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jonahlovescoffee · 3 years

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Multitasking | J.M.

a/n: kinda cringe? idk but i don’t wanna let it stay in my drafts either so yeah lol happy reading <3

summary: you wanted jonah’s attention and he’ll give it to you, even though he’s on a phone call.

warnings: smut without coitus bc i’m lazy to write that part-

word count: 3040

“Jonah, your lovely girlfriend is here,” you chirped happily when you entered his house a spring in your step, excited to finally be able to spend some alone time with him, something you hadn’t done lately because of him being busy with all the necessary preparations for the new album’s release while your schoolwork had been taking up too much of your time. However, your face fell immediately when you were greeted with the sight of him on his phone, chatting away with someone. It was supposed to be just the two of you today making full use of the rarely empty house. His face lit up when he saw you, but he made no move to end the call. You nudged your head towards his phone with your arms crossed in front of your chest, urging him to end it or else you’ll choose to end him instead.

“Just one more second, I promise,” he told you, pulling you down to give you a quick kiss in a weak attempt to wipe the evident scowl off your face. “It’s important.”

You rolled your eyes and plopped down on the empty seat next to him. “Fine, but make it quick,” you prompted, taking your phone out to hopefully find some ways to entertain yourself for the time being. He wrapped an arm around you in a silent apology, which you responded with laying your head on his shoulder as he continue talking.

“Yeah, y/n just came over,” he said and you heard a vaguely familiar voice speaking from the other side of the phone, but the sound was too muffled for you to decipher it into coherent words. “Daniel, we can talk about your music ideas another day.”

You internally groaned when you heard the name of your friend’s boyfriend and the mention of music ideas because you knew Daniel long enough to know that it always took ages for him to finish rambling about all his new musical creations. You usually wouldn’t complain about that because you were a huge music buff yourself and having the chance to discuss music with someone as enthusiastic as him was a gift from god but he should know that now wasn't the right time to do so.

Another reply came from the other end of the phone. Jonah seemed to hesitate for a while before offering an answer this time, glancing sideways at you to make sure that you weren’t about to explode with anger. You sighed but sent him a soft smile and he mouthed a silent “you’re the best” in return. “Okay, okay, let’s hear it then,” his hand found yours and gave it a light squeeze.

You scrolled through your chat log to find Emily’s contact, before sending her a message to ask for help. Is there any way you can shut your boyfriend up? Because he is stealing mine from me.

A reply came mere seconds later. LOL I’ll see what I can do.

Just when you were about to thank her, your phone vibrated and another message from her appeared on the screen. Fuck. The studio door is locked and I forgot where he keeps the keys.

You swore the next time you saw Daniel, you were going to hurl all six feet of him into the pool and make him drown. Wow, I can’t believe my luck today.

Don’t be such a whiner. You can try to make Jonah pay attention to you instead ;) She suggested and an idea popped into your head right away.

Have I ever told you how much I love you?

Ahh I love you more bb <3 was the last reply from her before she went offline, the green dot beside her profile picture disappearing.

You put your phone back into your bag and turned towards your boyfriend to find him still deeply engrossed in his conversation. You shrugged his arm off you and moved your body to assume the position on top of one of his thick muscular thighs, facing him. He raised an inquisitive brow. You wrapped your arms around his middle and nuzzled into his neck, inhaling the alluring scent of him that did nothing but fed your lust.

“I want you so bad,” you whined softly, earning a stroke of your hair from him, his hand subsequently sliding downwards to rest at the small of your back, his touch leaving a trail of goosebumps down your spine.Your hands did their own exploring too, your fingers tracing the curves and edges of his shoulder blades down to his biceps, humming in satisfaction at all the new muscle you found beneath your fingertips. He hadn’t been joking when he told you that he had been working out a whole lot more lately. The more of him that you felt, the more uncomfortable your southern region became.

Jonah felt it all—the heartbeat between your thighs, the wetness that seemed to be soaking through your pants, the subtle grinding of your body against his thigh, and how the member in his pants seemed to awaken at your movements. Suddenly Daniel’s words through the phone didn’t seem to make sense when they entered his brain that was currently a complete mess. He put his phone away for a moment to whisper into your ear, “Look at you, can’t even go a few minutes without wanting something, huh, baby?” His voice was husky and deep, exactly the way you loved it, and you almost came from the sound alone. He used his hand to help you rock harder against his thigh, urging you to speed up which you did willingly, finally able to relieve some of the pain from your core.

Your whimper was enough to answer his question. He kissed the tip of your nose. “Ride my thigh, sweetheart,” he ordered, brushing a thumb over your lips. “But be a good girl for me and be as quiet as you can, okay?”

You nodded obediently and he returned to his phone call like nothing ever happened. You bit your bottom lip forcefully in order to prevent moans after moans from escaping as you, the friction between your clit and his thigh putting your mind in a blissful daze. “Fuck…” you breathed near his ear, the sound taking him by surprise making him stop talking mid-sentence, hazel eyes glancing to the side to see your half-lidded eyes and lip that was colored in a shade of bright red from sinking your teeth into it too hard, completely forgetting what he was planning to say to his friend.

“Jonah?” Daniel’s voice sounded, snapping Jonah back to his senses.

“Yes? wait a moment bro, got something to settle first, be right back,” he said, placing his phone on the armrest of the couch to focus on you. “Feels good baby?”

“Uh huh,” you said, not expecting him to bounce his knee in a steady rhythm afterwards with so much vigor that you instinctively moved your hands to his shoulders to steady yourself, rolling your hips as you ground yourself down on him hungrily. Feeling your greedy little hole clamping down around nothing as you felt your climax nearing.

“What about now?” he drawled, chuckling darkly when you started to let all sorts of whimpers and mewls fall from your lips. “Tell me, pretty little slut, how good I’m making you feel,” he lifted a hand up to your face to trace your jaw tenderly. Once. Then twice. Then replacing his touch with his lips.

“So fucking amazing, Jo,” you could barely get the words out as you unabashedly ground yourself down against him, eyes rolling to the back of your head at the overwhelming sensation, gasping in surprise when his palm moved to spank your ass. The movement made you grind against his firm thigh perfectly as you forgot his earlier warning to stay quiet and cried out.

“Shh, keep it down, baby,” he coaxed, his lips curving into a smirk as he beheld your desperation to chase your high, each of your movements getting sloppier than the last. “He can still hear you, you know?”

Another whimper. “I...I’m close, Jo,” you managed to say before grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and burying your face in the crook of his neck, though the movement of your hips remained unfaltered.

He tilted his head a little to press a kiss into your hair. “Cum for me all over my thigh, sweetheart.”

Jonah’s husky voice was the catalyst you needed to send you hurtling over the edge, feeling that coil inside you snap as your orgasm washed over you, his name spilling from your lips in a loud cry, your toes curling as you were completely engulfed in ecstasy. His grasp on your waist remained strong as he continued bouncing his knee, slightly slower than before, not allowing you to move back as he kept grinding your cunt against him, letting you ride out your high. “Shh, you’re getting too loud, baby,” he placed a finger on your lips when you continued moaning his name repeatedly as your puffy clit got overstimulated, although he absolutely loved the way his name rolled off your tongue like a prayer. He felt a certain something straining harder against his designer jeans, yearning to break free.

“Look at what a mess you made because you couldn’t wait for me to finish my phone call,” he tisked disapprovingly, his gaze dropping to his thigh, his hooded hazel eyes looking between your bodies at the darkened wet stain you had left against said jeans with glee, even more when he saw your pants that were utterly soaked with your release. He stopped bouncing his knee then, earning a dissatisfied whine from you. “Enough of thigh riding, sweetheart, your pants are ruined,” he grabbed his phone and released his grasps on you before whispering, “Now turn around. Let me help you get them off you.”

You did as he told, your back now leaning against his chest as he pushed your pants down, followed by your panties and you kicked off both of the garments when they pooled at your knees. He raised his phone towards his ear as his other hand glided over the swell of your hips to your front, his knuckles brushing over your core gently. He started drawing slow circles over your clit with the pads of his fingers, causing you to arch your back into him more.

“Nah, it’s nothing serious. Wes just broke another glass again, that’s all,” he lied to his best friend, the pace of his fingers increasing as he put more pressure on your clit, making you a squirming mess in his arm. Unable to keep you steady with only one arm around you, he put his phone on speaker mode and placed it back onto the armrest before sliding the now free arm around your waist.

“You sure? Because I heard...umm...something and it sounds nothing like shattering glass,” Daniel stated, but Jonah remained pretty unfazed unlike you whose breath caught in your throat immediately, dreading the possibility of getting caught. However, all your worries were immediately forgotten when he dragged a finger ever so gently up your glistening folds that were already slick with your juices. You instinctively rolled your hips against his finger, yearning for as much friction as he could offer.

“Then you must’ve heard wrong. Now, where were we?” Jonah said nonchalantly before sliding a finger into you and your jaw fell slack as you moaned at the sudden intrusion. He pumped his finger slowly to stretch you out but you weren’t content with it. You wanted more so you let your hand travel to your bundle of nerves but before you could do anything, he grabbed your wrist with his free hand. Words didn’t need to be conveyed between the both of you for you to get his message just from the look he gave you that clearly said he didn’t want you to interfere.

“Okay, so I thought of this melody…” you tuned them out, solely focusing on the overwhelming pleasure that he gave you with nothing more than a finger and before you knew it, you could feel your walls clenching harder around it that continued to thrust in and out of you non-stop as he maintained a casual conversation with his best friend.

“Nngh, Jonah,” you whined, “Faster, faster, gosh.”

“Quiet,” he whispered sternly between his sentences just as he slipped another finger into you and you bit his neck on instinct to stifle your moans, making him groan right in the middle of their conversation.

“What the actual fuck was that?!” Daniel exclaimed in horror.

“Nothing,” he shot you a glare but your eyes were screwed shut with pleasure so you couldn’t see it. “But I really really have to go now, bro, I’m so sorry.”

“Wait a minute,” Daniel said just as Jonah’s finger hovered inches above the red end-call button. “Is y/n there with you? Like right next to you?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Please don’t tell me you guys were...umm...doing it while you were talking to me because the weird sounds kinda sound like,” an obvious gulp. “Her.”

“Daniel what is wrong with you today? First you hear weird noises then now you’re trying to accuse me and my girl for having sex while I’m on the phone with you? Well lemme tell you something, Daniel,” Jonah’s fingers thrusted into you quicker, matching the swift pace of his thumb that was furiously rubbing your clit, making you a writhing mess on his lap. Soft moans left your lips since you were unable to compress all of the sounds that threatened to escape.

“Y/N and I would never,” He slammed his fingers knuckles deep into you. “Ever,” His fingers curled inside you and you sucked in a shaky breath. “Do something like that,” He started doing patting motions, hitting all the right places, almost making you scream as your eyes rolled to the back of your head in ecstasy, unable to focus on anything else save for the overwhelming pleasure that he gave you. “Right, love?”

He has to be joking. He can’t seriously expect you to—

“Open your mouth and talk, baby,” Jonah’s voice was soft but authoritative when he spoke into your ear, a smirk present on his face. He knew that it was nearly impossible for you to do anything, especially talking, when you were so close to your climax but all in all, he was still someone who loved testing and pushing you past your limits.

“Yes...I...we,” you stuttered as you whimpered softly after each word, his fingers never stopped working their magic inside you. He placed kisses all the way up to your ear from your shoulders before starting to nibble your earlobe. You couldn’t search for the right words to say, let alone speak without giving away the fact that you and Jonah were indeed doing it while having his conversation with Daniel. “We are not doing anything,” you got all your words out in one breath, a little too fast for them to sound extremely convincing but still good enough for Jonah to give you an approving hum.

“Good girl,” Jonah cooed, his voice alone making your entire body tingle with pleasure. “Now end the call,” he attached his lips onto the sensitive spot under your ear, nibbling and sucking it softly, pushing another moan out of you.

“But—”

“No ‘but’s, baby,” a kiss on your shoulder again. “You don’t want me to not let you cum, do you?”

You couldn’t find the energy in you to argue with him, not when release was threatening to spill out of you.

“Bye, Daniel,” you said breathlessly.

“Just so you know, I still don’t believe that—”

“I said bye, Daniel,” you cut Daniel off before he could continue rambling about not trusting your words, reaching over to Jonah’s phone to end the call.

Jonah smiled when the screen of his phone turned black but his following words were nowhere near happy.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you? Always so obedient when you want me to give you what you want,” he snarled. “But what about just now, hmm? You were so loud, so impatient, always wanting more than what I gave.”

“So do you think you deserve to cum, dear?”

“Sorry, it just felt too good,” you whimpered, already on the verge of tears, when you felt the knot in your stomach tightening. “I won’t behave like this again, Jo so please—“

He pressed his lips onto yours, cutting your pleas off with a brief kiss. “Alright, I’ll let you off the hook just this once. Let it all out now, baby.”

And just like that, you released for the second time all over his thigh and he took his fingers out of you and licked them clean, groaning at how wonderful you tasted. “Fuck, you taste so good. It's totally worth ruining my jeans for this.”

“But I wanna taste yours too,” you whined and he smirked.

“Hmm,” he laid you down on the couch and crawled over you, a hand already at the zipper of his pants to pull it down. “Think you’re still able to take my dick?”

“Always,” you yanked him closer by the front of his shirt, wanting to bring his lips to yours but before your lips even touched, a series of meows sounded suddenly.

Both of you turned towards the source of the sound simultaneously to find Wes standing at the corner of the living room, staring at you both intently with his wide, curious cat eyes.

“You know what? Maybe we should do this elsewhere,” you gave a suggestion with an uncomfortable grimace.

He zipped his pants before moving back into a sitting position, which you mirrored. He patted his lap and you went to sit on it right away. “Or,” a teasing grin was plastered on his face as he wiggled his eyebrows playfully at you. “We could ask Wes to join in too.”

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT YOU PSYCHOTIC PERVERT!” you screamed in disgust and hit him with the couch pillow you grabbed from beside you.

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#wdw #why dont we #corbyn besson #daniel seavey #jack avery #jonah marais #why don’t we #zach herron #wdw imagines #jonah marais imagines #jonah marais x reader #jonah marais smut

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moonbelt · 4 years

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𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐮𝐬 [ᴍ]

↳ classical mythology au | the story of icarus au

⇢ pairing: chanyeol | reader

⇢ genre: angst + smut + fluff

⇢ word count: 14,101 (this one’s a lil beast)

⇢ description: on the day of the summer solstice a piece of the sun crashes down to earth and perhaps it was fate that led him to you.

⇢ warnings: handjobs, a bit of a size difference kink, small dom/sub undertones, butchering classical mythology to fit the plot.

It felt like the world was burning at your feet.

That was understandable. It was the morning of the longest day of summer after all. But for the ground to be so hot that the heat speared through the soles of your work boots? That bit was new. You were quite sure your town was hitting an all-new high record for the hottest day of the year.

Even as you cooped yourself in your basement workshop, the sun still seemed to boil you to death. You could only imagine how awful it was outside. But you couldn't afford to stall on your invention. It was either now or never. You were a go big or go home type of person.

Today was the big day. The Summer Solstice. And even though you couldn't be bothered by your town's usual theatrics and a false sense of grandeur, this was the one event you loved. The one event in which you got to showcase your creations and earn a bucketload of exclusive offers from neighboring patrons that came to visit.

The longest day of summer was a huge festival. For one night you got to experience the finest things the world had to offer in your small, somewhat average life. And you loved it. For one day the townspeople put away their reservations towards you and your father and for one day, you allowed yourself to dream of flying away from this tightly-knit prison.

Forcing things into being from scraps and the dregs of society was something that gave you purpose. Something that in a tiny way puts you on the map. Fueled your somewhat childish dream of someday crawling your way out of this labyrinth-Esque settlement.

The first time you snuck into your father's workshop hadn't been by accident. Even though your father had cautioned you away from the basement because he was scared you'd interfere with his process or perhaps worse; injure yourself. But at nine years old there was only so much that could keep your mind from wandering away and the townsfolk weren't exactly forthcoming with letting their heirs and next of kins play with you.

Well, to be honest, most of them didn't welcome you at all. Not that you minded. Not that you cared. They called your father a genius to his face but a madman to his back. But that was fine too. There was a fine line between the two. You thought Little Tommy was quite literally the ugliest baby to be born in the whole wide world and when Little Tommy's mother did something you hated like shoo you away from the front of her bakery, you let her know exactly that.

So yeah, no hard feelings.

But your father's workshop had always felt like the hottest place on earth. If not for that fact that you'd been so utterly bored with schoolwork and the fantasy book you'd been able to sneak out of the library, you doubted you'd even have wanted to step foot in the dark, sweltering ass crack of hell. But if you were anything it was determined.

Some might call you stubborn. Some may even call it foolishness on your part. But you know that it was destiny. A reckoning. Fate. Maybe even a homecoming of sorts. Because in there you found your true passion. Something that tied you ephemerally to this world.

In that workshop, you saw your father create things that no one had ever dared or tried to before. But of course, he did. That was the whole reason they called him a madman by night.

In fact, you were quite certain that the townspeople revered and feared him at the same time. After all, there was still a rumor going 'round that he'd been the one to orchestrate and invent the quintessential labyrinth town you lived in. But that was a different story, one you didn't care to tell. And one you believed — at the time — didn't affect you at all.

You've been wrong about many things. Your father had made it a point to let you know in every way of what you lacked and in what you failed in. But also in what you thrived. And building, no, inventing, came easily to you. Like you'd been born for it. More than destiny, more like preordained. You didn't have a choice, didn't even want one. And you'd been helpless to stop it.

But now the workshop was your life. You lived in it, breathed it and in a sense maybe you worshipped it. It gave you a sense of being after all. The whole town could isolate you, and that they did expertly, but they still hammered down your doorstep for your helpful creations that helped ease the way of life.

You both loved and loathed how much they depended on you but it was what it was. You tried not to let it bother you much anymore.

After numerous hours of grinding at your workstation, and perfecting your latest design, you climbed out of the heated workshop basement and welcomed the fresh breeze of the cool air outside.

You'd been working on a new device that would help speed up the process of washing your daily wear. At the moment the mechanics were quite frankly the best they could ever be, but you were tinkering with it for the utmost perfection for tonight. Hell, you'd already picked out an apt name for it: The Washy-Washer. Okay, yes, it did sound a bit silly, a bit ridiculous, but you weren't going to call it the hand-washer. You cringed solely at the thought.

But you needed a break. Your back was killing you and you were quite literally tired of washing all of your socks. Even if the machine did do most of it.

You took a deep breath and fixed your gaze on the sun. It was calm and quiet in this part of town. The outskirts. But the sun was always loud. At least to you. It always felt as if the sun was trying to burn out your eyes and no matter how much you wanted to look away, you couldn't. It demanded your attention. And you gave it because what else could you do?

It wasn't like the sun was especially pretty, or particularly different than any other sun you'd seen in the last early twenty-something years of your life. But it wasn't like the sun was ugly either, so you didn't mind looking at it. Even if it did hurt your eyes.

And just like every other day, you raised a palm to the sky and imagined yourself grasping the burning sun in your hands. You imagined it would feel like a hot coal on your skin, a little bit reinvigorating but with a whole lot of pain. You wondered if it was a good thing that you thought you'd like that.

And like what had become your new normal, you daydreamed of creating wings like the birds you envied. Wings that could take you anywhere you wanted. Wings that could actually fly. The dream had been plaguing you for weeks like a disease. Visions of you donning on misshapen not-even-close-to-sturdy wings and just soaring. You weren't quite sure where you'd fly to. Maybe you'd just go until you were too tired to move.

"You are going to turn into a field of ash," the charismatic yet sarcastic voice of the town's resident homebody (and the only person that responded to your flyer looking for a housemate) yelled from inside the house.

You guess you were getting predictable these days. Too much staring at the sun and getting almost sunburnt and less of hiding in your workshop.

"The weather's trying to murder me out here," you grumbled as you pushed the creaky front door open and tapped the dirt from the bottom of your boots. "And that's how you treat me?"

Kyungsoo looked up from stirring the pot he had on the stove to shoot you an exasperated look. You had half the mind to tell him of how domestic he looked just to mess with him. "I'm preventing you from dying a sudden and painful death."

"I put a roof over your head."

"Well, I pay rent and I feed you."

It wasn't like you could you beat that. You couldn't cook for the life of you. When your father had been alive he had handled all the cooking for fear of you burning water. And when he'd married, his new wife Nau had taken over the role.

Nau was a nice woman. Although you thought sometimes that she treated you a bit too much like you were her biological daughter and not her extended family. It was fine though because at least she talked to you. Plus she told all her townie friends about the stuff you created. And she made a bomb fish-tail soup.

When your father died, she'd resorted to dropping off a weekly supply of cooked meals at your door. But with Kyungsoo around, the need had for it had practically stopped. And even though you would never tell her, Kyungsoo's cooking was way more phenomenal than hers. But you had manners, albeit a little rusty.

"You can't hold food over my head. That's just wrong." You made your way to the sink and washed the grime off your hands and face. "Plus, I gave you a friend discount when I fixed your calculator last week."

"True. But it is easy to get the friend discount when I’m your only friend," he easily replied as he moved and dumped two servings of what looked like and smelled like his signature fried rice.

You smiled to yourself. If only your dad could see you now. Making friends? Well, a friend. Singular. The town wasn't completely shitty. But Kyungsoo wasn't fond of the place either. You weren't exactly sure what caused him to uproot his life from the middle of the town where he was revered as a young chef-like god. But when he'd taken you up on your offer to be housemates to help reduce living costs six months ago, you can't say you minded.

He was a pretty easy going person and all he ever seemed to do was cook.

"So, are you still not going to have your own stall for the solstice?" You asked after you thanked him for the food and the two of you had retreated to the table set for two.

Kyungsoo shrugged, dropping his utensil to run a hand through his cropped short inky hair. "No cooking for large people ever again. They never appreciate it anyway. I'm going to be a normal person at the festival. You know, I hear the fireworks at the end are amazing."

They were. Your father used to be in charge of the mass production of them for the event. "Yeah. They're like big exploding balls of magic."

He smiled ruefully. "Can't wait."

The two of you finished your food in silence and by the time you were done you were already back to absently dreaming about wings and flying. It was abnormal the way you were fixated on it. Building wings won't be easy, heck if they were even remotely doable someone would've done it already. But it felt like an itch on your skin. Almost like you had to at least try.

Perhaps when the party was over you'd dive headfirst into it and start researching how you would even go about it. It wasn't like you had the arm strength to keep flapping your arms like a crazed person through the damn sky.

If Kyungsoo noticed your lack of speaking, he didn't mention it. And when you'd finished washing the dishes and placing them to dry. You turned to find him sifting through a handful of mail on the table. He'd been getting a ton of letters from former customers that begged him to come back and reopen his restaurant. He promptly discarded them in the bin immediately after.

"Hey, can I ask you a question?"

"You'd just ask me anyway, regardless of my answer."

True. But you like you'd said 'manners.' "You ever think about flying?"

He peered up from the littered papers. "Thinking about inventing some kind of flying death trap?"

"Hah hah hah. Jokes on you when I actually do it." You scoffed at him. Did he think you couldn't do it? You'd show him. You weren't sure how but you would. "You'd beg me to make one for you to fly out of this hellhole too."

"Well, when you put it like that I can't, in good conscience, discourage you from it. Even though I know it's a very bad idea."

