie's legs don't work," Quinn said the next day in Glee Club.
"Quick, someone stab him in the leg, see if he's faking it," you joked from beside Santana.
"Did you get a leg transplant?"
"Nope." Artie shook his head at the girl. "My teammates can push my chair like a battering ram."
"Yep, there's no rules against it. We checked." Finn smiled.
"And I have Britney Spears to thank."
"You're welcome," Brittany replied sincerely.
You and Santana both looked at the girl the same way. With furrowed brows and a judging look.
"The other Britney, Brittany," you pointed out, only for it to fall on her blissfully deaf ears.
Artie continued, "Britney plus nitrous gave me an amazing idea. And it gave me the nerve to tell Beiste that Finn and I both really want to be on the team."
"Wait. You're back on the football team?" Rachel asked.
"Yeah."
"Suddenly, you're way hotter to me," Santana told the boy, giving a single shoulder shrug, "Weird."
"Gross."
"Wait. I don't get it," Puck said.
"What else is new?"
"How come everyone's having Britney Spears fantasies?"
"The nitrous oxide dentists use is a mild hallucinogen," Artie informed, "Studies have proven that it induces vivid dreams, often the last thing the patient thinks of. The subconscious moves to the forefront. Since we've all been thinking so much about Britney, it only stands to reason."
"But I wasn't thinking of Britney Spears when I was put under."
"She was on the radio."
"Ah, right."
"What were you thinking of beforehand?" Quinn asked curiously.
"Nothing." Which was true. "But I still had a Spears fantasy. With Artie in it. It was really weird."
"Yeah." The boy pulled a face at your still groggy state. "Y/N didn't have the best reaction to the anaesthesia."
"Are you alright?" your sister asked.
"Yeah, Carl said that it happens sometimes and that it's usually gone within a few days. Did you not hear me heaving in the bathroom the whole of last night? It was like I was pulling a Quinn when she was pregnant."
The blonde glared over her shoulder at you.
"What? I was there for it all. I can't make one joke about it?"
Before the blonde could answer, Mr Schuester stepped further into the room, only for Kurt's hand to pop up into the air before gesturing between you and the boy.
"Okay, guys. Listen up." The teacher clapped his hands.
"Mr Schue, if I may-"
"Kurt, I overheard what you guys were just talking about. And I know what you're gonna say. The. Answer. Is. No." Most of the group gave an annoyed reaction to the man. "No, I'm not gonna stand in the way anymore. If you guys want to do Britney at this year's homecoming assembly. I'm fine with it." The class at your teacher's sudden change of heart grew instantly excited. Cheering on the news they had been wanting all week. "I know. Oh. And more than that, I am going to perform with you."
Everyone grew quiet. Instantly getting a bad feeling from the teacher's terrible idea.
"Right?" he laughed.
With a groan, you stood from your seat.
"With that, I'm going home for the day. To sleep off the rest of the anaesthesia shit. Rach, get my work for me, would ya'?"
Just as you had left the choir room, Quinn decided to follow you.
"I'm gonna take them home."
"Why?" Puck asked harshly, hating the idea that Quinn even wanted to help you.
"They did it for me when I was pregnant. I'm just returning the favour."
"Oh, so that's why they were both always gone, at the same time," Mercedes mumbled in realization.
---
"How are you feeling today?" Quinn asked as you were both backstage, getting ready for the performance.
"Much better." You nodded. "I really think that fifteen-hour nap got rid of the last of it."
"I'm glad," she giggled.
A dinging sound filled the gymnasium. Making you look up at the high ceiling before your gaze returned to Quinn.
"I'll see you after the performance."
"Yes, you will." You smiled back at her, quickly getting into your positions behind the black curtain.
"Quiet, please, children. Quiet now," the voice of your principal sounded, "First, students who ate the ravioli today and are not up to date on their Tetanus shots should see the nurse immediately. Welcome to our homecoming pep assembly. Because of last week's grizzly train derailment, the dulcimer club is on hiatus until further notice. But do we ever have a treat for you? Fresh off their last-place finish at the regionals, please give it up for the New Directions."
You knew this was a bad idea when the teacher told you about it a few days prior, along with the rest of your team.
Brittany jumped and bent down to peer through her legs, starting the performance. It was at moments like this that you regretted joining the Glee Club. And nine times out of ten, they could all be blamed on your Spanish teacher and his decisions.
Baby, can’t you see?
I’m calling
A guy like you should wear a warning
The man was a fucking hypocrite.
You were grinding into a fucking bowler hat.
The first assembly performance you remember watching -the one that burned your eyes out from their sockets- was very reminiscent of this one. Only this time it was much better performed, there were more members, and Mr Schuester, who was once so mad at the small group performing something sexual in front of the whole school, was now performing with you.
