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zreamy · 5 months

Text

i'll love you forever

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

summary: you were sunghoon's first everything; first friend, first love, and first heartbreak. after years of quietly crushing on you, he was finally ready to confess. so ready to confess, that he told his parents the two of you were already dating! it was an easy enough lie to keep up and he kept it up for months, what could possibly go wrong? he thought. little did he know, you would have a falling out and stop talking for months.. and then, you'd both get invited to spend a week at home with his parents, who still believe you're his girlfriend.

genre: smut, fluff, angst, college au, childhood best friends to lovers, fake dating

warnings: minors dni, fake dating is pretty mild (sorry), she kinda doesn’t rate him at the start, these two kind of exist in a vacuum a little bit idk i had a self-enforced word count to stick to and broke it.. (im within the 10% allowance !), sunghoon in a vest, sunghoon arms, sunghoon

word count: 21,858

playlist: click here.. (for my non-spotify babes, the main song is light by wave to earth (which for some reason i put last.. whatever))

author's note: for silly @asahicore. happy birthday pooks i hope it's amazing and that u enjoy reading this when u have the time !!! LOL (lots of love) also im never writing without telling you things again this was so absurd.

to everyone else.. ok happy reading also emma did not beta read this so im sure it's missing its charm .. anyway it's for emma not you 😭 anyway i hope u enjoy regardless and lmk ur thoughts! omg this is the first fic im nervous about posting.......... please enjoy or else.

In the three years since Park Sunghoon moved away for university, he’d been doing a pretty good job of going home to see his parents. They’d welcome their baby back to the nest with open arms and wide grins. With a rehearsed level of indifference, his younger sister, Yeji, would say, “Oh, I didn’t know you were coming home this weekend.” when she saw him at the dinner table. Sunghoon pretended to only be marginally hurt by this.

In the last three months, he hasn’t so much as sent a text to his parents.

Or to you.

Ignoring texts from his mother is devastating. Between classes, he watches as, “Hi, sweetie, I love you 😍,” turns into, “Missing you, honey, know you must be busy but spare some time for your old mummy, no?” which turns into, “Getting really worried now, are you doing okay? Has something happened with YN? Talk to me, I love you, my baby boy!”

Ignoring texts from you is easy because texts from you never come.

Sitting at the end of his bed, Sunghoon rereads a text his mother sent a few minutes ago: Please talk to me, son. Really worried and YN isn’t answering calls either. What’s going on with you two?

When he leaves his room, he finds Jake lying on the couch, and with his keys in hand, Sunghoon says, “I’m going home.”

And the drive is great! At least, he tells his mum it is. In truth, the drive home without you was nearly impossible. Your ever-expanding home time playlist buzzed through the speakers in his car, but without you there to screech along to the songs, it wasn’t the same. He felt your absence the most when he stopped to get petrol and you weren’t there behind him struggling to carry enough snacks to feed a small family without offering to pay.

The look of worry on his mum’s face stirs a pit in his stomach. “Why are you so quiet these days? God, you look so tired,” she says, frowning. “Is it school? Or something with YN? It’s not like her not to text back.” Her brows crease as she whispers the word unless. She pulls him into a hug, her chin resting perfectly on his shoulder, and her comforting hand strokes the hair on the back of his head. “Breakups are never easy, honey. I’m so sorry, I know how much you love her.”

Breakups are never easy. The sentence hangs heavy over his head.

Whether she knows it or not, she’s handed him a get-out-of-jail-free card, the opportunity to set things straight, to end this mess once and for all. No further questions, and most importantly, no more lies.

For the first time since he left your flat three months ago, Sunghoon lets himself cry. He’d imagined this moment countless times, his first cry since you ended things. In his mind, it was always intense. Today, as it happens, only a few salty tears leak from his eyes, spilling onto the cuff of his sleeve, darkening the blue cotton in tiny indigo splotches.

“We didn’t break up,” he says in a small voice—for some reason. “I’m just having a hard time.” Neither statement is technically untrue, but the words taste rotten in his mouth.

The tightening grip of his mum’s arms around his body is what brings on the harsh, shoulder-racking sobs he’d been anticipating. For a while, they stand like this, Sunghoon weeping into his mum’s cardigan until she sends him upstairs to lie down, promising a cup of tea that never comes.

His childhood bedroom is chilly, so he changes into clothes he left behind and climbs into bed, pulling his duvet up to his chin. He turns his head to look at the walls and the room around him, everything is exactly where he left it in the summer. It should be comforting, but it’s weird to be home without you.

There are photos of you and him everywhere, growing up and around each other through different stages of life. The two of you together during the summer your family moved in next door, you wore glasses back then and were the first friend he’d made in his life. Sunbathing and sharing earphones at the beach, listening to music together on your iPod classic. Sunghoon in thick glasses with a stiff smile and your arm around him on the first day of high school. Wide grins at the start of this summer, the last time things were okay between you.

Overwhelmed, he stares up at the ceiling, only realising he’s crying when a hot tear slips from his eyes to tickle his ear. Because Sunghoon likes to upset himself, he screws his eyes shut and thinks about the night before you stopped talking.

Though he didn’t know it at the time, you’d left Yeonjun’s place to sit with him in a tiny restaurant on campus, the one you’d only visit to toast to each other’s heartbreaks. It had become a ritual — ever since your first year boyfriend dumped you after two weeks — to cry as much as you wanted and drink as much soju as your bodies could handle before stumbling back to your apartments.

Having spent years suffering from an unrequited crush on his best friend, Sunghoon was always the one to comfort you. But that night was different; you were there to comfort him. It was easy enough to play the part of ‘boy whose crush likes someone else’ because he spent your entire friendship in that role. He’d had no problem accepting his fate, but his composure started to slip when you met Yeonjun. It was the first time you’d dated someone who Sunghoon had reason to be jealous of. In every way, Yeonjun was better than him—taller, funnier, hotter. Sunghoon knew he didn’t stand a chance. He took it personally, you liking Yeonjun instead of him, and let his jealousy consume him from the inside out.

This jealousy led him to start telling you about Minjeong—lying to you about Minjeong, and his feelings for her. She was a girl from a college out of town that he saw on his Instagram Explore page. He followed her by accident, and by some stroke of luck, she followed back. Sunghoon didn’t really have feelings for her — he didn’t even know her — but she was a girl that you didn’t know, so you wouldn’t be able to meddle.

It only took a few weeks for Sunghoon to become so upset about your relationship that he couldn’t hide his emotions anymore. So, in a fit of tears, he told you over the phone that things ended badly with Minjeong, and he was in urgent need of a soju ceremony.

But the night was missing its usual comforts.

It was strange to be the one crying, to see you looking put together and ordering the food. To see you pouring the drinks and raising your glass to propose a toast to ‘Hoonie’s first heartbreak’. You were driving that night, so you only had a tiny sip of soju and let him drink as much as he needed, the way he always did for you, at the same table, in the same restaurant for years.

Hours later, in your car, you entertained his drunken rambles, though he remembers how your lips were set into a frown that he wanted to kiss away while you gripped the steering wheel like you thought it would run from you. Sunghoon was more drunk than he’d been in a while, drunk enough to let you sling his arm over your shoulders and keep him upright until you reached his flat.

The voices coming from Yeji’s room disrupt the memory. He’s thankful.

“Your brother’s going through something, so be nice to him this weekend.” His mother’s voice is her version of hushed—a loud whisper.

Yeji’s response is harder to make out, but he doesn’t miss the way their mum says, “I mean it, missy.”

A dramatic sigh rumbles through Yeji as she barges into his room without knocking. Sunghoon sits up, feeling an ache in his back and crossing his legs.

“Mum told me to lay off you today, which is fine, but before I do, I need to tell you something.”

Yeji pushes the door shut behind her, and the open window makes it slam, both of them flinching from the sudden noise. She pulls her hair out of a silk scrunchie and throws herself on the floor. A pang of irritation forms in his chest, knowing that he could immediately find the empty hanger in his wardrobe where the shirt she’s wearing used to live.

“I hate you and your perfect golden boy image, Hoon. Would it kill you to fail a class for once? I don’t know how I’m supposed to carry on your legacy.” She’s looking up at him, her chin in her hands and irritation written in the crease between her thick brows.

It’s impossible to know if it’s because of Yeji’s complete lack of boundaries or the fact that her ‘perfect, golden boy’ big brother is on track to fail three out of three classes and get cut from the hockey team, but Sunghoon immediately bursts into tears.

“Oh, uh.. I’m sorry?” Yeji offers. “I was kidding if that helps.”

“I’m alright, it’s okay.” The tears don’t stop stinging his eyes. “Why do you want me to change everything about myself?”

With a frown, Yeji pours out her frustration and mild resentment. She doesn’t understand how Sunghoon effortlessly conquers every aspect of life while she struggles. Neither do their parents, who had been baffled by her plummeting grades since she moved to boarding school, especially when Sunghoon’s academic performance has only soared since he left for university. The weight of this perceived injustice pulls Sunghoon’s shoulders down with guilt as she talks about the expectations he has inadvertently set for her.

“But other than that, I’m good.” She shrugs, sitting with her legs out, and leaning back on her palms. “How’s YN?” she asks. It’s clear from the brightness in her voice that she thinks she’s helping.

Sunghoon cries again.

Back on campus, he’s trying to scrape together what’s left of his academic career with the help of two of the smartest guys he knows, and their friend Jay. Though the word ‘friend’ feels a little strong at the moment given the way Jay’s goading him.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, sitting back in his seat. “There’s nothing you can do that I can’t,” he says, meaning every word.

Jay scoffs, shrugging and raising his brow in a way that, over the years, Sunghoon knows to interpret as his ‘about to say something ridiculous’ look. “Pretty sure I could call YN right now, and she’d answer.”

There’s a pit in Sunghoon’s stomach as Heeseung turns his head in the other direction like he’s been slapped, trembling with stifled laughter. At least Jake doesn’t hide his amusement, throwing his head back in a fit of giggles that draw nasty looks from the other students in the library. Sunghoon doesn’t waste his energy trying to argue because Jay’s right.

Now composed, Heeseung turns back to the table, flipping through some of Sunghoon’s course materials to find whatever his class was doing in class that week. The English Literature class he’s taking — The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway — is the same class he had to send a million emails over the summer to get enrolled in, but it’s the same one Heeseung aced two years ago. Lucky for him none of the boys seem to be in the mood to make fun of him for trying so hard to have a class in common with you, and then practically failing out of it before the term had started properly.

“This class is, like, beyond easy, dude.” Heeseung pauses to sniffle and twist the stud in his ear. “Everyone in my class aced it. How are you doing so badly already?”

“I only took it because YN thought it’d be fun if we had a class together, but.. I kind of haven’t been going since we stopped talking.” Sunghoon shrugs, pretending to be unaffected.

As if the mere mention of your name has some sort of summoning power, like saying Biggie Smalls in the mirror three times, you appear in his eye line, rounding the corner with a furious stride. Your demeanour crumbles when Jay waves at you, and you grin, waving back, but as soon as you look Sunghoon in the eye again, the rage comes back, and you smack a hand on the table when you reach it, leaning over to him.

“Sunghoon, a word?” you ask.

He thinks you’re asking, but it’s hard to tell with the way you set your jaw afterwards, and the way the warmth of your signature vanilla scent hits him hard. Dazed, Sunghoon lifts a hand, pointing at himself. “Me?”

“Does anyone else at the table answer to Sunghoon?”

“Okay,” he says, somewhat pathetically, nudging Jay for laughing at him.

As slowly as possible, Sunghoon pushes his chair from the table and stands up, following you to the corner of the references section where only anthropology students in scratchy thrift store knits, and Jay, come to check out encyclopaedias by volume. You look good, save for the rage written all over your face—which, honestly, Sunghoon thinks he likes.

Sunghoon isn’t sure what to expect, so he says, “Hey.” He’s being cautious, waiting a moment to gauge your reaction. “What’s gooooood?” His cheeks burn as soon as he closes his mouth around the vowel, but you laugh. You laugh, and it’s beautiful and happy, and you’re laughing because of him—or at him, but he’s glad either way.

Annoyance quickly clears all traces of amusement on your face. “Were you ever going to tell me we’re spending next week at Mum and Dad’s?” you ask.

Sunghoon gasps dramatically, clicking his fingers. “I knew there was something I’ve been meaning to do.”

His attempt at lightening the mood falls flat, and you only nudge his shoulder gently, sighing. “Can you be serious? For once in your life, even for a second, can you please think about how the things you say affect me?” You’re frowning, crossing your arms over your chest and looking at your feet. “It’s not fair, Sunghoon. For you to keep saying things—making plans involving me and then acting like I’m the bad guy when I turn you down.”

“I don’t think you’re the bad guy at all,” Sunghoon admits. “If anyone is in the wrong, it’s me, I guess.”

You scoff, looking at him like you hate him. “You guess? Are you serious?” You look furious, but you sound hurt and Sunghoon hates it. Hates himself. “I can’t have this conversation with you right now. Tell mum I’m sick, and it’s contagious.” You roll your eyes and walk away, leaving Sunghoon alone with his thoughts and judgemental stares from students in crochet scarves so long they graze the floor.

He sighs, slumping against the wall. How does he keep getting it wrong with you?

Back at the table, Sunghoon manages to act like he’s not falling apart and makes some serious headway on his missing assignments with Heeseung’s help before they call it a day as the sun starts to set.

When he gets home, he lies down on his bedroom floor, spending hours poring over the conversation you had. Over the minute changes in your facial expression, the tone of your voice, and the endless list of things he should have done, rather than watch you walk away.

The moment feels familiar, both identical to and worlds apart from what happened after you left three months ago. When he managed to scrape the last shreds of his dignity from the kitchen table, he dragged his feet to his room and lay down like he is now, face to the rug. That day, he left his door open and lay so still that Jake thought he was dead. Sunghoon remembers wishing he had been.

For once in your life, even for a second, can you please think about how the things you say affect me? The words run on a loop in his mind, over and over, until he can’t remember the order of the sentence or where you put emphasis. They’re cutting all the same.

Sunghoon sighs into the itchy fibres of his black rug before rolling onto his back. In the diminishing purple light of the setting sun. he looks at the walls of his room. At the Fleetwood Mac poster, he stole from Jay when they moved out of their first year dorm, that curls away from the wall towards the ceiling—a diagonal strip of shiny tape being the only indication of the otherwise invisible tear through the face of Stevie Nicks.

He’s glad when his phone rings, cutting through the quiet, though the sight of your name and the anatomical heart emoji next to it only dampens his spirit. Reluctantly, Sunghoon answers the phone, holding it to his ear.

“I just got off the phone with Dad..” You trail off. Tangible silence follows, so thick it weighs on his chest. “I’ll go home with you.”

“You will?”

“Yes. Goodbye.”

Sunghoon reaches your flat at five in the evening. You don’t smile when you open the door for him, nor do you invite him in. Instead, you dump your bag at your feet and he cringes, looking from the floor to you. You’re aggressively beautiful and cosy-looking as you pull a jacket over the sweater you wore that night. Sunghoon’s heart aches in his chest and he wonders if you even realise. Suddenly, the memory of the last thing you said the morning after hits him like a truck: Then let’s not be friends at all.

A familiar weight lands on his shoulder—your hand. Concern lines your eyes as you ask if he’s okay.

With a lump in his throat, Sunghoon nods.

In the discomfort of his car, the two of you sit in silence while he starts the drive home.

“How’s Yeonjun,” he asks, eyes flicking towards you but regretting it immediately when he sees how you clench your jaw.

“No,” you say simply, shaking your head. “You don’t get to ask me about him.”

These are the only words you exchange until Sunghoon stops for petrol. He has enough fuel for the rest of the journey, but he feels like dying and thinks the fresh air might quell his thoughts of running his car off the road. Like always, the two of you get out and head into the kiosk, where he follows you wordlessly through the aisles, watching you debate on snack choices before settling on the same things you always get. Sunghoon pays for your snacks and you roll your eyes but don’t protest, mumbling thanks as you take them into your arms, leading the way back outside.

He knows he needs to tell you before you reach the house, but he’s not entirely sure how to say it—so he just does. “My, uh.. my parents think we’re dating.”

You stop so suddenly in front of him that he almost bumps into you. Stepping around you, Sunghoon keeps walking.

Over the top of his car, he watches your face cycle through all five stages of grief until anger comes back around in the loop as you scoff. “Why do they think that?” Your face is devoid of expression now, the blankness over your features dragging a sharp chill over his spine.

He stares blankly at you, processing. “Because I told them we’re dating,” he mumbles.

“Why did you.. do that?” You tilt your head, eyes pressing shut in a long blink. “What are you even talking about? Why did you.. What?”

A thin layer of sweat coats his palms despite the cold. Why did he do that? “We can stage a breakup during the trip or say we broke up right now,” Sunghoon offers. “Just one night, YN, please.”

The wind whistles by, ruffling your hair and jacket that you hug tightly to your chest. Behind you, Sunghoon takes note of the group of girls standing by the pumps, all five of them jerking their heads abruptly when they notice him watching, suddenly finding interest in the scattered litter and flickering halogen bulbs in the steel canopy over their heads.

You’re staring when he looks back at you, nostrils twitching with a sniffle before you sigh. “Or we could say that you’re a liar and end things there,” you say. “Or better yet, you go down there on your own and tell them the truth.”

Sunghoon’s gaze drops, his thoughts racing in his mind. He knows you’re right. At some point, his parents will have to find out, and it’d be better for them to find out now. Sunghoon sighs, nodding. “Alright,” he concedes. “I’ll take you back.”

An angry laugh comes out of you as you shake your head. “No need, I’ll walk.”

The station you’re at is neatly nestled in the middle of nowhere, on a road so narrow he’s not even sure it has a pavement. You’re halfway through the three-hour drive, so there’s no telling how long the walk would be, never mind the fact that the sun is already setting and it’s deep enough into October for the wind to sting.

“From here?” he asks, incredulous.

“Yes, open the boot so I can get my bag.”

Sunghoon can only bring himself to say your name, a desperate whisper.

“Open the boot.”

He repeats your name as if it’ll make a difference, he’s pleading with you, begging—though he doesn’t know for what.

You go to the back of his car where Sunghoon joins you, a pit in his stomach when you step away. With misty eyes, you look up at him and his heart breaks. “Please.”

Sunghoon knows you well enough to know that you’re not actually going to attempt the walk home but also knows that you won’t back down if he keeps challenging you. He nods, opening the boot for you and getting into the driver’s seat—your move.

You stand there, unmoving, and long enough passes that he thinks you’ll actually leave. The boot closes softly and you join him in the passenger seat. You sigh, buckling your seatbelt. “Let’s just get this over with.”

For the rest of the journey, you sit in silence as Sunghoon briefs you on the relationship, fighting a smile as he thinks about being your boyfriend—even if only for a night. You scoff when he ‘reminds’ you that you’ve been together for four months now and the only reason you haven’t been able to come home recently is that your schedules don’t match up very well anymore—which couldn’t be further from the truth as, before term started, you went out to celebrate the fact that your class schedules couldn’t be more suited for seeing each other.

Finally, at Sunghoon’s childhood home, the two of you smile and laugh for his parents before going to bed. Your relationship has only made his mother more averse to the idea of you sharing a room under her roof than she had been when you were younger. He’s relieved about this, and in the solitude of his bedroom, he lies on the duvet of his twin bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about the last few hours.

With his parents, you’d sat up in the living room watching TV. They sat on the couch together, his mum nestled in his dad’s side, while you two sat on the couch opposite, mirroring their position. If your complete stiffness was anything to go by, you were less than comfortable with his arm around you and Sunghoon felt terrible for begging you to go along with this. It was after midnight when you all went upstairs and you let him kiss your forehead before all but slamming the door to the guest room in his face. His heart twirled and his mum beamed at him before saying goodnight again.

Now, at 3 a.m. he can’t sleep. Flinching at the knock on his door, he furrows his brows and goes to open it. It’s you. Standing there with your hair scraped away from your face in one of his t-shirts. Your eyes are red, brimmed with tears as you step into his room and sit on his bed.

He closes the door softly, heart aching at the sight of you so upset, and when he sits next to you, his heart tears apart because you move over, putting a distance between you. It falls out of his chest onto the floor when he realises you’re not wearing your necklace.

Sunghoon suspected you might have stopped wearing it, it only made sense that if you didn’t want him, you wouldn’t want the necklace he bought for you either, but at least earlier, your sweatshirt sat so high he couldn’t see if you had it on or not.

It was a gift for your sixteenth birthday, after your first heartbreak. He was so upset and angry that you let some loser hurt you that way, upset and angry that someone could be loved by you and fuck it up. Sunghoon was inspired by Jay, who’d gotten a pretty necklace for his girlfriend, and talked about her cute reaction for weeks, how happy she was to have a piece of him with her all the time. It was a locket, with a picture of Jay in one side and a picture of her in the other so the pictures would kiss when she wore it.

While at the jewellers with Jake, Sunghoon thought something like that might be a bit much for the two of you and eventually picked out an equally pretty piece with his first initial on it. He wrote a corny note to put in the box, something about how ‘boys come and go but Sunghoon is forever’ and gave it to you with trembling hands a few nights later—it was the first time he ever made you cry. Immediately, he thought he’d done something wrong and was ready to snatch the box and run back to the jewellers (even though he trashed the receipt). You hugged him and told him you loved him. Sunghoon’s been riding that high ever since.

Until tonight at least.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

“I’ll do it, Hoon.” Your eyes lift from the floor to meet his gaze. “For as long as you need me to, I’ll pretend.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Sunghoon feels lighter, an unbearable weight slipping from his shoulders. You haven’t called him ‘Hoon’ in ages, and he can’t tell if you’ve said it out of vulnerability, or even noticed that you’ve said it at all, but it warms his heart nonetheless. However, he’s not fully at ease, still curious about your sudden change of heart and why you’re crying.

“What happened?”

You pull him into a hug, and his eyes bulge out of his head. “It doesn’t matter,” you say, the words muffled by the skin at the base of his neck.

For as long as he’s known you, you’ve smelled like vanilla, a sweet warmth that grounds him. Yet it’s only after these months apart that he’s able to put a name to the sensation: home. The realisation of how much he’s missed this feeling, missed you, floods him with a rush of emotion so overwhelming he can’t find the words to press the issue. A moment passes before he remembers to hug you back, his arms finally wrapping around you, pulling you close, and you sink into his hold. Months ago, he would have kissed the top of your head and mumbled reassurance into your hair, but tonight, Sunghoon settles for stroking the back of your head and hopes it’s enough.

“You can talk to me, you know? You can always talk to me.”

A heavy silence follows, sharp as a dagger—scraping his skin, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on edge and lodging itself between his shoulder blades. Sunghoon’s breath hitches in his throat when you cling onto him even tighter, shifting so close you’ve had to settle in his lap. His heart races in his chest, pounding a rhythm so loud it fills the room.

Finally, you speak, assuring him that you know and that you’re okay. At this, Sunghoon holds you as tight as he can, and neither of you speaks for the rest of the night. You fall asleep like this, in his arms, so deeply that you don’t even stir when he lies down.

Rubbing your back, he watches the clock on his nightstand, the piercing green LED digits cycling through two whole hours right before his stinging eyes until you wake up. Sunghoon presses his eyes shut, pretending to be asleep when you kiss his cheek and leave his room.

For the entire morning, you stay in your room, and although Sunghoon is concerned, he decides not to bother you. In the afternoon, he sits at the dining table with his mum, listening as she talks about work. When she asks him, he gets up to make a cup of tea for her. It’s at that moment when you finally come downstairs, looking so effortlessly pretty. Your hair is still damp from the shower, and you’re bundled up in one of his old sweatshirts. There’s a bright grin on your face that leaves his heart thudding.

“Baby!” you squeal when you see him, charging towards him and wrapping your arms around him from behind. “Good morning.” Your words are muffled against the back of his t-shirt, and the four-letter word, and the sugar coating it, make his cheeks burn.

“It’s great to see you too, YN,” his mum says with a smile. “My night was amazing; I slept very well and had no dreams.”

You let go of Sunghoon and walk over to the table, kissing his mum on the cheek and wishing her a good morning as well. “Sorry, mum, how are you?”

His mother doesn’t seem to have the heart to correct you either, allowing your 3 p.m. ‘good morning’ to go unnoticed.

Sunghoon carefully fills both mugs to the brim and, with extra caution, carries them to the table. He places a steaming cup of peppermint tea in front of his mum and a milky coffee in front of you. A warm smile spreads across your face as you mouth a ‘thank you’, and his knees turn to jelly.

The next day, after eating an early dinner with his parents at the table, the four of you go out on a walk along the bike path you used to take for school. His parents have gone ahead, not intentionally, but because Sunghoon can’t stop you from dragging your feet.

As with most things in the town where you grew up, nothing about the trail has changed. The leaves are yellowing in standard form for the season, and crunching under his feet with each step he takes. The only foreign experience is the silence that you’re determined to uphold. Everything Sunghoon says to you is met with either a hum, a nod, or no acknowledgement at all. At this point, he feels like he could drop dead at your side and the most you’d do is step over his body like a fallen branch.

After letting you go ahead, the weathered slats of the wooden footbridge sag in the middle under his tread. It’s been like this for as long as he can remember and he wonders how nothing has been done about it. The stream rushes under it, loud and unruly, the smell of wet grass both comforting and suffocating as you look over the railing. It’s like something from a postcard, the low-hanging branches sweeping back and forth under the breeze, the grass lush and green around the path, murky water thrashing against the mud and rocks underneath with you in the middle of the frame, peering over the edge.

You keep walking when Sunghoon approaches, leaving him alone on the creaky bridge with nothing but the ache in his chest. He looks up, staring at the grey clouds in the sky through the gaps in the leaves, and sighs.

Eventually, he catches up with you, grabbing your hand and locking his fingers with yours when his parents slow down. You stiffen, looking up at him with cut eyes and a creased brow. “What are you doing?”

Sunghoon matches your clipped tone. “Holding my girlfriend’s hand.”

“No one’s looking, boyfriend.”

“You think my parents aren’t going to wonder why we’re lagging behind?”

A scoff—your fingers remain defiantly stiff. “Do you think your parents are going to care whether or not we’re holding hands?”

“My mum might after the show you put on yesterday afternoon, baby.” Bitterness covers the word like a blanket, a stark departure from how you said it.

A long sigh rumbles its way out of you before you fix your lips into a strained grin. “Sorry, sweetheart, this is my first time pretending to be in love.”

As your words hang in the air, Sunghoon’s emotions brew like a storm within him. Frustration gnaws at his patience. All hopes for a smooth week are dashed, though determination simmers in his chest with a strong resolve to make this work, to fix your relationship. It doesn’t stop the sharp pang of hurt piercing his stomach—he knows you don’t feel the same way, he knows you’re faking, but the word ‘pretending’ hits him like a truck anyway.

“We held hands all the time when we were friends,” he points out.

Your smile drops immediately, hurt flashing behind your eyes. “Yeah, and now we’re not.”

If there was a competition for who could hurt Sunghoon’s feelings the most, you’d be a shoo-in for first place. With distinction.