"A bad idea? Nay, I say. It's the best I've ever had!"

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes at your boastful demeanor. "Where would you even fly to?"

You didn't even have to think about it. "The sun."

You'd get up close and personal with the beast that beat down on your skin day in day out. It'd hurt like hell, you knew that. But you didn't care. You weren't planning on kissing the sun or anything. Just somewhere close to it. Maybe it'd cure you off your dreams of having your body floating in a bright, hellish landscape.

Maybe flying close enough to the sun just once would be enough. You'd come back down. It'd be the greatest achievement of your whole life. Your magnum opus. You weren't trying to die but there was a whole world up there that was calling out to you like a siren at sea. And you were going to fly. You swore on it.

Even if it meant you crash-landed from space back to earth.

The Summer Solstice celebrations had already been in full swing for a few hours by the time you and Kyungsoo made it to the heart of the town. The festivals were never all that lavish or even truly a feat of major grandiose but more of a holiday to the small community. The neighboring towns visited annually and it made good to the vineyards when everyone was drunk around the bonfire with golden and russet marigolds braided into their hairs.

Colorful streamers were erected around the sides of the cobblestone roads, the sun was on the precipice of setting with the sky marred in a beautiful match of blue, orange and purple. You watched as little kids you didn’t know and old people you did flocked round in queues at various booths marveling at the creative food options.

You stopped by numerous stalls and stands that piqued your interest. Maybe it was because it was the solstice that made all the snacks taste even more heavenly than normal. Or maybe the bolstering heat had finally fried your head.

You were having fun hauling the Washy-Washer around and having people ask you what the hell it was. You’d packed a bountiful amount of socks for the demonstrations.

And when you walked away with a cold snack in your hand and a customer swearing from here to the moon that they’ll be at the shop tomorrow to pick up an order; a burst of pride swelled in your chest. Big enough for you to join in on the crowd’s summer singing. A while after you’d finished your word-of-mouth promotion, you even sold the very one you’d brought out with you.

Kyungsoo and you watched as hundreds of fellow young adult townsfolk flooded the streets decked out head to toe with the most glitzy, sheer and barely covering cloths available. It was hot and it was a festival, so no one particularly cared.

But you guess you stuck out like a sore thumb in your practical shorts and thin tank. But you weren’t part of the show so it didn’t really matter. Plus the outfits of the solstice attendees were so bizarre that you dressing a tad normal wasn’t cause for alarm. And you guessed Kyungsoo was having fun because he was running his mouth talking about the essence and the umami of a popsicle… He was learned like that.

Pushing through the crowds, you made the most of the festival. It was a bright thing. With paper lanterns floating around and above. People didn’t make an effort to seek you out in conversation but you cracked enough jokes with your friend to forget about that. Later on, Kyungsoo had been rightfully cornered by his old friends and you had given him your permission to go forth and get ultimately wasted. You promised him that you’d get drunk telepathically as well. He’d laughed.

By the time you had made it to the bonfire in the middle of the Town Square, you almost felt as if you were like everyone else. Paying for overpriced solstice marketed booze, your body felt like you were soaring. Free. You got close enough that you felt the flames of the bonfire licking and dancing across your skin and it was almost ironic how homely you felt with it.

And like year after year, the solstice let everyone shed their inhibitions. But just as the night was getting even wilder, you knew it was time for you to head back home. You could tell when you weren’t wanted. And You were pushing it without Kyungsoo by your side. People thought you were a bit mad like your father.

You won’t lie. He had been dedicated to his craft and defied the world at every turn. But he had also been a little insane. Perhaps that was where you got your stubbornness bordering on self-destruction.

You were already busy crocking up ways in which you’d start building your wings on your way back home. It was going to be a long journey to get something even manageable but you’d do it. The closer you got to your house, the less of the bustling town you heard. It was almost as if the bright festival didn’t reach your part of town. Like you were hidden in the ultimate cloak of darkness.

But that was fine. Because one day you’d have wings. One day you’d fly out of here like a bat out of hell.

And just as a droopy smile made its way to your face there came a blinding light followed by a loud and resounding thud. It shook the very core of the earth, all the way up to the enamel of your teeth.

You could swear that the sheer brightness of the light alone burnt your retinas clean off. Before you could even process what was going on, your body felt like it was incinerating from the inside. It was so hot around you that you weren’t just sweating profusely, you were melting. There was no other word for it. You clawed at your arms in a bid to do something, anything, but the mass of slick sweat on it caused your palms to slip and slip.

God, you were going to burn to death. You were screaming before you realized it. It felt like the sun was right next to you. Instead of you flying to it, it had come right down to you. And you were going to go out in a cloud of ashy dust.

But just as quickly as the heat had flamed your skin, it was gone. Leaving only the stinging sensation of your skin and tears cooling on top of your cheekbones. The cool night air caressed your skin like a salve and you whimpered a little.

What in the burning hell was that?

You were afraid. You squeezed your eyes and hugged your body. You hadn’t even realized that you had fallen to your knees. To make matters worse, your heart was beating so loudly in your ears that it overpowered all the weak sobs from falling from your lips.

Gods, you absolutely did not want to open your eyes to whatever was out there. You’d rather run blindly all the way back home.

Maybe you were cursed? Your father had told you that the gods’ anger and wrath were fickle things. Easy to provoke and swift to enact. But what on earth could you have done to deserve it? Ah, maybe if you could just open your eyes a little bit. A tiny fraction. Practically minuscule. You won’t even notice.

But when you finally managed to peel your eyelids open, you were confronted with someone kneeling right in front of you. His frame was so big that it dwarfed you and made you feel even smaller. It was undeniable that this person right in front of you wasn’t from around here. You’d never met him, never even seen him before. You’d know if you had. He had a kind of face people got mesmerized by and subsequently spent years trying to recreate it in all their art or died trying. Dramatic shit like that.

“This was not supposed to happen,” he said, his voice breathless and airy like wind and yet deep and soul bending like rock.

Huh, funny how just as you were finally catching your bearings, the hair on your arms decided to prickle to prim attention like he was inspecting them.

“Yeah?” That’s all you got? A yeah? Gods, someone throw you in a hole. You cleared your throat as you turned your gaze anywhere but his face. “Well, I swear I don’t usually burst out crying on the street like a madwoman.”

“No, no. That would be my fault.” Now that captured your attention with vice-like intensity. “I didn’t anticipate just how much heat I would give off when I reached down. Humans are sensitive. I’m very sorry if I hurt you. It is my first time on land. I’ll do better next time,” he sounded remorseful but your face scrunched up more as his words registered.

Huh. Maybe your hearing was off because what did he mean by literally anything he’d just said… Firstly, him? Hurt you? Sure he was as big as your bed frame back home and yeah, you’d never met him before. And of course, you were wary of strangers but him? He looked like he could barely hurt the ground he walked on. Squinting your eyes at him, you scrutinized his all-white attire.

Frankly, he looked like a prince. With the way, he held himself up with a dignity that just screamed regality. And even his knee that was on the ground didn’t appear to have a single stain on the white slacks. There was no royal court in your town but from the books you’d read, you imagined he was what they dressed like. With pearly white rings adorning his fingers and a tiny strip of an embellished white gold band wrapped around his tanned forehead that was framed by his blondish almost white hair.

You swiped the back of your index finger above your top lip to remove the sweat that had built up there. “There’s going to be a next time?”

He smiled, a wild thing it was because it felt like the sun was beaming straight out from his teeth. Gods, how white were those things? Did he bleach them?

“It depends. If I don’t do anything stupid while I’m here I’m sure Father would allow me to come back. He allows my siblings to fly down all the time.” He sounded almost petulant at the fact and then like he was talking to himself, his voice quieted but perhaps he’d never practiced whispering before because his voice was still way above hearing range. “But I’m sure even they have never almost charred a human down to nothing.”

“You felt that too, didn’t you?” You barely understood what was going on as is, but he was right in front of you. Like he’d been born out of the heat.

His eyes fluttered from the top of your head to your shaking hands to your knees now scuffed from the ground. “Felt what?”

“Oh, you know the blazing inferno that just swept through here.”

“Ha, I do not know of what you speak of.”

“I’m a lot of things… dumb isn’t one of them.” You forced yourself to ignore the stinging in your knees as you rose to your full height. He did the same. “Now, I don’t know what you are and I don’t really care but, did one of the gods send you? I hear Zeus can be a bit of a bitch.”

You were right about one thing, this man towered over you for sure. You always thought you were kind of tall, but he would need to lift you by your armpits to even be on the same eye level. You didn’t know how to feel about that but you weren’t scared.

“No one sends me except Father. Sometimes it is necessary. Like now,” he said not even remotely disturbed by your accusations. “I do not speak ill of Zeus but he can be, how you say bitch but respectfully?”

You gawked at him with half the mind to laugh. Actually, you were pretty sure a few giggles escaped your lips. You? Giggling? This night was only getting trickier and weirder. You blamed the booze. It was the only reasonable culprit in all this. Surely, this man did not just ask you for a more polite version of such a nasty word.

“You’re a funny one.” You tried and failed to keep the amusement out of your voice.

“Or perhaps humans are just easily entertained,” he replied but he was smiling as well. He angled his head and peered around the dark road, almost like he was expecting to see something extraordinary burst out. “I thought tonight is the first day of estival? That is why I chose today to come down.”

“Oh, you mean the solstice festival?” You followed his gaze around the steep and vanishing road behind you. “If you still want to catch the end of it, you’d have to walk a long way deeper.”

There wasn’t much to look at down these parts of town. A scrap metal yard was located a few miles to your right behind another valley. But there was a good number of brick houses milling about. Not everyone could afford to live in the affluent and bustling heart of the town and not everyone even wanted to. Your house was about ten more minutes away but you couldn’t see it from here.

You wondered what this very strange man thought of when he looked around the land especially when the lanterns that outlined the street were few in between and flickering like their lives were one breath away from being completely snuffed out.

He turned his gaze back to you and you felt as his eyes commanded your body to attention. For some reason, he seemed a bit sad. “I see.”

“Well, if you run you could probably still make it. If that’s the reason you came into town then you shouldn’t miss it. The fireworks go on for most of the night. You can see them from here but it’s always better up close.”

“You will not go?” He asked, his head cocking to the side.

You grinned. “Nope. I’ve got to sleep the alcohol out. Tomorrow I start on my magnum opus.”

You weren’t sure if he quite understood what you meant but he nodded his head all the same. And it was then you really realized that even though the night was dark and the lanterns were dim, he seemed to glow. His skin alone appeared to shimmer and bleed light. And although it wasn’t bright enough to burn, it felt to you like he was blazing.

He didn’t say anything in response and when you started to feel the trickle of awkwardness slip down your spine you swiveled your eyes to the side. “I’ll just get going now.”

Quickly, you pivoted on your heel and began the stroll to your house. It wasn’t like you needed to know this mystery man. And you could chock the burning episode your body experienced earlier to the alcohol messing up with your system. Yeah, that was it. Of course, it was! If after a night of fitful rest it came again, then and only then would you make a big deal out of it.

You hummed to yourself on your way back and for some inane reason, you had a bit more pep in your step. Like your talk with the mystery man invigorated you or something. But that couldn’t be true, you’d only just met him and you didn’t even know his name.

Hah, you felt like you could start on your wings project right this second. A clear mind and non-intoxicated emotions be damned. You’d already started preliminary sketches of how you wanted it to look like. Soon, you were going to head out to the scrap yard and sift for materials. Hopefully, you found things good enough.

You were in a good mood. One of the bests since your father died last spring. Your father had been your only companion for a long time. And he’d been your everything. Your role model, your shining light. The one that believed in you more than you believed in yourself. And although you’d admit, he had fueled your stubbornness to the point of annoyance, but he’d been your best friend.

And today, almost a year and a half later it felt like you were finally releasing a breath you’d held in for so long.

But you must have been crazy out of tune with the outside world because you did not realize that there was a second silhouette following closely behind you. It wasn’t until you’d fished your copy of the house keys from your pockets and had already begun the act of shoving them into the keyhole that the presence behind dawned on you.

You flipped around, ready to claw the person’s eyes out with your bare hands if it got down to that only to meet the same brown eyes you’d just left down at the crossroads.

It appeared that this man was getting more tangled with you than you’d anticipated.

“Did you get lost or something?” You sighed as you relaxed your stance a tad. The sleepy part of drinking was quickly catching up to you. “This is really far from the festivities.”

He blinked at you. Once. Twice. And then scanned your old mismatched, creaky door that you’d sworn you’d get changed after your father had died but procrastination got even the best of you. He didn’t seem repulsed by it but you thought it contrasted too deeply against his pristine white clothes. Was it possible for the wood to scuff his fitted embroidered mantle? He stuck out so much in front of your house but he didn’t seem to care about that at all.

“The first person we meet on land is our fatum. I stay with you till I find what I was sent for.” He said in lieu of an explanation. He poked a finger into the sliver of space between his neck and his collared shirt and pulled the garment nervously. “At least that’s what Father and the rest of my brothers said.”

Fatum? You weren’t quite sure what that word meant. But you remembered that he’d spoken about this mission he’d been sent here for. You wondered if he was like you in a way. Perhaps he only had his father and his siblings. Maybe this was his first time leaving his village?

Sure, his sentences were a bit weird and it sounded like you and him were on way two different pages. Because what did any of that have to do with you? You had yet to leave the town. That was probably why you were obsessed with the notion of flying over. But he didn’t look poor or desolate. If anything, he looked like a king surveying over his subjects.

“I still don’t get what you mean by any of that but okay, let’s say I believe you. What were you sent for?”

He cocked his head to the side innocently. “I do not know.”

Gods, you were getting a headache. You suddenly wished you hadn’t partaken in some of the indulgences of the night. Alcohol was definitely not helping your situation right now. You weren’t drunk per se but you could already feel a truck of nausea knocking on your door.

“Then how would you know when you’ve found what you were sent over here for?” Never mind the fact that you couldn’t babysit this man you’d never met. You were going to be super busy fulfilling orders and building wings. “Plus normal people don’t just let random strangers follow them around. I don’t even know your name! Some might even call this stalking.”

“I have many names,” he slid his index finger away from bruising the collar of his shirt, ignoring your first question. “But you may call me Chanyeol. And I will not stalk you for I do not really know what that is.”

“Really?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Truly.”

“Okay then, Chanyeol. How long are you in town for? And just so you know, I still don’t buy whatever it is your selling.”

“I will be here ’til the end of summer.” Looking you up and down like he suddenly questioned your sanity, he added. “I am not selling anything.”

Odd. This man was very odd. But you had no idea why his oddness was causing the corners of your lips to tilt upwards. Maybe it was because of how serious yet endearing he looked. Or maybe the heat did fry your brain and all your sense of self-preservation and reasoning.

“Is this about the house-sharing offer I put up in the community board?” You rolled your eyes as you crossed your arms across your chest. “That was months ago and I already found someone. I’m sure if you ask someone else they’ll let you room and board with them if you’re willing to pay rent.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

You swore on your left boot that you saw a ghost of a smirk dance across his lips. “Would you let me stay with you if I pay rent?”

Hah. You couldn’t tell if the booze was making everything funnier or what. But he really was funny, this Chanyeol. And dazzling. You would’ve thought he was a living, breathing star.

“Maybe.”

And like you were in a trance, you watched as he reached up to his forehead and carefully unclasped the white jeweled crown-like headband. He held it out to you like you’d even know it’s worth. You stretched out a palm and he dropped it gently. The lingering heat from his body slithered up the skin of your arm.

Chanyeol beamed at you as if he’d just solved all the problems. “Would that be enough?”

To be honest, you weren’t sure. It wasn’t like you carried a human gem to a currency calculator in your head. But when you looked at the band closely, you could tell that the gems were at least real. And the gold wasn’t fake either. Maybe you’d take it downtown and get it looked at. Maybe.

Wait, you couldn’t possibly be considering his offer, could you? And what were you going to tell Kyungsoo? That you just upped and got a new housemate on a whim? Plus no one in town even knew him. Or at least you didn’t. You could handle yourself in a fight but you wouldn’t be able able to do anything if he killed you in your sleep.

Gah, you were tired.

“May I ask what Fatum goes by?” Chanyeol was still smiling. Almost like that was his default setting. You wondered if he truly was happy about all this.

Fatum this. Fatum that. What the ever-loving hell did Fatum even mean?

“You mean what’s my name?” You turned back to your front door and kicked it open. After you’d told him, you let him enter your home. “My name is not Fatum.”

Chanyeol’s tall and lithe body made the space inside your home feel that much smaller. In fact, he seemed to make everything next to him appear to shrink. But he looked around your old house like it was a thing of beauty. You were beginning to doubt if he saw the things you saw. Your house wasn’t ugly by any means but it had definitely seen better days.

“Okay, [y/n],” he conceded but you could hear the barely thought Fatum at the end.

Shaking your head you pointed at the longest couch you had that was placed right in front of the window. “You sleep there tonight.”

He nodded and you didn’t wait around to see if he settled in nicely or not. You weren’t going to think about this weird night any more than necessary. Instead, you were going to go pass out and tomorrow you would kick him out. It left an awful taste in your mouth to leave him stranded and abandoned outside in a foreign town. But that was the extent of your generosity.

And it was with great effort that you decided to not crawl up the stairs to where your room was situated. It took, even more, to not fall on your face. Gods, you swore you’d never drink again.

Tomorrow you would hand him his, clearly expensive, headband back and ask him to leave your mundane life in peace.

But there was a thought nagging and poking you incessantly in the back of your mind. That there was something about him that was tied to you. And the just the fact that you’d already accepted his price meant something you couldn’t yet fathom. Like you’d sold your soul to an unknown.

That night you dreamt of flying like you always did. Soaring and nimbly twisting through an orange and purple-hued sky. It was beautiful. But then you’d reach a point where no matter how many times you pushed yourself upwards, your body kept falling. The wind pressure feeling like crushing boulders on your neck as you struggled. Over and over again.

That night you dreamt that the wings you hadn’t even built yet had already broke.

You woke up with a scratchy throat and a light strum in your bones.

Last night felt more like a personal hallucination than reality. There was no way you’d allowed this Chanyeol person to stay in your house. Your brain didn’t even let you dive into dissecting the meanings of his words yesterday.

He was so freaking weird, you thought to yourself as you stifled a yawn and sat up on your tiny bed. Your hair was a mess since you’d been so out of it that you’d forgotten to braid it in for the night. So that meant you spent a good half an hour teasing the strands out of its convoluted mess. It was a torrid and teary affair.

By the time you’d washed up and gotten ready for the day it was already close to noon. You doubted Kyungsoo would’ve come hone already which meant you had to go down and scavenge for something to eat before you headed down to the scrap yard.

Today was going to be great.

Whistling to yourself mindlessly, you took the stairs two at a time. But when you jumped the last step and landed at the foot of the staircase you belatedly realized that two voices were coming from the kitchen. But that couldn’t be right.

Feeling like you were an intruder in your own home, you gingerly crept closer to the open door that led to Kyungsoo’s claimed area only to see the man you’d told yourself was a hallucination and your housemate. And to make matters even more bizarre, Kyungsoo didn’t look like he was even a tiny bit disturbed by his prescience. What?

“If you’re going to stand there and pretend like you can’t see us, breakfast for you goes straight to the dogs.” Kyungsoo was the first to pierce through your confusion.

You stepped into the kitchen, eyes wide as you stared at Chanyeol like he was wrong to be here. You pointed a finger at him. “You.”

The piece of bread that he was about to stuff in his mouth hung idly from his fingers. It bothered you how at home he looked at your house. And now that you looked at him from the glow of the midday sun, he didn’t look as princely as he had last night. What with his white garments traded for a very comfortable blueish loose pants and a baggy shirt. You wondered where the hell he got a change of clothes from.

Chanyeol’s spine went ramrod straight in the dining chair. “Me.”

Your left eye twitched. “You can’t stay here.”

“I-”

“Sure he can,” Kyungsoo interrupted from his seat at the table. “He says you took his rent for three months.”

You gawked at Chanyeol and you almost threw yourself across the table when you noticed how smug his smile looked. This couldn’t be happening. You didn’t even have an extra room.

“I can stay on the couch. I don’t mind,” Chanyeol replied.

You must have posed your question out loud. Gods, you were going insane. And since when did Kyungsoo side with random strangers over you?

“He’s not random.” Kyungsoo didn’t look up from his food as he pointed to the plate he’d fixed for you on the counter. “And you can’t kick him out. You were complaining last month about being short on money. Maybe you should use him. No offense, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol nodded and you almost threw your shoe at the side of his head. “No worries, Land Brother.”

Land brother… yeah, maybe you shouldn’t think too much about all this. ‘Cause the more you tried to rationalize it, the more bizarre the whole situation got. If Kyungsoo was okay with him, maybe he truly was harmless? It was true that you were running low on funds. So many things in the house needed repairs and repairs cost a pretty penny. Plus, he was okay with the shitty couch. He couldn’t be that bad, could he?

Muttering to yourself, you grabbed the plate of eggs and toast. You hated eggs but you could never bring yourself to seem ungrateful. So, you dumped your butt into the third chair and begrudgingly had your first meal of the day.

Chanyeol looked eagerly from you and Kyungsoo and when you couldn’t take it anymore you barked out a “What?”

He cleared his throat. “What do we do we do today, [y/n],” he said your name carefully like it was something delicate.

You scrunched your nose at him. “We do nothing. I, on the other hand, will be going scrapping.”

“Scrapping?” He titled his head to the side. He did that a lot. Like you were the confusing one.

“I’m searching for materials I will need to create a set of wings.” You forced the last bit of eggs into your mouth and swallowed without breathing. “You can do whatever you want.”

You finished the rest of your food in record time before thanking Kyungsoo. Chanyeol thanked him as well. You adjusted the buckles of your overalls. Chanyeol retied the laces of his stretchy pants that you still wondered where they’d come from. You stuck your socked feet into your boots that you’d placed next to the front door. Chanyeol gracefully wore his white shoes from last night.

You pretended he wasn’t right next to you but it was impossible with how broad he was. His height alone blocked the sunlight and cast a shadow upon you. But he was smiling so eagerly like a puppy that was being let out for the first time.

Pushing through the front door, you allowed him to catch up with you. Reluctantly at first, you began pointing out your neighbors’ houses and the few things about your side of town that you thought were interesting enough. But every time you peered you at him for his reaction, he looked amazed. And soon enough, you got into your role as a self-appointed tour guide.

“Over there’s the Old Well. I fell into it when I was a kid and it hurt but it wasn’t too bad. I wasn’t afraid of the water or anything. My father got me out pretty quick too.”

A few of the townspeople had stopped to stare at Chanyeol but you were beginning to understand that he didn’t understand his effect on people. Maybe he was used to it, but you weren’t. The feeling of many eyes leering at you made you feel off.

“You only have your father. Like me.”

“Yeah.”

“Is that why you want to fly?” He halted his steps and although you were the one in the lead, you complied. “This magnum opus of yours. Does it have to do with your father?”

You laughed. “’ Course not. I’m doing this because I want to. Actually, it’s more like a calling. I feel like I can’t rest until I’ve done this.”

“Hmm,” he lifted his palm and laid it on your head. It didn’t feel weird. It felt more comforting and soft than anything. You didn’t breathe. “You and I, we’re more alike than you think.”