There had to be some sort of laws against this, right?
You’re dangerous
I’m loving it
“I love Britney Spears!” Jacob called from the crowd, voice wavering slightly from excitement.
Too high, can’t come down
Losing my head
Spinning round and round
You wanted to yell and point at the student who whistled for the singing man, to ‘not encourage him’.
Oh, do you feel me now?
With a taste of your lips
I’m on a ride
“I wanna be that hat!” Lauren Zizes had joined the boy in verbally commenting about the sexual performance. Raising up with the school, staring straight at your teacher, with want in her eyes.
‘This is a French Farce’
You’re toxic
I’m slipping under
With a taste of a poison paradise
I’m addicted to you
Don’t you know that you’re toxic?
Well, at least the school was liking the performance at the very least. For the first time, they were actually cheering on the group.
You were right.
Listening to the school’s -very limited- demands was the best outcome for the club.
Too bad your teacher didn’t listen to you then, but was now instead, doing it for alternative reasons, that you could clearly tell were selfish and no doubt for Miss Pillsbury.
And I love what you do
Don’t you know that you’re toxic?
“Take it off,” Jacob called once more, pulling off his jacket as your team ground into the hats again. The boys, and yourself, moved from the centre of the stage, allowing the girls to gather there seductively. Soon leaving your sister and Brittany there, “Yes!”
It’s getting late
To give you up
I took a sip from my devil's cup
Slowly it’s taking over me
Too high, can’t come down
It’s in the air
“Mr Schue, let me be your Britney!”
Well done, Mr ‘S’. You have successfully gotten a bunch of teenagers wanting to fuck you when you’re a grown adult man, all because of a fellow teacher. That’s not creepy at all.
And it’s all around
Oh, can you feel me now?
Oh!
With a taste of your lips
I’m on a ride
On a ride
You’re toxic
I’m slipping under
“Oh!” Jacob groaned.
With a taste of a poison paradise
I’m addicted to you
“It’s so sexy! It’s so sexy!” the boy continued. Jumping and pointing toward the singing group.
Don’t you know that you’re toxic?
Quinn slid up to you, her back to your front, leaning into your body, letting you feel her warmth. Causing a flurry of emotions and memories to hit you at the missed, familiar feeling.
That was until she leant forward and pressed her ass into you, spreading an entirely different form of “longing” that coursed through you seconds ago.
Then the blonde spun ‘round to face you, grasping the white suspenders upon your chest, pulling on them teasingly for the performance, as she stared deep into your eyes, The slight, hidden spark behind them notifying you just how much shed liked this herself.
I’m addicted to you
“Mr Schue, I want your babies!” Zizes piped up again.
Don’t you know that you’re toxic?
Intoxicate me now
“Don't stop doing that! Don’t stop doing that!” Jacob’s voice sounded from the audience. Making your skin crawl, with how much he was vocally enjoying it, “Yes! Yes!”
I think I’m ready now
Intoxicate me now
With your loving now
I think I’m ready
I think I’m ready now
With Quinn’s sultry, husky words, the song came to a close. Looking over her shoulder to your also posing form as she sang.
You swear.
You didn’t know where you stood with this girl most of the time.
Her attitude towards you changed faster than Kurt changed his outfits.
With Mr Schue's flourish and kneeling pose came the unmistakable sound of the fire alarm. Ringing throughout the whole school.
Screams filled the gymnasium as students started to rush down the bleacher seats. Piling into the floor as they tried to exit through one single door.
"Run the other way!" Sue yelled to them, waving them in the opposite direction.
The main joy you got from the chaos was watching a group of guys carry an unconscious Jacob out of the room.
"This is terrible fire safety," you stated.
---
You were with Finn by his locker. Back pressed up against the cream metal next to him, waiting for him to grab what he needed, when he pulled out a thick textbook.
"'U.S. History'?" he asked the book. The literal book, "Crap. I forgot I was taking that."
"You're an idiot."
"Congrats, Finn."
"Gah!" you exclaimed when Quinn was suddenly in front of you, touching the boy's shoulder, "Where the hell did you come from? Give me a warning next time."
Like many times before you and the blonde had grown closer, her full palm pressed against your face, pushing your head back into the lockers, muffling your voice.
"Oh, not the hand thing again."
Recently it just seemed like taking one step forward and two steps back with Quinn.
The blonde ignored you, still smiling at Finn as she carried on.
"You're back on the team. I'm head cheerleader again."
'Wait. Hold the phone'
'This better no be what I think-'
"Some kind of symmetry. Don't you think?" she asked, "With all the nastiness between you and I behind us, I think we should be together."
'It is!'
"What?"