“Exactly!” he says, feeling the sting of his own words. “Because now we’re dating.”

At the sight of his mum turning around, you switch up in an instant. Lock your fingers with his, wrapping an arm around his bicep, leaning into him, giggling. It’s forced but his parents are far enough away that all that matters is the curve of your lips.

“You two okay back there?” she asks.

“Perfect! I feel like a kid again!” you call back, beaming up at Sunghoon in a way that makes his stomach flutter even though it doesn’t meet your eyes.

The two of you don’t talk at all when you get home, with you hugging his parents goodnight and running up the stairs.

“She’s not feeling too well,” he explains, nodding when his dad tells him to make you some tea.

His parents spend the whole day at work, and you spend the whole day following him around like a shadow until the evening when they return. He doesn’t pretend not to like it.

Sunghoon helps you make dinner, turning leftover rice into fried rice with the help of some eggs and vegetables. It’s nice moving around the kitchen with you, watching you scramble eggs in his t-shirt and bump his hip with a playful frown when he eats some of the peppers you’re chopping.

His parents watch from the table, cooing over the two of you and he does his best to fight the blush forming on his cheeks and neck. Embarrassed, he hugs you from behind, hiding his face in your neck—the scent of your coconut conditioner mixing with your vanilla perfume doesn’t do anything to stop the flush.

Over a bottle of wine, the four of you eat together at the table, swapping stories about your days. Sunghoon tries to hide his surprise as you lie about the time you spent at the play park by your primary school, competing for height on the swings and spinning on the roundabout until you couldn’t stand up. You grin at him, and it meets your eyes as you hold his hand under the table, and kiss his cheek.

After eating, his parents head upstairs, leaving to clean up together. You hum a song he’s never heard as you load the dishwasher, carefully placing the plates and cutlery in the rack, shaking your head when he hands you the glasses you’d used.

“Leave ours,” you say. “If you want.”

Sunghoon nods, putting them back on the table, where you sit in the seat across from the one he was sitting in. He sits too, staying quiet rather than saying the wrong thing. You don’t speak either. It’s reminiscent of the past—the hours you’d spend in the same room, only speaking to share a funny post you’d come across or to ask if you were hungry.

His eyes track your movements—reaching for the half-empty bottle on the table to pour yourself another glass, filling it to the brim. Before putting it down, you offer him some, filling his glass too when he nods. The three glasses of wine he’s already had must be the reason he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand, run his thumb over the soft skin on the back of it.

Sunghoon doesn’t know why you’ve been so nice to him all day or why it makes his chest hurt.

“You know you don’t have to be nice to me when we’re alone, right?” The words come out before he can stop them.

Over the top of your glass, your brows knit together. A sound of confusion, a low hum, comes from your throat as you try to finish your sip. “What?” you ask finally.

“I only asked you to do this because of my parents, you know? You don’t have to sit or talk with me when they’re not around.”

Sunghoon’s known you long enough to recognise the look that flashes across your face. The way your eyes narrow and your brows tug together, the little pout that sets on your lips before you speak; you’re hurt.

“Why can’t I just be nice to you because it’s the right thing to do?”

Because it hurts, is what he wants to say. He wants to cry, to beg you to forget everything he said that day. “Because I don’t want to make you any more uncomfortable than I already have.” Is what he settles for.

Your face softens. “I don’t feel uncomfortable around you, Hoon. We were best friends for ages, I don’t think you could ever make me uncomfortable.” You pause to take a gulp of wine. “Why can’t I just want to be nice to you?”

Sunghoon has to chew on his cheek to distract himself from how much your word choice stings. The implications of were and all of your past tense. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“What for?”

“Everything.”

There’s a sadness in the way you run your fingers on the base of your glass. The way you chew on your lip, how your hair falls when you tilt your head and how it moves when you shake it. “It’s not your fault,” you say. “I don’t know anyone who would choose to have unrequited feelings for their best friend.”

Wow, he thinks. You’re on a roll. Sunghoon wonders if you’re meticulously choosing your phrasing to upset him. Wonders why you feel the need to remind him that his feelings aren’t reciprocated as if he didn’t live through and spend hours reliving the day he confessed.

“But I didn’t have to tell you about it. It was unfair of me to spring that on you when I knew about Yeonjun.”

“Did you.. did you think I was going to leave him for you?”

“Maybe?” Sunghoon chews on his lip—he has no idea what he thought would happen. “I think I thought I loved you enough for both of us, that you might play the part for fun or out of curiosity, and.. I don’t know, just learn to love me.”

“Hoon,” you whisper, frowning. “How could you even think about settling for something like that?”

Sunghoon shrugs. “It’s not settling if it’s you.”

Silence takes a seat at the table after he speaks, interrupted only by the ticking clock on the wall—a glittery mess of scrapbooking paper and washi tape layered over each other that Yeji had decorated at summer camp years ago. You’re picking at your fingernails, letting flecks of black polish fall to the table, stark against the varnished oak.

“I know it’s not my place to ask,” Sunghoon starts after a while, hesitant and only continuing when you nod. “But what did Yeonjun say when you told him? About.. everything?”

You take a long sip from your glass and sit quietly for so long that he thinks you’re not going to answer him—he doesn’t blame you.

“I didn’t.”

He waits for you to elaborate. You don’t.

Sunghoon nods slowly, deciding not to ask any follow-up questions. Instead, he takes another drink, scrunching his nose at the bitter taste. “He didn’t ask why we stopped hanging out?” he blurts out.

“I told him we fell out but I didn’t say why.” You shrug, but your posture is stiff.

“Where did you tell him you were going to be this week?” He knows it’s not his business at all, that he’s pushing your boundaries, but he can’t help his curiosity.

“Nowhere.”

“You told him you were staying on campus?”

“I didn’t tell him anything.” Your gaze shifts, avoiding his as you toy with the stem of your glass. You drum your nails against it, letting the dull clink ring out.

“So you just left?”

“Does it make a difference to you?”

Sunghoon nods.

For a while, you tug at the drawstrings on your hoodie, pursing your lips to the side, considering this. “Yeonjun and I aren’t together anymore.” Your admission is so shocking that Sunghoon’s jaw drops. He tries to cover his surprise by coughing, his tongue sticking out like a small child. “I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want you to think it was because of you.”

Sunghoon’s thoughts move at lightspeed, too fast for him to catch onto any of them and process this information. His emotions compete with each other—disbelief, guilt, and a painful glimmer of hope he hadn’t dared to acknowledge until now all at the forefront.

“Was it?” he asks. “Because of me?”

You scoff—an incredulous sound that doesn’t match the sad look on your face. “I don’t know, Sunghoon. Do you think my boyfriend used me to make his ex jealous because of you?”

He’s not sure what he expected you to say, but this is.. Complete disbelief eclipses him as his heart sinks in his chest, shock, and guilt bubbling in his stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he says after too long. “That I wasn’t there. That I haven’t been there.”

“You didn’t know,” you say, gaze softening as you look up at him.

“But I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about it.”

You shake your head. “I made me feel like I couldn’t talk to you about it. All you did was change the friendship, I’m the one who ended it.”

“I still should’ve been there.”

“You’re here now, right?”

Sunghoon nods, earnestly. “Always.”

Only one thing comes to mind when you repeat the word ‘always’ before taking a sip from your glass, downing its contents. Sunghoon gets up and crosses the room with wobbly steps to open the fridge, where he pulls out as many bottles of soju as he can hold in his hands and puts them down on the table. He goes back to collect some glasses from the cabinet, puts some of the leftover fried rice from dinner into the microwave, and brings it all over when it’s done, with bowls and utensils. You watch him with a fond smile as he opens a bottle and he hopes you think the flush on his cheeks is from all the drinking you’ve been doing.

“Is it bad that I’ve missed doing this?” You’re grinning now.

Sunghoon shakes his head, raising his glass. “To YN’s fifteenth heartbreak.”

You grin, clinking the rim of your glass against his. “To YN’s fifteenth heartbreak,” you repeat.

Both of you down the glasses, and Sunghoon refills them, pouring the soju with an oddly steady hand. As you eat spoonfuls of rice and sip your drinks, silence settles over the room. The soft glow of the kitchen lights forms a warm ambience, a cosy familiarity that brings up simple memories—doing homework together at the table while gossiping about your classmates, the first New Year after you were both eighteen and had your first drink with his parents.

For at least an hour, the only sounds are the occasional clinks of forks against bowls, glasses hitting the table, the faint hum of the refrigerator and the steady tick of Yeji’s clock. Sunghoon’s eyes meet yours, and he can’t help but notice the slight change in your expression when they do.

You clear your throat, running a hand through your hair. “This is my sixteenth, actually.”

“What?”

You take a small sip of soju, staring down at the table. “My fifteenth heartbreak was losing you. Yeonjun is my sixteenth.”

In the two days since your soju ceremony, Sunghoon finds himself sinking into the role of your boyfriend like a hot bath. But there’s no use pretending it doesn’t hurt. Pretending it doesn’t hurt when you kiss his cheek before bed, or when you reach out to push the hair out of his face or snuggle into his side on the couch; because it does hurt—a lot. It hurts to think that in three days when you put your bags in the boot of his car, you’ll sit in silence all the way home. When he drops you off at your flat, you’ll close the door in his face and stop talking to him again. These realisations are harder to confront when he’s alone in his room, like now.

About an hour ago, you asked if you could borrow his car, saying there was something you needed to do on your own. It seemed important, so he handed over his keys with no question. Sighing, Sunghoon gets up from his bed and heads to the shower, where he jerks off to clear his mind. On his way back to his room, he notices the light leaking from the open kitchen door that illuminates the landing.

He hears the lock on the front door clicking, and stands at the top of the stairs, dripping water onto the carpet while listening attentively. His ears perk up when he hears a gasp—his mother.

“What’s this for?” she asks.

“I just..” You trail off. “I know it’s not much, but I wanted to thank you both for always looking after me.” You pause, and Sunghoon holds his breath, waiting. Your voice trembles as you continue. “It’s been hard since my parents went back home, and I guess it was still hard when they were here, but you both supported me. I don’t think I could’ve managed without you guys. I want to make you guys proud, you know? And I’m trying, really, so this is me saying thank you. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

He grips the railing by the landing, digging his nails into the wood until they start hurting—an ache in his fingertips that makes him wince.

An odd feeling settles in his stomach, a bittersweetness tinged in his fondness for you, and the gentle shock of realising how much his parents have done for you. Growing up, you became an honorary member of Sunghoon’s family. His parents showered you with gifts during holidays and birthdays, which you often celebrated with them rather than your own family.

The memory of your parents’ sudden decision to move across the country still lingers, and Sunghoon vividly recalls the tearful conversation he overheard at the top of the stairs. Your parents understood the enormity of their request but had earnestly asked if Sunghoon’s parents could continue looking after you.

His chest tightens when you start crying.

“You don’t have to thank us for anything, sweetie. Just you being here and taking care of our boy is more than enough thanks. You never forget our birthdays, and you always come and visit when you can. You’re doing a great job, and you should give yourself some credit,” his dad says, a little choked up. “We’ve always been proud of you.”

Sunghoon’s eyes sting with tears and his skin gets dry in the spots where the water from the shower is evaporating. He presses his fingers to his closed eyes, forcing a few tears to fall and walks the rest of the way to his room with his eyes shut. He can’t hear anything through his closed bedroom door, which he decides is a good thing as he coats himself in moisturiser and swipes deodorant under his arms with intention to spend the whole night alone. Once he’s dressed, he gets into bed and pretends not to be bothered by the way his wet hair dampens his pillow. Under the duvet, he tosses and turns before sighing and heading to Yeji’s room.

In her absence, the room’s subtle transformation is stark. The sage green-painted walls, once a backdrop to the A3 faces of Wave to Earth and Beabadoobee, now bear the faint imprints of those missing posters. Tiny, shadowy rectangles are the only remnants of the 6x4-sized pictures of her and her friends, of her and Sunghoon, that she took away with her to school.

Her hairdryer is still on her desk where she’d left it for him to use and he sits in her stiff wooden chair, plugging it in. The airflow starts immediately, hot and loud, humming throughout the space as he runs his fingers through his wet hair, feeling cosy under the heat. His shampoo is fresh and soapy scented under his nose, and his reflection watches him in Yeji’s mirror, eyes red and concerned while his hair blows around his head. Sunghoon closes his eyes and finishes his hair, sighing as he lets his worries slip under the whir of the fan.

Finished, he shuts off the dryer and opens his eyes, flinching at your reflection in the doorway behind him with a soft smile on your face. “Mum and Dad are going to open a bottle of wine if you want to join,” you say, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

Sunghoon can’t find it in himself to speak, only nodding in response. You smile wider but don’t move. He unplugs the hairdryer and leaves it on the desk where he found it before crossing the room. Without giving himself a chance to think about it, he pulls you into a hug and kisses the top of your head, smiling into your hair when you wrap your arms around his waist, holding him closer.

You’re sitting on the edge of the bathtub, mumbling sleepily that you’re never going to drink again, and Sunghoon leans over the sink brushing his teeth, he’s glad you have the decency to cover your mouth as you speak.

“Brush your teeth and go back to sleep then,” he mumbles around his toothbrush.

You don’t respond.

Sunghoon sighs through his nose, spitting foamy toothpaste into the sink, leaving bubbly, blue splatters on the porcelain. “And quit staring at me, I can feel your beady little eyes on the back of my neck and it’s freaking me out.”

“But you’re so pretty,” you coo.

There’s a flutter in his stomach and he rinses off the sink and his mouth, buying himself some time. With a hand on the Listerine, he lifts his gaze to meet yours in the mirror and stops short. You’re still staring at him, features soft and glowing under the afternoon light. You look like an angel; a gentle smile spreading over your lips, and a sleepy glint sparkling in your eyes, wide and gorgeous as you watch him. Sunghoon gulps, mumbling his thanks and looking back at himself. He hopes you can’t see the flush on his cheeks.

“Go back to sleep,” he says.

“Will you come and lie down with me if I do?” Your voice is a sleepy drawl, coming out in a slow, high-pitched slur, and your eyes are closing on themselves.

Lying down doesn’t sound like a terrible idea, especially not if it’s with you, so he nods. “If you brush your teeth, then yeah, baby, I’ll lie down with you.”

You chuckle softly at Sunghoon’s agreement, the sound carrying a mix of exhaustion and genuine amusement, showing no repulsion to him calling you the B-word. He didn’t mean to, it’s been a confusing few days. You nod, saluting to him and getting up to join him by the sink, using your hip to bump him out of the way, but he feels like he’s glued to the spot.

“Move, baby,” you mumble sleepily, reaching for your toothbrush. “We can cuddle in my bed,” you suggest, to which Sunghoon only nods, taking your words as a cue to unstick his feet from the floor and go to your room, playing the word ‘baby’ on a loop in his head.

He stands in the doorway staring at your bed, the duvet is all crumpled in the middle, and the pillows are in an L shape at the top corner. He sighs, he can’t go on like this, can’t stand around hoping even a tiny part of you called him ‘baby’ and it meant something for you as it did for him. It’s not fair for him to project his feelings on you like this, but he can’t help it. You’re already pretending for his parents, so would it be so bad to pretend for his sake as well? Even if only until the day after tomorrow when you leave?

The sound of the bathroom door shutting behind you snaps him out of his thoughts, your bright smile making his heart race when you tug him by the sleeve to your bed where the mattress dips underneath you as you curl into his form, resting your head on his chest and falling asleep. You’ve shared the bed before, countless times, but he knows you’ve only asked him because you’re tired. Because your brain is foggy with drowsiness that clouds your judgement, not because you want him there, not because you miss him when he’s two doors down the hall, tossing and turning at night thinking about you. He wonders absently if you can feel his aching heart beating through his chest, a painful, yet all too familiar rhythm that pulls his own eyes shut, plunging him into a deep sleep too.

It’s dark in the room when he wakes up, the sun already down behind the curtains and the soft yellow of the bedside lamp casting a glow around the space. You’re staring up at him, smiling and you don’t look away when he catches you. “What is it?” he asks, voice thick with sleep.

“Nothing,” you mumble. “I just missed you.” Sunghoon has no time to respond or even register what you said before you clear your throat, speaking again. “Come on, dad’s cooking tonight, he’ll need help.”

Helping Sunghoon’s dad with dinner always looks an awful lot like Sunghoon eating snacks on the kitchen counter and staring at you as you help his dad cook. Tonight is no exception, he’s sitting on the island, and his snack of choice is a family pack of Chilli Heatwave Doritos his mum bought for Yeji. He’ll have to remember to replace them before leaving seeing as he’s reaching the halfway point.

You go back and forth with his dad about measurements, with you rummaging through the drawers for measuring cups while his dad says it’s best to trust your gut. Reluctantly, you nod, chewing the inside of your cheek as you watch him eyeball the seasoning.

The gas stove turns the kitchen into an oven, and you complain about it while opening a window, pulling your hoodie over your head and leaving it in Sunghoon’s lap. Time stops when you grin at him, the light from the stove hood illuminating the necklace you’re wearing, his initial resting on your chest and glowing under the light. He chokes around a crisp when he sees it, catching your attention with his coughing.

“You’ll spoil your dinner, snacking like that, baby,” you scold, using a hand to push his knee. “We’re almost done, I swear.”

All he can do is nod, cheeks burning as he folds the crisp packet over before putting it back in the bread bin where he found it.

“Wow,” his dad says, resting his hands on his hips and shaking his head in amusement. “Being in love looks good on him, he’d never have listened if I said that.”

It’s already your last day when Sunghoon picks up Yeji from school. She grumbles for the entire half-hour drive and all the way to the front door about why the two of you couldn’t have started the trip today instead of ending it, but all of her irritation dissolves when she sees you in the hallway, leaving the front door wide open to fling her arms around you. You and Yeji exchange compliments for a while — You look so pretty. No, you look so pretty. I love your hair. I love your hair. — as Sunghoon locks the door and watches with a smile.

“God.” Yeji sighs, holding you by the waist and craning her neck up to look at you, as you push some of her hair from her face, pinning back her wispy bangs with the palm of your hand. Yeji giggles. “I’m so happy you two are together, even though I have no idea what a girl like you sees in my loser brother.”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, leaning back against the wall. Despite his mild irritation at Yeji’s words, he finds the sight of you with her so adorable his stomach flutters. Over the top of Yeji’s head, you look at him with a fond smile. “He’s not so bad.”

It doesn’t sound like a compliment, but Sunghoon takes it to heart.

Like always, Yeji manages to capture your undivided attention and the two of you giggle and whisper with each other all afternoon while Sunghoon watches, too enamoured by the sight to care about being left out. An hour or so passes like this, until his parents get home from work, excited to see Yeji after a few weeks, and you leave her side, coming to cuddle with Sunghoon instead.

It’s nice being home with everyone, laughing and sharing a meal before his family walks the two of you to his car with at least a month’s worth of cooked food for you to share at university. Yeji makes you pinky promise that she can visit you and waves with a pout on her face until the car is out of view.

Contrary to what he’d been expecting, the drive back is nice. Your playlist is on, and you’re telling him about all the new songs you added, catching him up on things with Chaewon and Yunjin, and all the things you got up to in the time you spent apart. You tell him about a new café that opened up near your place and how you’ll have to go together when he has the time, and Sunghoon bites his tongue before telling you that he always has time for you. The first half of the trip goes on like this but you start dozing off around the halfway mark, your sentences becoming few and far between, eventually turning into half-mumbled thoughts that end prematurely.

You’re still asleep when he reaches your flat, head propped up against the window with your soft lips parted, looking too pretty and cosy to wake up. Instead, he drives in circles around your block, deciding to wait for you to wake up on your own. It only takes a half-hour but you blink your eyes open, stretching your neck before looking around and out the car window, recognising the street. You don’t say anything, only smiling when you look at him, a small curve of your lips that makes his heart race.

He gets out of the car with you, opening the boot to get your bag before pulling you into his chest for a hug, liking the way your arms settle around his waist. “Thank you,” he mumbles into your hair.

Sunghoon doesn’t follow you when you take your bag from him, only watching from the back of his car. You don’t notice until you reach the main door, looking over your shoulder and frowning at him. “Aren’t you going to walk me up?”

The two of you walk in silence up four flights of stairs as the lift in your building is out of order. Your bag feels much heavier in his hand now than it did outside. At your door, he watches you dig around for your keys, sighing with relief when you find them.

“Do you want to come in?” you ask from your open doorway.

“I—uh—I have training in the morning and I’m already pretty tired, so..” He trails off.

Unfazed, you nod. “Right, of course. I had fun this week.”

“Yeah, me too.”

You smile at him, sweet and sincere. “Text me when you get home, yeah?”

Sunghoon nods, saying goodbye. Out of habit, he doesn’t leave your doorstep until he hears the lock click shut, and walks back to his car with his head down.

True to his word, he sends you a text to let you know he got back to his place safely and you read it immediately but don’t reply. It’s empty in the apartment, Jake is out with his football team and the space is larger than usual in his absence. Far too tired to even consider going out and joining him, Sunghoon goes through his night routine, putting his phone on the charger and stepping into the shower where he spends entirely too long wishing he could live in this week forever as he scrubs his body. With brushed teeth and damp hair, he goes back into his room where his phone lights up with a notification; a text, from you.

YN🫀: i’m glad you got home okay, i just got into bed :) i don’t want to make you uncomfortable or overstep or anything and you can say no (obviously).. i’ve been missing you so much and didn’t know how to reach out or if you wanted me to but i had soooo much fun this week and spending time with you again made me happy, so i’d like it if we could keep hanging out, like before yk? ik it’s a long shot ahahaha but just say you’ll think about it?

hoonie: You’re not overstepping at all, I’ve missed you too, so bad. I had soooo much fun this week as well and I’d like it a lot if we kept hanging out, thank you for agreeing and coming along 😚 If you’re free after Lit tmrw you could come over? Or we could go out and do something, whatever you prefer

hoonie: I missed you so much..

hoonie: 🤍

The texts greet you as the first rays of Monday morning light filter into your room, instantly lifting your mood. Your bright smile doesn’t escape Chaewon’s notice as you find her in the kitchen, bathed in the soft light seeping through the sheer curtains. The kettle is boiling with a loud rumble that fills the whole room and leaves her yelling as she speaks to you.

“Good trip?” she asks, coming over and hugging you. “Never leave me for that long again,” she mumbles into your shirt.

“It was a week, Wonie,” you say, rolling your eyes even though you missed her too.

She leans away, looking at you with knitted brows. “It was nine days.”

“The longest of my life.”

Chaewon pulls air through her teeth, tilting her head and releasing you. “That bad, huh?” she asks, walking back to her seat at your tiny square table and shooting you a look that tells you to join her.

During your trip, you gave her nightly updates over text, so you know she knows how much you enjoyed yourself, but you elaborate anyway, sitting across from her.

“No, not at all,” you say, shaking your head and trying to fight a smile. “I had fun.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you have to bite your bottom lip to stop the grin curving them; it doesn’t work.

Chaewon raises a suggestive brow, crossing her arms over her chest. “How much fun?”

“You’re disgusting.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” she defends, holding her hands up. “I made an implication. It was only a matter of time, you two have that whole.. lifelong best friends to lifelong lovers thing going on, and it’s hot.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re telling me, you spent nine days playing lovers with Sunghoon and you still don’t want him? You’re a lost cause, people would kill for that chance,” she says, tilting her head. “I think I would kill for that chance.”

“Don’t touch him.”

“Oh?”

“Jesus, Chaewon, it’s not like that. Hoon’s too sensitive for your roster.”

“I never said it was like anything, you’re the one who’s dangling me over the ledge for saying I want to fuck your hot best friend.”

“Sunghoon isn’t hot; he’s..” You find yourself at a loss for words, unsure how to continue your lie. Of course, Sunghoon is hot, you’ve known since you were seventeen and spent the summer at your grandparents’ house, only to come back to find your previously scrawny best friend having ditched his LEGOs for dumbbells. You sigh. “Just leave him alone.”

Chaewon grins, eyes sparkling as she leaves the table. “Okay,” she says in a singsong voice, leaving you and the irritation in your stomach alone in the kitchen.

You sigh, pressing your eyes shut and trying to will away your discomfort. It’s not like Chaewon would actually try anything with Sunghoon. Right? Even if she did, it wouldn’t bother you, nor would it be any of your business. They’re grownups and reserve the right to explore their options. Still, there’s a nagging feeling you can’t shake, an uninvited guest in the back of your mind.

When you check your phone, you realise you have half an hour before you need to head to campus, so you leave to get ready and text Sunghoon back on the way to your room.

you: sounds good, see u later 🤍

After showering, you stand in front of your wardrobe, towel hanging from your body as you pick an outfit. For some reason, you feel under pressure, picking a pair of jeans that do the most for your ass and a low-cut top that Sunghoon once — drunkenly — said he loved on you.

You have the residual sting of mouthwash on your tongue, and one foot out the door when your phone vibrates in your hand.

hoonie: Do you want to head to class together?

you: sure! i’m omw out, where should i get you?

hoonie: .. I’m outside your building :D

Breathing a laugh through your nose, you don’t fight the giddy smile on your face as you make your way downstairs to meet Sunghoon. Through the glass in the main door, he’s standing at the edge of the pavement and kicking a stone between his feet. The top of his puffer jacket covers the bottom half of his face, and the draught nips your skin when the door opens. Two girls you vaguely recognise stumble in with smudged makeup and heels in their hands, smiling at you while holding the door to let you out.

“Hey!” you call out, jogging over to him.

Sunghoon turns around, his head poking out of his jacket to grin at you, holding a travel cup and an abundance of tinfoil in your direction.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d have eaten anything yet, you don’t normally in the morning,” he says, a sheepish smile spreading over his lips when you take it. “Matcha. Ham and cheese toastie.”

“Did you make these?” you ask, inspecting the familiar cup and appreciating the warmth it provides.

He hums, nodding his head.

You ignore the heat spreading over your cheeks and thank him with a hug, grinning when he offers to hold your drink while you eat on the walk. The toastie is still hot, the cheese coming close to burning your tongue as you chew, but you appreciate it wholeheartedly, humming contently with each bite. When you’re done, you shove the foil into your pocket, taking your drink from him and smiling around the sweet taste of a matcha latte as he tells you about his schedule for the day.

“I’m meeting with Coach after class to talk about my grades, but I’m all yours after that.”

“Talk about your grades? What’s wrong with your grades?”

Sunghoon groans, head falling back and highlighting the bump of his Adam’s apple. “My grades are.. I failed my coursework this month, so I have resubmissions during finals, and I think he’ll bench me if I fail again.”

He sounds like he’s being serious, and if the look on his face is anything to go by, he is. The news creases your brows because for as long as you remember, Sunghoon’s grades were your parents’ favourite point of comparison.

“Really?” you ask. He nods. “What’s up? Is something the matter?”

A humourless laugh slips out of him before he pulls air through his teeth. “Yeah, my best friend didn’t talk to me for three months.”

“Oh..” Guilt stirs your stomach as you look up at him. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not blaming you, it’s not like I was trying to talk and you ignored me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow, giving you a warm smile. “But if you feel as guilty about it as you look, you can tutor me for Lit.”