“H-how so?” You stammered.

Chanyeol leaned in closer and even though you were already holding your breath, you seized up completely. “Yesterday you asked me how I would know what I was sent for, correct?” He did not wait for an answer. “My mission is like a calling. I feel it and I am helpless to stop it. So, I follow it.”

You understood that. That was the one cryptic thing he’d said in hours that you fully understood. You did not dwell on the implications of that. You were too busy staring at his lips. It looked like clouds and when he smiled, sun rays shine through the gap between them.

He pulled his fingers away from your hair and you almost begged him to put it back. What the hell was wrong with you? You were going mad. Chanyeol clasped his arms behind him and tilted his head to the sky and you watched, mesmerized. Even in regular clothes, doing the most normal of things, he appeared almost godlike.

“You can help,” you found yourself saying. “I need all the help I can get anyway.”

His head snapped to you at a dizzying speed. “I accept.”

Time stood still once you’d made this pact with him. You didn’t hear the birds chirping, you didn’t feel the breeze swaying around the two of you as you stood in the eye of a hurricane. Just his eyes on you. Your eyes on him. Nothing else seemed to matter. And that sense of falling vibrated deep in your bones like a warning.

You did not heed. You did not run or cower. For some reason, you embraced it.

It was unprecedented the way Chanyeol slid into your life like a missing piece you didn't know you were missing.

And it was funny how his presence no longer bothered you because he was everywhere. When you woke up in the mornings and hauled ass downstairs. He was right beside you as you delivered Washy-Washer orders. Most of the time he did all the heavy-lifting of materials you found while scrapping. He truly was everywhere.

The only thing that bothered you was how easy it was with him.

Sometimes you found yourself going throughout the whole day preparing for a singular joke just to simply see your best smile of the day grace his face. He laughed at every and anything, granted. But you felt pride when his loud, deep laughs turned into guffaws that shook through his body. The kind of laughter that made him clap his hands together like a seal.

Chanyeol was thoughtful in a way you’d never experienced before. He was always on your side and you couldn't understand why. Or rather, you’d begun to tell yourself that it didn't matter. Because the more you were around him you realized that you didn't particularly mind.

He didn't mind being in the ass crack of hell, AKA your workshop. And to be honest, you thought that was his favorite place in the entire house. But he was always complaining about having to wear a shirt. And not because it was so hot he wanted to shed his skin. It felt like it was the other way around. Like he fed off the heat.

So, it came as no surprise to you when one month in he walked into your workshop shirtless as the day he was born. You almost smashed your finger with the hammer you held.

“No, get out,” you barely managed to speak. “You have to wear a shirt in here.”

“Says who?” These days he was smugger, bolder, and clearly did not care if you spontaneously erupted in a nosebleed.

You struggled to find apt words as you looked everywhere but his damned face. He was way too beautiful for his own good. And careless about it too. You didn't have the most prolific experiences with the opposite sex. None of them really were all that attractive to you.

But Chanyeol. O gods, Chanyeol. It was like he’d brazenly stepped into the starring role in all your fantasies. His chest resembled the washboard you’d previously used to wash your clothes. And by every will of your body, you wanted to lick it. Ah, you were going insane. He was making you insane.

“No. Nope. I’m not doing this with you.” You threw the hammer down and pretended like the haphazard clump of wood and made feathers was phenomenal work compared to the godlike creature you refused to look at.

You could feel his insolent smirk from a mile away. “Come on. You should do it with me.”

“You want me to get naked?” Gods, you were killing yourself here.

He placed a veiny hand on his waist and chided you. “Well, I meant shirtless but I won’t stop you. You can do whatever you want, I won’t mind.”

Please, you were about to commune with the dead at this rate.

Your whole body was on fire. This wasn't the first exchange like this between the two of you. It was getting more and more unbearable. You were going to kick him out of the house before you dissolved into a puddle of embarrassment.

Chanyeol moved closer to you and you swore his body heat was making you dizzy. He used the tip of his finger to lift your face and when your gazes connected, he let go. You still felt the sizzling pad of his finger on your chin.

“You know, I’ve learned a lot of things while on land,” his voice slithered up and down your spine like a wandering serpent. “You like when I’m shirtless. That’s why I continue to do it.”

You’d also learned that Chanyeol was straightforward like that. He didn't beat around the bush much and you wholeheartedly believed that he could not feel embarrassment. Or anger. He was his own filtered bubble.

“Your face never lies, [y/n],” he laughed like the tempter he was.

You glared at him. “Are you making fun of me right now?”

“Never.” He replied instantaneously as he tried to suppress his snicker. He utterly failed.

Hah. This was a very fine line he was dancing on. You didn't think. You crossed it.

“Yeah?” Your voice was getting huskier. You unhooked the buckles of your overalls and let the top of it fall like one big petal around your waist. “You mean if I take this off right now, you won't mind?”

You needed him to call you crazy. You’d never been forward with anyone before. Hell, you weren’t even sure if you were coming off as sexy or demented. There was a thin line between the two. But Chanyeol gulped, visibly. His Adam's apple bobbled with the action. And there was that unknown feeling again. You wanted to bite it. Actually, no. You wanted to bite all of him.

You had no idea where this day was leading but you thanked foresight for the fact that you hadn't been welding today. Not that you ever thought about doing anything secondary in your workshop. But you didn't want to accidentally burn your ass when you threw your inhibitions out of the window.

“If you take it off, I would try not to mind,” he sighed out. All of a sudden, his breath was fanning your forehead, like oxygen to a flame. “And I would fail, miserably.”

“You should mind then. You should mind a lot.”

And like that was your sign to go, one of his hands slipped around the back of your neck and cradled it. “You know I’ve been reading.” He applied enough pressure to bring your face closer to him until your lips were a breath away. “I think I like you a lot more than I know what to do with. You… you feel like home.”

“What?” You said into the silence.

“A star. You feel like the star at the center of my universe.”

“Like the sun?”

He did not answer. And even though your temperature was raging like an inferno, when his lips landed on yours it felt like a calm before the storm.

It took a millisecond to register before your body was pushing into him. Hot desire dancing alongside your veins like an essential need. He was breathing fire into your body. And you were burning spectacularly.

He groaned and you swore the sound alone woke up every nerve ending in your body like a spell. You demanded more. No, you needed it. So you took it. And he gave it to you. He accepted you like it was only natural. Your tongue dived in callously. His tongue was pliant, weak against yours. There was nothing reserved about the way you kissed him. All those lingering looks as the two of you worked side by side. That yearning ache that had dug a hole in your stomach. He’d felt it too. He kissed you back like a man that wanted to engrave his very being into your soul.

“I really like you,” he said as the two of you caught your breaths. Your bodies were so close. So close that when he jutted out his hips, his hardened cock flattened against you like an iron rod. “And I need to know if you like me too because I believe I’m going insane without knowing.”

Sucking in a long breath, you bring your lips back to him and kiss him again. Impossibly deeper now. You hooked an arm around his neck and pushed his body even closer. You did not care anymore. You had no say over your body. It was a monster that acted on its own accord. It ground against him like it was trying to weld the two of you together.

You didn't say this often but, fuck.

Maybe you were a fool. You wanted to ask him a load of things. What did he like about you? Wasn’t he scared? Where did he even come from? Wasn't this all moving too fast? What if he regrets meeting you later on? What was going on? But looking into his eyes it felt like there was only one thing you could say.

“I like you too. Gods, I like you.”

A slow grin lit across his face and it quieted your demons even more. You decided then and there you’d go anywhere it took to bring that smile on his face. Always. It did something to your chest that made it impossible for you to not smile at him like he was a star. The star. The baddest of them all: the sun.

“As I said: I’ve been reading,” his voice a low beat in your chest as his fingers gripped your waist and clenched. You needed out of these clothes. Now. “I want you.”

Then he was going to have you. Every single part of you.

It’s embarrassing fast how the two of you rushed back into the main house. Bursting through like a dam at full capacity with his hands roaming all over you as you kissed. You were floating and you were pretty sure your eyes were dilated to all hell. The inside of the house was a fast blur as you clasped his hand and led him up the stairs to your room.

It wasn't the first time he’d ever been inside but your room was small. Made for one. Chanyeol made your room look like a hermit’s hole. But that didn't matter. Because as soon as you kicked the door shut, your clothes were flying off your body in between kisses that struck your body bolts of lightning. And before you knew it, your back was slammed into the mattress.

Goosebumps pierced through your skin as his fingers came in touch with your naked skin. The sexual tension between the two of you was going to suffocate you but. You. Did. Not. Care. You were suddenly very thankful for your father’s ex-wife, Nau, and how she’d embarrassingly taught you about contraceptives. You’d been steadily taking a local one to help with your period pains. Thank fuck for that.

With a knee on the bed, Chanyeol’s fingers trailed a path from your thighs to your hips to rest like a featherlike band at your ribcage. Your heart wanted to jump out and devour him.

You reached up and undid the piece of string holding his loose pants to his waist with one hand. The other hand was too busy wandering around his chest. Fuck, you moaned louder than you thought possible when his forehead fell against yours. Chanyeol was burning up. Like you but exponentially.

His head shifted into the crook of your shoulder as you began to pump him softly and he groaned so deep that it ricocheted off the walls and it felt like the whole room shook. “Gods, I’m going to die.” His words were accentuated by one of his hands tentatively brushing against your breasts and like he couldn't help it, he splayed his whole fists against them and squeezed.

“If you die, I’ll bring you back,” you said darkly. “You’re not allowed to die.”

Chanyeol smirked slyly down at you. “An honor it would be if I died for you though.”

And then he lowered his head and sucked one of nipples and rolled the bud between his teeth. You didn't think. You couldn't. Your back arched off the bed like a bow ready to release and he didn't stop. He teased one of your breasts with his mouth as he worked the other with his nimble fingers and then he switched. You weren’t going to let him die for you for he was killing you already.

You wanted to cry when he released your bruised tip from his lips but that was nothing compared to the hand teasingly made its way to your clit and ghosted around almost as if to check if you were wet. You were dripping. It wouldn't shock you if you found out you soaked the bed.

Slowly, his hands retracted from your body and gripped the headboard of your bed so hard you saw the veins in his arms bulge and you swore you heard the wood splinter at his fingers just as he pushed into you. He thrust so deep into you that your eyes closed on impulse and you had to hold your breath.

Fuck, you were being split. He was big. Longer and girthier than you’d expected. Gods, you were going to die. His thrusts were slow. Painstakingly. You couldn't breathe. You couldn’t think. You were falling apart on his dick.

“Open your eyes, fatum,” he demanded and you complied without hesitation. “Look at me.”

You thought he was going to go slow for a bit longer as you caught your breath in pants but just as you were getting used to his pace; he hooked one hand across your hip and flexed. He pulled out, shattering fragments of your very soul with him before he slammed back into you with rougher, deeper, and more possessive strokes. He did not move any faster but his rhythm choked you. The force of him broke you down and demanded you submit. And you did, gladly. Without question. You needed him to breathe you like air. You wanted his lips around your whole body all at once. You needed him to not stop. You were on the verge of going cross-eyed with how hard he was fucking you.

His kisses were like savage beasts as he pushed into you. You clasped your legs around his waist and dug him deeper. You could hear yourself whimpering but that couldn't be you. Since when did you whimper?

“Fuck, fuck, Chanyeol.” You sounded like you were praying.

Chanyeol invaded you like an asteroid crashing and yet it felt like you were receiving a gift.

And then his fingers found your core once more and you saw stars dancing in the moonlight as you cried around him. Your whole body trembling from the impact. And like you undid something in him, his whole body tightened as he leaned forward and swallowed your cries with his lips, groaning as he released inside you.

He collapsed on top of you and for a moment you breathed in his intensity. In the silence, there was only the two of you with hearts pounding and mouths panting.

Your stomach caved in when he finally made a move to pull himself out of you. You couldn't even begin to explain the feeling that sparked and ignited in your chest. You’d always believed that sex was just sex. But this was different. Chanyeol pulled you deep into his chest and held you there like you were a piece of his heart.

You didn't realize teardrops had slipped past the corner of your eyes until Chanyeol turned your face to him frantically.

“Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?” He was so concerned it almost made you want to cry even harder.

“Nothing.” That was the problem.

Maybe you had finally crossed the bridge but somewhere you felt that this, whatever this was with Chanyeol wouldn't last. It felt like you were at the starting and breaking point of everything. You had no idea what you meant and you didn't want to tell him anything.

You wanted to be next to him until you couldn't be anymore. That was all you could do anyway.

“Nothing’s wrong,” You repeated.

“Yeah?” He laughed into your forehead as he leaned into your forehead and kissed it softly.

Yeah.

The three months Chanyeol spent with you felt like three years and then some.

It was almost funny how much time the two of you spent outside in the sun because he absolutely hated being inside. And even though your bed was the tiniest thing, somehow the two of you made it work because he no longer slept on the couch.

But then the end of his stay was rapidly approaching and you weren't exactly sure how to bring up the dilemma that had been poisoning your tongue for weeks. Was he going to just leave you? Did he need to go back home? Couldn't you leave with him? You wanted to leave this hole of a town anyway. Sure you would miss Kyungsoo and Nau but you would send them a carrier pigeon or something. If Chanyeol said the word, you would go anywhere.

However, he wasn't saying anything. In fact, it was as if he’d forgotten that he’d told you that he was only supposed to stay here till the end of summer.

As the two of you tested out your fifth set of redone and recalibrated wings at the large expanse behind your house, you decided to just let it out.

“The last day of summer is soon. Would your father still need you?” Now, why did you sound like a textbook? Gods, this was awkward. Why were you even bringing it up when he didn’t? What were you? A masochist?

Chanyeol stopped helping you fasten the body of the wings to your torso. You couldn't put a finger to the emotions flickering across his face. There were so many of them. For the first time, you saw that he was in turmoil.

“You can tell me anything,” You said, turning your body so you could place a hand on his shoulder. “You know that, right?”

He sucked in his lower lip for a moment before he expelled a long breath. And like he usually did, he fixed his eyes up at the sun. But the sun never seemed to hurt him the same way it did you. “I know it’s just…”

“Come on. I’m here in my wings and you still won’t tell me? What if I fly away from you forever?” You meant for it to be a joke. In fact, you’d already pictured the smile that would grace his beautiful face but you were met with restrained anger.

“Don’t say that,” he spat the words out.

Wait, what? Had you said something wrong? What? This was the first time you’d ever seen Chanyeol angry. You never even knew he had the range. But he looked like what you’d said set him off. He looked furious with his eyebrows drawn so close to the center of his face that it resembled one white block. And if you didn't know any better, you’d say it looked like he was angry… at himself.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You squeezed his shoulder even tighter as if to remind him that you were there.

Chanyeol’s breathing came out hard but it wasn't from physical exertion. You had no idea what you were supposed to do. “You can’t joke about that. I…” words seemed to fail him because his shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes tightly. “What if I leave you? You know I’m not from around here. What if I leave to a place I can’t come back from? What if I’m never able to come down here again? What if — ”

He cut himself off abruptly and shrugged off your hand. Something ugly and vile twisted in your belly.

“We can go together?” You proposed even though it felt like your gut was being shredded. “If you can't come back here, I’ll just come with you. I can build stuff anywhere. It doesn't have to be here.”

Sorrow. That was the look that washed over Chanyeol’s face like a dark cloud. You couldn't understand what was going on but you were trying to. Where you not allowed where he was from? Maybe it was like a gendered village? That was okay, you could hide or something… You weren't exactly sure what you would do but you were smart. You’d find something. Anything.

“You can’t come.”

“Well, why not?”

“Because you would die, [y/n],” He didn’t, couldn't, look at you. “If you follow me back. You won’t be able to make it because you would die. You can’t die for me. I will not allow it.” His resolve was strong and cutting but he would not look at you.

Your words. He was throwing your words back at you but… “Where is your home, Chanyeol?” You asked the one question you should have asked the first day you met him. Gods, you were so stupid!

“You.”

Funny, a simple word was like a knife being stabbed into your heart. Emotions bubbled up to your lips, so many that you thought you were suffocating. Your heart was begging you to just stop. Ignorance was bliss. Whatever Chanyeol was, it was not peace.

“Where is your home?” You weren't screaming but it felt like your throat was parched and scrubbed raw.

And when he finally looked up from the ground, you thought for the last time that he was a prince. No, a King.

He did not speak but he lifted a hand that you had numerous memories of fitting yours into the sky and pointed to the glaring sun. And you did not understand but you immediately knew and you hated it. And at this very moment in time, you hated him. You wanted to push him and pull him closer to you at the same time.

You looked up at the sun and you had half the heart to spit at it.

“Please tell me I did not fall in love with a piece of the sun.” Your bottom lip quivered and you hated that too. “You’re human. You don’t belong to the gods. I know you, Chanyeol. You're not… you can’t be from there.”

You were holding in your tears like they were the end of the world. To you it was. You won't cry. You dared not to. This wasn't happening. Crying made it real. Crying meant your heart was breaking right unto the sandy floor under your feet in your very own backyard. On your turf.

From your gaze at the ground, you saw as Chanyeol’s bare feet scuffled away from you till he was a good seven feet away. What was up with this stupid distance?

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” There was no way he was crying but was that a hitch you heard in his voice? You raised your head to check and you almost laughed.

The two of you were way too alike for your own good.

There he was; standing prickly straight as he sucked in his breath so much that his chest brazenly prodded his loose shirt. And you couldn't hate him. Not when he was struggling through the same thing as you. He was the only one that understood and he was doing his best to not fall apart in front of you. And you didn’t even need to see them to know that he was holding back his emotions with an iron fist that was cracking.

“Don't apologize. You didn’t lie to me. You were honest. I just didn't understand. You said some very weird things but that was you. It didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. I thought it didn't.”

“But if I go Father…” he tore his gaze to the side but quickly brought it back to you. “I don’t know what he would do. Gods’ are a bit bitchy, you know?” He smiled half wry, half in irony.

You let out a sound in between a cry and a laugh. “That’s fine. We’ll work it out. We’ll — ”

You never got to complete your sentence. Like a novel that did not have an ending, you watched as, in the bright light of noon, Chanyeol was struck with a bolt of light so bright that you had to close your eyes for a second and throw your hands up blindly. The heat was scorching even from this distance. And when you opened your eyes as fast as you possibly could, you realized that the light was from him.

It was then that you understood everything.

Chanyeol was the sun. Not a part of it. Not a piece. It was his being. His core. His very sense of self.

But why did he look so terrified?

“What’s going on?” You screamed at him as he maniacally clawed at his skin like he was on fire. But the sun could not burn, could it?

“I do not know!” He looked at you and his terror became your own.

Something was wrong. Something was happening and you didn't know how to stop it. You wanted to hug him but when you made a move to him, he screamed raw bloody for you to not take a single step. You were in between a rock and a fiery place.

“You can’t come next to me, [y/n].” He was in pain. You felt in from the curl of your hair to the leather of your boots. “I can't control what’s going on. But I’m okay. I don’t know what’s wrong but I’ll be okay, yeah?”

Chanyeol was combusting. He was burning out right in front of you and he wanted you to stand still? Fuck that. Fuck everything. You loved him. You would do anything. You were going to hold him down to this world even if you had to give up your hands that you loved so much.

However, all of a sudden Chanyeol tilted his head and you swore you saw the moment he communicated with whoever was above because he looked furious for one second, and the very next he shot you a calming smile. Like you mattered. Like he was trying to placate you in all this.

You were running before you couldn't think about it.

And your hand was reaching out to him with every breath you had and just as your fingers clutched the fabric of his blazing shirt, you felt the warmth he released close around you. It cradled you through your pain. It felt safe. It felt like you were dying. It felt like forever.

Instantly, there was a loud boom, a bang and then the hottest rush of air that blew past you like a caress.

Your palm was burned. His love burned. You were wailing at the world. You hated everything. You loved him so much. Your palm was bleeding. GODS, EVERYTHING HURT. Make it stop, you were begging. Please. I’d do anything Please. The pain was making you scream like a bitch.

You didn’t know what to do. You wanted to die. You wanted to be reborn. But the world did not give second chances. You were going to pry it out with your scorned hand and strangle your chance out. You were going to beat your destiny with a stick. You vowed it. As you cried out in pain, you promised that you would break every rule. You won't wait. You’ll fly.

Kyungsoo was the one to find you.

Passed out, dehydrated and bruised in more ways than one. But you were a phoenix that was born out of the ashes.

You knew a part of you was gone as Chanyeol was taken from you. Your emotions were all over the place. One minute you were unfeeling and the very next an overwhelming sense of rage inflamed your body. You wanted to burn the very ground you walked on. You rummaged through your room until you found the tiny piece of him you had left. His white gold headband. You made Kyungsoo tie it ‘round your head and you never took it off.

It did not help that your palm took longer than three weeks to heal. It was an ugly scar. But it reminded you of him so, when you slept at night, you gritted through the pain and the memories and held the palm close to your chest. Right over your heart. It was fitting.

And by the time your palm had healed enough, it felt like you’d aged a thousand years. Kyungsoo could not understand what was going on and you refused to talk. If you told him, he would only discourage you. And you would truly lose your mind if someone told you what you could and could not do.

But your friend was right there. He never left. Even when you were mean, he still hoped that one day he won't need to drop food outside of your bedroom door because you would not come downstairs. How where you supposed to sit at that table and not see the ghost of Chanyeol falling over the chair as he laughed like a bear?

Maybe someday you would get better. Today was not that day.

For the first time in ages, you walked into your workshop and inhaled. It was time to work.

You built and rebuilt your wings from scratch. The wooden ones never got off the ground, not even for a second. The metal one almost sawed off your arm completely but you never gave up. You were restless and you couldn’t sleep. When you slept you saw him and your hand burning. You were plagued by it. It hurt, so you did not do it anymore. Sleep only came when you were exhauseted.

The hybrid wings weren’t beautiful. A mismatch of wood and alloy. But when you jumped off the roof of the tiny shed at the back of the house. You flew. Or maybe the right word is floated. You floated for a good thirty seconds before you landed painfully on bloody knees.

“Fuck,” you spat.

Your knees hurt but it took your mind away from the present. You had to come up with something fast, You had to do something before you ran out of gas, before you burned out.

Perhaps that is why from the dregs of your mind you remembered something your father had done when you were younger.

When you were nine, you stepped into your father’s workshop for the first time. It was hot as if the middle of the earth was right there in the basement. And when you walked in, after banal arguments about safety with your father, he let you watch him as he created the greatest thing known to man.

Your father had been creating wings.

He’d never completed it and you’d been so young that it didn’t matter to you that he never did. But now as you rush back down the steps into your basement, you wonder if maybe this is fate. Maybe fate wasn't something spontaneous but rather a series of unfortunate events that we only hoped ended in less pain.

You pushed open the back door within the basement that led to your father’s workshop. You hadn't set foot in here since he’d died. It smelled like him. You wondered if he was watching you right now. You wondered if he thought you were a bit too stupid.

It took a while to find it beneath the layers of dust and junk but when you found it, you sighed in relief. It wasn't made from metal or wood or even a combination from the two. But wax. The frame of the left-wing was nonexistent while the right-wing looked like it had melted. None of that registered and that was how it became your new project.

“You need to eat,” Kyungsoo said as he brought a plate of sandwiches out to you.