"We'd be a shoo-in for Homecoming King and Queen." You rolled your eyes. "So, what do you say? You and me, eight o'clock, Breadstix?"
"Look, I'd be lying if I said I didn't have feelings for you."
"What?!"
"Probably always will."
'Same, brother'
Finn swallowed and closed his locker door before continuing. "But I'm not gonna get back together with you. There's someone else, and you know who that is. I'm asking you to respect that." You smiled brightly at the boy's words behind Quinn's hand. "I'm sorry," he said, making his way around her, intending to stride down the hall.
That was until you reached out a hand and grasped at the shirt on his arm, pulling him back, as Quinn left in the opposite direction, finally releasing your face.
The boy gulped as you stared him down.
"You said- And did the right thing, Finn." The smile that took over the boy's face quickly fell when you said one word, "But... It reminded me of something. Something I forgot to do and should have done a long time ago."
When silence filled the space between you for a few seconds, Finn's eyes moved side to side, waiting for you to continue.
"What?" he finally voiced.
"The shovel talk."
"What?" he sounded mildly fearful now.
"If you ever hurt my sister, I will hurt you in ways you couldn't even begin to imagine."
"You didn't do anything to Jesse when he broke Rachel's heart," Finn pointed out, voice slightly timid.
"This is different! I wanted to hurt Jesse, just everyone stopped me."
"How is this different?"
"I don't know! But it's the same!" you yelled. Confusing the boy to no end. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I've got a blonde to go interrogate."
And off you went to find Quinn.
Which wasn't that hard, considering you spotted her not even a minute later, by her open locker.
"What the hell was that?" you instantly asked, cutting to the chase when you slid up to her, "What? Did you do that just to hurt my feelings, or what?"
She turned to you, and from just the hard look in her eyes, you knew she was going to get straight to the point.
And she did.
"Rachel asked me to do it. She told me what to say. She wanted to make sure he wouldn't stray."
You scoffed, rolling your eyes at your sister's actions.
"Of course she did," you muttered, then turned back to the girl, "But did you really have to do that in front of me, though?"
Quinn considered you for a few good long seconds before answering.
"It was an opportune time." 
You could read it behind her eyes. She wanted to know your reaction.
"And the hand thing? I thought we were passed all of that?"
"I know. I'm sorry."
"Are you?"
"I am."
You believed her.
With a single nod, you walked away.
Well...
That was serious and slightly depressing, considering the circumstance.
---
As soon as Mr Schue entered the room, Rachel raised her hand and asked to perform a song. One that was from the original assignment of the week.
"Great, Rachel." Your teacher nodded her up to the front. "Well, let's hear it."
"I'd like to dedicate this song to my boyfriend," she announced, "Finn... I was wrong. I shouldn't try to control you."
'Well, no shit'
"I've just never been this happy before, and I realize that I was trying to hold onto how you were making me feel so much that I was strangling you in my hands, like a little bird."
"Morbid."
"You've told darker jokes," Quinn pointed out.
"Doesn't make this not morbid."
"I get now that, in order for this relationship to work, I have to." She swallowed. "Open up my hands and let you fly free."
"Finn can fly?"
"Really?" Kurt asked, leaning closer to Brittany.
"Wait. I thought I was the only one getting the solos from now on," she pointed out, confused, "Next week, I'm going to be performing a musical number by Kesha."
Mercedes 'shhed' her, raising a finger up to her lips, as the band began to play.
"Oh," you started, as you heard the tune, "This is gonna be a sad song, isn't it?"
When I was younger
I saw my daddy cry
And curse at the wind
He broke his heart as I watched
As he tried to reassemble it
And my mama swore she would
Never let herself forget
And that was the day that I promised
I'd never sing of love
If it does not exist
But, darling
You are the only exception
You are the only exception
You are the only exception
You are the only exception
Oh
Oh
I've got a tight grip on really
But I can't let go
Of what's in front of me
Here
I know you're leaving in the morning
When you wake up
Leave me with some kind of proof
It's not a dream
Oh, oh, oh
You are the only exception
You are the only exception
You are the only exception
You are the only exception
The familiar burning jealousy filled your chest once again, as you watched Quinn stare intently at Puck, as she and the other girls repeated that phrase.
You are the only exception
What you didn't expect, however, was for your chest to swell with a much different feeling indeed. When Quinn turned to where you sat behind Mercedes, doing the same thing to you, without making it incredibly obvious.
You could see the girl start to get emotional as she sang to you. Puckerman silently fuming behind her, as she tried to fight off the tears welling at the corner of her eyes.
She looked so sorry.
And you knew she was.
You are the only exception
And I'm on my way to believing
Oh
And I'm on my way to believing
-----
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