“Deal.”

Sunghoon grins, wrapping his arm over your shoulders and holding you close; the action itself isn’t unusual, but the increased heart rate it brings about is. “You’re too good to me,” he says, holding onto you for the rest of the walk to class.

At his request, you sit with Sunghoon in the back row, watching as the lecture hall gradually fills up in front of you. He seems well-prepared, with his laptop and a small notepad and pen neatly arranged on the desk in front of him.

Throughout the class, your eyes inadvertently track his every move. He diligently types up colour-coded notes, occasionally pausing to write things in his notepad before continuing to type or stopping entirely to listen. There’s something melodic about his actions and the way his fingers run over the keyboard.

During a five-minute break, you glance at his screen. What you find is more than just lecture content; it’s a document adorned with Sunghoon’s own musings about Hemingway’s style and carefully analysed quotations that go beyond the class discussion.

“How are your notes so good?”

“I picked up the book over the summer when you mentioned it,” Sunghoon replies with a shrug, a shy smile playing on his lips as he leans back in his seat. “I liked it.”

A slow nod is your response, though your thoughts swirl like autumn leaves in a breeze. The last time Sunghoon read for leisure, you were in primary school, buddy reading Diary of a Wimpy Kid. But this—this is different. You can’t help but stare at him, awestruck as you take him in. His eyes are wide, shining amber in the sunlight as he pushes some of his hair from his face, frowning when it falls back where it was.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he mumbles.

Sunghoon takes a new line in his document and points at the screen where you watch the cursor move through the words he’s typing: I would’ve read and annotated the Bible if you wanted me to..

There’s no time to digest what he wrote or the funny feeling in your chest as you reread it before he deletes the whole sentence, pressing his lips together and looking out the window. Speechless, you stare at his side profile, willing your heart rate to slip back to normal. Steep-sloping nose, plump lips flattened into a line, two points of the triangular mole constellation on his face. Analysis worsens your condition, breath hitching in your throat before stopping entirely. Warmth and trepidation blend within you, fuzzy enough at the edges to seem like one thing—a single force that makes your palm itch with desire, desperation, to reach out and run a finger over his features, feel the bump of the mole on his nose — the most prominent — against your skin.

You remain this way — silent, watching — even when your lecturer resumes the lesson, and Sunghoon starts typing, writing, and listening again. Polite enough to pretend he doesn’t notice your gaze searing into his face.

After class, and his meeting with Coach, you let Sunghoon lead the conversation and the way to your flat, where you find Chaewon and Yunjin sitting on the couch, whispering to themselves while the two of you study at the coffee table. It’s uncomfortable, an awkward height, too high for the way you’re sitting but you feel calm under the supervision of Chaewon and Yunjin—you won’t do anything to merit teasing in front of them, no matter how badly you want to feel Sunghoon’s face in your hands or stroke his cheekbones with your thumbs.

To the best of your ability, you answer the questions he has for you—he’d written a ton in his tiny notepad during class, his own concerns clear with each neatly-penned iteration of: How to see actions/dialogue for what they are and not what I want them to be? written in the margins and you try not to feel heartbroken for him.

Three hours have passed by when you walk him to the door, the two of you wrapped up in a bubble so secure you’re surprised to find Chaewon and Yunjin still sitting on the couch. They don’t say anything about Sunghoon in his absence, or the fact he’d given you his sweater when he noticed you were cold. You’re not sure why their silence disappoints you.

Instead, Yunjin asks you about trivial things like dinner while Chaewon sits in silence.

“What flavour for ice cream?” Yunjin asks, rolling her eyes when you tug on the blanket but not complaining. “And don’t say something ridiculous like mint chocolate, YN.”

“That happened once! And it was three years ago.. How was I supposed to know you hate fun?”

Chaewon leans into you, letting you curl your limbs around her from behind as you rest your chin on her shoulder, liking the way her clean scent tickles your nose.

“Mint-cho isn’t that bad,” she starts. “It’s a little jarring, sure, but it’s kind of sweet. Like watching people come to terms with their feelings for each other.”

You nod your head, humming in understanding and furrowing your brows when Yunjin scoffs, staring straight at you. Her tone is equal parts cutting and loving, so you know she’s not trying to insult you, but don’t know what she means when she says, “It must be so nice to be as oblivious as you.”

Yunjin never elaborates, and you never ask, actually feeling the statement’s journey in through one of your ears and out the other when dinner arrives. The three of you share pizza, ice cream, and secrets — the three pillars of 20-something-teenage-girlhood — at the kitchen table, with Chaewon sitting in your lap and picking pepperoni from your slices.

It’s only hours after Yunijn’s gone home, that her words circle back to you, the statement and all of its weight perching on your chest with all the debilitation and persistence of a sleep paralysis demon.

“I think I’m getting sick,” you say as soon as she opens her door. “It’s been coming on for a while now, at least a week, maybe more.”

Unimpressed and exhausted, Yunjin looks down at you through half-closed eyes. “Do you..” She pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing. “Do you have any idea what time it is right now?”

“Yes. It’s three a.m.”

“Exactly. See a doctor if you’re sick, I’m going back to sleep.”

“This is an emergen—” Yunjin cuts you off by pinching your lips together. “It’s three in the morning,” she reminds you. “You can’t yell like that in my hallway, come in.”

You nod, crossing the threshold and taking off your shoes next to hers. “Sorry,” you whisper when the door is closed.

Using her hand, Yunjin lifts your chin, squinting as her eyes adjust to the light when she flips the switch to inspect your face. “You don’t look or sound sick,” she mutters, flicking the light back off and going to her room. “What are your symptoms? And why did you come here?”

You don’t have an answer for her last question so you ignore it, following her and tripping over a pair of her shoes in the process. “My cheeks start burning like crazy and my heart races, sometimes it gets hard to breathe.”

“You seem fine to me.”

A shoulder-slumping sigh slips from your lips. “That’s the thing. I’ll be fine and then Sunghoon shows up with his pretty smile and perfect hair and I feel like I’ve run a marathon.” You know how it sounds, choosing your wording meticulously to let Yunjin be the one to say the words out loud instead of you—it’ll be easier to confront that way.

From the doorway, you watch as she arches a brow, her interest piqued. “Oh?”

“I know.” You nod, head bobbing rapidly in furious agreement. “It’s only a matter of time before I cough up a lung and die in his bedroom.”

At your words, Yunjin doesn't reply, only lifting her duvet and getting cosy underneath. You feel like you’re glued to the spot, waiting for her to say something, anything, but nothing comes. All she does is pat the empty spot in her bed.

“What are you smirking for?” you ask, entering the room properly and closing the door.

Her response only comes after you’ve taken your jacket and hoodie off, sitting next to her under the covers. “It’s nothing,” she says, laughing.

“Tell me.”

Yunjin sighs, resting a hand gently on your shoulder. You think it’s meant to be comforting but it’s the opposite. “You’ll be fine, I promise. Lovesickness isn’t deadly.”

Feeling the weight of her reassurance, you settle down properly and sigh when your head hits the pillow. Lovesickness. Hmm.

Closing your eyes, you try to sleep but can’t help tossing and turning as Yunjin snores behind you. You pat blindly around the end table for your phone, grabbing it and wincing at the brightness of your screen. Chewing on your lip, you open Google, looking up ‘lovesickness’ and frowning immediately at the results. Endless negativity fills the screen, terrifying words like ‘unrequited love’ forming a pit in your stomach. There’s nothing negative about what you feel for Sunghoon, nothing unrequited—you think.

It was obvious during the trip, painfully so. In the way he’d tuck your hair behind your ear when his parents weren’t there to see, or how he slipped up and called you ‘baby’ in the bathroom, blushing when you said it back. You can’t fake something like that.. Can you?

Yeonjun did.

Shaking your head, you open Instagram to distract yourself. Jake’s story comes up first; he’s at a party where Jay is losing a game of beer pong, and at the other end of the table is Sunghoon grinning with a bright red lipstick kiss on his cheek. You lock your phone, using your hands to press on your belly to stop the stirring.

Oh, you think. Lovesickness.

When you wake up, the first thing you do is check Jake’s story again. The video is still there and that terrible stir in your stomach churns on, burrowing deeply into a pit of canyon-like proportion—so vast there’s a safety railing lining its edges.

You eat breakfast in silence with Yunjin, zoning out mid-chew to figure out the origin of these feelings and how to handle them. Suddenly, the moment hits you clear as day, vivid like you’re watching it on a screen—it was your third night at his parents’ house, after your walk.

You felt bad about how you acted, and what you said, so went straight up to your room. With nothing but the bedside lamp turned on, it was dimly lit, shadows cast on the walls as you sulked, replaying everything in your head. Guilt wrapped its long arms around your body, making you feel sick as you thought about it all. About the hurt etched over his face with every word you said, and the frown that stuck around for the rest of the walk as his hand clung limply to yours.

There was a knock at the door, so gentle you almost missed it, and Sunghoon was standing there when you pulled it open, chewing on his lip with a mug in his hand. Steam skated over the opening, a rich chocolatey smell hitting your nose but the real kicker was the mug itself. In its place on Jake and Sunghoon’s mug tree, it was unassuming, a regular white mug, but upon meeting hot water, the face of young Sunghoon appeared, grinning with his tiny glasses on. It was a gift from one of his old coaches and though he never used it, it was your absolute favourite cup in the world.

You felt soft around the edges when you looked up at him, his eyes wide and unsure as you met his gaze—he brought that mug three hours across the country so you could use it again. The thought shifted your heart into a comfortable position, settling in your chest with overwhelming warmth and an increased rate.

“Hi,” you said, clearing your throat.

“Hi,” he repeated, holding the mug out for you to take. “It’s still hot so be careful.”

Nodding, you covered your hands with your sleeves, taking the cup from him and asking if he wanted to come in. Sunghoon nodded, shutting the door behind him and standing by the bed, watching you set the hot chocolate on the bedside table as you sat down. The two of you stayed like that for a while, with him only moving when you patted the spot next to you on the duvet. Your train of thought escaped you as soon as he sat down, the warmth of his familiar fresh, citrusy scent taking over and becoming the only thing you could register. The smell of summers with him, long days at the beach and short nights spent on the couch at random parties, cuddled into his side with his arm over your shoulders. The smell you’d come to associate with comfort and home—with Sunghoon.

“It’s not fair for me to treat you like shit just because I’m annoyed, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that earlier. I’m sorry.”

A crease ran over Sunghoon’s thick brows as they tugged together, he shook his head. “You don’t have to apologise. I roped you into this whole thing and didn’t even try to think about how you would feel. I’m sorry.” His eyes carried a mix of regret and sincerity, mirroring the weight of his words.

“Anyway, I only came to bring you that,” he said, pointing at the cup. “And to check up on you, I’ll get out of your hair for tonight.” Sunghoon wiped his palms on his pants before standing up, reaching behind him to pick up the cloth he brought. For a moment, he stood there, staring down at it in his hand while you thought about telling him to stay, telling him that you wanted him in your hair—whatever that meant. But he spoke before you had the chance. “You left this, at mine, after.. well, you know. I’m sure you left it intentionally, I mean it was folded up perfectly on the end of my bed, so I know you did, but it didn’t feel right keeping it, you always wore it more than me.”

Sunghoon extended his hand, holding it out to you and you knew exactly what it was as soon as the fabric touched your skin after so long. It was the shirt Jay bought him for Christmas in first year—they were roommates still trying to get a feel for each other. For a few weeks, Sunghoon had been pestering you about what he should get for Jay, saying it didn’t feel right not to get him anything, and you suggested a targeted t-shirt, one you’d been laughing at all day after seeing an ad for it on your timeline. Sunghoon was sceptical, but bought the red shirt anyway, hoping Jay would find BEING DAD IS AN HONOUR, BEING PAPA IS PRICELESS funny. He did. And Jay bought Sunghoon a targeted shirt too, your favourite. It was black and two sizes too big, with I NEVER DREAMED I’D BE A SEXY FIGURE SKATER BUT HERE I AM KILLING IT written over the chest.

“Goodnight, YN,” Sunghoon said, crossing the room to leave but hesitating before closing the door. He poked his head through the opening and sighed. “I really am sorry.”

That night, you fell asleep in the shirt, the thinning, yet cosy, fabric wrapped around you like a hug as your heart started to beat a new rhythm, one that eerily echoed the five-foot-eleven figure skater who you let break it.

This morning, Yunjin claps her hands in your face, seeming irritated when you look over at her. “You have class in an hour, what are you doing?” Before you have the chance to speak, realisation covers her face. “Oh, the feelings.”

You nod solemnly, too caught up in the butterflies raiding your stomach to come up with something to say.

At lightspeed, you scarf down the rest of your food, apologising for showing up so late as you head out the door. When you get home, you take the fastest shower of your life and feel grateful Chaewon isn’t around to tease you about the smile you can’t wipe from your face thinking about Sunghoon—you’ll text her later.

You run to campus, feeling the brisk autumn wind beating against your face while the rest of your body overheats under your jacket, hoodie and long sleeve. Despite the discomfort and ache in your lungs, you don’t stop until you reach the door of your lecture hall, huffing and puffing into the faces of classmates who don’t take any notice. Of course, in a stroke of pure luck, your lecturer is late, and you realise bitterly, that all of your huffing and puffing was in vain—you would have gotten to class with time to spare even if you walked.

It’s not a total waste though; you use the time to update Chaewon.

you: i have news wonie.. i like sunghoon

wonie: …………….. fork in the kitchen yn what’s the news?

wonie: OHHHH news to YOU.. can i call?

She calls you immediately. You answer without thinking because your lecturer still hasn’t arrived, and there’s no one sitting close enough to hear or notice you taking a call.

“Are you going to tell him?!” Chaewon’s voice is so loud you wince, pulling the phone away from your ear.

“I don’t know.” You shrug even though she can’t see you, still holding the device at a distance just in case. “I don’t have any confirmation that he still.. likes me. It’s been a while, and I was pretty mean that day.

Chaewon groans and you can picture her throwing herself onto her bed, exasperated. The rustling that comes through the receiver only frames the image, hanging it up. “Did you have to tell him to get a grip?”

“You know..” You trail off, chewing on your bottom lip. “In hindsight, probably not.”

A beat passes, she’s thinking. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ll help you.”

“I.. have never been so worried in my life.” You sigh, picking at your freshly painted nails. “But I know you’ll do something no matter what I say, so do what you want, Wonie, but please be subtle about it.”

Chaewon squeals down the phone. “I love youuuuu!” And it’s the last thing she says before kissing the mic a few times and hanging up.

Slumping in your seat, you don’t have any time to stress about Chaewon’s plans because your lecturer walks in, with a travel cup in her hand and a paperback tucked under her arm.

She apologises for being late, running a hand through her hair as she announces that you’ll be watching a film, an adaptation of a book you read at the start of term—Ian McEwan’s Atonement. You spend the first hour of the movie falling in and out of sleep until a text comes through from Sunghoon, and sheer excitement keeps you up.

hoonie: Wanna study together after class?

you: of course!!!!!!

hoonie: 🤍

The rest of the movie goes by in a drag, and you come away from it with a mild irritation towards Saoirse Ronan.

you: class just finished, heading to lib rn

hoonie: Shit, still in the locker room, sorry !!! Omw, can you get a table?

you: i’ll try..

It takes a while but you find an empty booth on the second floor, and set your bag on the plush green seat to take pictures of your surroundings to send to Sunghoon. You sit on the side facing the stairs so he can see you when he arrives. The thought of seeing him makes your heart race and you try out a few natural-seeming poses for when he’s here, cycling between resting your palm under your chin and sitting with your arms crossed a few times until the top of his head comes into view.

Seeing him knocks the wind out of you as he approaches the staircase, taking them two at a time with his damp hair clinging to his forehead and neck. It doesn’t help that he’s wearing a tight black vest, and his sweats are hanging low on his hips. A breath you didn’t realise you were holding slips out when he lifts his head, spotting you immediately as a grin spreads over his lips and he raises his arm to wave, the veins in his forearm peeking out to say hi too. You can’t tell if it’s his lack of winter wardrobe or your newfound appreciation for him that’s making his biceps look so huge but it’s hard to look away, even when he reaches the table.

“Are you hot?” you blurt out.

Sunghoon laughs, raising a brow and something about the way he’s looking down at you makes your cheeks burn. “Depends who’s asking.” He takes his backpack off, leaving it on the table as he sits down, dumping his jacket and hoodie in a pile beside him.

“I’m asking,” you mumble.

“Then, yeah, I’d hope so.”

Is he flirting? It sounds like he’s flirting. Flirt back! “Nice arms.”

He looks down at his biceps for a beat before looking at you warily. “Are you flirting with me?” He can’t fight the smile twitching at the corners of his lips but he tries his best, pressing them into a straight line.

“A little. They are nice though,” you admit.

Sunghoon grins. “Thanks, I’ve had them for a while now.”

You can’t come up with anything to say, too distracted by the way his smile reaches his eyes, lighting up his whole face and forcing a flustered heat to spread over your cheeks and neck. It’s only when you look away from him that you remember what you’re here for. It’s a study date, not a study date—there’s a difference.

You hand Sunghoon the material you’d printed for him over the weekend, excerpts from texts you’d studied in class, so he can practise close reading and proper citation. As he makes his way through them, you can’t help stealing glances, smiling at the way his tongue sticks out a little while he focuses, or how he twirls his pen in his fingers while he’s thinking. You aren’t making the best use of your time together, copying out the slides from class yesterday, but you can’t help noticing the way he watches you when he thinks you can’t see. The small smile on his face while he does so only flusters you, an odd weakness settling in your knees as your cheeks heat up.

After a while, Sunghoon sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Could you stop watching me?”

“If you noticed me watching, that means you’re watching me.”

He shrugs, chewing on his lip. “Well, yeah. I’m always watching you,” he says like it’s a given. “But you don’t normally watch back, it’s distracting.”

“You’re distracting.”

A playful smile curves his lips as he arches a brow, smugness painting his face. “Am I?”

Too scared to verbalise your response, you nod slowly, hoping you don’t look as wound up as you feel.

Sunghoon’s eyes flick over your face, flashing with something you don’t recognise. At least not from him. He sits back in his seat, assessing you and eventually shaking his head.

“You know,” he says, eyes glowing with something you do recognise: cockiness. “If my sexy arms are getting to you that much, I can always put my hoodie back on. Wouldn’t want my little tutor getting distracted, would I?”

Oh.

Your stomach turns with want, mind reeling from his tone and the way his gaze lands on your lips. Sighing, you roll your eyes and try to seem unaffected. “Sunghoon, I never said your arms were sexy.”

His phone starts to go off, buzzing against the table and he turns it over immediately, screen down on the surface as he shifts his focus back to his work. He chews on his lip while he does, eyes flicking back and forth between his phone and the words on the page. Curious, you lean over the table, elbows propped up as you rest your chin in your hands. He doesn’t spare you or his phone, which vibrates another four times, a glance.

“Are you going to get that?”

Sunghoon shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”

You hum, letting just enough curiosity seep into the sound that he’ll elaborate without being asked to. It doesn’t take long for him to deliver.

“It’s just Chaewon,” he says, running his hand through his hair and lifting his head. Sunghoon smiles. “We’ve been texting a lot these days.”

“Cool.” You nod a few times, aiming for nonchalance but hitting bobblehead as you wait for him to continue. He doesn’t, only humming in response, nodding too.

After a beat, he picks up his phone, angling it just high enough that you can’t see the screen. He reads the messages, an exhaled laugh coming from his nose as the tips of his ears redden—Fuck. This is worse than you thought.

Chaewon’s commitment to girl code runs deep—she’s been rebuffing Jake since first year when she overheard a girl she’d never seen before telling her friends she thought he was cute. So you know without having to read the texts that nothing she’s saying is even remotely flirty, you can smell the auto-caps and use of the word ‘buddy’ from across the table.

What you hadn’t counted on, however, was the potential for Sunghoon’s feelings to shift. If they really have been texting more, can you rule out the possibility that he might like.. her? Chaewon is a catch, beyond a catch, and you’d already turned Sunghoon down. Brutally. Of course, he’d move on, he has moved on.

The rest of the study session is spent manifesting, writing Park Sunghoon over and over in the back of your notebook. You fill three pages while brainstorming ways to snatch a lock of his hair until he suggests that the two of you call it a day. He walks you home, telling you about how Jake’s been bribing him with food to get a ride to the LEGO store across town for the new Marvel set.

“With or without the meals, I would’ve taken him, but his ramen is my favourite, so..” Sunghoon says, climbing the last step of your building and holding the door open for you. “He even brought a slice of tiramisu to the rink for me after practice.”

“You’re terrible,” you say, frowning up at him as you search for your keys. “Do you want to come in?”

Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head. “I have a meeting with one of my lecturers soon, I’d have to leave in—” He pauses, rolling up the sleeve of his jacket to check the time. “—eight minutes.”

“I’m cool with that if you are,” you mumble, suddenly shy.

A bright smile spreads over his lips and he nods, following you in.

Chilled by the harsh wind, the only thing on your mind is a hot drink as you lead Sunghoon to the kitchen. He shakes his head when you offer him one, sitting on the countertop and exhaling into his palms before rubbing them together. You can’t help but frown at the sight, feeling guilty that you can’t change the weather to suit him. At your thought process, your brows raise. Wow, you think. Is this who you are?

You busy yourself with the selection of hot drinks you and Chaewon have accumulated, eyeing each container from top to bottom. A purple tub of Cadbury’s hot chocolate that you’re sure is on the brink of expiration, coffee—sachets of the instant stuff you’ve grown to like since leaving home, Earl grey from one of many brands, or the fancy silk tea bags Chaewon’s mum brought home from a trip—rooibos or plum-apple-cinnamon.

Craving something sweet, you settle for hot chocolate, pulling the heavy container from the cupboard next to Sunghoon’s head and setting it beside your cup. He’s on his phone, scrolling too fast to take in anything he’s seeing and he shakes his head when you ask if he wants something to drink.

On the dish rack, Chaewon’s mug catches your eye, so you pick it up to dry it off and put it down next to yours. “I’m going to check if Wonie wants any,” you say, wiping imaginary crumbs from the counter onto the floor.

Sunghoon only clears his throat, shaking his head. “She’s not home, one of her acrylics popped off so she’s at the shop waiting for a cancellation.”

The information itself isn’t jarring but hearing it from Sunghoon is. You put on what you hope is a neutral smile and nod, taking milk from the fridge and assembling your drink on autopilot while thinking of ways to redirect the conversation.

“If you knew you’d have to go back to campus so soon, why’d you walk me home?” you ask, watching your cup spin in the microwave. “I could’ve walked on my own.”

Sunghoon is already looking at you when you turn your head, his cheeks puffed out with air as he blinks slowly. Because I love you, is what you hope he’ll say. You think you need him to say it.

“Because you don’t have to do anything on your own when you have me,” he says instead, and it’s infinitely better.

The words seep through your every fibre, his intonation and lucid affection making a home for themselves in your heart, spreading warmth from head to toe. Your smile becomes a radiant grin, only brightening when he shakes his head, smiling down at his feet.

Sunghoon hugs you in the kitchen when it’s time for him to leave, his arms holding you tight to his chest as he rocks you back and forth. You inhale his scent, all warm citrus under freshly washed cotton and something exclusive to him.

Wiping the smile from your face feels impossible. You don’t let go when he does, and a sweet laugh — a giggle, you think — tumbles out of him as he mumbles that he really has to go. Still, you cling onto him, taking clumsy steps backwards, with your arms locked around his waist, to your front door, smiling as you watch him put his shoes on.

“You don’t have to walk me downstairs, honestly,” he says, looking down at you in the doorway.

“I want to.”

His lips quirk up at the corners, a full smile breaking through and causing your stomach to flutter with so much force you’re sure it’s visible through your shirt. His eyes fall to your lips, lingering, before he clears his throat, looking away.

“I’ll text you when I get to the door, promise.”

You lock your pinky with his. “Send a selfie, just so I know it’s you and not someone else using your phone.”

Sunghoon’s head falls back in a laugh. “Should I just call you? That way you can make sure I get back to uni in one piece.”

You nod.

“That wasn’t anything with Chaewon earlier, I just needed advice on some girl stuff..” He trails off, searching your eyes. It’s obvious that he’s telling the truth, that he wants you to believe him. You do. “I wasn’t sure if that was something I could talk about with you.”

Girl stuff. Hmm. You try not to read too much into it and look at the bigger picture instead—your best friend is going through something and doesn’t feel like he can come to you about it.. You squeeze his pinky reassuringly, a flutter in your stomach when he smiles.

“You can talk to me about anything,” you say, meaning it.

Sunghoon presses his lips together, humming and unlinking your fingers. “Next time,” he says after a beat, waving at you.

You shut the door, locking it while watching through the peephole, he leaves as soon as the lock clicks shut. In the kitchen, your hot chocolate is cooling down, and your phone rings in your back pocket. Sunghoon’s calling.

Hanging out with Sunghoon. Making sure he sticks to the time-blocked schedule you made for him. Quizzing him on biology terms until he gets restless. If the last two weeks were an episode of Family Feud, those would be the top three answers to the question: Name something YN is doing right now.

Thankfully tonight, it’s the first one.

You’ve been sitting on the couch for so long, Jake has both left for football practice and arrived from football practice. Conversation ebbs and flows—an hour or so of nonstop talking, followed by another hour or so of comfortable near silence.

It’s during a quiet hour that Sunghoon sits up straight, clearing his throat before saying, “Let me ask you something. He retreats to the other side of the couch, turning to face you with his whole body. “I don’t want things to be weird after I ask, so no matter what your answer is, I won’t bring it up or ask again.”

Arching a curious brow, you nod. “You can ask me anything,” you say, meaning it.

Sunghoon’s face is impressively blank—minus the motion of sharp teeth worrying plush lip, there’s absolutely nothing behind his eyes that seem to stare right through you.

Eventually, he asks, “Can I kiss you?” He says more. Big, scary words like for closure and moving on, but they don’t register. They don’t matter.

Your heart pounds at the base of your throat as you find interest in your hands that sit in your lap. Even without looking at him, you can’t get over the slight crease he had in his brow and the slight tremor in his hands.

“For closure,” you repeat, though your voice doesn’t sound like it’s coming from you, muffled under the thump of your heart.

Sunghoon nods. “For closure.”

A humourless laugh sneaks past your throat as you look at him. You shouldn’t have. In the lamplight, Sunghoon is golden and glorious. Warm light casts one side of his face, diffusing gently over the steep slope of his nose, highlighting his moles and the look in his eyes, gentle and curious all at once. Unwillingly, your gaze falls to his lips, parted, tempting.

One firm nod of your head brings Sunghoon’s hand to your face, his palm cupping your cheek with soft skin as his thumb traces your cheekbone. You grow anxious under his stare, under the drag of his eyes over your features, taking them one at a time like he’s committing them to memory.