Days had passed since you’d started working on the wings and for the first time in a long time, you felt hopeful. Not happy but somewhere in between. You’d poured blood and sweat into molding the wax into the right frame and meticulously preserving the feathers.

You picked one of the sandwiches and bit into it. These days you hated working inside. “Thank you.”

“You'd tell me if you were doing something risky, right?” Kyungsoo eyed the wax suspiciously.

Shrugging, you stuffed the rest of the bread in your mouth. You couldn't give him the answer he wanted so you pretended not to hear. You knew he was angry and you knew it wasn't fair. But you were angrier. Kyungsoo didn't understand. You were going to fly. You had to. You fucking had to get up there.

It took longer than you wanted but when you were done, your wings were perfect.

They looked perfect and you just knew that it wasn't going to let you down. It wasn't going to break. Wax wasn't like wood after all. You were drunk on the feeling of sunshine. It felt like for the first time in months you could breathe. You did not wait for another day.

It was already the middle of Fall. The sun was out but it wouldn't be there for much longer. Sunset was fast approaching.

You climbed up the roof of the shed with the new set of wings attached tightly to your back. You wondered if Chanyeol was looking down at you right now. You wondered if he could see. You hoped he did. You stood on the ledge of the roof and let the wind build and rest before you took a breath.

You prayed and then you jumped.

And like in your dreams, you flew. And it was glorious. It was like the wings were your very arms. Your body — your invention — defied physics, defied the very aspects of anatomy. But you were flying through cloud nine at breakneck speed. You were gliding and nimbly twisting through a bright orange sky. It was so beautiful. You had tears in your eyes.

The wind whipped your face painfully as you pushed your wings up and up and then some more. You couldn't hear anything and to be quite honest, you could not see anything either.

You followed the blinding light in front of you like an addict. You wondered if the townsfolk down below could see you. You didn't care.

You kept flying, even when you got tired. Even when your arms begged you to stop because any more and they would break, you pushed. You pushed yourself until you entered a wave of encompassing heat that instantly reminded of you that day. You were so close. Your heart felt like a match in your chest and as the temperature rose, it struck and lit.

In your drunkenness, you swore you saw Chanyeol. He was right there and you were going to reach him. Tears were falling out of your eyes without pause. You’d been reborn not as a phoenix but as a river.

And just as your body felt the pressures of being burnt alive you suddenly felt nothing. Like you were nothing but a speck in the universe. You were nothing and everything at the same time. You were not sure how long you spent in the state but the next thing you knew, you were falling.

No, plummeting. You were being thrown back to earth in a ball of fire.

You were screaming. Your wings were on fire and… the wax was melting. You’d come so close and you still couldn't make it. Your dream was sifting through your empty hands. You couldn't believe it. You were falling so fast that soon enough all you saw around you was crisped air and shattered reality.

Your body was burned. Physically and mentally. Your soul was leaving your body and you knew that you won't survive this. Who could? You were going to die screaming.

It must have been a second before your body engraved itself into the dirt when you felt hot hands cradle your battered body. You were weak and you were tired but he was like a siren. He called and you answered. You fought and he appeared.

It must have been fate that you had been the first one he’d met. He was your bright and warm star.

“You idiot,” he cried as boiling tears landed like rain on your dried, desert-like face. “I was coming to you. I was coming. I was coming. I was coming.” He held you into his chest, injuries and all be damned, as he cried.

If you could smile you would but it hurt just to wheeze. “Because you love me?”

“More than anything. More than anyone.”

And you loved him back. Love was not guaranteed at all, you knew that, but he was the reflection of your soul. He had a part of you wrapped around his heart like a vice. You won't let go. You tied him ephemerally to this world and he connected you to the largest star of them all. You could feel his soul like it was a breathing thing.

“Then I go wherever you go.”

He pulled you away from his body and through your slitted eyes, you saw the most beautiful man. The man who wore the sun like a coat. The man who reminded you of gods and how weak mortals were next to them. You’d flown into the flames and he was here.

“No, I need you to understand.” Chanyeol’s lips were moving in a way that told you he was serious. But it dawned on you then that in his arms, the burns did not hurt. It was like licks on your skin. “You are the greatest star of my universe. You are all of it.”

You understood. “And I would fall again and again. It’s all or nothing with you, Chanyeol. Do you understand?”

Maybe he did because he hooked his face into your shoulder and let out a laugh. It was rusty. He hadn't laughed in ages but it felt right. His soul had fallen down to earth first, and he had come right after. He had been searching for you for a long time, for such a long time that he had forgotten. To him, you were like the vast space beyond the sun.

You’d flown to him, even if it killed you. Nothing else mattered after that.

“You. I came down for you. I was sent to you. I am sorry, so sorry, that it took me so long to reach back down.”

At first, you did not know what the hell he was talking about. Several minutes passed before you did. And that was when you grinned as tears poured from your eyes.

He finally knew.

a/n: ahh if you made it down here, thank you. im so happy you read this and i hope you enjoyed it, and yes i cried while i wrote this. i have been wanting to do this since i listened to Zayn’s 2018 Icarus Falls album. and i hope i actually did my imagination justice. pls dont hesitate to tell me what you think! :)

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©️ 2020 kai, moonbelt [aka high-on-food]

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sachirou-senpai · 4 years

Text

Never let me go - Tanaka Ryuunosuke x Reader

Warnings: FLUFF!!! it's so cute omg. friends to lovers (my favorite troupe!!!) kinda n*fw cause like dry humping but it's really not that intense. i love Tanaka with all of my soul and I'm really proud of this so please hype it up for me. 💞💞

A/n: I'm so soft for Tanaka. Oh my god.

You and Tanaka Ryuunosuke were glued at the hip. It was to be expected, considering you'd both been friends since you were born. Your closeness was envied by lots of people- especially Saeko who claimed he loved you more than her. No matter what, you two were inseparable.

Every Friday night, Tanaka would come over to your house- or vice versa- to watch some sort of absolutely terrible movie. Low-budget action, disgusting romance, and sometimes even crazy conspiracy movies. It was a tradition the two of you had gotten used to, and it was always a perfect way to end your week. No amount of schoolwork, bullying or long practice hours could be worried about when the two of you were together, watching junk movies and eating equally junky food. You always made sure to keep your Friday nights going- unless one of you was out of town or he was at training camp. Not that either of those things would really stop you, because FaceTime was a thing and you two used it far more than you'd both like to admit. You were practically addicted to each other. Always talking, always texting, and more than often, always touching.

Recently though, the touches had gotten more intense. Holding hands while you walked home, long hugs every morning and night, and surprisingly intimate cuddles every Friday. The movies had changed, too. Instead of watching the action ones, like Tanaka usually preferred, you had started watching more and more romance ones. All terrible, mind you. But you felt like it was doing something to you. Of course, you'd always been slightly attracted to your tall and muscular friend, I mean who wouldn't be? Something about watching all the romance movies was really doing something to you, though. You tried to convince yourself that it was just the movies, that you weren't falling for your best friend. You were not going to be one of those girls, who falls for their best friend and has to watch them grow up and fall in love with another woman. That thought was the only thing that kept you sane, and you're pretty sure if you weren't so afraid of losing Tanaka, you would've just confessed to him already. Wait confessed? You don't even like him. You jump in shock, startling yourself out of your thoughts.

"Woah, you okay there?" Tanaka's voice makes you jump again, causing you to suddenly remember where you were- in your crushes lap! You flush a deep red and thank God for the dim lights. "I- uh, yes, I'm fine," you sputter out. "You sure about that? You're looking a little flustered," he says in a teasing voice. "I mean, c'mon it's not even that realistic. Cocking your head at him, you turn your head back to the TV. You regret doing so, your entire body going rigid. You're pretty sure you forgot how to breathe, because there, on the TV, was one of the steamiest sex scenes you've ever seen in your life. "Oh! Oh, my god, I didn't even see that!" You immediately turn back around and bury your head in Tanaka's shoulder, blushing furiously. His laugh rings out, partially tuning out the rather lewd moans. "You sure, princess?" You heat up even further, because there's that nickname again.

It happened sometime around the beginning of high school, after he saw you in a princess dress. To be fair, it was a Friday night, and you should have expected him to come over, but you were so engrossed in playing princess with your little cousin, you completely forgot. So the nickname stuck. And god, it did things to you. Your face never failed to flush when you heard it, and you cursed yourself for letting it get to you so easily. His arms running up and down yours sides bring you out of your thoughts, and voice calms you down even further. "Hey, let's turn it off, okay? We can watch something else, no problem." Reaching for the remote, he turns the movie off, beginning to browse for something else. You're straddling him now, and you begin to feel the exhaustion set into your body. Being so close to him made you feel so safe, and so, so sleepy. "Can we just sleep? I don't wanna watch anything else," you say, slowly beginning to slur your words. He smiles at you, god, he's so in love with you. "Whatever you want, princess."

There was no doubt, he knew what that nickname did to you, which is why he always used it. There was nothing sweeter in the world to him than your blush. No candy, not even pure sugar. Yes, Tanaka was in love with his best friend, that much was clear. It wasn't until Nishinoya caught on and forced him to act on his feelings that he actually fully came to terms with it. The team assured him that you were just as much in love with him as he was you- even Tsukishima gave a surprisingly convincing nod. That alone would have been enough to convince him. So he did. Romantic movies, nearly excessive skinship, meaningful glances and of course the use of his favorite nickname. He wasn't sure it was working, but then again, here he was, with you in his arms. Looking down at you, he stills when he realizes you're sleeping, careful not to disturb you. He figures now is a better time than any to tell you how he feels, so kissing your head, he takes a deep breath.

"I love you. I love you so, so much. I've loved you for so long it just feels like second nature at this point. I can't imagine a life without loving you." Pausing, he chuckles. "And I don't mean platonic love. No, I Tanaka Ryuunosuke have fallen head over heels in love with my best friend. It's nearly embarrassing- not that you're embarrassing, not at all. I just didn't expect to be one of those people to fit into such a stereotypical troupe, y'know? That's the embarassing part. Oh, and before you even think about it, yes, I'm going to be one of those self-sacrificial guys, the ones that are like 'I just want to see you happy.' If you don't return my feelings, of course. If you do feel the same though, I'll promise you this- I'm never letting you go." Tears are streaming down his face now, but he doesn't care. Nor does he make any move to wipe them off- no- he's not letting you go, not while he still has you.

Caught up in his confession, he doesn't feel you freeze. You were never asleep to begin with, just too shocked to move. Your heart is beating a million miles an hour, the love of your life just poured his heart out, never expecting you to hear any of what he said. You take a couple deep breaths to calm your racing heart. You know exactly what to do. Leaning up and grabbing his face, you say with as much conviction in your voice as possible: "Tanaka Ryuunosuke, don't you dare let me go."

And with that, you bring your lips to his. You've never felt anything more passionate in your life, you're absolutely certain you're going to faint. It's a perfect harmony, lips on lips. It's everything you've ever wanted, and little do you know he feels the exact same. He pulls you closer in an attempt to close the already practically non-existent gap between you, successfully grinding your hips together. The whine you let out is nothing short of sinful and he knows he has to hear more. With one hand on your face and the other on you hip, he helps you grind against him. When you break the kiss only to bring your lips down his jaw, he absolutely short-circuits. He lets out a breathy moan which only spurs you on further, kissing farther down his neck and lightly sucking a mark into his skin. Both lf his hands are on your waist now, grinding you down with much more fevor and desperation. It's practically heavenly. Sure, you've been aroused before, but it's never been like this, you feel like you're on fire.

You know you could continue like this forever, or at least until one of you came in your pants, but you stop him. It's only because you've realized it's probably not appropriate to be dry humping your childhood friend and longtime crush in his living room, especially not when his parents and sister were home. But of course, it's far too late for that, because Saeko has already walked in on the two of you locking lips.

"FUCK YEAH!" She screams. "I fucking called it! Mom! Dad! They finally fucking got together! It's only been like 8 years since you've been in love with her, right? It's about fucking time! Wait, you're together right? Ryuunosuke, I swear if you don't make her your girlfriend I will make your life a living hell." The two of you practically jump apart, shocked and thoroughly embarrassed. All you can do is stare at him in awe. "Eight years? You've been in love with me for eight years?" Your voice is barely a whisper, but you know he can hear it. He looks right into your eyes, and you're overwhelmed by the sheer amount of love in his gaze.

"Yes. Best eight years of my life."

Please reblog if you enjoyed.

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the196thbattalion · 4 years

Text

star wars human! high school! au

i’ve seen so many headcanons circling throughout the star wars tumblr about high school au’s, so i wanted to share my bit with all of you :D

anakin skywalker

five words: REBEL CHILD ON A MOTORCYCLE.

he doesn’t like riding the school bus because it makes him feel extremely claustrophobic, so he scrapped and scavenged up parts to make his own customized motorcycle, which he lovingly dubbed artoo.

the blue and silver detailing was the joint effort of ahsoka and obi-wan, because anakin doesn’t know how to paint.

if he can catch up to the bus, he’ll ride alongside it and flip off the students on it before revving on ahead of them. (the freshmen think it’s the funniest thing in the universe)

probably one of the most well-known juniors in the entirety of temple high school (mostly because of his shenanigans but partly because he’s dating padme fuckiNG AMIDALA, PRETTIEST GIRL IN THE DAMN SCHOOL)

he always wears this worn-down leather jacket his mom gave to him before she passed away, and refuses to take it off, even though it’s somehow “a violation of the dress code and should be outlawed.”

his hair alone has seduced eight different students (boys and girls)

sometimes during study hall, ahsoka or padme will get a hold of his hair and style it into little braids or make a super rad ponytail.

he really likes iced coffee with milk and sugar. he puts in the milk to make it nice and light (it’s aesthetically pleasing, obi-wan!), and then like eight tablespoons of sugar to make it actually taste good.

his favorite class is mechanics, taught by kit fisto.

anakin spent months on a mechanical arm project to replace his clunky plastic prosthetic, and he was so freaking happy when it was finished; he almost cried. (he did cry and ahsoka got it on video)

obi-wan kenobi

a mixture of the soft™, pretty™, hippie™, grunge™, vsco™ and nerd™ tropes.

he really likes peppermint tea with lots of honey but takes his coffee black.

he has had too much tea.

someone needs to stop him.

almost all of his classes are ap courses, and if cody hadn’t been watching when obi-wan was making his schedule, all of them would be.

him, cody and padme have ap english with mace windu, and cody knows how much his classes stress him out, so he lets obi-wan sleep during class and sends him the notes

the only ap class obi-wan doesn’t take is mechanics, and he shares that class with anakin.

anakin and obi-wan are super close with each other. kenobi was there when ahsoka was adopted, and anakin was there when kenobi got his cat. (they were like 5 okay)

“NAME IT C3PO OBI-WAN, OR I SWEAR TO FUCK-” “what kind of name is that, and why would i - anAKIN PUT HIM DOWN!?”.

mr. fisto constantly has to split them up for disrupting the class, but it’s almost like they can communicate telepathically, and the teachers have a running bet

mace windu literally bet $50 on these fucking nerds so you know it’s for realsies

in reality, they’ve just gotten super creative with passing notes.

kind of off topic, but he has these brown harry potter glasses that he uses (kinda for reading???? but mostly so he can do that anime pushing up glasses thing)

cody thinks it’s the funniest shit ever

whenever cody is feeling stressed, obi-wan just does the thing™ and BOOM! happiness.

people think he’s a goodie two shoes, and honestly, it’s really easy to think that. if the iconics are trying to do something stupid, he’s usually the voice of reason.

but parties?

…

you know what, just ask anakin for the video footage.

ahsoka tano

this hs!au ahsoka tano turned me bisexual confirmed ✔

okay before i go into her style, which is mainly what made me drool over my computer, can i just put skatergirl!ahsoka out there?

spray painting of the rebellion symbol all over the bottom of her board and on items in a couple of the places where she skates the most (like the back of an abandoned car yard)

her instagram is filled with these super cool vhs-tape recorded skate videos (u know)

lots crackhead 3am visits (starring anakin, rex, kenobi and barris) to a gas station to get slushies and grind the shit out of the curb connecting the store to the parking lot

trying to teach anakin how to skateboard but he just can’t figure it out? uh yes

“try to balance skyguy!” “HOW DO I MOVE? DO I SCOOT? SNIPS THIS ISN’T FUNNY AND I WANT TO GET OFF – GUYS, STOP LAUGHING!”

okay okay okay i’m done

for now

anyway, her style???? is so???? fucking????? cool!!!!!

her genetics gave her a 80% of having vitiligo, so it really wasn’t a surprise when patches of her skin got lighter, but it still freaked her out a little bit.

basically, went like this: “DAD, I’M TURNING WHITE!” “???? oh my gosh ‘soka, no.”

she has long braided dreadlocks she dyed a super bright orange with various colored beads woven into them with the help of anakin and padme. she usually styles them into little space buns atop her head.

her entire clothing wardrobe consists of fishnets, neon bomber jackets, at least 11 bisexual beanies™, handmade patchy jeans, white tank tops, and light-up platform shoes.

she doesn’t give two flying fucks about the dress code, and – IN THE MIDDLE OF THE MOST BUSY HALLWAY - punched principal sidious over whether or not she “could wear shorts that short” (anakin may or may not have cheered when she broke his nose).

the fetts (chuck have mercy)

*cracks le knuckles* i’ve put it off long enough

we have: fox (24), wolffe (19), cody (17), rex (17), echo (16), fives (16), boil (15), waxer (14), hardcase (13), jesse (12), longshot (8), kix (6), tup (3), gree (2) and boba (9mo)

wolffe is off at college - fox already graduated and moved out, that cheeky little fucking shit - but both still keep in good contact with the fam, and it’s a constant clamor between eleven of the siblings of who gets to talk to them first

fox majored in government/politics, bly is majoring in space/astronomy, and wolffe is majoring in police/law enforcement shit (i don’t know how college works, so sue me)

cody and rex are juniors, and despite their similar looks, the amount of schoolwork each of them completes drastically varies

cody is the honor roll student, valedictorian, whatever you want to call it

rex kinda just either does the work really well or 9/10 times gets distracted by anakin or ahsoka sending him some nice spicy memes

cody tried to tutor rex but it ended up almost landing tup in the hospital

“that’s really simple, actually. if you – vod? rex, are you okay? what are you oH NO TUP DON’T PUT THAT IN YOUR MOUTH-”

fetts on the varsity football team is like a right of passage in the family

right now, only the juniors of the fett family are on the team, but the coach has eyes on fives and echo for next years team

SPEAKING OF

echo, fives and boil are the infamous sophomore trio that pulled the milk bucket prank on the gym teacher, pong krell.

they had to help the janitor (99) clean up afterwards, but they genuinely enjoyed 99’s company, because he’s rad as shit and knows all the secret school passageways.

to be honest, not one person (except maybe sidious) was complaining

that motherfucker makes everyone run like eight laps during gym class

even mr. windu gives them a small smile in the hallways after that

boil says he was blackmailed into it

waxer is a freshman (the poor dude, i’m so sorry), and he always looks out for the nervous freshies

if someone is having a bad day, he’ll give them a lollipop (he carries around a whole bag), a place to sit during lunch, and a shoulder to cry on

all you need to do to find waxer is to locate this long ass line of children

the school counselor, plo koon, sometimes brings his niece numa into school during the day because he can’t find a babysitter, and waxer. fucking. loves. her. PERIOD.

w+n pull these tiny little pranks on teachers, and the staff pretends not to notice, but numa always giggles and gives them away.

boil has a soft spot for numa too, and sneaks her rice krispies.

bonus shit i want to add in but can’t figure out where to put it (or i’m just gonna add it on and shit)

plo koon adopted anakin after his mother died (him and anakin’s mother were good friends), and found ahsoka on the side of the street, shivering like a maniac.

he doesn’t know where ahsoka came from, but he loves her so gOD DAMN MUCH.

he’s the school counselor, and still keeps in touch with a lot of students even after the graduated (he thinks that majoring in law enforcement/police is a bit dangerous for wolffe but he still supports his unofficial but basically son 100%)

yoda is the super old but radically rad english teacher.

his entire point of existence in my mind fic is to troll the shit out of palpatine.

a recent conversation starring yoda and palps: “did you give the students the mountain of extra work i assigned them?” “for the students, that was?” i’m sorry. my bad, that is.” “this is the seventh time, yoda.”

okay but for real

mace windu violently roots for the school football team.

“BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF HIM, CODY! YOU TOO...OTHER CODY!”

“THAT’S A HOLDING! THAT’S A HOLDING!”

“REF IF YOU DON’T COUNT THAT TOUCHDOWN THEN I SWEAR TO SAMUEL L. JACKSON I WILL COME DOWN THERE AND BEAT YOUR SORRY PINSTRIPED ASS!”

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yuzukult · 4 years

Text

effortlessly pt. 6 || jungkook & reader

title: effortlessly pairing: jungkook x reader genre: fluff, romance, school!au, smut (no smut in this chapter) words: ~4k notes: longer than i thought but closer to the end!! possibly 3 chapters left if i planned this right ;___; sorry for the delay! days pass by so quickly... and i’m always napping after work....

series: part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven || part eight || part nine || part ten || epilogue

“Hey, you okay?”

His palms are clammy, you take note of this because the leather of his steering wheel evidently shows the residue left from the moisture on his hands. He’s anxious, it’s more than obvious, and you could potentially pinpoint the reason behind his uneasiness but you want to hear it from the man himself.

“Uh, sure. Kind of. Something along those lines.”

“You’re acting rather suspicious,” You say, paraphrasing the words he had used on you previously. “Talk to me, I’m supposed to be your best friend.”

The windows are rolled down and the sunroof is open, with the breeze flowing into the car yet you can still feel the heat of tension radiating between the two of you. He’d been silent the past couple days, head so focused and lost into just swimming during his practices, but that was all he did. Practice. Practice, practice, practice. Jungkook did it like a ritual, every single day at the same time, and performed it as if it was his religion. He hasn’t cooperated by eating enough meals during the day and although you guys didn’t share every class together, it had been apparent that he was behind on schoolwork.

He’d completely gone insane.

“So... the finals are coming up soon,” He manages to choke out, hands still tightly gripping on the steering wheel and eyes never leaving the road. He never said where the destination was when he sent you a text, prior to picking you up from your house on a Saturday afternoon, but you figured as much that he needed some time out so you complied. “And I heard that recruiters are coming. Well, rumor has it.”

“Hey, that’s great! You can finally show those guys your talents.”

“Yeah, but... what if I don’t get anything?” His voice is shaky, full of fear and angst. Although he wasn’t looking directly at you, you could tell that his chocolate orbs were mixed with ambiguity. Jungkook lived his entire life with the prospect that his dreams and aspirations were unattainable because he didn’t have the means to reach them. He lacked what many of his colleagues had— experience in competitions at a young age, training by professional coaches, and support financially from his family. He was at the bottom of the totem pole, knowingly still attempting to climb to the top despite of the downfalls, yet dismay always lingered.

The drive is quiet. The only sounds are coming from his old car, so worn out that the bumper is hanging on by duct tape. You regularly questioned Jungkook how the tape is so strong, and oddly enough, figuratively you realize that no matter how fucked up things are, you are the tape to Jungkook, who is holding onto his bumper of dreams. This situation wasn’t any different.

“Jungkook, I’m sure you’ll hear something. But even if you don’t, that doesn’t mean your journey ends there. And... you’re not alone. I’ll be with you even surpassing the end.”