Leaning in, your eyes flutter shut as your lips meet his and he freezes, mouth completely still on yours. Delicately, your tongue traces the seam of his lips, soft and plump, until they part for you, moving with yours. Sunghoon’s kiss is unpolished when it reaches you. It’s hesitant but tender, clumsy but sweet, he’s trying and he’s perfect; your favourite.

The kiss is.. it’s everything. It’s the racing of your heart, the thudding, the vibrant buzz you can hear, feel humming against your ears. It’s a rush of blood to the head, a lightness all over that pulls you out of your body. It’s Sunghoon’s soft lips curving into a smile against yours, his gentle hold on your face never letting up as he holds you as close as he can manage, and it’s every bit as lovely as the rest of him.

Palpable is the heartbeat of your friendship, beating to a lull under the surface of the kiss, fizzling out into nothing, a steady silence, flatlining to give way to something more, something bigger.

Every brush of your lips against his is a revelation, a confession. You’re all I’ve ever wanted, you tell him with your kiss. You’re everything I need. His free hand finds yours, locking your fingers and squeezing, the action timed well enough to make you think he hears you, to make you think he’s saying, we’ll be okay, I still love you.

With that, he pulls away, a delicate tension piercing the air. Blown eyes and laboured breathing—he’s beautiful, fuzzy around the edges with warm orange and all of the love in your heart. Breathless, you chew on your lip, cognisant of Sunghoon’s hand in yours and the sparkle in his eyes as he looks at you.

Belatedly, you squeeze his hand back, smiling. “Was it everything you ever dreamed of?” you whisper, part teasing, all curious.

Abruptly, Sunghoon stands up, letting go of you in the process. “I have to go.”

You want to stop him, you think you’re supposed to. To grab him by the arm and kiss him again, to yell in his face that you love him until he understands. But you don’t. Instead, you stay seated, staring at Sunghoon’s back and following him with your eyes out of the room and down the hall until he’s out of sight.

It’s your first time being so upset after a kiss, and you can’t tell if it’s his leaving or the mention of him moving on that’s tripping you up so much. That’s causing melancholy to crawl from the shadows, sinking its jagged nails into your skin to pull you under.

You love him. He’s gone.

Eyes stuck on the doorway, time stretches over the room around you, thick and malleable, wet and cloying—clay stuck under your nails for days as the fire in the kiln rages on.

Sighing, you get up and wait at his door. You ball your hand into a limp fist, knocking weakly. Sunghoon doesn’t reply. You try again, harder. Still nothing.

Barging into the room, you find him sitting on the end of his bed with his face in his hands.

“Don’t move on.” The words come out before you realise and Sunghoon lifts his head, squinting at you.

“Huh?” He tilts his head, watching closely as you approach him, tipping it back enough to meet your eyes when you stand over him.

You take a breath, holding it until your head starts to spin. “I don’t want you to love someone else, Sunghoon. Please don’t move on.”

The stillness that follows is disconcerting, a long quiet you can feel on your skin, amplifying the blank stare on his face as he looks up at you. His eyes flash, a spark of hope behind them so bright it stings to look at.

“Do you..” He trails off, his lips moving to form the next word though stopping short.

“I do,” you whisper, nodding. “I’m sorry for taking so long.”

An exhaled laugh comes from his nose as he grins, shaking his head. “You like me?” he asks, excitement and disbelief fighting for authority over his voice, his hands holding your waist and pulling you down into his lap.

“I love you,” you admit, settling on his thighs.

“You do?” His eyes are wide and gleaming, searching every feature on your face before settling on your own.

You nod. “So much.”

Sunghoon’s chin tips up, his lips pressing against yours, excited pecks that can’t turn into much more for the smiles on your faces. You rest your arms on his shoulders, hands clasping behind his head, nervous fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“So.. will you be my boyfriend? For real?”

Tilting his head, he tries and fails to fight a smile. “I will. I’m a little bummed though.”

“Why?” You raise a brow, and the word tips up at the end with it.

“I wanted to be the one to ask you.” Sunghoon’s honesty warms the room, endearing you completely.

You grin, loving the heat spreading over your cheeks. “Ask me anyway.”

“Please can I be your boyfriend?”

In the weeks that followed, it became immediately clear that boyfriend Sunghoon operated on a pendulum swinging between sexual ferality and terror. He’d get distracted during study sessions at home, finding more interest in biting at your neck than stream-of-consciousness prose, but closed his eyes if a sex scene came on TV. He’d buck his hips against yours while making out but flinch at the sight of condoms in the store.

He wasn’t ready to have sex and didn’t know how to tell you, so you took matters into your own hands, asking if you could wait until after his results for resubmission came in, saying you didn’t want the distraction for either of you. Sunghoon agreed, pecking your cheek and holding you tight to his chest.

The only thing was that your lecturer hadn’t given him an exact date, so every morning, you held your phone in a vice grip waiting for Sunghoon to update you, and every morning, you got the same text: Nothing today, baby ☹️

This morning, you’re brushing your teeth when he texts you, in all caps: NO FUCKING WAY I GOT A 98 !!! LOOK !!!

When the picture comes through, it’s of him in the mirror and you choke on mouthwash at the sight. He’s smiling, bright and beautiful, in a black vest that he’s holding up a little to show his stomach, though his palm is in the way of his toned abs, and it cuts off right at the top of his grey sweatpants.

Your mouth goes dry as you click on it, fixating on every little detail you can find: the thickness of his fingers against his phone, the dip in his collarbones, the breadth of his shoulders and the cinch of his waist. In a fit of desperation, you try swiping at the bottom of your screen, willing the picture to magically extend. It doesn’t.

hoonie: Finger slipped.. You like?

you: mm..

you: 98??? HOLY SHIT, LOOK AT YOU!!!

hoonie: All you.. do you like the picture?

you: i love it………….

hoonie: My girl 🤍

Another picture comes in, and sure enough, through the glare of his laptop screen, you see: Course name: The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway. Marks Awarded: 98.0.

you: well done baby !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hoonie: Thx 😁

hoonie: Can I have my prize now ha ha .. haha 😈

you: just for that emoji, no you absolutely cannot.

Your resolve isn’t strong enough when it comes to Sunghoon, because purple devil emoji and all, you show up at his door with condoms in your bag and a bouquet of lilies behind your back.

The door creaks open and Sunghoon greets you with a grin. “Hey, gorgeous. You proud of me?”

You beam at him, holding out the flowers. “I’m very proud, Hoon, well done.”

“I don’t want to ruin the moment,” he starts, taking the bouquet from your hands and sniffing the flowers with an approving smile. “But hearing you say you’re proud of me is awakening something I didn’t know existed.”

“A good something?”

“Mm,” he hums, arms finding your waist before he pecks your lips. “A very good something.”

Sunghoon’s words hit your lips and your core, a desperate heat flooding your stomach as he kisses you deeply, his body pressed tightly against yours while he pulls you into his apartment. He kicks the door shut with his foot, slipping his hand under your jacket to settle in your back pocket, not quite squeezing but holding your ass as gently as he can manage.

He breaks away from you, love in his eyes as he stares down into yours, catching his breath. “I don’t think we own a vase.”

In his kitchen, you rifle through cupboards to find something to hold the flowers, eventually finding a whiskey decanter in the cupboard under the sink, and holding it up for Sunghoon to see.

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “It’s Jay’s. It’ll work right?”

You nod, taking it to the sink to rinse it. Sunghoon wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder watching you fill the decanter with water and flower food before grabbing the bouquet. He presses open-mouthed kisses to your neck and you struggle to stay focused as you cut down the stems on the flowers, arranging them neatly.

“Can I take a photo?” he asks when you’re done.

He’s smiling when you turn around to look at him, a soft curve of his lips that makes your heart race, a deep tenderness in his eyes when you meet them. You smile too.

“They’re yours, baby, do whatever you want.”

“A photo of you with the flowers,” he clarifies.

Warmth settles in your chest, a grin spreading over your lips from ear to ear. You nod, taking the decanter in your hands when he lets go of you, holding the flowers up beside your face and smiling for his camera. As his phone shutter clicks away, you steal glances at his face behind it. He’s watching the screen with a smile, telling you how beautiful you are.

“I want pictures of you too,” you say, handing the flowers over.

“I’m yours, baby, do whatever you want.”

Sunghoon poses for your photos, smiling sweetly in some and sniffing the bouquet appreciatively with closed eyes for others. He’s glowing and he’s beautiful and your heart triples in size while taking picture after picture until your phone tells you it has ten percent.

“Thank you, YN,” he says. “I’ve never gotten flowers before, I love them.” His arms settle around your waist, lips pressing against yours before you have the chance to respond.

You try anyway, mumbling against his lips that you love him. In response, Sunghoon grins, but the feeling of his cock growing hard against you is distracting, a lust-coated thorn in the side of the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. With locked lips and uncertain steps, the two of you bump into corners and trip over your own feet, stumbling to his room and parting only to tear his hoodie over his head.

Breathless, you pull away, eyes trailing over him and picking up on everything, from the tremble in his hands to the lust-addled worry in his eyes. He’s nervous, you think—though it escapes you, the last word coming out like a question.

Sunghoon scoffs, his hands resting on your waist under your shirt, skin clammy against yours. “Of course, I’m nervous.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I just want to be good for you.”

“Don’t worry about that, let me take care of you, Hoon.” Your palms drag up his torso — firm abs through soft cotton, defined chest over racing heart — to rest on his shoulders. “Sit,” you say when he nods.

He gulps, taking a seat on the end of his bed under your gentle push, eyes widening when you sink to your knees between his legs and reach for his drawstring, pulling the ends to untie the knot.

“Wait,” Sunghoon says, breathless, scrunching up his face and dropping his head. “Let me calm down, baby. At this rate, I’ll come just seeing your hand on it.”

You giggle, resting your head on his thigh and wrapping the drawstring around your finger.

“I’m serious, YN,” he mumbles, laughing as he takes his vest off. “I need a minute.”

Sunghoon’s eyes are pressed shut as he tries to collect himself, lips pouty and kiss-bitten, slightly parted with ragged breaths slipping out. You wait patiently for him. He’s so pretty like this, with the crease in his brow and the pretty pink flush dusting his cheeks as his chest rises and falls. You can’t help but smile, leaning into his touch when his hand rests on top of your head, his blunt nails grazing your scalp. After a while, he seems more at ease, his eyes finding yours and he smiles shyly, telling you he’s ready now and lifting his hips from the bed to let you pull his sweats and underwear down.

Free from the constraints of fabric, his cock slaps his stomach with a wet sound as the tip meets his skin, leaving a pearlescent streak over his abs. The sight makes your mouth water and you can’t look away. “Pretty,” you whisper.

Wrapping a hand under his tip, you swipe it with your thumb, taking time to memorise the flutter of his eyelids, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, and the soft sigh he lets out. You stroke him slowly, liking the way his breath picks up as his brows knit together before you take him in your mouth. It’s a tight fit but you do your best, spurred on by the way he tugs at your hair and stutters through a holy fuck as you take as much of him as you can.

Sunghoon goes silent, only squirming when you use your hand to stroke him near his base. Self-conscious about his lack of vocal affirmation, you look up at him through your lashes, and the pure bliss on his face is unbearably attractive. His eyes are rolled back under furrowed brows, his mouth hanging open as he throws his head back.

“Am I doing okay?” you ask, using the moment to catch your breath.

He nods, inhaling shakily and screwing his eyes shut while his hips buck up into your fist. “I’m.. You’re doing such a good job, baby, so good.”

Satisfaction courses through you from the praise, a high that dulls the ache in your jaw. Still watching him, you massage his balls in your palm, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his tip when he whines. You tongue at his slit until he thrusts back into your mouth, tip hitting your throat, and he gasps when you gag, his arm coming up to cover his eyes. A belated apology slips from his lips, mumbled as he strokes your hair with a shaking hand and goes quiet again. When you speed up, his breath stutters, the muscles in his thighs contracting around your head as you suck and lick and drool on his cock.

A moan of your name, and his hand holding your hand down, are the only warnings you get before Sunghoon comes, spilling his load right down your throat. Whining, his hips buck up against your face, pushing further and further until he falls back onto the mattress.

Your throat is hoarse and aches while you use the back of your hand to wipe at your lips, enjoying what’s left of his taste on your tongue. Deep red tints his neck and chest, a pretty flush gleaming under the sheen of sweat on his skin. He’s mesmerising, as he tries for air through swollen lips and looks up at you through squinted eyes. He reaches for you, cute grabby hands tugging your shirt and pulling you down so you’re lying next to him with your head on his chest.

“You’re amazing, baby, so good for me,” Sunghoon whispers, eyes fluttering shut as you drag your nails over his torso, feeling the subtle heave of the slick, sculpted muscle over his stomach and chest.

Pride heats your chest, satisfaction rolling over you like a wave. “Really?”

He hums in affirmation, nodding his head.

“You were so quiet, I couldn’t really tell,” you add, hungry for more praise.

“The walls are so thin in here, I just got used to being quiet,” Sunghoon says, frowning. Hand meeting your chin, he tips your head up towards him, pressing a soft kiss to your lips and mumbling, “I’m sorry. You were perfect, I swear.”

It’s a sweet kiss. Until lips move harder and hands get lower, desperate as he thumbs the top of your leggings, palm unmoving but a dangerous heat blooms in your stomach anyway.

“Can I..” Sunghoon pinches you softly through the material, unsure eyes boring deep into yours.

You nod. “You can.”

Slipping under your waistband, his fingers skate across your skin dipping between your thighs. He grazes your slit, satisfaction clear in the groan he lets out as he feels the wetness there, pulling it over the length of your slit to cover your clit. Your breath hitches, a strangled gasp, pleasure and surprise meeting in your throat under the pressure of his thumb on your clit, the gentle sting of his finger pushing into you.

What Sunghoon lacks in experience, he makes up for with the sheer length and thickness of his fingers. It’s almost jarring, it’s enough to force your eyes closed and bring a sigh rumbling out of you, ache and relief settling between your legs, where he curls a finger against your walls and drags slow circles over your clit.

“Can you take these off, baby?” he asks, hand away to touch your leggings.

You don’t waste a second, sitting up to pull them off, throwing them and your underwear across the room. Sunghoon licks his lips, tugging at the hem of your shirt.

“And this? If you want..”

You nod, pulling it off immediately to let it join the rest of your clothes in a heap on the floor. The way he gulps is a confidence boost, his dilated pupils taking in every inch of your body, though his gaze always pulls back to your bra—white and lacy, thin enough for your nipples to push through the fabric and Sunghoon can’t seem to get enough, though he waits until you’re lying down again to touch you.

Sunghoon props himself up on his elbow, leaning over you. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, dragging a finger over the lace at the top of your bra, toying with the material and the little bow sitting between your breasts. His eyes flick up to meet yours. “So beautiful,” he repeats.

Hiding your face in his chest, you mumble, “Thank you,” into his skin while trying to ignore the heat spreading over your body wherever he touches you. His hand trails from your arm to your waist, resting on your hips to slip over your ass for a beat, where he grabs and squeezes the flesh there before coming back around to slot between your legs—you lift one of them, resting it over his body, and he’s smiling sweetly when you look up at him.

Sunghoon’s movements are unchanging, though the sensation is heightened by the unbridled desire in his lidded eyes that urges white heat to lick over every inch of your skin—this time he pushes two fingers into you.

It doesn’t get better than this, you think. But it does, quickly.

Leaning over you, his eyes flick across your face, one feature at a time as he chews on his lip. Reaching up, you push some of his hair from his face, holding it back and saying, “Relax, baby.”

“Don’t want to hurt you.”

Moving your hand, you blink when his hair flops back over his forehead, tickling your eyelashes. His eyes are focused now, staring straight down into yours, want and worry flashing behind them.

“You won’t, I promise,” you say, locking your pinky with his, feeling relieved when he smiles.

Sunghoon pushes in slowly, his name slipping from your lips when he exhales shakily, head falling forward. The sting, the pleasure, make it hard to breathe, molten desire taking hold of your lungs as he carves out a place for himself as far as you’ll take him, all the way to the hilt as slow as he can manage.

A moan tears out of him, lewd and whiny as his hair tickles your collarbone, head falling into the crook of your neck. His skin is hot and damp against yours, his breath burning your shoulder as he tries to calm down. It’s difficult to register much else, tethered only by the sound of his voice when he asks, “Am I hurting you?”

“Hoon,” you whisper.

“Can you look at me, baby?” He lifts his head, resting a hand on your cheek. You blink your eyes open, gaze locking with his, where concern pushes through his desire. “Am I hurting you?” he asks again. “Are you okay?”

You nod. “I’m okay, just..” You sigh. “Full. Need a minute.”

Sunghoon kisses you, lips moving gently with yours, passing breathy whines between your mouths until you feel yourself relaxing. Pulling his plush bottom lip between yours, you suck on it, nodding. “Want you to move, baby,” you mumble.

He scans your face, eyes meeting yours as he pulls his hips back. He’s slow, so slow with his thrusts that your belly turns with want, your fingernails sink into the taut skin of his back, and jagged sobs fall out of you with each drag of his cock along your walls.

Everywhere his skin touches yours is set ablaze with scorching heat, goosebumps pushing past the surface as his breath fans your neck and his sharp teeth graze your skin. He bites hard enough to sting, and you wince as his tongue flicks over your bitten flesh to soothe you.

You were so worked up earlier, writhing against the sheets and coming undone in his palm, so bliss quickly pushes through the ache between your legs. “Good, Hoon, feels so good,” you manage, struggling to convey how perfect it is.

“Just want to make you feel good.” His words melt into each other, vowels soft and elongated as they curl around each other. He’s working up a steady rhythm, his tip consistently nudging you where you need it—the spot that makes the room blur around you. “That’s all I want.”

Before long, the knot in your stomach pulls you up from the mattress, arching your back towards the ceiling. Mouth to mouth, chest to chest—it’s the closest you’ve ever felt to someone else, the closest you’ve ever been. The thought alone knocks the wind out of you, and his persistent whining does nothing to help.

Your want and adoration for Sunghoon run bone-deep, inching up your spine and creeping over your shoulders, intertwined with an all-consuming pleasure that turns the heat in your stomach molten as a shudder zips through you. Even though you can’t find the words to let him know, he lifts your hips from the bed to fuck you deeper, harder, into the mattress until shaky orgasms pull both of you under.

You let him fall into you, fingers curling around his hair, whispering I love you into the skin of his neck as he comes, most of his weight on top of you while you catch your breath, relishing in the fullness you feel as the last waves of your high pull back. You stay like this for as long as he needs, his head coming up from the crook of your neck to smile at you before pressing his lips to yours. A sleepy haze fills the room around you, tongue swiping tongue as you giggle happily into his mouth.

After a while, he gets up, tying the condom to throw it away and comes back with his shirt. He uses it to clean up—gentle between your legs, pressing kisses to your calves while he does. Sunghoon’s tenderness wraps around your heart, and love clouds your vision, forming a blurry trail that follows all of his movements, glowing like something from a dream, ethereal, an apparition.

The bed dips beside you, his arms around you, pulling you in so his chin rests on your head. You push your cheek into his chest, hoping the two of you will meld into one—the thought makes you warm all over, a fuzziness that reaches every part of your body while he presses kisses into your hair, rubbing your back.

“I love you,” he says, voice as soft as the rest of him. “I’m glad I exist.”

mama park: Hi lovely 😍 missing you lots, wondering when you’ll be home for Xmas………..love ma

Sunghoon stirs, nose scrunching as he snores softly into the quiet of a winter morning. His chest rises and falls steadily under your head and he doesn’t move when you sit up. The lamp on his desk is still on — neither of you could be bothered getting up to turn it off last night — and under its dim glow, you admire him. Perfect lips gently curved—long lashes kissing the skin under his eyes.

Love hits you from all angles, warmth all over from head to toe despite the chill in Sunghoon’s room. You can’t help but grin, leaning up to nose along the underside of his chin, his natural scent so soft yet dizzying as you nuzzle into him. He stirs again, turning his head this way and that before resting, you feel a bit bad, deciding to leave him be and text his mum back.

you: hi mum !!! missing you sooooooo much :((( will be home asap

mama park: BTW Sunghoon told me everything. I raised such good actors LOL make sure he looks after you and keeps you happy!

you: i’m so sorry we lied to you..

you: but i’m really happy with him and he loves me a lot

you: i love him so much .. never been so sure of anyone in my life

permanent taglist: @asahicore

#sunghoon smut #enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen scenarios #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon smut #park sunghoon x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshots #sunghoon oneshots #sunghoon imagines #enhypen hard hours #fic.sunghoon

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princessofmarvel · 8 months

Text

Business and dates

summary | when grace leaves, it leaves the shelbys with a heartbroken thomas. polly takes this as an opportunity to get him with the girl she's always wanted him with

pairing | thomas shelby x fem!reader

word count | 2.30k

genre | fluff! with just a tad of angst!

requested? | yes! thank you so much for your request! i had so much writing it, and i am kind of proud of this one, lol.

warnings! | mentions of bullying, and the reader not eating from being worried! and, i have not proof read this yet!

author’s note! | Hi! Thank you all for being so patient as I worked on this! Requests are open for drabbles, and headcanons only at the moment for these characters! And as always, I do I have really bad OCD that causes me to write in some random capitalization, and punctuation, But I think that we don't have to worry about that in this fic lol. And let me know if there are any mistakes, but please be kind!

No one knew what had happened that day. All anyone knew was that Grace was suddenly gone, and that she had left the Shelby family with a heartbroken Thomas. And the person left to pick up the pieces was his lifelong best friend, who has been in love with Thomas since the day they met back when they were just small kids.

Thomas was having a decent day, school had just let out and he was walking back home (alone because his older brother Aurther thought that it would be funny to run off before Thomas got out of class) when he saw a young girl getting picked on.

“Stop it! This is my favorite skirt!” Thomas heard her yell to the kids that had her on the ground, kicking dirt onto her clothes while laughing and taunting her. Thomas knew that these kids were practically afraid of him, so he knew he could get them to leave the girl alone. He also knew that his mother would scold him if she found out that he didn’t do anything to help her.

“Oi! Leave her alone, or I'll put a curse on you!” Thomas called out as he made his way up to the group, and pulled a razor blade out of his pocket. The kids practically scattered the moment they heard Thomas’ voice. Leaving just him, and the girl with dirt on her clothes.

“Thank you” He heard the girl say in a quiet voice as he put his hand out to help her back up.

“What caused that?” He asked, curious as to what the girl could have done to anger the other kids so much.

“I-I told them that I wouldn’t do their homework.” She said back to him, as she tried to get the dirt off of her skirt. Thomas told himself that he should have known it was something like that. There wasn’t anything serious that this girl could have done to upset them so much.

“Come on, I’ll walk you home, you live on Watery lane, right?” He said as he started walking, with the girl running a bit to catch up with him. He knew her name, he recognized her from school. She lived right across from him, but they never said anything to each other. She had been over to play with Ada sometimes, but they never spoke.

Neither one of them said anything as they walked, it wasn’t until they got to her home that Thomas spoke up.

“They shouldn’t bother you again, no one should.” He said as he stood outside her doorstep, seeming almost sorry since he knew his reputation, and how kids would stay away from him in fear of getting cursed.

“It’s alright, I don’t really have any friends anyways.” The small girl said, while rocking back and forth on her heels.

“Why don’t you come play at my house? I know my family won’t mind.” He said to her with a small smile. Truth be told, Thomas didn’t really have many friends either, and he saw an opportunity to make one.

Ever since then, the two were inseparable. They did everything together, they were even each other's first kiss. Her family was weary at first, but soon saw how protective the Shelby boys (and the rest of the Shelby family) were over her, and grew to like them. The two were like this up until Thomas was called to war

“Tommy, this has to be a mistake.” The girl cried into Thomas’ shoulder as he held her. “All three of you at the same time? What kind of cruel joke is this”

“The universe has a funny way of doing things.” He mumbled into her hair, his hand resting on the back of her head. “I’ll come back, sweetheart.”

“You don’t know that, Tommy” The girl said as she pulled her head out of his shoulder, and looked up at him, eyes red and puffy.

“You really think I'm leaving you yet? You think I'm going to leave you before you get married? Please, your future husband doesn’t get off that easily.” He said with a small laugh while trying to lighten the mood as he held her face with his hand. “Nothings taking me from you, not yet.”

“You better come back, Shelby.” She said as she looked up at him with glossy eyes. “Or, I’ll bring you back just to kill you myself.”

Thomas laughed and kissed her head, as the air in the room changed. He didn’t know why, but he leaned down and kissed her lips softly, all he knew was that he couldn’t leave without giving her a kiss, even just a light one. “You’ve got nothing to worry about” He said as he pulled away.

She believed him, she tried not to worry. She didn’t worry until his letters stopped coming. After a month of not hearing from him she worried so much she got sick. She wrote him everyday, sent him a letter at least once a week, if not twice. No word of his death ever came.

The day Thomas arrived home, she was sitting at the kitchen table with Polly. His heart broke when he saw her, she was paler, and her face was skinny, all signs to her not eating properly. Neither one of them said a word to each other for a week. It wasn’t until (Y/n) decided that she had enough, and stormed into his room.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” she shouted, growing red in the face.

“What are you talking about?” He asked, not meeting her eyes, already knowing what she was talking about,

“You! You come back, and are completely different! You’re cold, and mean to everyone, which maybe you were that way to some people before, but never to me! Never to your family!” As she yelled at him, she started to sway as if she was about to faint. Before she could hit the floor, Thomas grabbed her and set her down on the bed beside him.

“You need to eat something.” He mumbled, not looking at her which infuriated her more.

“I thought you were dead.” This caught his attention as he heard her start to cry. He finally turned to her. “You stopped writing.”

“I didn’t know how to write to you, you would ask me how I was, and I couldn’t find it in myself to tell you about how I had just watched a man die. I thought it better to not write.” He said, pulling her into his chest. “Why are you not eating?”

“You worried me, anything I ate just came back up.” She mumbled into his chest.

“I told you not to worry.” He said with a small laugh coming from his chest, the first in a long time.

“Tough shit, Shelby.” She mumbled back, while pulling her head out of his chest.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, just staring at the other, until Thomas finally spoke up. “I’m trying to get back to normal.” He mumbled, barely loud enough for her to hear, she wouldn’t have if they hadn’t been so close.

“I know, it will just take some time.” She said while she caressed his cheek. “And, I’ll be here to help you heal.”

After that day, nothing ever really went back to how it was before the war. But it was like that for everyone. Thomas had gone back to normal as much as he could. He had his moments, but everyone did. And, (Y/n) didn’t lie, she was there every step of the way, even in the bad times she never left.

The two never fought again until the day Grace left. She had tried telling Thomas before that something was up with her, but he just wouldn’t listen. The only other person that seemed to notice it was Polly.

“He’ll never go for it.” John pipped into the conversation. Polly was currently trying to figure out a way to cheer Thomas up, and the idea she had was to put Thomas with (Y/n). She already considered the girl a daughter, and she always wanted her with Thomas. To her, it was the perfect plan.

“That's why we don’t tell him! All we tell him is that he has a business meeting at the new restaurant, he’ll show up, expecting some business man to be there, but instead (Y/n) will come in wearing the most beautiful thing I can find, that he’ll just have to stay.” Polly explained to the boys and Ada.

“Alright, but how are you going to get (Y/n) there, dressed up, without suspecting anything?” Ada chimed in.

“We’ll tell her a boy stopped by and asked to take her out.” Polly said, as if it was obvious.

“Please, she’s not going to just agree to go out with someone, especially if she doesn’t even know who it is.” Arthur muttered.

"Actually she might.” John announced to everyone. “Just to make Thomas jealous, she mentioned it back when Grace was around.”

The Shelby’s set everything into motion that night. Polly told Thomas he had a meeting, then she told (Y/n) about the secret man that wanted to take her out.

So Thomas sat in his suit, waiting for this man to show, when he saw (Y/n) walk through the door, dressed like a vision in her red, drop waist, beaded dress, with an old pearl necklace to match. She looked around the room, until her eyes landed on Thomas.

“What are you doing here?” She asked him, as she walked up to his table.

“Business meeting, what are you doing here?” He asked, suddenly growing jealous at the thought of her being here for another man.

“A date, and what business meeting? I know your schedule, there wasn’t one planned, did you make one?” She asked, wondering who on earth Thomas could be meeting for business at this hour.

“No, Polly told me I had one, who’s the date?” He asked, his jealousy rising.

“Not sure, Polly told me-” A look of realization crossed both their faces “Polly” The two said in unison.

She decided to sit down, now laughing to herself. “You’re the date.”

“You’re the business.” Thomas responded, a small smile growing to his face.

The two sat there for a minute, before Thomas spoke up. “You do look stunning.”

“Polly picked it.” She said, with a small laugh.

“I bet she did.” Thomas said with a laugh, and a sigh. “She’s wanted us together for ages.” He mumbled.

“And what do you want?” The girl asked. Thomas had always had a feeling that (Y/n) liked him, he was just never sure how much, until he looked up and met her eyes that were filled with nothing but love and want.

“You in my life.” He said, keeping his eyes on her. “I thought a relationship between us would mess everything up. I couldn’t risk losing you.”

“Thomas.” The girl said, grabbing his hand across the table. “You could never lose me, even if we did have a relationship and it failed, I would still love you. But, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.”

“I have distracted myself from you for as long as I can remember. I wouldn’t let myself fall for you.” Thomas said, standing up from the table, (Y/n) following.

“It’s okay to fall, Thomas, who knows, maybe it won’t hurt.” She said, as she placed a hand to his face. Without thinking, Thomas leaned in and kissed her with everything in him, causing her to hit the table, his hands on the side of her face being the only thing to keep them from falling. The pair kissed until they needed air. When they pulled away, he rested his forehead on hers.

“Let’s give this a try.” He whispered, looking into her eyes.

The girl smiled and gave Thomas a quick peck, before they left the restaurant, her holding his arm. The walk back to the Shelby home was mostly quiet, until she spoke up. “Thank god for Polly.”

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #cillian murphy #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby fic #tommy shleby fic #thomas shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby fluff #tommy shelby fluff #thomas shelby angst #tommy shelby angst #thomas shelby peaky blinders #tommy shelby peaky blinders #peaky blinders

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personasintro · 6 months

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Mutual Help | #57

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, mature content

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.2k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢

When you truly think about it, you've probably let Jungkook in in more ways than one. Being in his presence is tempting. He is a temptation that messes up with your head. It is one of the reasons why you think the so-called break has been a smart decision. But he's not all that. He is still the same Jungkook whose presence is comforting. It's times like these when you're reminded of how much you love your friends.

Catching up with him and talking about how the day has been for each of you, isn't something new. There's not that much that has changed. You only stopped fucking each others brains out. Though, you hate how much you already miss it. And you shouldn't feel like this. But you also don't want to overthink anything, or keep your mind busy with something that's probably better not to think about.

Your dreams have been wild, the only time where you actually go back to how things were. Not all of them though. Maybe two or three since the camping trip and your decision.

Despite the inner struggles, Jungkook is your comfort person. Oddly enough, even though he's in the center of your thoughts, he brings you the biggest peace and comfort.

Tonight wasn't planned.

Luckily, you're always prepared when it comes to unplanned visits. All three of them love to surprise you (not that you mind), so your cupboard is never without at least one bottle of wine. Not being a much of a drinker yourself on casual evenings, you still suggest having a glass or two.

Jungkook agrees. After reminding you of him having to drive back home, you suggest him staying over. He agrees again. Maybe him staying overnight might not be the best for your hormones, you are forced to believe in yourself. Isn't this the whole purpose of this? To go back to just being friends, the ones you've been two years ago?

When you think about those times, you think of happiness. Surrounded by the greatest friends you could've ever asked for.

“Mind opening it?”

Jungkook looks up, finding you standing in your kitchen with a bottle of wine in your hand, a wine opener in the other. Standing up, he goes to help you without any words but there's a slight amused smirk on his lips when you hand him everything.

You share a look, not forgetting to playfully roll your eyes at him.

“So many bottles of wine and still can't open any of them.” he teases you, hinting at all the wine one of them had to open.

“Listen,” you muse, “You guys always whine about wanting to drink wine.”

“That's not true,” he laughs, knowing that he's bluffing. “We would drink anything.” he adds, which holds some truth to it for sure.

Feigning irritation, you motion for him to hurry. You watch him attentively, leaning yourself against a kitchen counter while he puts those muscles to work. He cuts the foil below the lower lip of the bottle, showing you how easy it is with a teasing tilt to his brow. Trying to hold back your laugh, you purse your lips instead before he inserts the screw in the center of the cork. He rotates it a few times, you're not sure because his eyes are on you.

“You're so cocky.” you comment, his brows shooting up as he lets out an audible laugh.

“What? I am not,” he argues, laughing. “You're just too amusing to look at.”

He levers cork, at least he tries to because it seems to be stuck. It's going harder than usual, which you can tell from all the times you had the opportunity to see a similar scene. His brows furrow and lips press into a thin line.

You cackle, “Maybe you got too cocky, buddy.”

“Shut up.” he mutters, his muscles bulging as a pop sound resounds, signaling the cork is levered successfully.

Maybe not so much, because in a seconds the wine spills around Jungkook, staining his shirt as well. You gasp, a hand over your mouth as you two share a look. Bursting out laughing, you shake your head.

“What did I say, too cocky.”

“Would you do it better?” he challenges, causing your grin to drop as your eyes narrow.

He puts the bottle down, the wine opener already in your sink as you grab a few kitchen paper towels and dry off all the spilled wine. Luckily, it's just a few droplets and no disaster is made. However, Jungkook's shirt has suffered the most. His entire white shirt is filled with dark red spots, turning purple from the wine's color.

He sighs in a slight annoyance, easily grabbing the back of his shirt as he effortlessly pulls it over his head. Almost choking on your spit, you try to not react too much as you quickly throw away the wet paper into the bin. But you straighten yourself too quickly, almost bumping into Jungkook's chest as you stare wide-eyed at him. He looks down on you, confused by your almost panic-struck face.

“What? Already too nervous at the sight of my chest?” he jokes, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You purse your lips, trying to play it cool as you chuckle. “You got naked all of a sudden. You just caught me off guard.”

“Is this me naked?” he laughs, “Come on.”

“You know what I meant.” you say through clenched teeth, poking him in his stomach, ignoring how hard it feels. “Besides,” you start, gulping. “Break, remember?”

“I just took my shirt off,” he laughs, throwing his head back as you're met with his soft dimples and white toothy grin. “You never minded it before.”

“I never fucked you before, did I?” You lean yourself against the counter once again, hand gripping the edge of it tightly.

Jungkook notices it, his amusement not so hidden behind the little twitch of his lips. Eyes back on you, they dance across your soft and slightly panicked features. “Am I that irresistible?”

“Cocky again?” you shoot right back, not giving him that pleasure of confirming his thoughts and feeding his ego. But he knows. One look at you and he seems to know it all.

You make a mistake by allowing your eyes to drop, first at his lips and they disobediently trace down his chest, muscles and then the deep V-line. Oh fuck, you want this man . You mentally scream at yourself and throw hands, definitely disappointed in yourself. He's barely doing anything and you're ready to drop down on your knees.

“What's the point of taking a break, if we can't control ourselves?” you ask out loud, not quite sure if those words are only aimed at Jungkook, or you're letting your consciousness speak out loud.

He watches you for a moment, getting closer and you stumble back, awkwardly getting back to your previous spot as he tries to hold back a laugh. It's not your fault your body is reacting! And your mind panicked.

“Don't know about you, but I can control myself.” he says.

“You can?” you ponder.

“Mhm,” he nods, “Otherwise I would kiss you by now.”

“Kook!” you exclaim, already panting at those words as he gives you a smile. You don't look long enough to detect what kind.

“I would.” He's not ashamed to admit it.

You watch him wet his lips. They look inviting. Automatically, your mind replays many times you've got to taste them, actually more than that. Your entire body feels hot, too hot in this small kitchen and you don't know whether to scream or cry.

“Break, remember?” he reminds you, a smirk dancing all over those damn lips and stunning features. He brushes past you, the stained shirt gripped in his hold as he makes his way to your bathroom.

You don't move. You can't.

All you muster to do is gulp all the saliva that have collected in your mouth, touching your hot cheeks with the back of your hand. Letting out a loud exhale, you ignore your strong heartbeat that feels like it's in your neck.

Quickly grabbing the two glasses for you and him, you ignore the sharp ringing sound. Suddenly, you're desperate for the wine – very happy about your friends insisting to have one at your place at all times.

Perhaps, wine is not what you're desperate for at all.

This is exactly what you were talking about.

Among all the things that are going against the morality of any friendship, thinking of Jungkook a certain way feels forbidden. And it should be. Maybe it is a little dramatic because it's not like you spend every minute of your day, thirsting over your best friend. But you've caught yourself thinking of him a few times a day.

Just a few days after you came back from the trip, Maya visited your place for the first time. In fact, she sat on the exact spot where Jungkook is sitting right now. At first, you never felt like bothering her with your stupid shit, especially when she's in the middle of planning her wedding while working every day like a normal human being.

But you couldn't take it.

You wanted to take things off your mind, undoubtedly connected to only one person who's closest to you. Now in more ways than two years ago.

However, you did want to get things off your chest as well and eventually, you've found your way back to him.

“I think I made a bad decision.” you told her when the topic Jungkook started.

Now, Maya might be the person who absolutely understands the craving and temptation he brings inside you, but she has also become your best friend whom you can share your inner battles with.

“I shouldn't feel this way.”

“First of all, I think it might be a good decision to stop thinking of what should and shouldn't feel right. You're overthinking it.” she told you, ignoring your slightly offended look you sent her way.

“He's my best friend.” you gritted through your teeth, suddenly growing overwhelmed with those thoughts again.

Deep down, you know you made the right decision. You know the reason why you made it in the first place. Yet, here you are, regretting it.

“Y/N, honey,” Maya's silky and comforting voice caught your attention. She angled her body toward you, leaning her head against her palm. “That feeling of… wanting him is not gonna go away with a snap of fingers.”

You frowned. You frowned for a while while she let you ponder in silence.

“I did it so we could focus on being friends. No intimacy.” you almost whispered, nibbling on your bottom lip.

“And it's okay still wanting him to bend you over and fuck you.”

“Maya!”

You both laughed, the girly laugher filling your once quiet and sad place.

“It's okay to have regrets. Just go with the flow.”

That's the last thing she advised you before you asked her about the wedding. She advised you something you and Jungkook did – and look where it brought you.

Luckily for your sake, Jungkook has had a shirt in one of your drawers, the result of him staying at your old place a few times. Actually, you're sure there are a few Taehyung's things in one of your drawers as well.

Gulping down your nerves with your wine, you naturally grow warm and relaxed. You barely pay any attention to the movie, focusing on how Jungkook's shoulder and side of his body feels… nice. You tend to get sleepy and cuddly (among other things) when tipsy. You're on your third glass of wine, nowhere near drunk but the exhaustion of today has caught up to you.

Jungkook's legs are outstretched, resting on your coffee table which you used to scold him for. Even though you often caught yourself doing the very same thing. Is it fair to scold someone for things you do as well?

“Kook?”

“Hm?” The soft, yet husky hum resounds from the man beside you, his hands resting on his stomach.

“What do you think about… the break ?” You cringe at giving it a proper name.

Though, Jungkook understands what you mean. He's quiet for a moment and when you lift your head up, you see his confused expression before his eyes settle down on you.

“Because you never told me what you think.”

Staring at him, you notice his hair is longer than the last time you've seen him. It's not been that long ago, yet you notice the small change. You wonder if he's going to grow it out like last time.

“Why you asking? Already regretting it, hm?” he teases, nudging you a little as your cheeks heat up.

“What? No!” It sounds like a proper lie and your throat tightens.

Whether Jungkook knows it or not, he decides not to tease you any further as his eyes focus on the screen of your television once again.

“I don't know what I think of it,” he responds after a while. “You told me the reason behind it and I respect it.”

“But do you agree with it?”

“Where is this coming from?” he frowns, though it's soft and confusing, just like your little and sudden integration is.

“Can you just answer?” you ask in annoyance.

“Yeah, I agree with it.” He says, “Maybe we got carried away too much.”

He leans forward, causing your head no longer leaning against him as he grabs his glass of wine and takes a few sips of it before getting back to his previous position. This time, you're watching him attentively. Your head leaned against the couch while the movie goes completely ignored. You watch the dark liquid in his glass, swirling it around.

Did you get carried away too much?

The only thing that changed was the fact you were having sex. Okay . Plus the never-ending thirst and temptation. Jungkook has shown you a different side of sex, something you've never experienced before. Perhaps, that's the reason why it felt so hard to let go.

And you panicked. With the events that happened lately, you felt like you wanted to go back to when none of this happened. But were your arguments happening because you were having sex?

“Do you miss it?”

Jungkook's brows lift up as you earn another glance from him. “You asking me if I miss fucking you?”

Your face gets hot all over again. “When you put it like this…”

He chuckles, leaning his head back as he stares at the ceiling. “It's been like a week.” he informs you.

As if you don't know. And what a week it has been!

You're just curious, blaming it on the wine because your thoughts are set free.

“I hope you know that when I look at you, sex isn't what I see.”

You look at him, ears perked up in attention as your heart flutters. “I know.” you whisper.

“I'm not Taehyung. I can go without sex.” he says, a loud snort rippling through your throat as you cover your mouth. He gives you an amused grin.

A silence follows and your thoughts work. Actually, they never stopped and now the alcohol inside you just urges them on.

“I had a sex dream of you.”

Completely oblivious of Jungkook taking another sip, he chokes on the dark liquid as he straightens himself from his position, gulping before coughing. “Jesus, Y/N.”

You give him an amused grin. “It was hazy. It didn't feel like a proper dream, you know what I mean? I feel like I had five dreams that night.”

It's true. You had a dream with him. It was very brief, much to your disappointment it ended too soon.

“This makes me sound like I'm thinking with my dick only.”

“You have no dick, Y/N.” Jungkook reminds you, snickering.

“You know what I mean.” you mutter in response.

Jungkook settles down his wine. He's a little surprised to see you sitting up, watching him attentively as he leans back. “What?”

“Nothing, you look good.”

For the second time tonight, Jungkook almost chokes on his spit. Shaking himself out of the sudden shock, he clears his throat. “Are you flirting with me?”

“No,” you say like it's the clearest thing in the world. “Just saying.”

He frowns, eyeing you suspiciously. As if he can't quite figure out what's going on inside your head. “Are you drunk?”

Jungkook knows you and your limits. You're a little tipsy, so is he but you definitely seem to show it more than he is.

“No.”

You sigh, sitting onto your heels before briefly tracing the veins that adore Jungkook's hands and arms. Is it June night or has it suddenly gotten too warm?

Jungkook catches you eyeing him, trying to hide his subtle smirk. He knows. “Break, remember?”

“Mhm,” you hum, completely ignoring the little reminder. “What a stupid idea.”

“Okay, I think you're drunk.”

“No, I am not.” you argue, frowning at him as he watches you in complete amusement. “I've thought about it a lot.”

“Is the wine making you horny?” Jungkook questions.

No, you do.

Though, you keep your mouth shut. You ignore him. “I know why I made that decision…” you trail off.

Jungkook raises his brow, waiting for you to continue. But? It's written all over his face.

“I miss you.”

He stares, blinking a few times. “You mean you miss my–”

“No, no. Maybe. I mean, no. You're not just that to me–” you quickly hurry to explain.

The problem is, you're not sure how to explain whatever it is you want to say. Whatever you think of pours out of your mouth. Usually you have enough time to think of what you're about to say, but right now you're unhinged. Maybe it's the result of your own frustration.

He is patient.

He's confused as fuck, well probably – at least you think so because his expression is neutral and he simply watches you, not ushering to explain or elaborate more.

He watches your eyes dance across the space around him, until your eyes settle on him. Then wander over his body until you shamelessly eye his wet lips, tainted by wine a little. He knows that look. He has seen it on many occasions.

“I'm not drunk, I promise.” you suddenly tell him. “I know I make no sense right now but…”

“Tell me what you want,” he tells you simply. “What's going on inside that pretty head?”

And you almost fold immediately, cursing that mouth of his.

“Trust me, it's not that pretty right now.” you mutter.

He laughs, “I can imagine.”

Ignoring what's that supposed to mean , you shift on your spot. “I know I wanted a break, but what if we did this one last time?”

You hate how nervous you suddenly feel. Is it embarrassing to admit such a thing? The last time you had a sex it wasn't under great conditions. It was mind-blowing and definitely did the work, but still.

Scooting closer to him, he attentively watches you as you lick your lips. “I mean… There's something I would like to try. And I trust you the most.”

Jungkook pulls his feet off the coffee table, setting them down on the floor as you make your way toward him. He lets you. He even helps you to sit down in his lap. Your hands are sprawled across his chest, slowly caressing the thin material as you feel his muscles under it.

“You're finally gonna let me fuck this ass?” he asks, eyes hooded lazily as he grabs your ass and squeezes the soft flesh.

Excitement floods your lower region, what could be considered as butterflies swirl inside your stomach.

“Fuck no,” you breathe out, “You're not going anywhere near my ass.”

Jungkook pouts, cheeks tinted pink from the wine he has drank. “Shame.”

You giggle, “Just one more time.” you tell softly, inching closer as your lips hover over his.

He breathes out, nose nudging yours. One thing is sure, alcohol sometimes makes both of you horny. You're not the type to go and look for a potential hook-up out there. And neither is Jungkook. At least you think so.

“You agree?”

“You're making this very hard for me, you know that, right?” Jungkook mutters, lips almost touching yours as his hold on your asscheeks tightens.

“Why's that?” you hum, teasingly playing with his hair until your fingers caress the nape of his neck.

“You just do,” he says before adding, “First you want a break and now you're on my lap, giving me those eyes.”

“What eyes?” you play clueless, causing him to chuckle.

“Those fuck me eyes.”

“You said you wanted to kiss me in the kitchen.”

“I did.” he hums, agreeing.

“You want this too, right?”

He looks up, lazily, eyes clouded with need and lust.

Again. He is your comfort place. He is comfortable and being in a position like this – you've got no regrets and you want him. Even if it's for the last time for God knows how long. There's no telling if you're ever going back to hooking-up. Usually, that is the plan when there's a word break involved.

Fuck focusing on your friendship for now. What did Maya say? Go with the flow?

“Yeah, but I don't want you to regret anything.”

“I'm never gonna regret this.”

You're not sure who moves first. Whether it's you or Jungkook, it doesn't matter. Your lips finally meet in a hard kiss, molding together as he deepens it. He kisses you, hard and needy, and you almost cry at that feeling. Fuck, you really did miss this. Before you can think of how wrong this might be, your want for him, you completely ignore it. Any possible morals are out of the window as you gasp into Jungkook's mouth.

He tastes like wine. You both do.

Eventually, you're forced to pull away to catch a breath. Jungkook's crotch underneath you hardens, informing you that he's aroused just as much as you are.

“What you had in mind?” he asks, voice raspy.

Pulling away with a smile, you turn off the television as you stretch your hand toward him. He watches you, slowly taking it as his big hand envelopes yours. He gets to his feet, his lean and hard body touching your side as you grow impatient. You lead him toward your bedroom, closing the door with a loud thud but not before turning off the lights in your living room. The bills are important, right?

Jungkook stands at the edge of your bed before you swiftly push him, causing him to sit down with a tiny smirk. Ignoring the smug face, you stand between his legs.

“Should I be worried?” he asks, hands on your hips as he caresses them. Trying not to swoon too much over that simple action, you pry his hands off you.

“Lay down.”

His brows raise momentarily.

“I see.” he mutters knowingly.

“Now.” you urge him, glaring at his smirk widening. “Wait.”

He cocks his brow at you.

“Take off the damn shirt.”

He chuckles, reaching behind him and tugging the shirt over his head. Fuck . Does he have to look attractive even while taking his shirt? God. Fucking hell. You did miss him.

Tossing the shirt on the floor, he sits there watching you up and down as you just stand there and admire his figure. One he worked hard for, yet it paid off entirely.

Fucking wine.

Before you can demand another thing, he gives you one last look of amusement before he scurries further down your mattress. You watch him lay down, making himself comfortable on your pillows as he leans his upper body against the bed frame. What a sight he is.

He watches you, silently and attentively, the entire time you get to your closet. You slide the door open, rummaging the bottom of it. His eyes are on you. You feel them on your back, watching your every move. While the fire that sits in the pit of your stomach, full of excitement, you pull out the item you've been looking for.

Just as you slide the closet door closed and turn around to face him, you see his smirk drop as he stares genuinely taken back. Now it's your turn to smirk as you swirl the fluffy pink handcuffs Taehyung kindly gifted you around your point finger.

“Fuck no.”

The response is immediate.

You get on the bed, taking the handcuffs with you of course. Jungkook watches you with a frown settled on both his face and lips. You get onto his lap, sitting right on top of his hardening cock.

“Why not?”

“I'm not getting handcuffed.” he states, eyeing you carefully as you place them beside you and start caressing his naked chest.

It's clear to say you want to be in control. It's debatable though. Whenever Jungkook has shown his dominant side when it came to sex, you were just as much in control. And you love and enjoy every second of him being in charge. This time, you want to be on top and play with him. Or maybe that sounds wrong. You want to give him pleasure, focus on him. To try something new.

You get closer to Jungkook, kissing his sharp jaw as he clenches it, watching you carefully but not moving just yet. You're sly. He's reminded of you being a little minx. You continue your path down his neck, kissing his skin as his chest moves, breathing slow and steady. His chest is neck, you pepper the skin with soft kisses just as you stop below the hem of his jeans.

He bites onto his lower lip harshly, meeting your gaze as you look up through your lashes.

“Can I take them off?” you ask, talking about his jeans.

“You don't have to ask.”

You grin, reaching for the belt as you undo it. His button and zipper are next before Jungkook helps you to take off his jeans.

“Just wanna make you feel good,” you tell him, eyeing his hardening and evident erection. “Can I make you feel good?”

“Fuck,” he sighs, looking up at the ceiling. “You wanna be in control, huh?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “What? You think I can't do it?”

His lips twitch. “No, no.” he assures you, though you're not sure if he's telling the truth.

Narrowing your eyes at him, you cup his bulge as you get on your knees, leaning down to his crotch. You palm him, his jaw clenched while you're trying not to moan at the feeling of his hard cock. Just the thought of pulling him out and having him inside you makes you wet.

Giving him one last look, you momentarily stop before you lean down completely and press a kiss to where his tip is, on top of his briefs.

“Fucking hell,” he gasps. “You're already teasing me.”

“What? No. I'm just taking my time.” you assure him cutely, smirking up at him which tells him otherwise.

Before he can react, you lift yourself up and carefully straddle him. You reach for the handcuffs, ignoring the way his cock is almost digging into your own crotch.

“Y/N.” he warns you.

You pout at him. “But why?” you almost whine. “You scared of handcuffs or what?”

“Keep talking and you're gonna be the one handcuffed.”

“I promise I won't do anything bad.”

He watches you, frowning and not totally sold on your idea. It definitely has something to do with his male ego. Jungkook is naturally dominant and while he had you on top multiple times, you never handcuffed him or showed this type of dominance. You reach for your oversized shirt, tugging it over your head as you expose your breasts to him. He gulps, watching the way they bounce from the single movement. Your nipples are already perked up, sensitive like always and perhaps, it's from the arousal as well.

He goes to touch them, mindlessly and automatically. His mouth opens in shock when you slap his hand away, even though you want nothing more than for him to touch you.

“What–”

“I wanna try this, Kook.” You're playing with him already. You pout and give him the puppy eyes, finger trailing down his abs. “You always asked what I want to try and this is one of them.”

He sighs, hand rubbing his forehead. “Fuck, okay.”

“Really?”

Jungkook almost smiles at how excited you sound. What the hell are you planning?

In reality, you're just going with the flow.

You reach for the handcuffs, knowing they're going to work well with your bed frame. You can easily handcuff both of Jungkook's hands. But just as you're about to reach for his hands, he automatically pulls away which causes you to give him a glare. He rolls his eyes, offering you his wrists. You sit on your knees, telling him to lay down completely. He does, with the same frown that makes you giggle under your breath. You take his wrists and bring them up to your bed frame.

Jungkook takes that time to watch you work on the handcuffs from below, feeling them wrapping around his wrists. Wanting to curse, he drifts his attention elsewhere and watches your breasts that are right above him.

You pull back with a successful and triumphal grin, watching him tugs onto them. While he mentally curses Taehyung for giving you such a stupid gift ever, you admire your work. You lean forward again, making sure they hold and Jungkook takes that time enveloping your nipple into his mouth. You gasp and flinch at the sudden feeling, pulling back to find smirking Jungkook.

“Couldn't resist,” he says cheekily.

Despite his current and clearly submissive position, he looks anything like it. He's here, your cheeks hot and heart beating fast. You don't think you'll ever grow tired of him showing his crave for you. You've said it multiple times in your head, but you've never felt wanted as much as you feel with Jungkook.

“Well, then start resisting.” you say smartly, ignoring the smug face. “Stop looking so cocky, you bastard.”

But he doesn't stop. He's smirking, looking at you because despite everything, he's in control. Frowning at that, even though you secretly love it, you stand up and get out of your pajama shorts. Revealing that you aren't wearing any underwear, Jungkook watches you hungrily, his head lifted thanks to the pillows under it. He's got a good view of you at the end of your bed.

You smirk. Men. One look at a naked body and they fold.

“Come here and sit that pussy on my mouth.”

Or not.

You give him a look, seeing him lazily lay there with his arms above his head.

“You don't get to make demands.” you inform him, watching that smug face wipe away slowly.

While you're completely naked, you sit on his calves and lean down to play with the hem of his briefs.

“This is torture,” he informs you back. “This is exactly why I didn't wanna be in these fucking handcuffs.”

“Already complaining?” you throw back.

He presses his lips into a tight line, keeping quiet.

Torturing a little more, you hover him once more with lips dangerously close to his. “That's what I thought.”