It takes a moment for your response to sink in, but the edges of his mouth twist into a soft smile, your comforting words warming his heart. He feels as though he’s on top of the world when he’s with you, and it’s a reminder that nothing is out of reach if it means that you’re by his side.

Weeks later, Jungkook spends less and less time with you as time progresses on.

You’re trying to be understanding— again, emphasis on the trying, because he’s leaving classes and briskly moving straight to practices. He had made it through consolations with ease, but moving up to finals meant that the biggest competitors would be there however his colossal adversary is himself. Nonetheless, you miss your best friend, and it hadn’t been long after you’d been dating that he’s back immersed with his passions, long forgetting you. Or so, you mention dramatically.

“Why do you look so... sad?” Yura says, almost hinting disgust in her words. The two of you were out, looking for something to eat yet again, with Yura’s never ending black hole of a stomach.

“Because I haven’t hung out with Jungkook in forever.”

“You just saw him yesterday. Is this what puppy love is?” You roll your eyes at your friend, pushing her to a food stall on a street when the aromatic scents coming from the vendor invitingly enhances your senses. “No, I barely actually hung out with him. I came to his practice then he drove me home.”

Grabbing a couple sticks of fish cakes, Yura shamelessly shoves one in her mouth in one go. “What about today? I’m surprised you’re even hanging out with me despite the fact he has practice.” You frown, knowing that the guilt would eat you alive later, but you told your significant other you were ditching the one session since you’d been going back-to-back every single day. It had become a bit exhausting trying to keep up with his antics. “I... was going to go, but I’m tired. I’ve been going everyday for the past three weeks, I need a break.”

“A break from Jungkook?”

“No, not a break from Jungkook, a break from going to his practices.”

“Hmm,” She hums, cheeks full of rice cakes as you lean over and steal a stick of fish cake from her. “Well, you look hella sad. Why don’t you just tell him that you want to spend one on one time with him without the smell of chlorine in the air?”

“It’s so hard to talk to him.”

“No, you’re just being a weak ass bitch,” Yura snaps, your eyebrows raising at her choice in words. “You can tell Jungkook these things when you guys weren’t dating, why is it so different now? Because you actually care about what he thinks of you? Stop being so stupid, he loved you back then and he still loves you now.”

“OK, but won’t he think I’m too needy?” Immediately, it’s Yura’s turn to roll her eyes, groaning at your response. “Stop being one of those people! You want something, go get it. Beating around the bush doesn’t get you anywhere, yaknow.”

Yura makes a point. She always does, but like usual, you don’t let her know that.

“Did I tell you that Taehyung confessed to me?”

She coughs— nearly choking on the rice cake that she stuffs into her mouth momentarily before you mention the confession. “What the fuck— what? Kim Taehyung? The prodigy that graduated before any of us then got that wicked ass scholarship to study abroad and swim?”

“The one and only.” You remarked, taking a bite out of your food. “I rejected him, obviously. I told Jungkook about it since then, and we talked. Everything was fine, and still is fine, but I guess with the paucity of attention, it’s starting to eat me up inside and believe that it’s why he’s been ignoring me.”

“I mean, I doubt it. You rejected Taehyung. What else did the guy say?”

Fingers fiddling with the stick, you’re waving it in front of Yura’s face playfully as her eyes follow the goodness. “He just wanted me to know. I think it didn’t sit well with him if he didn’t at least try.”

“Do you think it bothers Jungkook knowing that if he didn’t confess, you’d be in the arms of the great Kim Taehyung?”

“Possibly. But he’s been so focused on swimming lately, I don’t think he even notices.”

That’s when the feeling drowns into your stomach— you know it’s not the food because it only happens when Yura mentions the words that bring your mind into overdrive. You’re overthinking now, there’s no way around it, and although you want to confront Jungkook about his new actions, you know he’d be the old him again soon after.

Your hands are equally muculent as if you’d just dipped your hands in the pool water with how much sweat you’re perspiring.

The chlorine in the air is an all too familiar feeling that you resent but yet again, you’d find yourself here frequently that the smell doesn’t quite grind your gears anymore. You’ve gotten used to it since you and Jungkook had become a thing, your love for him is a lot more indisputable and something you want to display.

He’d been giving you less attention lately, but he never fails to drop a quick peck on your lips before starting his practices. Today was different though.

Today was the finals.

You showed up in his locker room with an apple in hand and a cute little post-it note for support and motivation, and he gifts you his signature before-practice kisses, despite today being a swim meet. He’s distressed and fidgety; you’re pretty much the same. His team pats him on the back, pushing him with an inspirational chant which he lets out a laugh to—a laugh that is so nostalgic it reminds you of a time before the release date for the finals.

Sitting in the bleachers feels weird today. It’s not the bleachers at your school, for one, and two, there were just so many people in the crowd, you think Jungkook won’t be able to find you.

“Hey, if you sit here, Jungkook will be able to see you.” His name perks up your ears, turning to the owner of the assumption when you meet your eyes with Taehyung.

He looks... unfamiliar in this lighting. More mature, if you had to describe him in a word.

“Sure, I guess I could join you,” You respond, exchanging a smile with him as you settle yourself on the bleachers. The humidity in the arena was disgusting and you could almost feel your hair going insane with the frizz. But that was the least of your worries. “I’m kind of scared for Jungkook, even though I know he’s going to do fine.”

“Of course he’s going to do fine, he’s going to do better than fine. He’s Jeon Jungkook. Plus, he has us, his personal cheerleaders on the sideline for him and the rest of his team backing him up. He has all the support he needs, and he’s full of talent so he doesn’t even need luck on his side.”

You want to believe him because everything he says is true. But the word luck doesn’t sit well with you.

The introduction starts, informing the audiences what the relays would be, and a couple of the matches begin. Your brain can’t even fixate itself to watch the other players on Jungkook’s team because of how restless you are about Jungkook’s portion, but from what you hear beside you, Taehyung says that they’re all doing well.

Then it’s Jungkook’s turn.

He’s standing on the platform, dressed in his swim tights and cap, goggles in hand. Shaking to warm and loosen up his body, he looks like he’s shivering in fear. You don’t think he even takes a glance up at the crowd to find you and a bit of disappointment settles in.

Back crouched over, he’s taking in a couple breathes before preparing himself for the initial push. It’s like any other swim meet, is what he repeats in his mind but he knows that this isn’t just any swim meet. He knows that amongst the people in the crowd are recruiters, people who could determine the fate of his future, and he couldn’t bring himself to look at the sidelines. Too many emotions would sit in him and he possibly won’t even be able to swim if he did.

The whistle blows.

Jungkook dives off the platform, swimming away in freestyle mode. He’s admirable when he’s swimming, like he has all the freedom in the world without any burden on his shoulders. The words he mentions previously about his aspirations ring in your ears again. When I’m in the water, I’m floating. Floating without a care in the world, without anything pushing down on my shoulders. All I can think about is how I’m just surrounded by the water, how it sounds in my ears and how it feels on my fingertips.

Seeing him in his true happy place made you a bit envious. Envious that you didn’t find anything in close resemblance to how swimming made Jungkook feel, how you couldn’t even commit yourself to hobbies. What he said in the car weeks ago is a reminder that it’s okay for you to feel this way, that no matter what happens to you, Jungkook would always be there. There was some comfort in that.

He’s doing well, from what you can tell. He’s not overexerting himself in the water, and he’s switching between different types of strokes in order to ease the pressure off himself and quicken his speed. He’s neck and neck with his opponent, and you think nothing of it because it’s the exact scenario as some of his swim meets.

But then— you’re unsure what happens. It’s a moment of hesitation, possibly, but his opponent does one last push and he makes it.

Jungkook won second place.

It’s hard to tell exactly how he’s feeling. His eyes that once were bursting with excitement and happiness were filled with despair and anger yet his voice is calm and soft when he speaks to his teammates.

He doesn’t even look directly at you and you feel a certain way, but you don’t let that feeling eat you up inside knowing he’s upset with his performance.

The car ride is utterly quiet. So quiet that you don’t even hear the engine of the car sputter or roar during the drive, almost like even the car could feel the tension in the air.

“Jeon, you okay?” You barely say, voice as quiet as a mouse squeaking. He’s like a ticking time bomb at this point, and there’s uncertainty on what can detonate his anger.

He doesn’t respond for a couple minutes for exasperating a long and heavy sigh. “You already know the answer to your question. What’s the point of even asking? It’s a waste of breath.”

“Hey, you won second though. That should take account for something. You did well, I’m sure you’ll be okay.”

“Are you definitely sure?” He snaps. His tone is harsh and the volume is increased a bit but you brush it off thinking it was an impulsive decision on his end to respond that way.

“Of course I am.”

“Listen, don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t have dreams that just got ruined. Your goals don’t even exist for that— this swim meet was my chance to show those recruiters what I’m capable of. These were the fucking finals! I could be living the way Taehyung is, training for my life, given a coach that actually has the ability to show me tricks and tips that ours couldn’t.”

This... wasn’t the Jungkook you’ve come to know and admire. His aspirations were eating him alive, and for a brief moment, he’d abandoned the love he had for swimming, and just swimming alone, the only thoughts flooding his mind was winning finals. Swim meets weren’t even his favorite thing, he’d only did them because they were stepping stones to continue swimming and to do it as a career.

You push the tears back from brimming in your eyes, arms slipping into your jacket in preparation to get out the car. “Yeah, no, you’re right. I’m just some lost chick who stood in the bleachers, so dumbfounded and blinded by your love and affection. I won’t understand because I never will, I don’t have those passions or goals like you do.”

“Wait—“ Glancing over at you and before he can finish and say your name, you sling your backpack over your shoulder. “Stop the car. I can walk home or grab an Uber.”

“I was just mad in the moment—“

“You said what you said, and you meant it. I’ve been trying to be patient, but I’ve had enough. Stop the car, Jungkook.”

Abiding by your instruction, he pulls over to the shoulder of the road, turning to look at your expression. His face didn’t shone in antagonism anymore but that same fear he had before he went in for his swim meet earlier.

“Where are you going?” He says, voice wary. “Don’t go.”

“Home,” You respond abruptly and sharply, unlocking the seatbelt that embraces you before opening the door. “I can walk myself home. Don’t follow or wait up for me.”

He doesn’t comply with those orders though. Instead, as you’re walking on the sides of the street, he trails behind you silently, understandingly giving you your space despite the fact he didn’t want to. All he wants is to pull you into his arms and apologize. Apologize for letting his anger get to him, saying things to you that he didn’t mean.

Cars are beeping behind him, cursing and sticking their middle fingers up at Jungkook as they go around him, but he could care less. His day has gone so far down— potentially losing the love of his life and the route of his career.

Finally reaching to the front of your houses, he watches as you enter in as he makes his way into his own. Once he reaches his room, he quickly attempts to get your attention from his window. Jungkook figured, even when you’re mad, you couldn’t resist seeing his cute face from across the little space between your houses.

Excited with a smile on his face, he peeks through the glass, only to see that you’d already closed the window and dropped the blinds. His smile dissipates within seconds.

Jungkook concludes he’d let you calm down for the night and try again tomorrow.

The sun peers through his blinds, and shone on his face as he grunts in displeasure. His body is sore from the amount of practices and the swim meet from the day before, but nothing in comparison to the thought of hurting you.

His phone rings and almost immediately, he jumps out of his bed, still in his boxer briefs and without hesitation, he exclaims a “hi!” without checking the caller ID. Once he realizes that the voice on the other line doesn’t belong to you, his enthusiasm sizzles out.

“Jeon Jungkook?”

“Ah, yes. That’s me. Can I ask who’s calling?”

“I’m one of the recruiters that came to your swim meet yesterday. I’m so sorry for not getting to meet you afterwards, I’ve been so swamped in my personal life, I didn’t get the chance. Do you have a moment to speak?”

#jungkook #gyukultfics #jungkook fics #jeon jungkook #bts #bts fanfic #bts fics #jungkook x reader #jungkookxreader #jungkook and reader #reader #jungkookxyou #jungkook x you #bts smut #jungkook smile #wassup yall

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tothemeadow · 4 years

Text

HHGGOoOoo MAYbe (im aware its a little late to ask) KYouJuRou day 6?? all? of them? all the prompts. im very intrigued to see what you would make with him! and could it be MAybe an AFAB reader but gender neutral? if thats possible!

Day 6: angry/hate sex / hair pulling / biting

warnings: NSFW, semi-public sex, possessive behavior, slight degradation

words: 1,417

(a/n): art is not mine, (I’m sorry if this didn’t turn out the way you wanted! I already had it written and I reread the request and I think I may have messed up ;-;)

When it comes to Kyojuro, trust is key.

Don’t doubt for a second that he doesn’t trust you; if he didn’t, you wouldn’t be wearing that band around your ring finger. It’s just that, well, he doesn’t trust others. More specifically, he doesn’t trust others around you.

And, as the crowd of strangers dance in front of him, the strobing lights reflecting off their sweaty faces, his unease is at its greatest. The two of you agreed to tag along to a nightclub with your fellow coworkers; schoolwork has been rather trying lately, and all of you need a break even if it’s just for one night. The bass of the speakers thump loudly, shake the entire building with its blasting music. Kyojuro has to keep a firm grip on his bottle if he doesn’t want it to fall off the table.

Around him, some of his closest friends and coworkers chatter and throw back their own drinks. Tengen’s laughing at something Obanai said, his entire face scrunched up. Sanemi seems to be lecturing Gyomei and Giyuu about something (Kyojuro just hopes it isn’t about some complex formula). Then there’s Kanae, Tamayo, Obanai’s girlfriend Mitsuri, and you. You’re giggling along to whatever your group is discussing. Kyojuro’s face melts into a fond smile when you catch his eye.

“Oi,” Tengen says, his snapping fingers appearing in front of Kyojuro’s face. “Over here, Romeo. We’re here to have fun.”

“And by fun, you mean black out drunk,” Obanai utters. Even so, he takes a swig of his own beer. “Remind me why I drink this shit.”

“Obanai!” Mitsuri calls out. She appears by her boyfriend’s side, a bright smile on her face. “We girls are going dancing. Do any of you guys want to join?”

Obanai physically stiffens at the proposal. “Hell no.”

“Aw,” Mitsuri says with a pout, “Sanemi’s going! If he can do it, you can too.”

Kyojuro listens in on the conversation with interest as he continues to chug at his own drink. The music changes to something bass heavy and fast – something sexy. He can see the sea of people swaying as one, partners finding each other in the crowd and grinding against one another. Immediately his eyes find you in the crowd; you’re swaying along to the music, your hips moving fluidly. His mouth waters at the little black dress you chose to wear, your legs looking longer than usual and your cleavage pushing out of the top. Your body is calling, and he’ll damned if he doesn’t answer.

A patch of white hair catches his attention, though. Sanemi slithers through the crowd, his hands landing on your shoulders. Turning to him, you two share a short conversation before you’re turning away again, although there’s a mischievous smile playing on your lips. Kyojuro’s throat turns dry as he watches Sanemi glide his hands down to your hips; he certainly doesn’t miss the way Sanemi hangs onto you in a possessive hold. The muscle in Kyojuro’s jaw ticks.

Swiftly, he takes another drink of his beer, reminding himself that you would never dream of cheating on him – especially not with a guy like Sanemi. Still, he can’t help the jealousy that makes his blood boil. It should be him out there, his hands on your hips. He nearly chokes on his beer when he watches Sanemi guide your hips back into his. Throwing your head back, you press your breasts upwards, and your arms slink back to entangle your fingers in Sanemi’s hair.

“Holy shit,” Tengen breathes. Kyojuro’s eyes snap to his friend. Tengen’s eyes are glued to you and Sanemi, though, and a wicked smirk is playing on his face. He looks way too amused for Kyojuro’s taste.

Mitsuri gasps at the scene before her. Her eyes flicker between Kyojuro and you, her hands covering her mouth. Obanai simply looks unimpressed.

“Damn, Kyojuro,” Tengen drawls as he lazily takes a sip of his drink, “does your spouse move like that in the bedroom?”

That’s it.

Slamming his bottle onto the table, he swiftly shoots up from his chair. Tengen’s cackling like a wild man as Kyojuro breaks through the crowd, shouldering his way between sweaty bodies and groping hands. Sanemi’s face is buried in the crook of your neck as he finally nears you two. Reaching out, he rips you from Sanemi’s grasp; you let out a startled shriek as you collide into his solid chest.

“Don’t you think that’s a little much, Sanemi?” Kyojuro growls. You can feel it rumble through his chest.

“No hard feelings, man,” Sanemi says, raising his hands in surrender. Kyojuro narrows his eyes at him. “Besides, I know better than to piss you off. I don’t feel like getting my ass handed to me again,” he says, muttering the last part. He cocks an eyebrow. “We’re just having fun. Right, (y/n)?”

“Y-yeah,” you sputter. You yelp as his large hand wraps around your wrist in an iron grip.

He tugs you away from Sanemi, away from the crowd. You’re left rambling apologizes as he leads you down the dimly lit hallways of the club. Shoving the door open to the bathroom, he quickly scans the surrounding area – empty. Perfect.

Pushing you forward, he slams the door shut and slides the bolt into place. Turning on his heel, he looks to you, a dark gleam in his eyes. “What was that,” he growls. It’s not a question – it’s a demand. You’re smart enough not to talk back.

“I just wanted to dance,” you tell him, your voice small.

Stepping forward, Kyojuro shoves you against a wall. His hand grasps onto your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “And you had to settle for Sanemi, huh?” He clicks his tongue in annoyance. “I don’t like that, babe.”

“I’m sorry-“

Fingers entangling in your hair, he yanks your head back, exposing the slope of your neck and the swell of your breasts. “Cockslut,” he grunts. You cry out as he surges in, his teeth sinking into the tender skin. You clutch onto his shoulders, fingers desperately clawing at the fabric of his shirt. With a growl, he shoves a thick thigh between your legs, pressing up against your pussy. “You’re not happy unless all attention’s on you, huh? I bet you were just glowing knowing that I was watching Sanemi basically dry hump you. Filthy thing.”

He rocks you against his muscular thigh, ignoring your desperate pleas. He bites you over and over, leaving imprints and bruises nearly everywhere. With a grunt, his hangs grasp onto your thighs, hiking you up around his hips. Your back rubs against the wall, dragging against the dingy tile. In quick movements, his pants are unzipped, cock springing out, and your panties are shoved to the side.

A loud groan echoes throughout the room as he stuffs his cock inside your pussy. He fucks into you at a fast, relentless pace, his hands yanking you down to meet him thrust for thrust. He holds your head back by your hair, both his lips and his teeth trailing the pounding vein.

“You’re mine, you got it?” he growls. “Everybody in this damn club is going to know who you belong to.”

“Yes, Kyojuro, yes!”

His thumb drops down between you two and seeks out your clit. A sharp cry emits from your throat as he rubs tight little circles into your sensitive nub. You keen, your back arching into him. Your velvety walls suck in his cock with each stroke; the swollen head beats against your cervix, bringing the most sinful moans from the depths of your chest.

“You wanna cum, babe?” Kyojuro snaps. “Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please, I wanna cum so bad-“

A few more brutal thrusts send you over the edge; your entire body trembles as your orgasm washes over you. You cry out Kyojuro’s name, your walls clenching down on him even tighter. A throaty groan erupts from his throat as his thrusts turn sloppy, the wet noises of your sexes driving him absolutely insane.

“Fuck, babe, you’re so tight.”

An animalistic growl sounds in your ear and then Kyojuro’s cumming; thick, hot spurts of cum fill your insides, his cock driving it deeper in your cunt. A chorus of moans echo in the bathroom, but neither of you care.

Outside the bathroom door, Tengen snickers. He sends Sanemi a cocky grin and a thumbs-up. “Good work, dude! Kyojuro the Pussy Pounder is back in action!”

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kny kyojuro #kyojuro rengoku #kyojuro rengoku x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2020 #tothemeadow's kinktober

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syrenblubs · 3 years

Text

☆ how they study (yachi & kiyoko)

a/n: i don’t necessarily write for them but i was scrolling through pinterest and this happened

also im experimenting with formats so please excuse the inconsistency of my posts for a while

word count: 574

— YACHI HITOKA

aesthetic level: over 9000

her notes are very pretty and organized very well, as expected from the daughter of a professional designer

she’s a visual learner! using her design skills, she’s able to make effective mind maps that are appealing to the eye

for her, a pleasant display of her notes motivates her to study and get her work done

she has a bit of a pen addiction (like me in middle school please)

she’ll come to class with a whole muji pen set in her pencil case

she usually studies for her classes regularly to avoid cramming during exam season

on most days, she’ll get straight to doing her homework as soon as she gets home from volleyball practice

homework radio is her best friend (other than kiyoko <3)

her phone is kept far from the desk to avoid getting distracted and moving off track

stickers!! everywhere!!

she keeps a small snack like a granola bar or a bowl of fruits next to her to munch on while grinding

she doesn’t do too well with immense pressure, but she uses it to her advantage by motivating herself to get assignments done well before the due date

she prefers to keep a glass of water on her desk rather than coffee or juice

she doesn’t regularly study outside of her house, unless it’s a group session with hinata and kageyama

— KIYOKO SHIMIZU

juggling schoolwork, college exams, managing the club, and doing research to help make beneficial game plans with ukai, she has very limited time to study outside of doing homework, but she makes the most of it.

she studies wherever she can. from the few minutes traveling to school to the little breaks in between volleyball practice, her head will be in the books. of course she knows how to keep a balance. in that aspect, the other third years on the volleyball team help her.

she’ll carry around flashcards in her backpack to study vocabulary for her english class, formulas for her math class, and event dates for her japanese history class wherever she could.

because her schedule is packed, her notes focus more on the content of the lesson/unit/chapter/module explained efficiently rather than the format or aesthetic to save time.

on weekends the team doesn’t have practice, she’ll study with asahi, daichi, and suga at the local library and go for a quick lunch.

whatever drink she bought from the vending machine is placed next to her opened books.

if she’s extremely busy on a certain day, she’ll eat her meals while working, which is usually meat buns from sakanoshita that the team bought after practice or a rice bowl from said market.

she likes to listen to relaxing nature sounds and occasionally, lofi music while working, as it eases her from the stresses of her other responsibilities.

she used to working under pressure, having so many duties to fulfill, many tasks get piled up and are pushed back for the sake of her sanity.

she leaves her phone on her desk, just in case she gets an important text or email, but it’s always on DND and no where near her studying material.

she’s more of an auditory learner, especially since she finds it very convenient to play lectures on her earbuds while she tends to other matters.

her pencil case is fairly simple, containing a few black pens, pencils, highlighters, a blue and red pen, and an eraser.

#hqradiostation #haikyuu!!#haikyuu headcanons #yachi hitoka #yachi hitoka imagines #yachi hitoka headcanons #yachi headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fanfiction #kiyoko shimizu #kiyoko shimizu imagines #kiyoko shimizu headcanons #kiyoko headcanons #hq!! fluff #hq!!#haikyu #haikyuu fandom

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when-they-write-stuff · 4 years

Note

Imagine if after Stiles having her for so many years and the shit she’s been through, Roscoe just breaks down one day and Stiles is upset because that jeep was his baby. Derek suggests they go car shopping because Stiles needs a vehicle and Stiles gets very upset and offended cause he can’t just replace Roscoe.

Oh my gosh, nonnie. This is adorable.

- -

Derek was pretty sure there was something wrong with Stiles.

Or, something more wrong than usual. Of course, he already knew that Stiles had his many, many mannerisms and oddities. The boy was spastic, loud, and didn’t get close to enough sleep. Derek was pretty sure his diet consisted of Adderal and curly fries, and he was always getting himself in trouble.

But Derek thought there was something else wrong with Stiles. Like something on an emotional level.

He wasn’t used to seeing Stiles quiet and… sad?

Derek decidedly didn’t like it.

Things started when Stiles showed up at the loft after school one day, just like usual, and proceeded to ignore the rest of the pack all afternoon. He did his homework, flipped Peter off every time the man tried to speak and gave Isaac flat looks when he walked around in his scarves. But he was also acting off. He was acting weird.

Derek thought his scent smelled more sour than usual.

The thing is, he didn’t know how to approach this. Whenever one of the betas was feeling down, Derek would either give them a wide berth, train them until they didn’t have the energy to feel sad, or sometimes offer the beta a little extra attention. With someone like Isaac or Erica, that worked like a charm.

He didn’t know what to do about Stiles. The boy was grinning and laughing so often, Derek didn’t know how to react when he wasn’t anymore.

He tried to put Boyd on Stilinski duty. But the beta didn’t seem very excited about that.

“You want me to what, now?”

“Keep an eye on Stiles,” Derek said, trying to put as much Alpha authority into his voice that he could. “Make sure there’s nothing wrong with him.”

“Why don’t you just ask yourself?”

“Because,” Derek said. “I’m putting you on Stilinski duty.”

“I still have a job and schoolwork,” Boyd said flatly. Normally, Derek admired the beta for standing up for himself. There was a reason Boyd was a second right from the beginning, but at the moment all he wanted was to hear an ‘okay’ or maybe a ‘Stiles is fine’. Derek crossed his arms, glaring, but Boyd still didn’t look cowed.

“I’ll pay you.”

“You’ll pay me to keep an eye on Stiles.”

“One week.”

Boyd looked at him for a long moment. Then, shaking his head, he just turned away. Derek didn’t think that was the answer he’d been looking for.

He frowned after the beta before sighing to himself.

There was no way he was putting Erica on Stilinski duty. The last time he’d asked her to deal with him, she’d knocked Stiles out with a piece of his own car and then left him in a dumpster. Derek figured Isaac would probably go for the ‘I’ll pay’ deal, but that might not end well for Isaac or Stiles.

Derek rubbed a hand over his face and realized with a pang that he was going to have to deal with this himself. Because clearly, there was something wrong.

Stiles was at his desk when Derek pulled himself through the window that night.

The boy startled so hard, he went flailing out of his seat. Derek fixed him with an unimpressed gaze and crossed his arms, looming over where the teenager had fallen.

“What’s wrong with you.”

When he heard himself, Derek realized maybe he should’ve thought through this one or two times more. Because that didn’t exactly sound comforting.

Stiles glared up at him. “What the hell, Sourwolf?”

“You smell wrong.”

That didn’t sound too great either. Internally, Derek cringed.

Stiles apparently felt the same way. Because the boy shoved himself up so he and Derek were chest to chest, and glared. Derek smothered the urge to retreat a few steps back. He was the Alpha after all and he’d just come here to make sure Stiles was okay.

He was trying to do something good, dammit.

“Well, excuse me for smelling a little bad,” Stiles snapped. “I haven’t taken a shower in a couple of days because I’ve been drowning underneath homework, car troubles, and pack stuff. You want to tell me I need to bathe, Sourwolf? Because if that’s the case, you can take your furry ass right back out the window—”

“Car troubles?”

Stiles snapped his mouth shut, not looking happy at being cut off. But once more, Derek noticed his scent changed. The boy ran a hand through his hair before dropping back into his desk chair with a slight grunt. “Yes.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Why the hell do you care, Derek?”

“I’m allowed to care.”

“Yes, but that usually doesn’t happen, does it? Dude, the last time you asked about me it was when I accidentally forgot a pack meeting and you slammed me against a wall for good measure.”

Derek winced. Hadn’t that been like three months ago? He was pretty sure that had been a little while ago.

Stiles was looking at his computer screen miserably now. Derek shifted from foot to foot before sighing and turning away.

“Fine, I’ll leave then.”

Half-way out the window, he didn’t get a reply. But then it sounded like Stiles was grinding his teeth and the boy turned in his chair, fixing Derek with a last look. “Roscoe’s broken down on me. My dad doesn’t think we can afford to get her fixed.”

Derek paused, one leg still inside of the boy’s bedroom. He blinked and then pulled himself back in. Stiles crossed his arms over his chest but only looked even more miserable.

“I tried taking her to the auto mechanic’s but he said it’ll be expensive. My dad thinks all the repairs aren’t worth it and I should think about just saving up for a new car.”

“I could…” Derek trailed off. What could he do? Offer to pay to fix it? Offer to take a look? Derek knew a thing or two about cars but probably not enough. “We could go car shopping. If you wanted.”

Stiles looked up at him with blazing amber eyes. “Seriously, dude? Car shopping?”

“... You don’t like car shopping?”

“No, asshole,” Stiles said, shoving himself up. “I’m not getting a new car! Roscoe is my baby! I’m not jumping to the next best model because she grinds in second sometimes!”

Derek blinked at him, surprised. What the hell was he supposed to say to that?

“Just go away,” Stiles said, dropping back into his chair.

“Fine.”

Derek rolled his eyes and turned away again, pulling himself out the window. This time, Stiles didn’t say a word to stop him and Derek supposed that was fine. If Stiles wanted to be difficult, Stiles could be difficult. It’s not like Derek understood what the hell was going on.

It was a car. Just a car. Right?

Quietly, he thought that if someone ever told him to get rid of or sell the Camaro— Laura’s old car— he’d be pretty pissed too. But that was different.

Derek didn’t look back.

Lydia cornered him after the pack meeting the next week.

Derek didn’t know why because he and Lydia didn’t often speak. They had this grudging but quiet respect between the two of them and Derek was perfectly okay with that. He’d never admit that the girl scared him a little and he knew better than to get on her wrong side.

He’d never admit that out loud, but he was also pretty sure he’d done nothing wrong. So he wasn’t sure exactly why the girl was looking at him with flashing green eyes while the rest of the pack filtered out of the loft.

“You,” Lydia said, pointing a finger in his face. “Have some things to fix.”

“What.”

“Stiles is moping more than usual. What have you said to him?”

Derek blinked at her. Then he scowled, starting to brush by. But Lydia caught his arm before he could make his escape and Derek swallowed down a growl, turning back toward the red-head.

“I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“So why is he acting like the world has ended?”

“I don’t know,” Derek said in a snarl. “The last time I tried to ask, he spouted some nonsense about homework, pack stuff, and his stupid broken car. Why don’t you try asking yourself?”

Lydia let go and Derek instantly regretted his words. He clenched his jaw and ducked his head.

“I don’t know what’s wrong. He won’t talk to me.”

“His mother’s car broke down?”

Derek looked back up at that, brows furrowed. Lydia raised a perfectly manicured brow at his expression and then signed, rolling her eyes.

“Oh my god. You men really are thick sometimes, aren’t you?”

“What is that supposed to mean.”

“Roscoe is more than a ‘stupid car’, Derek. It was his mother’s. His dead mother’s. Why else do you think Stiles keeps the thing even though it’s held together by duct tape and chewing gum? It’s not like it attracts either the same or opposite gender.”

Derek stared at her. Then, as Lydia’s words sunk in, he cursed and brushed by. Derek could feel the girl watching him all the way out of his own loft but he didn’t look back.

Of course. Derek should have known.

If someone would have made fun of the Camaro, Derek probably would have disemboweled them. Because not only was it his car, his baby, but it had been Laura’s. She’d left it in New York with a promise that if Derek laid a finger on it while she was gone, she would be the one disemboweling him.

But she’d never come back. So he’d taken it as his own, if not to remember the time they’d spent together listening to 80’s music too loud and drinking crappy milkshakes from cheap fast food drive-throughs years ago.

Derek didn’t pull him through Stiles’s window right away, though. Instead, he waited until the boy’s bedroom light had gone off and then he waited a little longer. Only when he was sure Stiles’s heartbeats were calm with sleep did Derek enter the house, creeping quietly around the boy’s room.

Stiles’s keys sat on his desk. Derek scooped them up and then pulled himself out the window again, moving toward the old crappy jeep that he sort of hated.

Not for a good reason, he thought. Other than the fact it was more likely to get Stiles killed one day than the monsters of Beacon Hills were, that is. Derek had always hated the thing with a passion because he was pretty sure one day, it would break down when Stiles needed it the most.

But maybe Derek could fix that.

The guy at the auto repair shop didn’t seem happy to see him.

“We close in thirty minutes, man,” he said, arms crossed. “And I’ve seen that piece of crap already. It’ll take a few hours at least and I don’t even know if it should be salvaged—”

Derek had the man shoved against the nearest wall in a second, doing his best not to flash his eyes. The fingers of one hand curling into the guy’s t-shirt, Derek pulled out his wallet with his other and flipped it open. He pulled out a few bills and held them up, before letting the guy go again.

“A tip. If you fix the car tonight.”

“Look, man—”

“Fix the car,” Derek said, a slight snarl to his voice. “Tonight.”

The guy’s gaze flitted from Derek to the bills in his hand, and then back. With a small, timid nod, he started toward the jeep and Derek smirked to himself, settling down in one of the waiting room chairs.

It took nearly five hours.

By the time the guy came back into the room again, Derek was half-asleep. But he sat straight up and raised an eyebrow, and the mechanic shifted nervously.

“That should do her.”

“The jeep is safe to drive?”

“I mean, she could be safer, but—”

Derek narrowed his eyes and the guy’s heartbeat picked up as he gulped. Wordlessly, he nodded, and Derek smiled, placing the bills into his hand as he ducked back out of the room.

It was nearing five in the morning when Derek parked Roscoe back in the Stilinski driveway. He’d left the Camaro a few blocks down just in case Stiles woke up or the Sheriff came back from his shift early, but things seemed to be quiet.

Except, when Derek pulled himself through Stiles’s window to place the keys back on his desk, the boy was wide awake and waiting.

“I’m not an idiot, Derek.”

Derek nearly fell right back out the window.

He froze with one leg half in the room and the other still on the roof. Stiles sat in his bed with his arms crossed and he didn’t look impressed. Slowly, Derek pulled himself the rest of the way into the room.

“I don’t—”

“Keys, now.”

Derek deflated. Silently, he tossed them to Stiles’s blankets and the boy snatched them up before fixing Derek with another glare.

“How much was it?”

“Was what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Derek! I thought someone had stolen her until I realized only one idiot would take the keys from my literal bedroom. Only one idiot who literally creeps around in the dark twenty-four seven.”

“I don’t creep around,” Derek said hotly. Stiles only raised a brow.

“So, how much was it?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Derek, I swear to god—”

“It doesn’t matter, Stiles,” Derek said, cutting him off. Stiles glared at him and Derek glared right back. “If it would have been the Camaro, I would have done the same. It’s your mother’s car, it means something to you, and I should have understood that.”

Stiles’s glare melted away. The boy stared at him for a moment and Derek felt his face grow hot, running a hand through his hair.

“I didn’t mean it like—”

“Derek,” Stiles said, cutting him off. Derek blinked at the boy and Stiles’s face softened. “Okay.”

“What.”

“Thanks,” Stiles said. “For uh… you know. Thanks.”

Quietly, Derek nodded. Stiles gave him a crooked smiled, dangling his keys in the air.

“Wanna take her for a ride then?”

“It’s two in the morning.”

“Yeah, but dude, I haven’t driven Roscoe in four weeks. And I could always use some curly fries, two o’clock in the morning or not.”

Derek gave him a long look. Then he rolled his eyes and allowed himself the barest hint of a smile which only made Stiles grin wider. The boy all but bounded out of bed and bounced around his room, grabbing actual clothes and throwing a sweatshirt over his head.

Derek watched in with… fond amusement, maybe. Or whatever.

He just liked seeing Stiles normal again. Smiling, bright, with a scent like autumn and cinnamon. It was worth it, he thought. Stiles was worth it; he always was.

With that realization, Derek smiled a little more.

- -

Okay, I dunno if this was a prompt or just a very adorable ‘what if’ but I decided to run with it and oh my god. I adore you, nonnie. So cute.

(if you enjoy my writing, consider supporting your struggling student writer? You can also request a prompt if you’d like!). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer

#sterek #teen wolf #derek hale #stiles stilinski #prompts #ficlet #all the fluff and humor

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rosewood-fangirl · 3 years

Text

If You Weren’t Mine I’d Be Jealous of Your Love

It’s Royal Trio fluff and a Jamie sickfic in one

Link to ao3:

When Jamie walked into English class this morning, Lottie was immediately worried. He banged into several desks and chairs on his way in, an alarming contrast to his usual sharp and precise movements, and when he finally made it to his seat, he almost fell out of it. He braced an arm against the desk to keep from swaying side to side, grinding his hand into his forehead as if to stave off a headache, not even noticing as Lottie blatantly stared at him. Ms Kuma started taking the roll, and Lottie’s eyes snapped back to the front of the classroom to pay attention. The teacher had to call Jamie’s name twice before he responded. It didn’t seem to concern the teacher, but it concerned Lottie. She knew Jamie. Normally he caught every glance she shot his way, but today he didn’t even register her eyes on him every few seconds during the lesson. Combining Jamie’s inattentiveness with his slightly glazed-over eyes and the way he stumbled over the question Ms Kuma aimed his way, and Lottie knew something was wrong.

When Ms Kuma finally dismissed them for lunch, Lottie whispered her concerns to Ellie. The other girl had also picked up on Jamie’s state, so they both loitered while the last few students filed out, Ms Kuma organized her papers and Jamie sluggishly packed up his belongings. As soon as he had put everything in his bag he moved to head to lunch and promptly tripped over thin air. Ellie raced towards him as he fell, half-catching him in her arms, his head against her chest and her arms under his. Jamie was completely limp in her arms. She lowered him down to the floor gently, still holding him up. Jamie stirred, putting a hand to his head and groaning.

“Jamie, are you okay?” Lottie gasped, immediately rushing to his side.

“I think it would be wise for you to go to the nurse, Jamie,” Ms Kuma said, having caught on to what was wrong early in the lesson. Jamie started to protest that he was fine, but Ms Kuma simply stated, “At least get some paracetamol for your headache. There’s no harm in going.”

Jamie sighed and rose from the floor with Lottie and Ellie hovering over him. “I’m fine, really.” He slurred, but just wanting to ease his migraine. “I’m just a little dizzy.”

Miss Kuma gave him an unimpressed look and told Lottie and Ellie go with him to make sure he made it there in one piece, then ushered them from the room. The trio departed to the sick bay, Jamie grumbling irritably the whole way. Even if he wasn’t so concerned about his health, Ellie and Lottie were, and they were going to make sure he went if it killed them. Which it quite possibly would, with the way Jamie was glowering at them.

They entered the sick bay, Jamie looking uncomfortable, while Ellie prodded him forward. His eyes widened as he stumbled forward again, but luckily his reflexes kicked in this time and he caught himself on one of the sick bay beds. He winced and straightened, wobbling. “I’d’ve thought you’d think through pushing me around, especially because I passed out five minutes ago, but apparently not,” he muttered, sitting down hard on the bed. Ellie started to apologize, but he waved it off with an “It’s fine.” Jamie’s head spun – or was it the room? – and he held his face in his hands to dim the harsh lighting of the school sick bay.

“Jamie? Jamie? Jamie-” Lottie’s voice filtered in, the soft tones not as bad as a regular voice but still aggravating his headache.

“Mmm?” He murmured, just wanting to go to sleep.

“Can you listen for a few minutes? The nurse just needs you to pay attention for ten minutes or so and then you can go back to your room and rest.”

Jamie spared a brief moment to worry about the classes he’d be missing before he raised his head. “Yup, I’m awake,” he muttered sarcastically. God his head was killing him.

“You’re Jamie? Jamie Volk?” The nurse confirmed before moving onto the rest of her assessment of his health. “Right. Can you tell me why you’re here?”

Jamie, Lottie and Ellie filled her in on the details, Jamie describing his symptoms and headache.

“Hmm,” the nurse ponders. “Okay. Can I take your temperature?” Jamie nodded, although it seemed to be a rhetorical question as the nurse was already hunting for the equipment. After a couple minutes she finally procured the thermometer. “Just hold it under your tongue for three minutes and don’t open your mouth.”

Jamie nodded his acknowledgment again, huffing through his nose as the nurse stuck the thermometer in his mouth. He was sure he looked ridiculous. This was confirmed by Ellie’s silent laughter, shaking body and face hidden in her palm, and Lottie’s slightly upturned mouth. Once Ellie had calmed down and looked up again Jamie scrunched his nose up at her, and she lost it again.

Three minutes was a very long time. Jamie could feel himself becoming drowsier by the second. “Jamie. Stay awake,” Lottie said, squeezing his shoulder and forcing him to look into her eyes. Jamie almost responded before he remembered the thermometer in his mouth.

“Don’t open your mouth, we’re trying to take your temperature.” Jamie turned his glare on Ellie, though apparently it just looked silly because Ellie cracked up again. Surely three minutes was up by now?

After another hour – or at least it felt that way to Jamie – the nurse finally took the temperature-measuring stick of frustration (as he was calling it) out and read it. “37.9,” She tutted. “Yup, you’ve definitely got a fever.” Jamie was about to protest, but suddenly he realized he was freezing, and even shivering a little. Maybe he did have a fever.

The nurse started talking again and Jamie zoned out. His remaining energy had suddenly vanished, leaving him stranded on the edge of consciousness and straining to stay awake. Luckily, he managed to not fall asleep during the lecture, but only barely. Jamie let himself slip away into a foggy almost-sleep state, only realizing the nurse had stopped talking to him when Lottie was tugging on his arm.

“What- where’re we going?” Jamie mumbled. He winced at how ragged his voice sounded, coughing to try to clear it.

Lottie stared at him, eyebrows raised and Ellie rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “We’re going back to your dorm, dimwit. Did you even listen to anything the nurse said?” Jamie gazed at her uncomprehendingly and she facepalmed, lips twitching in the shadow of a smile. “Okay. So basically, you probably have the flu, you’ll be sick for about a week, you can catch up on schoolwork later, you’re supposed to recover in your dorm, and… I think that’s it.”

Jamie’s eyes focused on a bag in Ellie’s hand. How he didn’t notice it before, he didn’t know. Maybe he was just generally an idiot when he was sick. “What’s that?”

Ellie raised the bag slightly, a clinking noise coming from inside it. “It’s medication. You know, paracetamol, cough medicine, um… other flu things.” Ellie shrugged. Jamie nodded, swaying suddenly on his feet. Ellie’s eyes widened and she quickly handed the medicine to Lottie and grabbed onto Jamie, trying to stop him from collapsing. “Oh, geez, Jamie, you really gotta stop half-passing out. Come on, let’s get to your room so you can rest.”

Jamie nodded distractedly. Ellie huffed, putting his arm around her shoulders and nearly dragging him to his dorm. When they finally got there, Ellie was puffing. Jamie slid down onto his bed, thumping onto the mattress and relaxing. Maybe now he could finally go to sleep?

“Jamie!” An incessant tapping on his shoulder prevented him from falling into a deep sleep. He groaned, grabbing a pillow and swinging it vaguely in the direction of the tapping person, then shoving it over his head to drown everything out.

“Jamie,” A softer voice came next to his head. “Can you please take your medicine? I know you’re tired, but if you want to get better you have to take care of yourself properly.” Although sleep tempted him, he knew the person had a point. He slowly got up and blindly grabbed the medicine bag, waking up a bit more to swipe a change of pyjamas so he could be more comfortable. While the school uniform looked very smart, it wasn’t exactly ideal for sleeping in.

“Thanks,” Jamie tossed over his shoulder on the way to the adjoining bathroom, his voice still rough. He sighed. Maybe he’d feel better after dosing up on medicine.

“He’s a mess,” Ellie moaned once the bathroom door had thudded shut.

“He’s not too bad,” Lottie replied, a bit unconvincingly. “We’ll just have to be sure to keep an eye on him and make sure he’s taking care of himself.”

“No, Lottie. Every time he’s gotten sick – which isn’t very often, which makes him all the worse when he does get sick – he’s just… strange. Sometimes, the medicine makes him go all loopy and strange, and he’s just… ugh. He’s like a child, which is kinda funny to see in him but – oh, nevermind. My point is – we have to really take care of him.” Lottie snorted, confusing Ellie. “What?”

“It’s just…” Lottie bit her lip, holding back a laugh. “It’s weird seeing you being all nurturing, I’m not used to it. Especially because it’s Jamie we’re talking about, he hates being taken care of.”

Ellie considered that. “Yeah, I suppose so… I don’t know. It brings back memories from when we were smaller and were more friends instead of a Princess and her Partizan.” Lottie smiled, giving Ellie a hug.

“We can still take care of Jamie. He’s not invincible. He’s human, and he needs help sometimes.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Ellie took a deep breath and let it out, relaxing her muscles. “Come on, let’s go play nurse.”

Jamie splashed water over his face, drying it with a towel then exiting the bathroom. He tossed his crumpled uniform over his desk chair, turning around to face Ellie and Lottie standing in the middle of his bedroom. “What?” he said irritably.

Lottie sighed. “Okay. So, Jamie. Tomorrow’s Friday. Then we haven’t got classes for the weekend, so we can be here to watch over you. Tomorrow, you must remember to take your medicine on time, drink lots of water, and don’t layer up too many blankets on yourself, even if you’re cold. You need to let the flu run its course. When the fever is gone, you’re still going to be sick for a few days. Anyway, for tonight, just drink a lot-” Lottie handed him a plastic water bottle, already full- “And try to get some sleep.”

She practically pushed him to his bed. Jamie was a little annoyed at the overly strict instructions – as though he didn’t know what to do when he got a cold – but he was too tired to get properly frustrated. He just nodded wearily and climbed into bed, pulling the sheets over himself and faceplanting on the pillow. He heard a faint, teasing, “Don’t let the bed bugs bite,” from Ellie and threw a half-hearted middle finger over in her general direction. She snorted and said, gentler now, “Rest well.”

He mumbled “Sap,” which he wasn’t even sure he heard, but then he was drifting off into a blessedly deep sleep.

Jamie woke late the next morning, light seeping through his curtains. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging lightly at some knots as he registered his surroundings. A small basket containing food, books, and Ellie’s iPod was on the ground next to his bed. He caught sight of a note and unfolded it.

Jamie:

Seriously, don’t forget to take your medicine. But also don’t take too much. We brought you a basket of stuff so you’re not completely bored, and some food because you’re probably not feeling up for a trip to the kitchens. Drink plenty of water. Just rest.

<3 Lottie

I left you my iPod because I think it still has some songs you like on it in case you want to listen to music. Don’t die :)

- Ellie

Jamie snorted at Ellie’s heartfelt message. He swung his legs out of bed to complete his short to-do list and then returned to bed to eat a sandwich. A quick glance at his watch told him it was 11:26 am. Ellie and Lottie would be in Mathematics. Once he’d finished eating, a wave of sleepiness overtook him again. He hunted around for his earbuds for a couple minutes and plugged them into the iPod, quickly finding a playlist titled ‘Jamie’s songs’ and pressing play. He crawled back into bed and went back to sleep.