He chases your lips but you pull away, giggling when you're met with the usual frown.

Getting back to your position, you pull down his underwear. His cock springs free, shamelessly slapping against his abdomen before it stands upright. Minus the little facade that you have going on of planning to tease him, you're just as desperate to move further if not more.

So you wrap your hand around the base of him, wrapping your lips around the tip as you taste his pre-cum. Jungkook sighs in delight, allowing himself to close his eyes in a sudden relief. You lick the underside of him, knowing what you have to do since you've done it multiple times before. This is nothing new, yet it still feels amazing each time.

The handcuffs make a sound against the wooden frame, just as you let your mouth wrap around him some more, taking him deeper. The clank of them makes you look up, biting back a laugh when you see Jungkook's frustrated face.

“What were you gonna do?”

He growls, warning you not to tease him some more. Well, it surely isn't as much fun for him as it is for you, but that doesn't mean he can't enjoy it. It makes sense. This is the first time where Jungkook can't touch you because he's physically unable to. You understand the frustration, you do. With a silent promise, you make it worth it.

Putting his cock inside your mouth, you hollow your cheeks and deliver him pleasure. Your hand and mouth works on him, and not even hair getting into your face stops you. You know if it weren't for Jungkook's hands not being available at the moment, he would wrap his hand around it, making sure it doesn't get in the way and he can see you.

“Mhm, yeah.” He mutters from above you, enjoying your mouth wrapped around him.

It's not enough, you know it isn't but you're not planning to make him cum. You've barely started and in order for him to enjoy this, there's more you want to do. You don't want to make it lame since this is your first time doing this. You're not going to lie. You like having him this… helpless. You enjoy it, it's a nice change from the usual cockiness.

You eventually pull away, making sure to suck him until the last minute. A trail of saliva connects the tip of his cock and your lips, causing you to wipe it with your thumb. He watches you the entire time with dark eyes, not questioning why you stopped.

This time, he lets you be in control because you don't look like you're about to deny his orgasm and make him truly suffer. On the opposite, he stares at you attentively as you simply turn around and throw your leg over his chest, facing him with his back.

“Fuck.” he curses silently from behind you, watching you lean forward to his cock once again.

However this time, your ass and cunt are right in his face. He sees how wet you are, just that alone makes him smirk because he knows you won't be able to withhold your own pleasure for much longer. After all, it does make his ego bigger knowing you're affected. You're clueless to his inner thoughts, even though you do realize how wet you are, it doesn't even cross your mind, not even when the air hits your core.

It's not until you have Jungkook's cock back in your mouth when you suddenly feel his mouth on you. You don't expect the swipe of his tongue, gathering your juices which makes you flinch in surprise. Throwing him a glance across your shoulder, you're met with the same cockiness you've seen a handful of times.

“Lemme eat this pussy out.” he almost begs.

“How am I supposed to focus then?” you question, the remains of wine causing you to speak your thoughts right away.

His lips twitch. You give him no reaction though, letting it up to him as you turn around and arch your back. Jungkook is a menace. He gets what he wants either way, shameless as ever as his mouth envelopes your clit as he sucks.

You gasp, leaning your forehead against his thigh while your hand stops working on his hard cock. For fuck sake. Frustration is what you feel because for a split second, you realize Jungkook is in control. He eats you out, your body and determination practically begging to be touched. Reminding yourself that this is not supposed to be totally about you, you force your hand to get to work. You're realizing you're not doing a half of a good job at delivering pleasure at the moment.

“Focus,” Jungkook says against your leaking cunt. You can imagine his mouth already being soaked in your juices, dripping it down his chest. Even the single imaginary sight of that makes you want to let out the biggest groan. “I thought you're great at multitasking.”

Apparently not when it comes to this , you want to bite back but you can't. You simply cannot. It's like the moment Jungkook touches you, you're already gone.

Somehow, after a moment of realization and determination yet again, you take him into your mouth.

“That's it,” he groans against you, sending vibrations right to your core. The wet sounds coming from behind you create a sinful proof of your doings, ones you don't mind at all.

You're close.

You can't focus.

Not with Jungkook's mouth that skilfully slowly but surely brings you to your end. And then the cocky bastard opens his dirty mouth again, not minding what it's been doing, not even a bit.

“Wanna spread this cunt. Come on, rub yourself against me.”

Ignoring Jungkook's pleas of wanting to be suffocated by your pussy, you shake yourself out of a familiar daze full of desire and lust. This bastard!

You pull away, not only to give him one last taste of your mouth, but also taking the approaching orgasm from yourself. Jungkook's quiet until a noise of both surprise and disappointment fills your bedroom. You get off his lap, facing him while you give him a perfect view of your messy appearance. One he's undoubtedly the reason for.

“Why would you do that?” he whines, tugging onto the handcuffs again. His face grows frustrated at the restraint.

And then it's gone. What was a frustration just a second ago, you watch his entire face morph into a perfect slowly growing smirk.

He's satisfied. Satisfied that once again, he proved you just how much control he has over you even with barely any way of touching you. He can't use his hands, he can barely move as they stay handcuffed above him, secured around your bed headframe. But that hasn't stopped him. No. He was cunning enough that at the first chance of being somewhat close to you, he used his mouth.

“You'll pay for that.” you inform him, trying to keep your features hardening and not to melt when Jungkook's lips stretch into a wide grin.

“For what?” he scoffs, “For almost making you cum?”

Ignoring the obvious and amused jab at you nearly losing it (when he's the one handcuffed), you nibble on your inner cheek.

“Come on, free me now. You had your fun.”

Your eye almost twitches at that.

“Lemme fuck you, you love it from behind, huh?”

Despite his nasty words leaving your stomach fluttering, more than it should, you don't let him get past your walls. You sigh, loud so he can hear it perfectly and maybe make him feel unsure of what's about to come. He stays silent. Watching you as you reach for your nightstand, you feel his eyes appreciating your nudity before they go back to wondering what you're doing.

You pull out the sex-toy he gifted you, the one you both used two or three times. His brows are pinched together, probably wondering what and who you're going to use it for.

Now, since you've never done this with Jungkook before, you being in full control which has proved to be debatable, you've no idea how he will possibly react. You can only assume. From being in an intimate relationship with Jungkook, you've learned a lot. Apart from the physical side of your own sexual preferences and desires, you've come to notice how Jungkook loves to feel you up. He loves to touch you, explore your body each time like he has never done before.

Even without having many sexual partners before, it's safe to say you've never felt more comfortable than being in Jungkook's hands. Quite literally. The way he touches you… he knows what he's doing.

Obviously, this is in a way a punishment for him. Actually, now that you think about it, you're not sure if he's doing it purely because you want to, or because of another reason.

So when you place yourself at the end of your bed, making sure you have enough space to lay down, you do exactly that. With one swift movement, you spread your legs apart, giving him a full on view on the thing he couldn't get enough of.

All cockiness is smeared off his face. And while triumph burns inside you – from this great achievement – a realization hits him.

“No.” he murmurs, watching the way you smirk as you turn on the sex-toy. You bring the fake imitation of cock to your clit, moaning at the vibration as soon as it touches you.

Bottom lip caught between your teeth, there's a clank resounding in front of you as your lips twitch. “I'm definitely having my fun now.”

“I was–I was just teasing. Come back here, baby.”

You should've probably taped his mouth shut. The freaking petname really tests your patience and determination.

“I'm serious.”

But he's ignored by you, at least you act like you can't hear him, enjoying the way he groans in protest. However, you can be just as teasing and you moan loudly, letting the dildo's tip enter you.

“Y/N,” he growls, “This is not funny.”

“Oh, fuck.”

You would have laughed if you weren't so focused. The truth is, you're sensitive down there – something that's caused by Jungkook and his always running mouth. As much as you itch to get to him and toss the sex-toy as far as possible, you don't give him that satisfaction. At least, not now.

“Who's in control now, Jeon?” you hum, opening your eyes clouded by both amusement and lust.

“Okay, I get it.” he grits through his teeth. “Come here.”

“Say it nicely and maybe I'll consider.”

If looks could kill, you're sure you would be six feet under. But one moment of leaning your head down, moaning out loud, you notice his jaw clenching before he clears his throat.

“Come here,” he says softly.

Cracking your eyes, you grin in achievement as you sit up. You're too impatient, you want to touch him. No scratch that. You want to feel him. You want him inside you. But you're playing your part in this act, making it seem as if you have all the time in the world.

You turn off the sex-toy, the one he probably mentally curses for buying, and you come closer to him. The expectation and despair on his face makes you want to laugh. He's cute. And freaking hot too.

His chest heaves, it glistens with a sheer coat of sweat. His cologne and scent that's glued to his skin has filled your bedroom. He watches you carefully, almost as if he expects you to tease him more. But when you sit back down on his thighs, facing him, he sighs in relief. His cock begs for attention and you give him a few pumps, ones that make his eyes flutter shut as he gets what he wants. Partly.

You leave the dildo next to you, planning on using it later as you glance at your nightstand. A look of surprise and then disappointment fills your face, one that Jungkook quickly questions.

“What?”

“I've got no condoms. You have some with you?”

Jungkook snickers, “You mean did I bring condoms with me when you decided to have a break from this ?”

You give him a glare, “I wasn't planning on having sex.”

“Do I look like I was?” he questions with a raise of his brow.

“Don't you have them with you most of the time?”

“Clearly not,” he rolls his eyes, “What's the issue anyways? I haven't had sex with anyone else.”

You're the one who rolls their eyes now, “You would be really quick if you have. It's been like a week since the trip.”

Deep down, you know Jungkook could've gone anywhere and had sex during this week. If he wanted to.

“And you know it's not about that.” you add.

“Let's end this with a bang. Since you know, we're not supposed to have sex then.”

“Are you mocking me?” you frown. He purses his lips to avoid smirking.

“What did you say? One last time?”

“You know, keep talking and I'm gonna finish myself in front of you.”

“Not what I had in mind but,” he acts as if he's thinking hard. “It would still be something. I love that cunt.”

Almost choking on your spit, you quickly recover. You need to wipe that smirk off his face. “Or I could just leave you here, handcuffed and naked.”

“You wouldn't!” he exclaims.

“Try me.”

He shakes his head with a disapproving frown. “We don't have that many options. Either raw or go to sleep.”

What are you even talking about? Your coincidence scolds you.

“You're right,” you say, already hovering. “I love this cock.” you tell him cheekily, watching his eyes widen just as you grab him by the base.

You bring it to your entrance, teasing him a little (and yourself too) but the glare he gives you just prolongs it. He lifts his hips, almost entering you and you gasp, giggling.

“Who's impatient now?”

“You're testing my patience right now.”

“If I were you, I wouldn't talk too much.” you hum, warning him cutely which causes his features to harden. Oh my god, perhaps you're enjoying this way more than you thought you would!

Despite everything, you don't want to deprive him and yourself of the pleasure. It's easier to give him one cheeky grin as you guide him to your entrance. His eyes dance across your exposed breasts, looking down at where you're about to connect. That's enough for you to slowly sink down his length, gritting your teeth from the immediate heat that swallows you whole.

Sex is amazing. But sex with Jungkook has shown you it's more than that.

You would've never thought how addicted you can become to this. Maybe it's a little too dangerous but you don't seem to care. Not at the moment anyway, not when he spreads your folds and stretches your warm and wet walls. Oh god.

It takes you a moment to fully sink down on him, his hard length settled inside of you as you feel every inch of him. Jungkook groans, throwing his head back. Though, he doesn't usher you to move and gives you space to get used to him. You swear you can feel him in your stomach.

Starting to roll your hips, your clit brushes against his pubes as his jaw tightens once again. That's not enough for him, but he doesn't voice the annoyance and frustration just yet. He lays his head down properly, dark eyes watching you and the way your body rolls.

You bite your bottom lip, momentarily closing your eyes just to open them and see him staring. “You like that, baby?” you joke, watching his hardening features turn into amused once as you both giggle.

“Baby?”

“You call me that too.”

“Mhm, I do.” he hums as you spread your palms over his chest and lean forward. “You love it.”

“Maybe a little bit too much.” you confess, laughing at your obvious confession.

And then you lift your hips, his cock rubbing against your wall which quickly wipes away his smirk. You let the head of his cock stay inside you, his entire length coated with your juices.

“Don't play with me,” he says. “This is torture.”

“Then beg.” you propose, watching his features turn into pure shock before they change into devastation.

It's funny. Makes you giggle all over again.

“What?”

“You heard me. Beg,” you grin, “Or what? Is that against your male ego?”

“You're so cruel,” he begs. “If I knew–Hey now!” he exclaims when you let him slide out of you, your lips curving into a smirk.

You get off him entirely, laying on your tummy beside him. Elbow leaned against the soft mattress, you prop up your chin on your palm. Jungkook groans, frustration getting the best out of him as you grab the vibration. Turning it on, you catch his attention as you press the vibrating tip against his hard cock. He flinches, cussing you out immediately.

“Yah!”

You laugh, “What? Does it hurt?”

“I don't know if you noticed, but I'm fucking hard and sensitive.” he grits through his teeth and you pout. “Just do something.”

Rolling your eyes, you turn off the sex-toy, playing into the little facade you created as you toss it away. Lifting yourself, you hoist your leg over his hips and face him with your back. He barely has any chance to react as you sink down on him again. This time, you actually move. He breathes out in relief.

“I knew you were a good girl.” he mutters, causing you to stop. “No, no. Continue.” he reacts immediately which makes you smile.

You hold your balance by gripping his legs, just below his knees as you start riding him. It's hard to focus on other things than just his cock inside you.

“Mhm, fuck.” You hear behind you, a soft moan leaving your own mouth when he hits your good spot.

You pick up your pace, your ass smacking against Jungkook's skin but when you start to feel the familiar heat gathering in your lower religion, you're forced to stop. You don't want to cum too soon. Jungkook whines, cursing under his breath.

“You're so whiny.” you comment, sending him a look of amusement across your shoulder.

He's frowning, mouth pouting without realizing as he tugs onto the handcuffs again. Realization hits him and that makes you laugh again. He forgot he's handcuffed and wanted to touch you.

“Just wait until you're done.” he threatens.

Ignoring the way your stomach tightens in excitement, you don't give him that satisfaction of recognizing his effect that he has on you. Instead, you turn around to face him, sitting back on his thighs as you lean toward him.

“One last time, remember?"

“You also said break and look at us now,” he bites back smartly. “When I asked you if you're gonna let me in, this wasn't what I had in mind. But I'm not complaining.”

You start tracing random patterns on his abs, they flex under your touch and you know he's holding himself back. “That would be awful if you were complaining.” you hum.

“Y/N,” he whines. “Just do something.”

“I told you. Beg… or ask nicely.” you hum, moving your finger up to his chest.

“Please,” he says dryly.

You lift your brow at him, giving him an unimpressed glare. “I said nicely.” you remind him.

He groans, almost ready to throw a tantrum. Oh, this is so much fun!

“Please, wanna fuck that pussy.”

You smile, leaning forward to get close to his face. His breath hitches as your lips hover over his. The faintest touch of them earns the corner of his lips before you pull away. You wrap your hand around his cock, pumping him a little before you put him inside you again. Jungkook hums and nods, obviously too joyful that you've finally listened. You don't waste any time, lifting your hips up and down as you ride him.

“This is what you wanted?”

“Fuck yes.” Jungkook breathes out, muscles tensing. “Fuck, that's it. Yeah, just like that.”

He says, forcing his eyes to stay open as he watches your breasts bouncing.

“Fuck, baby.”

Despite being fully engrossed in chasing your orgasm, you still smile in the midst of it.

You're close to cumming, stopping your movements shortly after which leaves Jungkook whining. Loud and clear.

“You were close, weren't you?” he teases after frustration slowly fades away.

“Shut up,” you bite.

“Come on. Fuck me. Please .” he begs softly.

Nibbling on your bottom lip, you comply and move your hips again. This time, you don't stop. You chase your orgasm while Jungkook coaxes you through it.

“That's right, use me.”

“You like this?” you breathe out, throwing your head back as you feel yourself getting closer and closer.

“I love it,” he corrects you. “I'm gonna miss this cunt so much.”

“Don't say that,” you croak out. “You're making me regret things.”

“No regrets,” he groans. “Fuck, yeah.” He moves his hips up, meeting your thrusts in the middle as you whimper.

A few more thrusts and one big from Jungkook, you come undone above him. The knot snaps inside you and your entire body stills as your walls start clenching and unclenching. Your juices drip down Jungkook's length, undoubtedly staining your sheets as well but that's the least of your worries.

Jungkook watches you come back to reality, eyes clouded with lust.

“You think you can go for round two?” he asks, watching you breathe out an audible chuckle.

You can.

Giving him a nod, you settle onto rubbing his chest softly while trying to catch your breath.

“Uncuff me,” he says, stealing all your attention once again – this time not caused by the usual charms of the man under you. “Just wanna touch you.” he adds, softly and with a pout.

“What if I don't want you to touch me?” you hum, starting to roll your hips again which makes him hiss.

He grunts, closing his eyes. “Don't lie to yourself.”

Regardless of both of you aware of the lie, you keep smiling knowing he's damn right.

“I'm not gonna do anything, I swear.” he promises, whining as your movements deepen.

Feeling like you could chase your second orgasm of the night, you reach behind you and put your hands on his thighs. Jungkook stares, eyes wide despite the evident desire and need.

“Holy fuck, you're gonna be the end of me.”

You giggle. You freaking giggle and Jungkook swears he's done for.

“You little minx,” he grunts. “You wanna make me cum without me touching you? That's fucking cruel.”

“I like to be cruel sometimes.” you tease.

As much as you wish his hands would be on you, touching you everywhere and the way only he can, this is so much fun.

While Jungkook's eyes are the only touch you can feel, the dark irises leave hot traces all over your skin, you enjoy his attention on you. It's no secret he alone brings you more confidence than he can ever imagine. Not to grow sentimental, especially right now and at this dirty moment, but for that you'll be forever grateful to him. You're scared for what's about to come in the future. You're too scared to think about it and you automatically shut down any hints of those thoughts coming up.

You enjoy this while you can.

After this, you want to focus on your friendship with him. It's for the best.

You could easily regret doing this with him right now. Especially after the idea of taking a break. In reality, you don't. There are no regrets as of now and you hope they won't come. You won't allow it.

“Play with your tits, baby. Show me,” Jungkook pants.

Having you slowly start to bounce on his cock again brings a rush of heat to every inch of his body. You obey, grasping your breasts into your palms while you squeeze to soft flesh. Jungkook whines and groans, clearly still frustrated he can't touch them or anything at this point.

“Pinch your nipples.” he orders, not full of dominance like you're perhaps used to, but full of desperation.

You moan as you listen to him, bringing more pleasure to your body as you imagine it's Jungkook's hands instead. Eyes closed yet again, you can't bring yourself to keep them open. Your muscles strain, lungs begging for more air as you feel your heartbeat drumming in your eardrums.

“Fuck,” you pant, “Think I'm gonna cum.” you force yourself to admit, totally clueless to Jungkook obviously seeing and feeling it.

“Rub your clit for me. Fuck.”

Hand reaching between your legs, it's a little tricky to fully obey as you're still bouncing on his cock, close to cumming. You still rub your clit, whimpering and stuttering things you can't remember. Whatever leaves your mouth blends with the sounds of skin slapping. One hand on Jungkook's abdomen, you make sure you stabilize yourself while the other works on your clit.

“Keep going, keep going,” Jungkook whimpers. “Please, please, please.”

You do. Your thighs burn but nothing won't stop you. Orgasm comes crashing down on you for the second time. Your walls clench around Jungkook's cock, sucking him dry as Jungkook warns you of his own approaching orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck, I'm cumming.” he manages to get out.

Just in time, you barely make it and lift yourself as Jungkook's thick cum shoots up. The warm liquid lands on your pussy, some of it getting onto your lower belly trickling down your thighs.

Jungkook curses under his breath, head dropping down onto pillows as his chest heaves. Yours too. Dropping down next to him, there's no care in the world as you both try to come back to your senses.

After a minute of harsh breathing fading, Jungkook comments. “Almost didn't make it.”

Looking at him, you both grin at each other. “I made it.”

He scoffs playfully, amused by your confidence. He's restrained, therefore it would be completely your fault if he came inside you.

“Gonna uncuff me now?”

“Oh shit.” you curse, sitting up as you grab the key off your nightstand, leaning forward to uncuff Jungkook's wrists.

As soon as you do, Jungkook's arms shoot down as the pair of pink fluffy handcuffs land on your floor. You watch him rub his wrists, frowning before looking at you as you shoot him a sheepish grin.

“You enjoyed that?”

“Probably more than I thought I would.” you giggle.

Jungkook's lips twitch. “At least one of us did.”

“You came, didn't you?” you raise your brow at him. “I'm receiving no complaints then.”

He laughs, sitting up as he cracks his neck. Looking down at his crotch and around the bed, he cringes a little. “Made a mess.”

“It's fine, I'm gonna clean that up. Go take a shower.” you point toward the door.

“You sure?” he asks, cocking his brow at his cum sticking to your skin.

“Yeah,” you laugh, reaching for the wipes that are beside your bed. You clean yourself, ushering Jungkook to use your bathroom while you take care of this mess.

Knowing there's no point in arguing, he still with an unsure look starts to get out of your bed. What he doesn't expect though is a slap delivered on his buttcheek. He turns around, shocked with mouth agape as he shoots you a look.

“What does it feel like?” you tease, biting onto your lower lip as he shakes his head, fighting back a grin. Too bad, you catch a good glimpse of it.

“You're lucky this is over.” he tells you, ruffling his raven hair.

You're not sure if lucky is the right word to describe it, though it works for what he has in mind. And god, you're so close to calling this break off. Desperate and foolish.

But since he talks about luck, it seems like it's on your side this time considering he turns around and leaves the room before you can make another rash decision.

You decide to finish the movie after you're both cleaned, and so is your bedroom with fresh sheets. Everything goes back to normal, both of you acting as if you haven't had sex a few minutes ago. Ignoring the way every inch your skin feels like it's been electrified.

Jungkook's body takes most of the space in your bed eventually, the entire bedroom swallowed in darkness as chilly air fans your thin curtains. No scent of sex anymore just like there is no trace of your previous doings. The only proof lives in both of you now.

“Back to best friends?” Jungkook asks behind you, his arm outstretched just above your head.

“Back to best friends.” you confirm, ignoring the sentiment behind your tone.

“Don't tell anyone that I–”

“That I had you handcuffed and you whined?”

“Yah!”

Cackling, you look across your shoulder as if you could see him. “Are you ashamed of it?” you tease.

“Taehyung wouldn't let me live if he knew.”

You both laugh quietly.

“Can you rub my back now?” you say after a while.

Jungkook snickers, sighing as he gets on his side facing your back. His hand is on your back, scratching and rubbing gently as you hum in pleasure.

“Shouldn't you be the one who's rubbing my back? Y'know because of what you've put me through tonight.” he grumbles, causing you to smile into your pillow.

“Didn't you enjoy it?”

“I couldn't touch you.” he says as if that answers everything.

You still keep smiling, not being able to fight it back. “But other than that?”

He doesn't respond for a moment, leaving you to look behind you again. He hears the sheets rustling. “I came, didn't I?”

Somehow, that answers your question and you hum, lullying yourself to sleep – with the help of Jungkook's hands and touch of course. However, with a serious realization of what the fuck are you going to do now.

#networkbangtan #ksmutclub #ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts au #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #personasintro

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ellebakers · 2 months

Text

☆ My love (+18)

Aemond Targaryen x reader (twin sister)

Summary : Being Aemond's twin sister is a good thing, he is gentle with you, always kind and affectionate because you are his twin but also his wife, but with the others, he is cruel and you have more than enough of it.

Warnings : Smut, slight angst, language, incest.

You would be his wife, that's what your mother Queen Alicent decided when she gave birth to you, three minutes after Aemond. And until today everything was perfect between you, obviously as a child there was only platonic love and joy, over the years this love was transformed into desire especially for Aemond who knew that you were going to be his but who had to watch you become a woman without being able to touch you, suffice to say that your wedding night was not very relaxing..

“To these three strong boys.”

You let out a sigh as you heard your husband's cruel words directed towards your nephews.

In a split second things escalated, Jace hit your husband and Aegon slammed Lucerys onto the table, everyone stood up, screaming and panicking.

Aemond wore a smirk as he turned to you, hoping to see you laugh at the situation, but it was a tired and cold look that you gave him, shaking your head.

You got up from the table and informed your mother "It's time for me to retire mother, have a good night."

Hearing your nonchalant tone of voice, Alicent offered you a sad smile "Of course my dear."

Aemond watched you leave the room, a little disappointed that you didn't appreciate his provocation.

You sighed and walked towards the nursery where one of the maids was sitting, watching your daughter, you smiled tenderly and whispered to the maid "You can go and rest, I'll keep Aenora in our marital bedroom."

The servant bowed "Of course princess, I inform you that Aenora does not want to drink my milk, it is possible that she will ask for it later."

You smiled and nodded, taking the little girl, only three months old, into your arms.

The small Valeryan looked at you, cooing as you stroked her cheek while taking her to your room.

When you arrived, Aemond was sitting on your bed, waiting for you, he raised his head when you entered. “I told myself that my wife had fled the castle.” He tried to joke.

You didn't bother to answer, settling into your reading chair you kept Aenora close to you, rocking her lightly.

“Did I do something to make you angry ?” Aemond asked with a hint of sadness in his voice.

You sighed. “Why do you have to be so cruel to everyone other than me ?”

He sat down next to you "You are my wife, the love of my life, I only need to be nice to you and our daughter."

You shook your head slightly and handed him Aenora. “Take her, I have to change.”

Aemond grabbed the baby and wrapped his arms around her, smiling tenderly at her as you stood up to take off your dress.

"You know what I'm talking about, why did you need to tell our nephews that ?"

Aemond scoffed "Because it's the truth, they're bastards."

You gave him a cold look. “Don’t use that kind of language in front of our daughter.”

He chuckled "She's four months old honey, she can't understand."

Once changed into your nightgown which left nothing to the imagination, you sat down again next to Aemond. “Even if that is true, why do you constantly need to remind this poor childrens of that ?"

Aemond scoffed, his jaw clenched. "Children? They're men, didn't you see the way Jacaerys was looking at your breasts ?"

You frowned a little, not paying attention to the way your nephew was looking at you. “What are you talking about ?”

"My love, you should stop thinking that everyone has good intentions. Jacaerys almost had a hard-on looking at your dress hugging your chest."

You slapped his shoulder, laughing lightly, “Stop.”

Aemond smiled "It's my role as a husband to protect you and if I can humiliate these.." He was about to say an insult but seeing your look he did nothing "Boys.. by the same opportunity, so I do it."

You rolled your eyes and smiled "You're stubborn, are you aware of that ?"

He smiled and kissed your lips “That’s why you love me.”

Aenora started to get agitated and cry, Aemond handed her over to you, understanding that the little girl was probably hungry.

You lowered the strap of your nightgown, letting your left breast come out, and the little girl hastened to put it in her mouth to extract the milk.

After a moment you saw Aemond moving out of the corner of your eye, pulling on his pants that were becoming too tight.

“Don’t tell me that seeing me breastfeed turns you on?”

Aemond couldn't help but moan "Can you blame me ? It's been a week since I've been able to touch you... do you have any idea of the torture you're inflicting on me ?"

You couldn't help but laugh, "You're insatiable." Aemond came closer and nibbled on your neck making you moan slightly, thanks to the gods Aenora had finished drinking and was starting to fall asleep.

You gently placed him in his little bed, and as you turned to face Aemond, he threw himself at you, kissing you furiously.

You stepped back and fell on the bed, your twin took the opportunity to lift your nightgown, he pulled on your thighs, bringing you a little closer to him.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking up at him lustfully, he maintaining eye contact with you as he knelt down and attached his mouth to your pussy.

You gasped and threw your head back, your hand came to his hair instinctively, pushing his head a little closer to your pussy to feel even more pleasure.

“Lords.” You moaned and moved your hips as he continued to devour you, his tongue working magic as you arched up moaning harder each time, and when you felt the orgasm approaching you grabbed a pillow and put it on your move to cover your cry of pleasure so as not to wake Aenora.

Once recovered from your orgasm, you looked up at Aemond and saw him take off his pants, leaving him with his tunic, he grabbed his hard cock let his hand slide over it to harden it a little more, once ready he grabbed a pillow and put it under your pelvis, then, with these firm hands he grabbed your thighs and spread them a little further.

You closed your eyes and gasped as his length entered you slowly and deliciously.

“Still so tight.” He whispered to you, letting out a moan in your ear. “So hot, wet and good… you’re perfect.”

The act was so sensual and romantic, different from what he used to do before your daughter was born.

“Aemond.” You cried with pleasure.

He grabbed your thighs, wrapping them around his hips, he continued his slow and terribly delicious movements, you felt every inch of his length as he moved in and out.

"My love." He moaned, with his fingertips he pulled down the top of your nightgown, exposing your breasts to him, he grabbed the left breast, licking and sucking your nipple, extracting some of your milk while he massaged the other.

Having enough of his slow movements you swapped positions.

He let out a groan of pleasure, you placed your hand over his mouth "Shh, you're going to wake up Aenora." He smiled against your hand and gave you a thrust making you moan.

You started moving on his cock quickly making you moan mutually

"That's my little dragon." He groaned, running a hand over your face, letting his thumb brush over your lips, you grabbed it and sucked on it while looking at Aemond.

He growled and slid his hand between your legs, playing with your clit, and in no time he had a hand over your mouth as you came, letting out cries of pleasure.

It was up to you to shut him up with your lips on his mouth as he finished inside you after you clenched your pussy around his length.

You pulled yourself off of him and dropped to his side with one last moan, both of your bodies sweating, out of breath.

He turned and kissed your lips while caressing your breasts “I love you.”

"I love you too." You sighed, trying to catch your breath.

After a while you fell into a deep sleep, but before you fell asleep you heard Aemond's words as he stroked your hair.

My love...

#house of the dragon #hotd x y/n #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x y/n

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cherry-leclerc · 23 days

Text

million dollar man ☆ toto wolff

genre: age gap, porn with plot, angst, mentions of drugs, tragedy, erotic literature, mentions of homicide, bits of humor, child neglection, divorced!toto

word count: 16.5k

Toto Wolff, self-made billionaire, is on cloud nine; he has all he’s ever wanted. A beautiful wife, family, a great team. But when that starts slipping from his fingers, he desperately tries to keep hold of what is not his anymore. As a possible solution to cure his blues, Lewis kindly invites him to a place he runs off to when times get tough; to relieve some stress. But he just never expected a cosplaying angel, dancing around a metal pole, to be his salvation. And also, his cruelest life lesson.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+…dry humping/ thigh riding, sexual tension, penetrative sex, oral sex (m!receiving f!receiving), size kink, breeding kink, praise, foreplay, riding

inspired by this and this !

STOP AND READ:

Typically, we keep it light here: occasional minor angst fics, but light, nonetheless. That will not be the case this time around. Because of that, I firmly believe that it is necessary to give a few warnings. There will be mentions of drug-use and homicide and if that is not something you are comfortable with then that is totally okay! I have more options for you to read over at my masterlist! This is purely fictional. With that, this story is based and inspired by Million Dollar Man and Yayo by Lana Del Rey (*run*)—what that means is that this story will not have a happy ending.

cherry here!…toto is like—a special appearance, here in this blog. probably won’t write for him all the time, but hey! we love him!originally this was going to be named yayo but have since changed my mind to million dollar man. IT WILL MAKE SENSE AND I’M SORRY, ANONS. please don’t hate the villain in me. consider yourself warned.

There was no room for love when it came to the world of motorsport. Toto’s first marriage was a transparent reminder, given its falling out. The Austrian didn’t seem to care, almost; Mercedes was at their prime, but by then, when Susie came along, he felt a gist of hope. She must’ve known the sacrifices that would be made—the expectations.

And yet, he sat there, signing the divorce papers once again. What had he done wrong this time? He had given her everything she could have ever wanted—spent time he didn’t even have—with her.

Neither of us were happy anymore, she would whisper apologetically, eyes trained downwards. But I’ll always love you, Toto. You must remember that.

Suddenly, he was fifty-two and with no true purpose in life other than to stabilize his broken team. If it wasn’t false accusations from other team principals, then it was trouble with the hydraulics, and if it wasn’t that, then it was losing his World Champion. Mercedes was already dwindling down to a mess, but with Lewis leaving—it felt like he was losing his mind.

“You understand where I’m coming from, right, Toto?”

Looking up at Lewis and Penni, his manager, the Austrian sighs, forcing a tired smile. No. He didn’t understand—did not want to understand. But he had no right to prevent the Brit from expanding one final time before retirement. I just feel like I need to do this for myself, but thank you for the infinite support. Mercedes will always be home to me.

Promises. Fuck them, they meant nothing at the end of the day, so why bother?

“Do what you need to do. I’ll always be here for you; no matter what.”

It was a bittersweet feeling to have. On one hand, the brunette felt optimistic. Maybe this was a chance to start over, perhaps offer up the golden seat to Carlos or Kimi. They had proven themselves in their own way and maybe that could bring better opportunities towards the team.

On the other, he felt like this was it. Maybe it was time to move on, retire with a sorrowful smile and live out the rest of his years. He could try fixing things with Susie. The thing was, he just re-signed as team principal, so none of that would work out even if he wanted to.

Running a large hand through his brown hair, he groans and takes a sip of whiskey. Wincing at the taste, he jumps up in alert from his seat when there’s a knock on the glass door. May I? He nods.

Entering with an easy smile, Lewis raises his dark brows in a teasing manner. “Drinking ain’t gonna help, I promise you that.”

The brown eyed man grins. “You have something else in mind, cause if so, I’d like to hear it.”

The Brit hums, tilts his head to the side. Lewis had been with Toto for as long as he can remember; he was there when Toto and Susie met, and long after when they tied the knot. He swore they were happy, and that may have been once true, but he also knows sometimes even that can’t be enough. So, when news came out to their inner circle that the two were getting divorced, he felt sorry for him. He knows what it feels like to have it all, to suddenly go to sleep alone every night. But there was always one place that always helped— even people like him.

“You up for Vegas?”

He should have said no. He was too old for any of this nonsense. Too mature. Only, one thing led to another, and before he knew it, he was entering one of the top-tier stripclubs in all of Las Vegas. He knows that while there is nothing wrong with the profession, he can’t help but feel sinisterly dirty. He blames it on the fact that Lewis was beaming right besides him. Maybe if he hadn’t once been his boss, then the feeling would be different.

“Oh, c’mon. Ease up. No one will even know that you were in here.”

It’s true. While the club was a part of the infamous Vegas strip, it was also exclusively exclusive. No one could get in if there was no form of proving to be millionaires, and even that was ridiculously low. NDA’s would be signed as if it were something normal. Made him wonder what kind of things occurred between these four walls.

Toto chuckles deeply, dark eyes roaming the entire room, loud music blaring. “How did you even know this place exists?”

Lewis winks, lousy arm waving at the bouncers. “You know how everyone thinks Formula One drivers are players and are up to no good?”

“Yeah?”

He smirks. “Well…they’re fucking right.”

After a couple of drinks, a few new friends—who would make great potential business partners—and a bit of gambling, the fifty-two year old found himself having a decent time. The atmosphere was a tad bit suffocating, but one time won’t kill him. He deserved it.

“Oh, oh, you might want to take a seat,” Lewis chants excitedly. “People get pissed if you block their view.”

Abruptly, the stage lights up. It was a bit alarming, the sudden speed these men took to claim their seats, trampling over each other to get front row. Carefully, he crouches down onto the couch of giddy men. This wasn’t a normal setting; girls were caged behind glass as if to protect them from these males and their slithering actions. A red head professionally swings around the steel pole, black skirt flowing, adding to the illusion men love to taste.

Whoops and hollers echo the red room as the Brit nudges Toto’s broad shoulder with a wicked grin. “Good, no? She’s my favorite.”

The Austrian scrunches his nose, half joking, half not. “Is this why you were always dozing off during our meetings?”

“Exactly why.”

It was an impressive art, he’ll give credit where credits due, and his eyes were bulging out of his head, but that’s about it. When he stood up to go and order a new drink, a string of boos were thrown at him. Even Lewis shook his head with disapproval. Man, you’re missing the show! He sends a sly grin. “I’m tough to win over, but they’re great, don’t get me wrong.”

The bartender shakes his head in disbelief. “That’s what they all say. Until they lay eyes… on her.”

“On who?” He’s quickly hushed as soon as the room changes gears. The once red club enhances into a soft yellow glow, the fast paced music slows down to an angelic piano intro.

A round of applause for everyone’s favorite girl—Peaches!

If the fifty-two year old ever thought he’s heard it all; loud cheers from fans, loud cheers for the other dancers; then he must have been mistaken, and awfully foolish. His ears ring with the sudden howls from everyone in the room. Turning around, he’s found with a girl, standing with golden angel wings. A shiny reflection colors her hair as she delicately bows, shy smile sewn onto her pouty lips. White dress wrapped around her figure as if it was tailored for her, and only her.

Yayo.

The way she pranced inside the glass box like a butterfly makes the men grow wild as they pant feverishly. She’s barely doing anything—hasn't even done half as much as what the other girls had done—and somehow, all eyes are drawn on her like a sticky potion. Toto’s heartbeat gets stuck in his throat as he tries his best to swallow it down. Sad eyes flicker throughout the club as she spins, dress fluttering like a flower in the summer breeze.

You’re someone desirable in all senses, and it appears as if you know it as well.

Let me put on a show for you, daddy.

Dropping down to your knees, you crawl towards the glass as you draw your soft brows together, as if pleading to be let out. Hot breath paints the glass before you press a kiss.

Then, you’re looking at him, and it’s as if you could point out all the fucked up shit he’s ever done. His heart speeds up as you tie your shiny legs along the pole, sensually spinning as you throw your head back. Like a signal, water sprinkles inside the box as it lubricates you down, dark mascara trickling your features.

Arms toss your hair back before sharing a quick wave as you step out, red lights turning back on. And just like that, Toto is left empty and alone once again.

“That shit was insane,” the Brits voice shakes him away from your spell as he flops down on the stool right next to him. “She must be new because I for sure wouldn’t have forgotten a pretty face like hers. What’d you think?”

Toto blinks. “She might be my favorite.”

Thank you, Ro, you say as you sign on the bottom x, waving him off as he tilts his head in agreement. Call me if you need anything. I’ll be outside, like always.

Even after all this time, you still got trepidatious. There came times where the connection was completely off, that you just wanted to bolt away, screaming like a baby. But you needed this job to survive, plus, it paid a pretty penny.

“Where do you want me?”

Once you spot the massive businessman, manspreading on the couch that he made out to look like a toy, you gulp. You had caught a glimpse of him already, basically performed for him, but you didn’t think he was the one who called for you.

He’s strikingly handsome in a way you couldn’t quite comprehend. Dark, untamed hair covers his face. Long nose catches your attention as you squirm. His hands are practically the size of your face and you could only imagine what his thick fingers must feel like. Curiously, your eyes dwindle down to his lap as you picture what rests between his legs.

“Oh, right. Um…”

You grin. “First time?”

He winces. “It was a friend's idea.”

“Hmph. Heard that one before.” Inching closer, you pour a glass of water. “Here. It’ll help.”

His hand swallows you whole as you gape down at the difference. Electricity zaps you as you flinch and he catches on. Bringing the cup towards his pink lips, he closes his eyes, lashes fanning his tan skin. Being taken care of by a beautiful, young lady, made him cringe in all kinds of ways. He felt like a child, then like an old man. To be fair, he sort of was.

“I’m not here for…you know.” You quirk a neat brow. You don’t want to fuck me? Your question has him choking on the ice as he raises his hand up. “N-no, I just th—”

“I’m afraid you’re just wasting my time, and time is money. Have a good day, Mr. Wolff.”

Gaining his composure, Toto storms over to you, grabbing your hand. “I’ll still pay you. Triple what you make, but please don’t go.”

Your cheeks are dusted light pink when you turn around, wings brushing against him. If you’re lucky, you reach his toned chest, but the height difference was scary. Enticing. You almost wish he would fuck you like a pornstar.

“You know what a girl wants to hear. I’m in.”

Turns out, he just wanted a companion. Someone who wouldn’t pity him. Didn’t hurt that you were the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, either. Narrowing your eyes, you click your tongue. “She said that?”

He sighs. “Maybe I was changing.”

“Perhaps, but that’s what a marriage is for. You change, sure, but you change together. Things can’t possibly stay that same, that’s just stupid.” Tucking your legs beneath your butt, you continue. “And what? Your number one driver decides to leave out of the blue? Even after it was mutually decided that he would stick around at least until 2026?”

That was something no one knew, but who were you going to tell? Toto grimaces. “It sounds bad, doesn’t it?”

“It fucking sucks.”

The Austrian chuckles deeply at your outburst. You blush at the cunning sound. “You’re a terrific listener. I’m glad you stuck around to talk.”

“I’m glad I did, too.” You play with the hem of your dress. “You’re a kind man, Toto. You didn’t deserve any of this.”

He slips away that night with a tranquility he hasn’t felt in quite a while. On the way back to Monaco, he wonders if you were some kind of guardian that he had to meet in order to move on from his bittersweet feelings. Because it sure did feel like it since he felt he now knew what it is that he had to do in the upcoming season. All thanks to you.

“…Toto….Hello?” Bono smacks his hand against the table and the Austrian flinches. They were in the talks of what position he would stay in now that Lewis was departing from his life-long engineer. “Do you want me to continue or?”

The brunette clears his throat, awkwardly. “We have a few weeks of break before the new season begins, correct?”

“Correct.”

He stands up to his full height. “Then let’s talk later. Enjoy your break, Bono. See you soon.” Then he’s walking out the sliding doors, with a dumbfounded engineer piercing his eyes at his large back.

Elizabeth, Toto’s rough voice speaks to his personal assistant. Clear my schedule for the next few weeks. Oh, and also; get me the first flight out to Las Vegas.

Cursing at the dusty wind, you huddle your way into your beat up car, fingers sliding your Dior glasses down the bridge of your nose. They were a gift from a recent client, and you never shamed them away. Taking a sip of your sparkling water, you sigh in relief at the refreshing taste. Screw Nevada for being annoyingly hot.

Tap tap.

Squinting your eyes at your window, you only catch a glimpse of a man’s clothed crotch as you yelp. Swinging the door open, you take out your pepper spray. “Go away creep, I will use this if necessary!”

"Warten! Warten!"

“Huh?”

“I said wait,” a thick accent clarifies. You bite back a smile. “Hello.”

Bringing your hands up to your hips, you giggle. “Hello, Mr. Wolff. Back for more?”

He can try and pretend that he was better than crawling back to you, even if all you both did was have a meaningful conversation, but he doesn’t have time for lies.

“I just wanted to thank you.” Your lips separate, slowly. “For everything. You helped me figure out lots of things.”

“Oh, wow… I, umm… You’re welcome?”

Intaking your soft aura, he closes his right eye due to the bright sun. “Can I take you out for coffee?”

You didn’t go out for coffee at a local cafe, but rather at his mansion he just blew his money on without batting an eye. Inhaling the yummy scent, you swoon. “This smells amazing.”

He smiles. “It’s from Germany.”

“Authentic. How’d you get it?”

“Don’t underestimate power.” Your eyes grow wide at his cold tone and the Austrian laughs. “Relax. I’m from Germany. It’s my favorite, so I always carry one with me. Call me old-fashioned.”

“Let’s just leave it at old.”

He flashes a devious grin, lines tracing his face. “Ha-ha. But seriously, thank you for helping me out of my little…crisis.” Midlife crisis, you correct him as he glares. You snicker.

“I’m glad I was able to help.”

“Can I ask you something?” Sure, you cheer as you sip on the hot drink. He fixes his glasses. “How did you end up working at Machiavellian Nights?” Your stomach drops. “You don’t have to answer.”

“No.” He nods. “I’ll tell you, because oddly enough, I trust you.” Okay, he whispers. “Are you close to your parents?”

“What?” Are you? He nods again. You smile sadly.

“That’s lovely, Toto. Appreciate that.” You release a shaky breath. “My father passed away when I was fifteen and my mother pretends to not know me.”

He gulps and you continue. “It was not always like that, though. We had a close relationship. She would braid my hair every night before bed. I would curl hers before every date. She was an amazing woman. One I could admire.”

“What happened?”

You lower your head, lips wobbling. Letting out a wet laugh, you brush a hand up against your nose. “Men are deceiving. Men are shit. Men are a complete waste of time and— I miss who my mom used to be.”

Handing you a napkin, you silently thank him. “She met him when I was only seventeen. It was fine at first; I was so happy for her. I would be moving out for college eventually, so I felt relieved that she had someone to rely on. Connor was great.”

The fifty-two year old is momentarily lost. Nothing sounds as bad as it seems, but he refrains from telling you so. “Then she got pregnant. Oh, Toto, I was so excited. A baby sister. Could you imagine? I bought everything my first job could afford. Onesies, blankies, pampers, I bought it all. And I never once expected anything in return.”

“That’s where things began to change. Connor swore I was trying to win my mom over and leave Rosie with nothing. Kicked me out before I even had a chance to defend myself. I thought —okay, I’ll just talk to her and explain that it was never my intention to do any of that. But she wouldn’t listen. She gave birth six months ago.”

“And you ended up...” You hum, bringing the mug up to your lips.

“It was either that or fast food. Salary is shit in that industry. And the customers aren’t bad. I could say yes or no at any given time.”

The brunette fiddled with his watch. “So, you could have turned me away?” Laughing, you nod. He fakes a smug look. “And why didn’t you?”

Tapping a lazy finger onto your chin, you close your eyes before fluttering them open. “I had a feeling you had shit locked away. Just like me.”

He bids you farewell, claiming he was glad to have met you, even with such circumstances. The way he hugs you goodbye makes the pit of your stomach fuel with fire as you brush away the urge to climb onto him and kiss his pain away, even if he promises to not feel any.

Take care of yourself, you beg, head resting beneath his heart. His breath hitches. You need to look after yourself, above all. Oh. And good luck with the new season.

He wonders why such a pretty plea makes his heart break. Perhaps it was because even though your life was at rock bottom, you still looked out for others. Or maybe it was him, but he couldn’t pinpoint it at all. He wouldn’t try either because as stated before, he was leaving for good. He could make room to visit you the next time he was here for the Las Vegas GP. Even then, he wouldn’t risk you like that.

But like a kid at a candy shop, he finds himself signing the NDA once again. Welcome back, Mr. Wolff. The usual? “That sounds great, thank you.” Taking a seat, he watches the vivid room, hoping to spot you. Set after set, he’s torn when you don’t show up. Others seem to notice you missing as they violently spit slurs of; Bring out the pretty one!

“Would you be kind enough to treat me to a sweet drink? Paloma’s are my favorite.”

Your sultry voice salutes him like a perfect hug as he looks down to where you bite down onto the inside of your cheek. Your eyes crinkle as you beam up at him. “You’re here…”

“I always am.”

He cringes, desperation humbling him as you take a seat. “Your act…you didn’t go on and I just thought you were out sick or something?” Leaning over to take a sip of his dark drink, loopy eyes train on him before sighing.

“Ugh, I wish. I’m on my period. I asked for the night off, but I’m still up to no good. Make a little bit of money, eh.” He clenches his jaw. “What are you doing here anyways, Toto? Oh shit—Mr. Wolff.” Smiling warmly at the bartender, you hug your red lips around the glass.

“I wanted to see you.”

Choking on the fruity drink, you clutch onto his thigh. He stiffens, but still pats your exposed back. You wore a silky red dress, just like the rest of the girls strutting through the busy club, but somehow, it looked better on you. Enhancing your soft features, tugging against your curves like an envelope. Perky tits begging to be licked— sucked on.

“Why?”

“I…I don’t know.” You frown. “I have no idea, but you’ve lingered on my mind from the moment I saw you, dancing sadly. Why was that?”

You purse your lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He huffs. “Think a little bit harder, then.” His firm tone makes you sit up straight, drawing circles on his lap, as a tactic to not pull your strong gaze away. You don’t even notice his hard cock pushing up against the denim.

“I had just received a restraining order against Rosie.” He deflates. “I’ve never even met my newborn sister and they got a fucking restraining order.” You scoff. “Unbelievable.”

Toto was lucky enough to be a part of his kids' lives, but simply picturing the idea of Stephanie or Susie getting a restraining order against him, crushed him. Seeing you so upset about it makes him want to track down your mother and Connor and yell at them for how they’ve treated you. But then he would probably find himself with a similar piece of paper.

“Just when I think they’ve done it all, there always seems to be more.” You laugh, taking another sip of your cold drink. “They’re getting clever.”

“How are you so okay with any of this?”

You narrow your eyes, offended by his question. “You think I am? Toto, I feel like the odd one out. My own mother makes me feel like a culprit for simply wanting to give my baby sister a pair of shoes.” The brunette furrows his brows. You giggle. “I got Rosie a pair of ballet shoes. They’re the cutest thing you’ll ever see.”

His lips quirk upwards. “So, you’ve tried to meet her?” You shake your head, hair whiplashing. I called my mom, brought up the idea. I guess she didn’t like it because next thing I knew, hello, restraining order. It’s sick. “They don’t deserve you.”

Your mouth stays agape as you blink back at him, doe eyes ringing him in. “I’m done trying. I get tired too, y’know?” Edging closer to your seat, you cup your hands against his ear, getting a whiff of his musky, expensive scent. You almost let out a moan. “You have kids, right? Were they cute when they were babies?”

He nods, enthusiastically. “They’re heaven sent.” Your eyes twinkle, and he feels bad for a split second. “Want to see?” He dangles his phone towards you as you beam. Do you mind? “Not at all. As a father, you must know, I like to brag about them.” Rolling your eyes, you swipe through his gallery as you coo.

“Oh my goodness! She looks just like you,” you point out when you spot a blond girl. He grins. That’s Rosa. Flickering your eyes up to him, you gasp. “Rosie.”

“Huh? Similar…that’s funny.”

Your grin widens. “Oh, handsome. Just like his father.” Benedict, he informs you as he blushes at the comment. Swiping once more, you tilt your head. “Very cute—like insanely adorable—but he doesn’t resemble you at all.” He laughs, throwing his head back.

“That’s my youngest, Jack. He looks just like his mother.” He retrieves the phone from you before handing it back. Squinting, you analyze the older blond. “Identical. It’s almost as if you didn’t partake in the game, Mr. Wolff.”

“Oh, trust me, I did.”

Burning up, you rip your gaze away from the device, trying to erase your filthy thoughts. Especially of him and his ex-wife. “She seems nice. Beautiful, too.” He hums, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

“I can tell you have a soft spot for kids.”

“I don’t want to scare you off, but it’s an obsession. I can’t wait to be a mommy.” He swallows a groan at your innocent wish. “I would try to be the best; I just know I would.”

The Austrian rubs his arm. “It’s getting late. Are you still going to be around?”

You yawn. “I think I’m out of here, too.”

“Can I take you home?”

The sexual tension is as thick as thieves. It suffocates you whole as you stare out the window of his Mercedes Benz. His digits taps against the leather wheel, legs barely fitting from how massive he is. Head almost touching the roof of his car. I swear I’ll go back to school, God, but please help me keep the last bits of my dignity.

“How tall are you?” Come again? You gulp. “What’s your height? Curious, that’s all.”

His head rolls back, Adam’s Apple jumping up and down. “Meters or in feet?” You bite down on your tongue. Smart-ass.

“Feet, if it’s okay with you,” you reply sarcastically. He clicks his tongue in amusement.

“6’5.”

“Oh my God.” You smile sheepishly when he frowns. “You’re huge.”

“They normally say that after I have sex with them, but thank you.”

Heat rushes to your cheekbones and the tip of your ears. “You know what I meant.”

“Oh, of course, my mistake.” Pulling into your small driveway, he blinks slowly. “You live here?”

“Yes, don’t drool over it, please,” you growl at his rude tone. His brown eyes spin towards you when you hurriedly grab your things. He grabs the back of your dress quickly and you freeze.

“I didn’t mean it like that, it’s lovely, but I just thought…you said you made good money?”

High heels crunch against small pebbles as you scowl at the fifty-two year old. “I want to go back to Uni and I’m saving up, is that so wrong?” He’s embarrassed now, fixated on the empty passenger seat. You scoff. “Glad we agree. Good night, dickhead.”

Toto lets out a quiet laugh. Your eye twitches at the sound. Marching over to his window, you click your fingers as he rolls it down. This is funny to you? “Not at all. You acting like a child is.”

“I am not acting like a child—”

“Oh, you’re not? Fuck. Again, my mistake.” Grinding your molars, you glare at the brunette. He aims for a soft smile. “I wasn’t making fun of your living arrangements, please, do you really think that low of me?” You look away, wiggling your neat brows. “Come and live with me.”

“Excuse me?”

He climbs out of the car, making you stumble back. “In the meantime, while I’m here, which is not for long. When I leave, you can keep the house.”

You grow light headed from his delirious offer. “Are you asking me to have sex with you in return for a new home?” His jaw drops.

“No, I’m being a good friend. You’re a sweet girl who has dealt with some shitty people and I want to help. Please, accept.” His voice is soft but somehow demanding. As if he already knows you’re going to agree.

Inching closer, you poke his chest. He raises his arms. “Are you real?” Super real, he states, rolling his chocolate eyes. What do you say?

“But my things—”

“I’ll send for them.”

“My downpayment—”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Cool!” you cheer. “Let me just go grab my boyfriend.” His smile falls. Letting out an evil laugh, you clutch onto your stomach. “Ha! You should have seen your face.”

He pinches your forearm and you yelp in surprise. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“Too late,” you yodel as you skip around, back into the black Mercedes. “You’re going to regret it anyways.”

We still have to talk about the preparations required for the unveiling of the W15. Please tell me you haven’t forgotten?