When their classes were finally over, Lottie and Ellie hurried to Jamie’s room and found him in a dead sleep. They decided to just leave him be for a while, digging out their books to study and talking in quiet tones. After about 20 minutes of chatting and working through the English comprehension they’d been assigned, Jamie rolled over and yawned, pulling out his earbuds. He opened his eyes, squinting at them. “Hi,” he sighed, resting his head on his arm and staring unnervingly at Lottie. He shivered, yanking another blanket towards him and wrapping it around his top half, burying his head in between the folds. Lottie raised her eyebrows at Ellie, who merely mouthed ‘I told you so.’

Lottie crept towards Jamie. She whisked his blanket away, exposing him to her and Ellie. He sat up and glared at her. With his messy bed-hair and old, slightly-too-large pyjamas he looked adorable. Jamie poked his tongue out a little bit at her. Lottie laughed in disbelief, turning her face to Ellie with an expression of Is this even the same person? Ellie nodded wearily, used to Jamie’s antics when sick, and grabbed the blanket back from Lottie. She gently pressed down on Jamie’s shoulders until he fell back onto the bed with a huff. Ellie draped the blanket over him and patted his forehead. “Go to sleep.” She told him firmly. He rolled over, pulled the blanket closer around his shoulders, and appeared to just fall back asleep.

Lottie shook her head in incredulity. “This is what he’s like?”

“Oh no,” Ellie said. “This isn’t even the full effect. You should see him when he’s basically high on the medicine. That’s a whole other personality.”

The next day, Saturday, Jamie had to go back to the nurse for another check-up. Luckily, his fever had passed in the night, and his temperature was relatively normal, if still a little bit higher than usual. He was prescribed with four more days of rest, and then he could go back to class as long as his condition hadn’t worsened.

Only four more days. Jamie groaned, sniffing. He was horribly congested and couldn’t go five minutes without blowing his nose or coughing, and he was miserable. He stared at the ceiling, spread out on his bed, and groaned.

“Ssshh, Jamie, I’m trying to finish this question,” Ellie muttered, buried in her homework.

Jamie threw a pillow at her. “Last time I checked you weren’t the one who caught the freaking flu.”

“O-kay,” Lottie said, intervening in what was likely to become an argument. “Ellie, why don’t we take a break from studying and get a movie or something to watch from the library?”

“Oh!” Jamie said up straight. “Can we watch Men in Black?”

Lottie laughed, still finding his borderline obsession with the movies funny. “Sure, as long as it’s available.”

While Ellie and Lottie went to get the movie and a mini projector device so they could project it onto the wall, Jamie took some more medicine and went to the bathroom. He refilled his water bottle and settled on the bed with his back against the wall, eager to start the movie. Once his friends had returned, successful in their hunt for the movie, they set it up against the wall opposite to his bed and started the movie. Lottie wrapped a blanket around all three of them and they huddled together, enjoying the glow of the film in the darkness of the room. Even though he’d wanted to watch the movie, Jamie found himself getting sleepier and sleepier. He rested his head on Ellie’s shoulder, closing his eyes and letting his guard down. Ellie’s head shifted to look at him, and though he didn’t see it he knew a small smile was playing across her face. She tossed another blanket over his legs and he yawned.

Jamie stayed on the cusp of sleep through the movie, the sounds of the film occasionally punctuated by Ellie or Lottie saying something. After a while, the movie’s credits rolled and Ellie squirmed, bringing him further back from the edge of unconsciousness. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to lose the dreamy feeling in the air.

“I think he’s asleep,” Ellie murmured. “He looks so peaceful.” Jamie smiled slightly, turning his face into her shoulder. Ellie shifted him so his head was in her lap, and he twisted around to get more comfortable, hoping Ellie didn’t move anytime soon.

Lottie giggled softly, scootching closer to Ellie and wrapping an arm around her shoulders, keeping her legs swept to the side so as not to disturb Jamie’s position. Jamie hummed, completely satisfied.

Ellie ran her fingers through his hair, a bit hesitantly at first, and Jamie almost cried. It had been a long time since anyone had shown him this much physical affection, and he sighed contentedly, melting into Ellie’s lap.

“Oh, I forgot how soft his hair is,” Ellie remarked. “It’s been – what, years? – since I’ve done this.”

“Maybe you should do it more often, then,” Jamie murmured, still half-asleep and lacking a brain-to-mouth filter and common sense. Ellie’s hand froze, mid-way through his hair, and Lottie laughed softly. “Well, don’t stop,” Jamie huffed, and Ellie resumed her petting of his hair.

After about 15 minutes Ellie’s legs were growing numb. She paused her hair-stroking and wiggled her way out from below Jamie’s head, trying not to let him notice too much. Nevertheless, Jamie soon realized the loss of contact and practically whined, glaring with squinted eyes at Ellie. Lottie supressed her smile and took over caressing Jamie’s hair. “Wow, you’re right, it is soft,” she said, rubbing a few of the strands between her fingers. Jamie smirked.

The boy sneezed, coughing a couple of times. There was a tickle in his throat that wouldn’t go away, and it kept annoying him. His occasional coughs soon turned into a coughing fit, and he sat up, unable to get quite enough air to breath. Lottie sat next to him, rubbing his back to try to ease it. Ellie fetched a cup of water for him. Eventually the fit died down, and he sat back, exhausted. He took the cup of water gratefully and downed most of its contents, leaning over to place it on his bedside table and then pulling his legs to his chest and burying his face in them. Why was he so pathetic? It was just the dumb flu, he should be better than this. He couldn’t be weak in front of anyone.

Jamie didn’t even notice he was wheezing until Lottie squeezed his hand to bring him back to reality. He flinched away from the concerned look in her eyes. He didn’t need her worry, he shouldn’t make her worry.

Ellie knew what was happening. It had happened to her often enough. The fact that Jamie was still struggling with his feelings of weakness was worrying, but she couldn’t dwell on that right now. Right now, Jamie needed her help.

“Hey. Hey, Jamie,” Ellie spoke. Her voice was soft yet firm, providing support while also lending comfort. “Can you look at me?” Jamie bit his lip hard and turned his gaze to her. His eyes were glassy with tears. Jamie never cried. In all her life, Jamie had seen Ellie cry at least a dozen times, but not once had she witnessed the same of him. Her heart broke for him and she almost wanted to cry herself, but she had to focus. “Jamie, you are not weak because you are sick. This flu was not your fault, and no one blames you for it. You are strong, even without our help. You’re strong because you’re brave enough to accept help. You’re strong because you help other people. You are worthy of our love and support, and I really wish you would accept it more often. It’s good to be independent, but it’s okay to lean on people. We’re here for you. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Jamie reached out and grabbed Ellie’s hand, squeezing it hard. Ellie squeezed back. He still wasn’t letting himself cry, too afraid of how Ellie and Lottie would judge him.

Lottie moved slightly across the bed, letting her side press against Jamie’s. “Jamie, it’s also okay to cry. You’re not any weaker for it and we won’t judge you. We won’t tell anyone. You’re safe here with us.”

The ‘you’re safe here with us’ resonated within Jamie, making him feel both calm and emotional at the same time. Slowly, a few tears tracked down his face, still silent. His shoulders shook with noiseless sobs, more tears running down his face.

“You might be a mess, but, hey, all of us are,” Ellie joked before turning more serious. “You’re not alone.”

Jamie smiled through the tears, using his sleeve to wipe his face. He sniffed, snatching a tissue to blow his nose. “Thanks.” His voice came out scratchy and broken, but it no longer hurt. He’d be okay.

Sunday passed uneventfully. Lottie and Ellie studied for a revision test they had coming up on Monday while Jamie steadily made through the stack of books Lottie had borrowed for him from the school library. He took his medicine and drank water and recovered.

On Monday after dinner, Lottie and Ellie walked into Jamie’s dorm, trading answers on the test. They stopped in their tracks when they noticed Jamie perched in a near impossible position on the windowsill. Thank God the window was closed and he couldn’t have fallen out.

“Oh no,” Ellie said immediately.

“What is it?” Lottie demanded.

“He’s high.”

“WHAT?”

Ellie snorted despite herself. “No, no! Not that type of high. Well, kind of. I recognise that look in his eyes; he’s gone mental because of the medication. It’s not too bad, but it can last for a while, and he acts really… weird.” Ellie trailed off and shook her head.

Lottie took a moment to gather her patience and sanity. “Well. Might as well try to enjoy the childishness while it lasts.”

The next morning, Lottie and Ellie woke up late because of how late they’d stayed at Jamie’s dorm the previous night (they had to sneak back and almost got caught) and didn’t have time to check on Jamie in the morning. When they stopped by his room with lunch, they found a note that said he’d had to spend a day in the sick bay just for observation and that he’d be back at class tomorrow, a day later than expected. They were a little worried but brushed it off and went on with their day, sans one Jamie Volk.

On Tuesday morning, the pair anxiously waited in the dining hall for Jamie to arrive. When he finally entered, looking a little tired but a whole lot better, they grinned at each other and waved him over. He spotted them and quickly grabbed some breakfast before making his way over to them.

“Hi!” Lottie smiled at him. “Are you feeling better? You still look a little tired. Did you sleep well?”

Jamie smirked at Lottie’s relentless questioning. “Yes, I’m feeling better. Yes, I’m a bit tired. I sleep alright, but it could’ve been better, I guess.” He looked over at Ellie. “What, no welcome party from you?”

Ellie bit back a laugh and ruffled his hair. He huffed, then looked sheepish. “Um, by the way… did I happen to do anything strange on Monday night? I don’t really have any memory of that night and-” he addressed Ellie- “You know how I tend to get on medication. Did I do anything weird?”

Ellie and Lottie looked at each other and burst out laughing. Jamie just sighed. “Oh no.”

“Well,” Ellie started with a flourish. “For starters, you perched up on the windowsill and when we tried to talk to you, all you said was ‘tweet’,” A devilish grin took over Ellie’s face. “And then you feel off the windowsill onto the floor and tried to make a snow angel, except there was no snow so you just got a mild carpet burn.”

“I wondered how I got those bruises,” Jamie muttered to himself as Ellie cackled.

“Don’t forget about how he was moaning to us about how he couldn’t protect us,” Lottie chimed in, a sly grin overtaking her features. “And two seconds later he was trying to touch his nose with his tongue. For ten whole minutes.” Jamie facepalmed, regretting asking them.

“And you counted stars outside for a whole hour, it was quite impressive actually-”

“Oh yeah, and you recited a whole passage from your book while reading it upside down-!”

“And you made a mini tower out of crackers and cheese-”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Jamie was unable to stop himself from smirking.

“But we’re not done yet!” Lottie exclaimed. “You tried to get up for hot chocolate and you fell on your face, and we thought you fainted, but you just rolled over and told us ‘I’m a slug’.”

“Or, my personal favourite,” Ellie said, immediately worrying Jamie. “When you fell asleep in Lottie’s lap while she was studying and refused to move-”

“Why am I friends with you.” Jamie said, more a statement than a question, moving to another table.

“Because you love us,” Ellie said, setting her plate down next to his. “Especially Lottie.”

Jamie went bright red and elbowed Ellie, avoiding eye contact with Lottie, who was laughing on the other side of the table. He and Ellie caught each other’s glances and he smiled at her, just a little, to which she responded with a huge grin. He smirked at Lottie, too, and she blushed almost redder than he did. Jamie returned to his breakfast, a small smile still perched on his face.

#royal trio #rwch #rwch fanfiction #the rosewood chronicles #hhh this took a long time but it's 4.4k words so im happy #jamie volk #ellie wolf #lottie pumpkin #sickfic #the title is from venice bitch bc i was listening to norman fucking rockwell while writing this #jamie is the most adorable person when sick and you cant stop me #it's mostly fluff with just the tiniest bit of angst #hitting post before i regret this too much

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proherostories · 4 years

Text

Bacon Ice Cream

Aptly named bc of the thing that inspired it

WC - 3137 || Ao3

Pairing - Kirishima x Izuku

Mostly Kirishima POV

Warnings - Self-Destructive issues. NSFW, Underage (Characters are 16), horny teenage boys, Frotting, Praise Kink (giving), very slight dom/sub, touch-sensitivity. Swearing. Izuku Tops, Kirishima Bottoms.

A/N - This is abnormal in which it’s characters underage. Do not ask for this in requests. It made the most sense to me writing this that they had to be younger than 3rd years for this to work. I could’ve cut it off, but it’s also partially a gift for the person it was inspired by.

Normally, normally he could let this god-forsaken feeling out during Hero training. Unfortunately for him, it was school break and he had opted to stay at the dorms instead of going home. A few of the others had done the same, and less had made it a point to go home on weekends. Overall there were significantly fewer people around. Which meant fewer people to pick a play-fight with. Normally Bakugo would be somebody he could rely on for this, even disguising it as having too much energy. Bakugo had actually, for once, let Kaminari take him out shopping with a teacher’s company.

Which left him...with one person he could solidly rely on to help him. Someone he felt...maybe wouldn’t judge him? His stomach did flip-flops at the thought he would.

Swallowing thickly, he found the green-haired boy sitting in the common room doing the assignments they were given before break. Of course he was. “Hey, Midoriya!” He chirped casually, hands in the pockets of his shorts, “Think I could...ask you a favor?”

“Kirishima! Hey, yeah of course!” Izuku perked up and set his pencil down, even closing his notebook.

It made Kirishima’s heart squeeze at how he always gave him his full attention. “Think you and I could...go ask permission to use one of the training grounds or something?”

“Oh! Training together sounds like a really good idea-”

“No Quirks.” That brought Izuku to a halt. Green eyes met red and Kirishima bore into him with his gaze.

The open shocked mouth faded into a set thin line, and Kirishima’s stomach jumped as he was graced with an intense gaze of Izuku’s own. “If you want to fight, no Quirks, then there’s a spot in the forest I can take you to. I’ve only seen Hatsume there, and All Might’s the person who showed it to me.”

“So it’s your spot, right?” Kirishima hummed, “Don’t tell anyone else about it? Don’t go there without you?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“I can do that. Should we at least throw on our gym clothes?”

“If you want. It’s easier to explain if we get caught. I’m not too worried about it though. There’s still plenty of daylight out for anybody to care.”

With a shrug, Kirishima turned back around, “I’ll meet you back here in ten.”

“So...what’s this about, Kirishima?”

They were at least doing stretches so they wouldn’t pull any muscles when Izuku blurted that, and Kirishima froze. Of course Izuku would ask, of course he wouldn’t leave it be. He couldn’t be mad, no...Izuku really cared about his friends and the pinch he saw between the other boy’s brows reminded him of that.

“I didn’t want to ask while we were still at the dorms…” Izuku murmured, stretching his arm out some more but the thin-lipped expression pulled into a frown the longer Kirishima was silent.

“I need you to punch me. Straight up. That’s all.”

Izuku stared at him, frozen mid-stretch. “That’s all?”

“Look, we can honestly just call this off and I can find something else to do if you think it’s weird or somethin’-”

“Stop, stop, that’s not…” Izuku held his hands up and moved closer hesitantly, taking stock of how tense Kirishima was, “It’s okay. I’m not going to call you weird or abnormal. I just want to know what’s up. Is that too much to ask? You came to me out of the blue asking me to train, now you’re saying you want...need me to punch you. That was a very specific word choice, Kirishima.”

Was it? He hadn’t really thought about it, it just slipped out. He could tell him...right? After all, they had come all the way out here… "If I have an outward problem, I don't have to worry about the internal ones…" he grumbled, gripping his hands into fists in front of him, "Is that enough of an answer?"

So he wanted bruises? Maybe a split lip so he could nurse the injuries and have something to focus on? Izuku took a deep breath, "I think I get it. I'll help...but I want you to know I'm here to talk, too." He sighed and hopped back a few paces, determination back on his face, "Come at me, then. Let me feel it." 'Show me how upset you are…'

So the fight was on, and as it turns out, Kirishima had a lot of built-up feelings. It wasn't even anger, really. Frustration maybe. Schoolwork getting under his skin, Bakusquad riling him up, a bunch of little things piling up and up until it felt like he was going to burst.

This was a good way to let it out. A healthy way. The pain helped clear his head, but now he was here he didn't want to back down. He wanted to know who would win this fist-to-fist manly fight.

After going until they were dirty and sweaty, it turns out...it was Izuku. One leg pinning down Kirishima's legs, straddling him as he leaned over and pinned his arms down.

The boys heaved hard, and Izuku leaned forward even more until their noses brushed and his bangs tickled Kirishima's forehead. "Kirishima?" He panted heavily, "You good?"

The redhead couldn't help but be in awe. It wasn’t like he got to spar with Izuku much outsides of training their quirks. Which usually had them ending in a draw, out of breath and no real end in sight. This though? This result made Kirishima realize while they both would definitely be sporting equally tender bruises from their strength, Izuku had the upper hand in acrobatics. A lot of the time Kirishima ended up blocking and consciously trying to make sure not to let his Hardening activate, where Izuku had looked like he sped across the ground with full cowling but he wasn’t.

As they continued to breathe, Kirishima came to the realization that Izuku hadn’t moved even though he hadn’t tried to fight back. Wasn’t it over? Didn’t he win? Shifting his weight it slammed into him like a freight train. That fight...the adrenaline...he gulped hard as he froze and his eyes went wide.

Their cocks were straining against their gym pants.

Now while Izuku stayed irritatingly calm, Kirishima was having an internal crisis and his breathing turned labored. He liked Izuku well enough. Was this alright? Was he waiting to see if he’d be disgusted? For someone who was an open book about his emotions, Kirishima couldn’t quite figure out what he was thinking right now when he needed to the most. He noticed he was shaking in the other boy’s grip and he didn’t know what to do about it.

Izuku was still really close. He’d only moved away a fraction when Kirishima had shifted before he realized what was going on. With the redhead about to have a panic attack, he tilted his head and a gasp left Kirishima as surprisingly stupidly soft lips brushed along his jaw to whisper in his ear, “You alright? I’ll stop. We won’t talk about it. I just…” those sweet lips kissed at Kirishima’s neck, “I don’t want you to regret this...regret me…”

Lashes fluttering, Kirishima keened softly in his throat, “Wouldn’t dream of it…” he murmured back, a puddle in Izuku’s grip. Who knew his neck was so sensitive? “M’alright...but Midoriya...what if we’re...ya know, caught? By Hatsume or whatever...”

“We’ll keep our pants on. Hatsume comes from one direction. All Might should be busy with other stuff.” His nose brushed along Kirishima’s pulse, “It’s just us, Eijiro…”

The sound of his given name on Izuku’s lips, breathy and sexy, had a shudder rolling through his body. “Izuku…” he murmured back. Tentatively, he rocked his hips up and delighted in the small gasp that came from the green-haired boy, but when he retaliated by grinding down on him red eyes rolled back with a groan, “Fuck!”

“You know there are other ways to distract from internal problems,” Izuku hummed, shifting around until he had Kirishima’s wrists trapped with one hand and used the other to hook down gym pants over the straining hard on -no pun intended- and green eyes darkened at the sight.

“I know how to masturbate, Midoriya,” Kirishima gave him a sidelong glance with a slightly raised brow, “Didn’ ya say we’d keep our pants on?” Goddamn, seeing the way his pupils blew wide and how his eyes went half-lidded made his breath hitch. He really wanted this, didn’t he?

“Mm, it’s called semi-clothed sex, Eijiro,” he quipped, scarred fingers wrapping around the thick shaft, “I was talking about with other people.”

The way he said his name like a warning had a shiver zip up and down his spine. He tugged on his grip, but mostly to get his attention rather than break the hold, “I wanna...see you, too…” he muttered. Ah, there was the Izuku he knew, lighting up briefly with his usual happy perk. He did good, requesting that.

Letting him go briefly to shove his own gym pants down over his cock that was as equally thick as Kirishima’s, the giddy boy faded again as he panted right along with Kirishima. Sliding his hand back up along the redhead’s arm, he leaned forward until their cocks touched and grasped them both at the same time he took Kirishima’s wrists again. “Didn’t even move, that’s good,” he breathed, lips against his neck again, “You could’ve, you know. Unless you like this? Me taking full control because I won our little match?”

“W-Wouldn’t be...m-manly of me to...assume I could,” Kirishima practically wheezed, his senses starting to overload. His arm tingled from the slide of Izuku’s touch since he usually liked rolling his sleeves up. The slide of skin on skin with their dicks in a calloused grip made his mind swim, and he honest to god whimpered as teeth barely grazed over his flesh. “Zuku…” he shuddered, mindful to use his given name instead of his last.

“Mm...I do suppose you’re right, I didn’t tell you. God, you did so good for me then, Ei,” he purred, scraping his teeth again, following along when Kirishima bucked his hips, “Go ahead, keep doing that…” he encouraged sweetly, his nose pushing the fabric of his top to the side so he could latch on and worrying his skin between his teeth a bit harder.

“Oh fuck! Fuck, fuck, you gunna...leave a h-hickey?” hips jerked and stuttered into a very sure grip. With Izuku’s confidence in this situation, it even made Kirishima wonder if he had done it before. Oh no, that thought made a cold feeling settle in his stomach. No, no he didn’t want anyone else with Izuku like this.

“Your breathing picked up. You alright, Eijiro? Do you not want me to leave one?” the worried tone and the brow pinch made Kirishima feel soft for the boy above him.

“N-No that’s not...I’m…” he shuddered, abdomen clenching. He was so turned on but that thought wouldn’t leave, “Are you...with anyone…”

Understanding flashed behind eyes of emerald green and there was a gentle smile lifted his lips, “No...and you?”

“No...but then...how are you…?” it boggled his mind, there was no way…

A soft little chuckle reached his ears, “You know me, Eijiro. How my mind works. I’ve...thought about...you, like this...quite a lot, actually…” the soft blush that reached Izuku’s face made him feel like he wasn’t actually alone in this. “Not just under me, but reversed...oh, you like that?”

The amusement in his tone made Kirishima’s ears feel hot. His dick had jumped as he imagined Izuku beneath him, just like this. “M-Maybe I do!” he responded, a bit more defensive than he meant and sharp teeth dug into his busted lip, hoping for p-

Izuku’s hand came to grip his jaw, parting his lips and pulling it free from his teeth, “You can lick your lip, taste the blood, but don’t bite it and make it worse, Ei.” He held him, waiting with green boring into red until Kirishima nodded. Then the hand was back around his wrists and he cursed a bit realizing he’d been free for a split second. Which caused Izuku to chuckle. “You’re so pouty, Ei.” Hips started rocking again, driving him wild, “Do you want a next time? To ravish me any way you want?”

It sounded really nice, actually. Considering how much Izuku was turning out to be a little shit, but all Kirishima could really do was gasp and nod vigorously a few times. At least Izuku was starting to have hitches in his breath and gasps, too. “Touch me.” He pleaded. He did not beg...but oh, he felt Izuku’s cock throb against his own. “Touch me, Zuku...I’ll stay like this, just…” he heaved.

That hand moved, making a returning trip back along his forearm and Kirishima’s hands clasped together, his body squirming as Izuku kept pumping their cocks and rutting their hips. All at once, he realized how pliant and obedient he had been with his hand keeping him pinned down, but now it was all his own effort. “I like it when you ask me to touch you, Ei,” his voice broke at the end and it was thrilling for Kirishima to hear. “Knowing how you feel about it, it makes me feel…special.”

“You are...you are special, Izuku,” his back arched into that roaming touch as it traveled over his torso, “Want...need you to…” if he thought he was delirious before, needy and desperate with pleasure, the thought of being caught along with the conscious effort to keep his voice down, he was wrong. As soon as that hand dipped under his gym top and skimmed across bare skin, his eyes shot open and he moaned louder than he had before, “Zuku!”

“That was just my fingertips…” Izuku murmured, his voice sounding like it was in awe but all Kirishima could do was stare up at the sky with a dazed expression, chest heaving. “I wonder… what would happen if I...touched you all over? Hmm? Give me your hand, Eijiro.”

Kirishima didn’t know how he felt about how just using his name could be like uttering a command all on its own. How he was mesmerized enough to follow along with it. Unlocking shaking fingers, he let Izuku do whatever he wanted with it. Which so happened to be wrapping it around their dicks. Oh...oh, Izuku’s shaft felt so soft and the little ‘mmph’ when his calloused fingers skimmed over the crown had him fascinated. For a second, Izuku must’ve forgotten what he was doing because all they did was bump and grind. Kirishima’s other hand moved beside them to dig into the dirt, needing to purchase on something and with his hardening he could go deeper. Briefly, he wondered if he’d accidentally tear the sheets on a bed…

All of a sudden the ground beneath his fingers that he thought he had a good grip on gave way as he howled. Head tossed back he arched even further into the firm, deliberate touch of two hands going from his adonis belt all the way up to his pectorals. “Hhhnnnggg!!!” he grit his teeth, dirt smearing on the other’s gym top as he gripped onto Izuku’s bicep tight, keening and whining as thumbs teased and pinched at his nipples, “Oh god, oh god, oh god…” he chanted, dizzy with the feeling. Never, never in his life did he let someone touch him so fully like this. Absently his other hand pumped them faster, the mischievous little fucker above him altering between feather-light with just his fingertips to full-on palms and all.

“So manly, Ei...I can feel every...groove and contour of your abs…” Izuku heaved his own breath, rolling his hips and eyes glazing over, not that Kirishima could tell through the spinning of the world around him. “So buff, so wonderful, so good...ah...ah, Ei, just like that…” he was the one to whimper this time, and at one particularly good twist of Kirishima’s hand his own flexed and he raked his nails down his torso as his whole body spasmed. The resulting choked off yell had him doing it again, “Gunna...cum for me, Eijiro?”

“S’close...Zuku...oh god...oh god, fuckfuckfuck…” he couldn’t even think, “M-More, more oh…” he didn’t know what he needed, what he was pleading for, but he felt Izuku shove his top up and scarred fingers enclosed around his own, pumping in time with him and red eyes rolled back again as teeth latched on around his nipple while the other hand twisted and pulled the other one, “Aaah! Ah, Zuku! Zuku, I…” his own jaw clenched tight with his groan as his body rippled with the most intense orgasm he’d had ever.

Yet even as his body threatened to pass out, the warmth of his cum all over his chest, he could hear Izuku through the haze still whimpering, could feel his hips still rolling. Without even thinking twice about it, the hand on Izuku’s bicep moved to twine in unruly hunter green hair and he pulled the other boy in to kiss him, needy hot and desperate…

A second coat of warmth accompanied the delicious whine that escaped Izuku’s throat.

They stayed like that thought for a moment, catching their breath against each other, sharing slow kisses and pressed their foreheads together. Finally releasing their limp dicks, they tucked themselves back into their pants. Heaving up, Kirishima caught Izuku with an arm around the other’s back, smirking as he looked as red as his boots, “So now yer shy, hmm?” he teased, letting him go so he could yank off his gym jacket and use it clean themselves off. As he was the one who had a hero costume that showed off his chest, he didn’t really care if he went back to the dorms topless.

“S-S-Sorry, Kiri-”

“It’s Eijiro, isn’t it?” Kirishima’s face was devious, a slow smirk on his face and teasing eyes, “At least when it’s just us. That was amazing, Izuku. That was a whole new side to you and honestly? It was pretty hot. You had me fooled that it was your first time doing that with somebody.” He chuckled as Izuku seemed to get even redder. Reminding him of that first day when Uraraka kept talking to him and he got so flustered he threw both his arms around his head. “Date me, Izuku. I don’t...I don’t want to think about you doing that with someone else.” Wide, disbelieving eyes stared at him, but the face-splitting smile Kirishima’d grown accustomed to appeared.

“Yes!”

#kirideku #kirishima x izuku #kirishima x deku #izuku midoriya #eijiro kirishima #notsfw #bnha writing blog #bnha writing

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cakesunflower · 5 years

Text

Quiet Hours [College!Luke AU] Ch. 13

Chapter 13

INSTEAD OF STRESSING out about what some boy thought of her, Ophelia made sure her frustrations were dedicated towards the schoolwork she had to get done. She was a junior in college with a big workload that she was constantly trying to lessen—she didn’t need to get distracted over what the hell was going on with some boy that she had sex with a couple of times. Even if she did sometimes, quite creepily, found herself straining her ear to make out what Luke was doing in his bedroom in the apartment over.

She stopped doing so when she realized just how strange and pathetic that was.

Ophelia found herself at The Hideout with her friends, with Shawn coming along with Tanya and Isabelle bringing Jill, a girl she had recently started seeing. It was a good way to unwind after a long week of writing two research papers and presenting a project. She felt the special need to reward herself because she submitted the weekly paper for her online class early even though it’s due on Sunday, so Ophelia virtually had no homework for the weekend and a lot of time to find some kind of distraction to keep her from thinking of the one person who kept creeping into her mind.

“I love these,” Ophelia commented as she took a sip of her Coke, lips wrapped around the straw as she drank the beverage from a classic glass bottle. Not many places served the soda like this, and it was one of the little things in life that made Ophelia happy.

Shawn, sitting across from her in the booth with his left arm draped around Tanya’s shoulders, snickered as he used his free hand to pick up the nachos on the table between them. “Don’t break it like last time,” he remarked, to which everyone laughed while Ophelia whined about her dropping the bottle when she was drunk and it shattering to pieces happening only one time.

Just then Tanya perked up as her dark eyes went to something over Ophelia’s shoulder and past the booth. “Oh, the dart board is available—c’mon, Lia.”

She had been wanting to play a round of darts since the group of them walked into the bar, but the board had been occupied until now. So the two slid out and wandered towards the back wall by the bar, with Tanya plucking out darts from the board and handing Ophelia the green ones. Jesse’s Girl by Rick Springfield was playing through the speakers as, on the other side, the sound of pool balls clinking together could be heard. Ophelia went first, standing the appropriate distance as she threw the first dart. It was on the outer ring, the second landing there as well before the other two landed on the inner one and the last being a bullseye.

As she pulled off her darts and stepped aside to let Tanya go, Ophelia crossed her arms over her chest when she heard her friend say, “okay, spill. What’s been bugging you for the past few days?”

Ophelia blinked before frowning at Tanya, leaning back against one of the wooden pillars that supported the bar. “What?”

Tanya rolled her eyes, throwing one of her darts as it landed in the inner circle before shooting Ophelia a knowing look. “You’ve been drowning yourself in your work—we rarely saw you outside of your room or the study. You only do that when you’re trying extra hard to distract yourself from something else.”

Rolling her lower lip into her mouth, Ophelia glanced up at the wooden ceiling as she wondered if she really was that easy to read. When she looked back at Tanya, she let out an exasperated huff when she saw the same pointed expression on her face. “I’m fine, Tan, really,” she assured, tightening her arms across her chest. “Just trying to get my shit together,” Ophelia added with a light laugh.

“Does that include your feelings for Luke?” her friend questioned, followed by the sound of the dart hitting the board.

Ophelia pressed her lips together, feeling her skin warm up with an embarrassed flush. “Is it that obvious?”

She wasn’t even going to bother denying it—Tanya was her friend and Ophelia knew she was going to end up telling her anyway. So Ophelia let out a sigh, throwing her head back as it collided on the post with a light thud and she would complain about how much it hurt if she wasn’t already thinking about how annoyed she was with her stupid boy problems.

“Only because I know you,” Tanya scoffed, prompting Ophelia to let out a wry chuckle. Then, Tanya smirked, “also, Iz may have mentioned something about you catching feelings for someone you were only meant to fuck around with a little while back.”

An affronted exclaim escaped Ophelia, brows furrowing into a glare as she looked behind her to where their friends sat. Of course, Isabelle was out of her sight in the booth, so Ophelia turned to look at Tanya again. “The bitch can’t keep anything to herself.”

Tanya laughed, throwing her last dart and letting out a huff when it didn’t lie in the center. “But seriously though,” she began once more after pulling out the darts and looking at her friend once more. “I haven’t seen you and Luke hang out in a while. Hell, even Michael asked me about what was up with you two.” Ophelia’s brows raised at that, taken aback. “You don’t fuck with him anymore?”

Ophelia scoffed, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice as she grumbled, “more like Luke doesn’t fuck with me anymore.”

Thinking about it now, how her and Luke haven’t even had a proper conversation ever since that game night, twisted Ophelia’s stomach unpleasantly. She hated that she had grown so attached to a guy she hooked up with so quickly—that’s never happened before. But then again, she’s never had sex with tall Australian singers who made her knees weak by a single look. Luke had a tight hold on her, whether it be physically or mentally, that she was struggling in loosening.

Tanya’s eyes widened as Ophelia moved to take her spot to throw the darts. “Oh my—did he ghost you?” she demanded, a fire lighting up in her dark eyes. Luke may be taller than her, but Tanya was willing to fight him on behalf of Ophelia. Or, maybe, have Shawn do it for her.

Ophelia’s eyebrows furrowed, the hurt evident in her fallen expression as she mumbled, “I guess so,” before forcefully throwing the dart, feeling a sense of annoyance as it went to the outer edge of the outer ring. “I mean, it’s my fault,” she added, waving the darts in her hands around. “I should’ve known better than to expect anything else from someone who I know hooks up with whoever. I mean, I hear it, for fuck’s sake.”

“You can’t help how you feel, Lia,” was Tanya’s immediate and honest response as a classic rock song Ophelia didn’t recognize began playing through the bar. “And have you, like, heard him? You know. . . In his room with anyone?” she cringed when she asked, not wanting to offend her friend in anyway by asking if she heard the guy she liked having sex with other girls.

Ophelia pursed her lips, throwing another dart. “No,” she answered truthfully. She then glanced over at Tanya, “but that doesn’t mean—”

She cut herself off immediately as her gaze flickered over Tanya’s shoulders, words dying in her mouth as she saw the bar’s doors open and in walked the devil himself with his friends. Ophelia’s throat dried at the sight of the blonde in his Rolling Stones shirt and black leather jacket and jeans, hair in its usual curls that her fingers itched to run through.

“What?” Tanya questioned in confusion, noticing Ophelia’s change in demeanor before turning around following her gaze. “Oh,” she sounded when her eyes landed on what Ophelia was staring at.

Luke and the boys approached the bar, giving their orders and receiving their drinks moments later before they turned to sit down at one of the round tables in the middle since the booths were full. Ophelia couldn’t help but look at him from where she stood on the other side of the bar, feeling some kind of dull ache in her chest at the sight of his wide grin as he laughed, the sound drowned out by the music and people talking. He looked happy, utterly fine. Not at all like Ophelia, who now was resigned with herself for moping over him in the first place. Why was she so hung up when he, at least on the outside, seemed perfectly content?

Forcefully tearing her gaze away from the Australian, Ophelia took in a sharp breath and looked back at the board across from her, tightening her grip on the dart before throwing it right at it. Tanya pressed her lips together to stop the smile growing on her face when she saw the dart hit the bullseye. “Were you imagining Luke’s face on the board?”

That got a laugh out of Ophelia, pausing when she was about to throw another dart as she shot an amused look at Tanya. “Of course not,” she responded in a knowing tone, smirking as Tanya let out a giggle. Ophelia wasn’t going to outright say that she had briefly imagined blue eyes and a dimpled smile on the board.

They finished their game and went to go back to the booth, though Ophelia made a detour towards the bar since she had finished her drink. She found an empty spot at the busy counter, leaning against it on her arms as she gestured for the bartender for a beer. The guy was familiar with her face—and, unbeknownst to him, her fake I.D.—so he gave her a nod of acknowledgment.

As she patiently waited, tapping her hands on the countertop with her college peers flanked her on either side, Ophelia froze when she heard, “hey, R.A. Ophelia.”

Her throat worked, teeth grinding together as Ophelia turned around to see the familiar man standing right behind her. Luke stared down at her with bright blue eyes, a small, almost nervous, smile on his face as he peered down at her. His hands were buried in the pockets of his jacket, broad shoulders hiding the rest of the bar behind him from her.

She wasn’t going to lie—it bothered her that he would just come up to her and try to spark conversation after avoiding her like the Plague for the past few days. One minute he was ghosting her and now he was coming up to her at a bar? Ophelia hated boys. “Hi, Luke.”

Luke, to his credit, had picked up the uncomfortable shift in Ophelia’s body language, her jaw clenching and arms coming up to cross over her chest as she looked up at him. Honestly, he didn’t know what compelled him to come up to her—he had seen her approach the bar and straightened in his seat, feeling the sudden urge to talk to the girl he had been deliberately annoying like an asshole. He wasn’t surprised that she looked like she wanted to be anywhere but in front of him at the moment. And it hurt something in Luke’s chest even though he knew he had no right to feeling anything like that, not when it was his own fault that she couldn’t even offer him a smile upon sight.

So he swallowed inaudibly before asking, “can we, uh, talk?”

Ophelia didn’t even try to stop the scoff from escaping her as she rolled her eyes, hip jutting slightly as she retorted, “oh, now you wanna talk?” Luke tried not to recoil, not missing the edge in her tone and the narrowing of her eyes. “I don’t wanna hear it, Luke.”

Oh, but she did. She totally did want to hear it and just when those words slipped past her mouth, Ophelia mentally berated herself. What if he was about to explain himself? Ophelia let her big-headed pride get in the way of finding out the answers to the questions that have been bothering her, and she’d slap herself for it if Luke actually did end up leaving her alone.

Just then, the bartender behind Ophelia handed her her beer, and she gave him the money before picking up the bottle and moving to take a step around Luke’s broad figure. “Wh—you’re just gonna walk away?” Luke questioned with furrowed brows, watching as she brushed past him with an indifferent expression painted on her face that was merely a mask to hide how she truly felt.

She threw him a narrow eyed glare over her shoulder, took in the disgruntled and bewildered look he wore, and suddenly felt a newfound surge of some kind of power as she countered, “doesn’t feel good, does it?” before shouldering past some guy and walking to the other side where her friends were seated.

Ophelia could feel Luke’s gaze burning into her back, only boosting her confidence and making her feel all the more powerful for brushing him off like that. Sure, she wanted to know what he had to say, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of immediately listening to his explanation the first time he came up to her after ignoring her for days. She had more pride than that. And stubbornness.

So she went to sit back down with her friends, purposefully avoiding glancing Luke’s way as he, in turn, let out a small breath of disbelief and surprise before reluctantly returning to his seat at the table with the boys. “You look like you struck out,” Calum commented as the blonde sat down across from him defeatedly. Calum glanced over his shoulder to where Ophelia sat with her friends. Looking back at Luke, he frowned, “she didn’t wanna talk?”

Luke let out a sharp breath and shook his head, tugging at the front of his jacket. Next to him, Michael scoffed as he set down his beer. “Are you surprised? You’ve been ignoring her.”

The muscle in Luke’s jaw twitched at his words because he knew Michael was right. He shouldn’t have expected Ophelia to want to talk to him right away because he definitely offended her by avoiding her more often than not lately. Luke, in his defense, didn’t know what to do. He was confused as to how and what he felt towards Ophelia because at first he had figured she was just someone to hook up with. But then they had sex twice, then three times and he found himself not being able to get enough. Luke hadn’t wanted someone so badly the way he did Ophelia, a desire so intense he had to take a moment and step back. Unfortunately, he didn’t go about doing so the right way.

How in the world could he have thought just ignoring her would make what he felt go away? Would help him make sense of what was going on in his head? It only made things worse for him—both emotionally and in the face of Ophelia as well. Now she didn’t even want to speak to him, and Luke had no one to blame but himself and his incapability of figuring shit out.

“You gotta apologize to her, man,” Ashton instructed after swallowing down a couple of French fries. “Tell her you’re sorry for being a dick.”

Luke shot him a flat look, though mildly annoyed because that’s exactly what he wanted to do before Ophelia shot him down, as he took a sip of his whiskey. It warmed his throat and settled in his stomach with a calming buzz. His eyes kept flickering over Calum and Ashton’s shoulders through the night to gaze at Ophelia sitting in the booth, having utterly no regard for him as she laughed, chatted, and took occasional sips of her beer. Luke bit the inside of his cheek at her smile—something he’d only been able to see through her social media. He felt a smile twitching on his lips at the sight of hers, even if it wasn’t directed to him. Even if he wasn’t deserving of it.

When Ophelia and her friends got up and began filing out of the bar around midnight that night, momentary panic set in Luke as he realized she was leaving and they hadn’t yet talked. So quickly finishing his new bottle of beer and slamming it on the table, Luke scrambled to his feet and didn’t bother giving his friends an explanation before running out the door, leaving them staring after him in bewilderment. The cold October night air slapped him as he stepped out, but he paid it no attention as he caught sight of who he was after and called out, “Ophelia!”

The hazel eyed girl’s laughter ceased, her and her friends all pausing in approaching the parking lot as they turned around to see the blonde dressed in black. His curly hair was tousled because of his wind as they stood a few feet away from the door. “We need to talk,” he stated clearly before his lips set into a firm line.

Ophelia gazed at him, taking in the seriousness of his expression. Her brows furrowed before glancing at her friends, pocketing her car keys. “I’ll see you at home.” She shot a reassuring look to her friends before they nodded and began walking away—though not before all three of Ophelia’s roommates shot her knowing looks. When Shawn’s and Isabelle’s cars drove off, Ophelia looked at Luke, who had neared and stopped about five feet from her. “What?”

Luke peered at the pretty girl in front of him, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he took in how comfortably adorable she looked in her dark red winter coat and matching beanie that sat atop her head. The cold already had her nose and cheeks flushing pink and Luke wanted to do nothing more than to pull her close and keep her warm.

“I owe you an apology,” he stated regretfully and roughly while shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket. The music from the dive bar behind them was muffled and there was no one in the parking lot but them, allowing them to hear the occasional whistle of the wind. “I was—I don’t know what I was thinkin’, ignoring you like that. It was childish of me.”

Ophelia let out a scoff at that, crossing her arms over her chest whether it be defensively or from the cold, neither of them could be sure. “Yeah, it was,” she agreed easily, with a defiant quirk of her eyebrow. She hadn’t expected to have this conversation in the middle of The Hideout’s empty parking lot with only a couple of street lamps lighting the area, but she guessed the time to talk was now. “You could’ve been upfront about not wanting to, like, fuck around anymore,” she added, shifting her weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably.

“I don’t—that’s not what this is, sweetheart,” Luke assured hastily, almost desperately as he took a step towards her, long legs bringing him closer to her rooted figure. Ophelia had to swallow inaudibly as the term of endearment slip past Luke’s lips, unwittingly feeling more affected by it than she liked. Luke paused for a moment, tongue poking out to wet his lower lip and Ophelia tried not to follow the action as he spoke up almost hesitantly. “If I’m bein’ honest. . . I can’t stop thinking ’bout you.”

That caught her off guard. Ophelia blinked in surprise, unsure of whether or not to believe Luke, though the earnest expression on his face told her he was being honest. And he was. Luke may have been ignorant and avoiding her lately, but the thoughts that ran through his mind constantly reminded him of the girl living on the other side of his room. Multiple times he had wanted to march right over to her, but refrained himself because he wasn’t sure of what he wanted.

Truth be told, Luke still didn’t know what he wanted, not exclusively. All he knew was that he wanted Ophelia in the way he had her before and for now, that would have to be enough. And he hoped she would be okay with that, should she agree.

“You have a funny way of showing that,” Ophelia pointed out, pouty lips puckering even more and the mere action had Luke’s jeans tightening and jaw clenching. She then licked her lips and Luke wished she stopped playing with the skin because he was losing any ounce of self control he had. With a sigh, Ophelia asked, “what do you want, Luke? Because not to sound like too much of a girl, but you ignoring me after all of that made me feel seriously used.” She scrunched her face up at her own words, knowing they sounded needy and clingy but she didn’t know how else to say what she needed. “If you wanna end whatever the hell this was, then do it to my face. Don’t ignore my damn existence like we’re in high school.”

Her confidence when it came to Luke was always something to come and go, but after being offended and hurt by Luke avoiding her as if she had done something wrong had her standing up for herself in whatever capacity necessary. Ophelia knew that people ghosting others was relatively normal, especially those you’ve hooked up with, but she hated that. If she didn’t want to do anything with someone anymore, she was straight up with them and she would hope they would give her the same courtesy. Ignoring them until they go away was childish and rude.

Luke’s expression fell somewhat, a pang of guilt resonating through him at the knowledge of how he had made her feel. Fuck, I’m an ass. He ran his ring clad fingers through his curly hair, pushing it back and away from his disgruntled face of steepened brows and lips rolled into his mouth. “I’m a dick, I know,” he relented, taking yet another step towards Ophelia, the closing distance rising her gaze because of his height. “I promise I’m not gonna disappear on you again, babe, I swear.”

Babe had so effortlessly rolled from his lips that it made Ophelia’s heart thud as a gust of wind blew against her face, prompting shivers to run down her spine despite the coat she wore. Whatever was going on with her and Luke, she was going to accept it as it came. Ophelia may have feelings for Luke but she didn’t know where he stood on that matter and unless he was absolutely clear, then she wouldn’t assume anything. If he just wanted to fuck, she was okay with it and if he wanted more, that was definitely okay, too. It would be hard for her, hooking up with a guy she has feelings for but only keeping it physical, but she would take it in stride.

She was way too attracted to Luke to prioritize her feelings over her desire for him.

So, swallowing down her emotions for the Australian in front of her, Ophelia took a breath and stated, “you never answered my question.” When Luke shot her a quizzical look, Ophelia briefly bit the inside of her lower lip before repeating, “what do you want?”

Luke’s blue eyes locked on her green, silence surrounding them despite the music inside the bar. He didn’t know how to truly answer that question because putting a label on what he wanted wasn’t something he was quite ready for. He didn’t want a relationship, not yet anyway, but the sight of the pretty girl in front of him had Luke’s stomach clenching and heart quickening.

So, he gave the only answer both of them would be satisfied with. “You.”

That was all it took for Ophelia’s breath to hitch and confidence to strengthen as she grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him in for a searing kiss, one which warmed them both to the core despite the cold nipping at their bodies. The heated rush of the kiss had Ophelia and Luke melting into each other, having gone too long without the other’s touch as Luke’s hands cupped her face, Ophelia feeling her toes curl as the cold metal of his rings touched her skin.

Her car was only a few feet away, so it’s safe to say the two had no trouble in walking towards it without detaching their lips and climbing into the backseat, more than ready to get rid of their clothes and give into the unadulterated hunger that always sparked to life the moment their eyes met.

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