Massaging his temples, Toto grimaces. “I haven't, but also, we don’t have to. It’s all ready to go; George and Lewis just need to show up.”

Elizabeth gasps. “And you.”

“Elizabeth, that was implied.” The assistant hums sheepishly as she continues talking his ear off. He groans. “I’ll be there, don’t worry. You’re doing a great job, keep it up. And please, enjoy your break. You’re going to wish you had when the season starts.”

“Of course. Take care, Toto.”

Once they hang up, he picks up on reading through articles about everything and anything people have been saying about Lewis’ new contract with Ferrari. He was happy for his driver, but it still stung.

“You look tired.”

Chocolate eyes direct over to you where you stand with an oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties. At least he hopes. “Oh, y’know. Catching up on work. Can’t be gone for too long, if not things get out of control.”

Rolling your eyes sarcastically, you slide your way closer to him. “Can I see?”

“See what?”

Squinting at the screen, your eyes glimmer brightly. “I love all things gossip. It’s my guilty pleasure.” Taking a seat on his thick lap, your delicate fingers start playing with the keypad. He grunts, placing both hands behind his head as his jaw ticks. “Charles Leclerc and Lewis Hamilton: The Unstoppable Duo.” You giggle. “He’s cute. Take it back, they both are.”

He lets out a strained chuckle. “You’re evil.”

Tossing your hair over your shoulder, you shrug. It looks so soft, he’s itching to run his fingers through it. “I see why you’re upset about this whole—‘I want Lewis! No, I want Lewis!—thing.” His smile falters. “It’s brutal.”

Hauling you off of his lap, he places you on the chair next to him, hoping you wouldn’t notice his hard print. “Is it?”

“Mhmm,” you chirp, chin propped onto your knees. “You must not mind people talking about you.”

“I do mind. I mind a lot.”

Perplexed, you take in his exhausted state. You never wanted to be famous, and seeing him live like this made you realize you had made the right choice. With slight hesitance, you brush his hair back; he sighs in relief. “It’s good to take breaks in between. That way you don’t have a stroke, old man.” His eyes fly open.

“Just because you’re younger, that doesn't mean I’m about to drop dead, sweetheart.” You squirm, forcing his orbs back closed as he squirms at the clumsy action.

“Wanna feel something nice?”

Toto’s mind wanders to a steamy place once you leap off your chair. His chest heaves up and down from nervousness, hearing your soft steps. Straddling him, you press a soft kiss onto his cheek. Relax, Toto. He nods, grips onto the sides of the wooden chair, knuckles turning ghost white. Digging your hands into his broad shoulder, you begin to massage him at a steady pace. He moans. “How are you so good at this?” Your lips curl.

“I like to think I was a masseuse in my past life, now shhh.”

The brunette’s main focus was between two things; actually letting loose and enjoying the much needed massage and the urge to slide your panties to the side and fuck you senselessly. Both were pretty good ideas in his book.

“Stop grunting,” you whisper in the nook of his ear as he shudders. You bite down on your pouty lip, leaning all the way back, and his hands instinctively reach out to catch you. His brown eyes flutter open as he admires the way you tower over him, even as you lay back, but also the way your fingers push adamantly against the knots in his shoulders. He growls animalistically. “What did I say, Mr. Wolff?”

Cold stare. “What am I supposed to do, then?”

Grabbing his large hands, you place them over your hips, an inviting smile dancing across your pink lips. Squeeze if you have to. He almost comes inside his pants as you lick your lips once more before continuing your actions. And it almost seems like you want to get a rise out of him. To make him groan, moan, grunt, cry out— for you.

Purposefully, you dig your knuckles extra hard before pinching down with your nails. He hisses, grasping your sides hard as he throws his head back, floppy hair hitting the chair. You force a whimper away as you feverishly grind against his crotch. That kind of hurt, Toto.

“Fuck…I’m sorry,” he spills out as he starts a massage of his own. You smirk, repeating the same painful actions, pushing him to do the same as before. This was no longer a peaceful massage, you both knew that. It really hurts, you whine as you place a small hand against his chest, hips moving feverishly against his rough pants. The burning sensation makes you let out a pathetic wail as you rest your head against his shoulder. “A-are you okay?”

Then, you press your forehead against his; lustful gaze challenging him while tears cover up your pretty eyes, making them shimmer even more than before. “Never been better.” With one last rub against his slacks, you’re climaxing as you plow your red nails onto him.

Gasping for air, you return to tracing soft circles against his wide shoulders as he’s left dazed and confused. His cock still hurts from how hard he is, but you don’t seem to notice. Or you ignore it. It doesn't matter, because you’re already jumping off him, lips bruised from how hard you had bit down.

“I thought your hands would hurt a lot less, Toto. You ought to be nice to me.”

Then, you’re skipping away, back into your room like a shy rabbit.

After the encounter in the dining room, you pranced around as if nothing had happened. Maybe nothing had. Toto’s mind was probably playing tricks on him because there was no way you could act so nonchalant, hallowing your lips around the cherry popsicle. Is it red? You stick your salivating tongue towards him.

“That’s a dumb question.”

You frown. “Grump.” A beat. “Can I take the Mercedes on a spin?”

“No.”

The frown grows deeper. “Why not? I swear I won’t scratch it. In fact, I won’t let anything happen.”

“Tempting, but still no.”

“Fine,” you grumble, munching down on the icy treat. He smiles, fingers typing against his computer. Can I ride you? His digits freeze midair as he flickers his brown eyes over at you. Holding the car keys directly to your face, you hum playfully. Yeah. Why not, Peaches? Just take care of me! “Of course, my sweet Benz. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“You are worse than my four year old.” He inhales sharply, rolling up his sleeves as he tries to ease his crazy heartbeat with water. You giggle.

“He said yes.”

“The car talks now?”

You blush. “That’s what I’m sayinggg…”

Analyzing the strand of hair that hits your chin, he folds his hands. “How did you choose Peaches as your stage name?”

You swallow the last piece of your popsicle. “It’s not an interesting story. I have a co-worker who goes by Foxy because she once fucked a fucking grandpa in the woods and he died of a heart attack once he saw a fox. Pretty cool, huh?”

His jaw drops. “You’re crazy.” Shrugging, you kick your legs up on the armrest. He swallows. “But I still want to know. No matter how boring it may seem. I can guarantee you I won’t think the same, pessimist.”

Gingerly squinting your round eyes, your lips for a thin line. “When I was younger, my mom would bring me a peach everyday after work. That way, when she would pick me up from school, she would have it ready. The sweetest ones were during summer, of course, but the ones out of season were still pretty good. Up to this day, I still don’t know how she got her hands on those.” He nods. “Simple as that.”

“I think it’s sweet.” His long legs stretch out to kick your chair away. You squeal. “Makes you seem a tiny bit human.”

“Hey!”

He smirks. “Way better than Foxy. That story is just a murder case waiting to be taken to trial.”

“She did receive a handsome inheritance,” you whistle and his eyes grow wide. You snicker. “I’m kidding.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he lets out a heavy sigh. “Do you enjoy your job? Is this what you want to do for the rest of your life?” You shake your head.

“Wait, let me rephrase. I do enjoy pole dancing. So many outsiders assume we’re sluts, but it’s not like that. It’s an art, whether you believe it or not.” I agree. You grin. “I have fun, but no, I don’t want to do this forever. I want to be an elementary school teacher.”

“Really?”

You wince. “Seems inappropriate, I know, but I think I could be really good at it. I would cut them slices of sweet peaches any chance I get. I’ll even figure out where to buy some more once the season ends.” Scooting closer to the table, you flick your wooden stick onto his lap. He aims for a deadpan expression. “And I just want to make it clear that I do not sleep around. But when I do, it’s because I want to. I have needs too, Toto.”

The fifty-two year old grinds his teeth together. “I’m sure you do.”

Wobbling against the shiny tiles, you gasp before a warm hand saves you. You let out a breath of relief, turning to see Toto shaking his head in disapproval.

“This is why you should leave to work on time. Now you’re just a mess.” Glaring at him, you fix your rollers as you walk out onto the private driveway. You were excluded from the rest of society, but part of you liked that. “How are you even going to get there?”

Spinning around, you almost crash into his chest before you regain your composure, close proximity making you struggle to find the words. “Toto, I never told you this, but…I can fly.”

“I’m being serious.”

You shrug. “I’m going to take the bus. Go back to your precious emails.” As soon as you twiddle your finger, he scoffs.

“I would take you—”

“But you’re busy— it’s fine.”

“Can you stop talking?” Beady eyes narrow up at him as he continues. “But I can’t because I’m drowning with work…You can take the Mercedes.” Your eyes light up.

“Are you fucking with me?”

He wishes he was fucking you, but no. “You better treat it like your own.” You click your tongue. See, you shouldn’t have said that because now my alter ego just grew. He points accusingly and you scrunch your nose. I promise. Handing you his keys, he watches carefully as you pull away, blowing him a kiss.

A few hours pass by before he feels the need to check up on you. He tries texting first. Busy night? Nothing. He tries calling. Nothing. He starts thinking you might've crashed on your way there, so he hurries out the door.

Paying the taxi driver, he marches past the doors as he is handed a piece of paper. He smiles back politely. “Don’t you guys think we’re past this?” The men take a quick glance at each other before nodding. Have a lovely night, Mr. Wolff.

Loud music makes the brunette wince, face twisting uncomfortably. Brown eyes study the club as he tries to decipher where you could possibly be. Maybe you didn’t make it and he was right after all. Jogging over to the bartender, Toto pants. “Peaches? Have you seen her?”

The young man points to the glass box, where you start your set. He sighs in relief as he takes a seat, rolling up his sleeves as he admires. Everyone cheers as you smile erotically. The Austrian can’t help but be one of them too.

Spotting him, you freeze. You narrow your eyes for a split second before you snap out of it, continuing your desirable movements. The music ends and just like that, you’re done. Hollering echoes the room when you brush past by.

“What are you doing here?”

A cheesy grin plays out. “I came to see you.” Weren’t you busy with work? He shakes his head. “Well, yes actually, but I thought you were dead in a ditch when you didn’t reply to my message or answer any of my calls.”

“Why could that be? Oh. Maybe because I’m working,” you hiss. “Listen, if you’re here as a client— fine. But if you’re here as Toto— leave.”

He narrows his eyes sharply and your breath hitches. “It’s Mr. Wolff, darling.”

You purse your lips. “Very well, Mr. Wolff.” Strutting away, you make sure you sway your hips. The brunette groans, falling back against his chair.

The night flies by as usual, until they book you. “Mr. Straforx, sitting in the back booth,” Ro informs you as you suck on your bottom lip, listening attentively. “Interested?”

“Very.”

“Actually, I am too.”

The rich accent makes your stomach flip as you muster up a stern glare. Toto’s lips form a firm line as he stands as tall as a sequoia. Fuming, you shake your head, perfectly done hair slapping your face. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Wolff, but I already agreed to somebody else. But rest assured, if I have time left, then I will get to you.”

“Is money the issue here?”

Your jaw ticks, temples grinding together harshly. “You think that’s all I care about?”

He shrugs. “I could lie and say no, but who am I kidding? We all care about money.”

Flustered, you scoot closer to Ro, who stands amused with the entire interaction. “Ro, tell Mr. Straforx that I’ll be there in a minute, and make sure to apologize on my behalf.” The older man nods, tipping his head towards the Austrian as he strolls away. “What are you trying to do, Toto?”

His lips flip to a teasing smile. “Mr. Wolff.”

“Oh, don’t you dare pull that card on me.” Your face pinches up. “This is an important client, I can’t say no.”

“How much do you want in order for you to come with me instead of him?” Your berry lips separate. “Name a price. I’m a self-made billionaire, sweetheart—a couple of millions are nothing to me.”

“I could never ask for you to do that,” you whisper, timidly fiddling with your necklace. “Deal with it. You’re not my boyfriend.”

His nose flares at the cruel reminder. “I never claimed to be. I’m a client.” Pause. “Two million.”

You gasp. “Are you insane?”

“You’re right, that’s childsplay. How about five?” When you still don’t say anything, he grins devilishly as he places a large hand on the lower part of your back. “Ro! Yeah, tell Me. Straforx that she’s coming with me. I’ll give you a bonus, don’t worry.” Your friend nodded happily. Press the button if you need anything.

You roll your eyes, sourly. “Thank you, Ro. Thank you so much.” Pushing you into the private room, you yelp. “Let go of me!”

The brunette scoffs. “Calm down, I was barely even touching you.”

Shivering, you focus your attention on the luxurious drinking options. Half of these were probably worth what you make in a year, but the rich fed off of that. The brown eyed man hums. “Is that something you’re interested in?” You quirk a brow. A drink? He shakes his head. “Do you want me to touch you?”

You blink up at him swiftly, rubbing your thighs together. “You’re reading into it. I don’t.” Digging his large hands into his pockets, he clicks his tongue. Okay. Then ask me to leave. We can pretend none of this ever happened. A sad whine bubbles up your throat as you fear that he might actually walk out if you even dared to imply. “Just don’t be a jerk.”

A threatening chuckles booms past his lips as he serves himself a drink you can’t even pronounce. He takes a slow sip before he raises his glass up towards you. “You’re getting to me a bit more than I’d like to admit. I mean, you must know that, right?” Demented, you play with your dress.

Tonight, you were cosplaying a wide-eyed devil. There was nothing threatening about your appearance, not if you didn’t count your crimson red lips. Plump, round, tempting. Your black gartner drives him to complete insanity as you bite down on your bottom lip, nervously. Your red dress is too short for his liking, but only because others get to enjoy the sight of your heavenly legs. The ones he was drooling over to nuzzle his face in between. Then your horns tussle your hair messily as you pant. He hasn’t even touched you and you were already dripping.

“That’s not true, Mr. Wolff.” The grin widens..

“You can call me Toto when we’re alone, sweetheart.” You shiver, lowering your gaze. No, you were right. It has to stay professional in this setting. The brunette rolls his tongue before squinting his eyes at you, fine lines forming. The sight alone makes you melt. “You should have thought about that before you came all over my thigh.”

Shocked at his vulgar words, you bat your eyes, flustered by the reminder. You had done that. But you had the upper hand that day and that was long gone as he towered over you. Inching closer, he drops down to his knees, him still appearing taller even with the action. You squirm.

“You were not playing fair that day. How come you only got to finish, and I didn’t?” You were hurting me, you cry out like a child as he scoffs at your weak attempt. Tugging you closer to him by your smooth legs, he droops them over his wide shoulders. Oh God. Turning his head to the side, he presses warm kisses. Your skin burns with every single one. “You know that’s not true.” Then, he’s hiking your tiny dress up.

Toto is hit with instant lust as he spots the wet patch of arousal. You whine, legs shutting around him. Do something—anything—but please, touch me. The corner of his lips lift up as he bites onto your red undergarment, pulling it down. Oh, you sigh at the intimate vision. Once you’re on full display, he groans. Your pussy glistens back at him, begging to be stretched out. “You’re…”

Humming, you place your soft palm against his cheek. “Toto…”

Like a starved man, he dives in, lips sucking on your clit as you fly forward, eyes screwed shut. He eats you out as if this was his true calling in life, the way he pinches your hips when you rock yourself against his face. He’s enjoying every second, every drop, as you find pleasure with the way his tongue swirls inside of you, finding new places you didn't know existed. The brunette nips quickly as you gasp, then he strikes his tongue. Warm sensation settles inside of your stomach. T-toto, holy fuck, oh my God.

You can feel the way he grins against your pussy as he continues his handy work. Slurping your juices, his dark eyes find yours as you pant, light sweat fanning your face. His large hand presses your dress down, further adding to the friction as your tummy is pushed down as well. Wailing, you writher an embarrassing amount that would normally have you pouring out apologies if it weren’t for his strong gaze.

“Taste so sweet,” he chants, kitten licks taking place. Your head rolls back against the couch, hand clutching onto his hair as he grunts. “Open your eyes for me, schatzi.” But you’re too busy trying to make this moment last, ignoring his command. Pressing his nose against your small hole, you squeal and look down. A coy expression takes over as he pulls away and rubs his fingers against your puffy clit.

“You s-so fucking good at this,” you pant, chest rises up and down, horns sliding down a bit before he extends his long arm, pushing it back. Your chest tightens. “I know what you’re going to do…Go easy, please.”

Taunting circles edge you further as he bites the squishy part of his cheek. “What am I going to do?”

“You’re going to try and make your fingers fit.”

Your words come out menacing as you scrunch your eyebrows together, a worried look clear to the Austrian. Kissing the inside of your thigh, he nods. “You’re an extremely smart girl.” Another kiss. “I’ll go slow. You won’t even feel any discomfort, just pleasure.”

“Wait!”

Panic strikes his face as you disconnect his left hand from your breast. Bringing his hand up, you inspect the wedding band. Why are you still wearing this? He groans. “Publicity. No one knows yet. They won’t know for a while, so I can’t take it off until then.” You hum, then slide his ring finger into your mouth. You can taste yourself, long digits immediately hitting the back of your throat as you gag. “What are you—”

Then he feels it. Your soft tongue and the way it lubricated the steel before you gently bit down and started pulling his hand back. His cock grows more pained from how hard he’s become. With a pop you smile, eyes crinkling as you show off the metal. “Better.”

“You’re…” I know, you seductively whisper as you return his hand to where it laid. Is that not what you like about me? The man practically growls as he slams two thick fingers inside of you. Your body jolts as you cry out. So good, Toto. His cock twitches at you ragged praises. His fingers barely even fit inside your tiny hole, but it sure as hell reaches your g-spot. White splotches burn your eyes as you dig your nails onto the side of his thick neck.

“Just like that. Oh, Toto.” He adds a third finger, and you hiss at the burning sensation. “That’s too much! Fuck.” He makes up for it, drawing figure 8’s between your velvety walls as you open up to him. Your legs start to slip down his shoulders as he spits. Keep them in place. You whimper, but obey, nonetheless.

The pad of his fingers continue assaulting your sweet spot, curling at a perfect angle. Your moans grow louder. Chocolate eyes flicker up to face your fucked up state. “Close?” You nod, vigorously. A warm strip teases your slippery lips. “Good. You’re doing so good, Peaches.”

Your hips buck suddenly as you suffocate him with your body, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. Picking up on your candy nectar, he groans like a madman, greedy tongue swiping to lick every last drop. Shuddering at the feeling, you push his head away from in between your legs and grab him by the collar. For a second, he thinks you might kiss him, but when you don’t he realizes he’s disappointed. Instead, you plant a kiss on his cheek, hot breaths wrapping around his skin.

“Guess that makes us even, Mr. Wolff.”

“And then I rode a pony! I begged mama to let me get on a horse instead, but I just got a good scolding. But you would’ve let me, right papa?” Toto theatrically grins at Jack.

“Don’t tell her, but yes. I would have let you because you're a big boy now, aren't you?” The four year old nods, blond hair covering his eyes as he brushes it away with powdered hands from his donut. I miss you. When are you coming back?

Pressure tugs at the Austrians chest as he sighs. Jack was too young—he wouldn’t understand that he and Susie would no longer be living together. It was a mutual decision to tell him when the time was right, but it still killed him to lie to his son. Especially when he beams back with bright eyes. Toto winces. “Soon.” A pin drops. “Have you eaten your vegetables for the day?” Jack sprints away.

A soft laugh is heard from the other side of the screen as Susie comes to view. “He has not, by the way. Hi, Toto.” The brunette waves. “Are you actually busy with work or are you trying to forget about all your fatherly duties?”

“Is it that obvious?”

The blond chuckles. “Whatever it is, it’s great that you’ve taken time to yourself. Just don’t take too long.” Signing off, the fifty-two year old is left staring at his own reflection.

“He’s cuter than the pictures.” Toto flinches with surprise. Standing in a summer dress, you lick your lollipop. “His voice is super squeaky; it’s adorable.”

“Do you need something?”

His question may seem rude, but it’s not meant to come off as so. His voice is filled with genuine concern as he furrows his brows. You shake your head. “I’m bored, that's all.”

The brunette scoffs. “And by all means, you came to bother me.” A giggle dances out of you as you brush your hair back. Your sweet scent reaches him, even though you stand far enough away to make a run for the hills. “But I do have time. What do you have in mind?”

“I want to talk to my mom.” Your words shock him but he listens attentively, watching you as you sit on top of the table, legs swinging with rigidness. “I want to try and fix things.” He frowns. But you’ve done nothing wrong. You shift in an uncomfortable manner. “Well…”

“What did you do?”

“Remember how I got a restraining order, but I’ve never stepped close to Rosie?” He nods. You nibble on your thumb. “I s-sort of lied.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’ve met her, kind of…” You pout, hazed expression carving out through your doll features. “But I can explain.”

He sighs. “Please do.”

Your cheeks flush. “A few weeks before I met you, Connor called me. And I picked up. He told me he was willing to let me meet my sister, but only if I let him borrow fifty grand. To be honest, I don’t care if I never get my money back— I just wanted to be able to recognize Rosie’s face. Of course I said yes.” The Austrian listens carefully, loopy eyes dedicated to you. “I bought her ballet shoes, the one’s I told you about.”

“She was perfect. She giggled like the most angelic thing and her eyes crinkled in a way that made me love her instantly. I asked why Connor needed the money and if they were in trouble, but he only ignored me. Then he tried to kiss me.”

“He what?”

A timid smile plays out. “It’s okay, he does that sometimes, but I’m always able to push him off because most of the time he’s drunk out of his mind. I don’t normally care, but he had Rosie… What if because of some stupid mistake he put her in danger? I gave Rosie her gift and paid an Uber to take them back home.”

“My mom found out about the meet-up and marched right to my work. Don’t ask me how she got in. She yelled at me with such anger that I almost wanted to cry. She said I wanted to steal both Rosie and Connor from her. I promised that wasn’t true, but she didn’t care. Then I got my restraining order.”

The brunette’s words get stuck as he gapes at you. Clearing his throat, he drums his fingers against the table. “You should have told me the truth,” he begins. Hurt slashes your face—you thought he would understand. He offers a friendly smile. “But still…you’ve done nothing wrong.” A beat. “I can help you. Well, my lawyers can.”

Tears form inside your jello eyes. “Are you serious?”

He nods. “Your sister can’t grow up in a household that doesn’t want her, but keeps her just to twist the knife. Connor will pay for what he’s done to you.” Leaping off the table, you cross your arms. No. You can’t bring that up. He sends a sharp glare. “What he did was wrong, can’t you see?” Your bottom lip wobbles. She’s going to hate me even more. Tenderly, he sighs as he strolls over, cupping your face. “She shouldn’t, but if she does, at least you’ll be free from him. Has he only tried to kiss you?”

Closing your eyes, you release a wet breath. “He’s touched me a couple of times.” The Austrains eyes darken. Pushing his hands down, you quickly take a step back. “But by then I was due to move out, so it doesn’t really matter!”

“It matters a little,” he growls. “None of this is normal.” You flinch at his strong tone. “Sweetheart, tell me one thing; what would you do if God forbid, he did the same thing to Rosie?”

You gasp. “I would murder him.”

“So, you agree that we have to do something about this?” Hesitantly, you nod. “I’ll reach out to my attorney as soon as possible. I promise you that all of this will get taken care of.” Muscular arms drape over your shoulders as he hugs you. Bewildered, you blink as you stiffen. “You don’t hug much?”

“Nope.”

He booms with laughter, chest vibrating as you smile at the feeling. Everything about this feels right, so then why does that scare you?

He vows to be back as soon as he’s done with the car reveal. I don’t care, you reply as you pop a mint into your mouth, getting ready for work.

You’re going to miss me, watch.

And damn him, the fucker was right—you did. A part of you wishes he would rush past the doors, yapping about he thought you were dead and didn’t ask for permission to take the Benz. But he was across the world, smiling wide at media duties as you watched behind a tiny screen. It’s good that he’s taking time to see Jack, too.

“Why are you sighing so sad?” Roxy asks, fixing her combat boots. “Not getting any clients? Though I doubt it. They love you.”

You let out a forced laugh. “I’m not sad—tired.”

The red head furrows her brows suspiciously before hugging you. Your arms dangle lazily as you scrunch your nose. She giggles. “Does this have to do with Mr. Toto Wolff? He’s hot—crazy hot.” She untangles herself from you. “He must be the devil himself.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh yeah,” she cheers happily. “But also, you’re totally in love.” Your stomach drops. No, I am not. Roxy rolls her eyes. “You’re a good liar, but you’re not that good. I’ve noticed the way you look at him. Like you want to eat him alive as you kiss him until your lips snap.”

You wince at the image. “You have a way with words…”

She beams, thin brows raising up. “I’ve also noticed that you haven’t gone into the private room since he walked in through those doors. So what, you’re just going to keep pretending?”

“You’re such a creep!” you squeal, delicate hand slapping her thigh. She squeals lightheartedly. You’re missing out on a shit ton of money. We’re talking dough. And yet you don't bat an eye because you don’t want anyone but him. Did I nail it?

You pinch your fingers together as you huff. “You’re crazy. Crazy. There is no way I could be in lo—” Hey! The ringing sound makes your blood run cold as you fear to turn around. Look at me. Foxy stares back at you with anxious eyes. Do you know her? Looking down onto your lap, you nod. “That’s my mother.”

“Oh shit.”

A dry hand yanks you by the arm as she spins you around. “I’m talking to you. Why won’t you look at me?”

You flinch. “I’m working, you can’t be doing this—”

“I don’t give two shits if you’re working or not, if I say we need to talk, then we need to talk.” Ro shakes his head, distressed as he apologizes. I’m so sorry, Peaches. She said she was your mom and I…I didn't know what to do. You smile back softly.

“Don’t worry. Can you get me a room?”

As soon as your mother enters the dark area, she whistles. “Fancy, but really? Bending over for any man willing to pay you a couple cents? That’s disgusting.”

Your cheeks burn up as you fight back tears. “What do you want? Is Rosie okay?” Panic rushes through your veins as you grab her by the shoulders, shaking her violently. She’s so thin, you think you might break her. “Is she okay, I said?”

“She’s fine,” she yawns. “So…this is what you’re up to? It always…catches me by surprise. Not really.”

“I had no choice,” you whisper meekly. “You gave me no choice.”

The older woman smirks. “Don’t you dare blame me. No one makes you do anything— this was your decision.”

You let out a tired sigh. “Just tell me what you want…”

Her eye twitches, as if she remembers why she was so angry to begin with. “I got your complaint; you’re suing me for being a bad mother and Connor for…assaulting you? Do you realize how stupid that sounds?”

“I’m not lying—”

“Really?”

“Why would I lie?” you yell back, acid sliding down your cheeks. “I would never make up such a thing. He assaulted me countless times as you never did a single thing.”

“I never saw anything.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “You walked in on it! You called me a slut! I was seventeen for fuck sakes. But no—you blamed me for sleeping with your husband instead.” You take a good look at her; dark undereyes, frail figure, needles imprints everywhere. “You can’t keep doing this. You need to think about Rosie—”

“Rosie, Rosie, Rosie—I could not care any less about her! She just bugs with all her crying. It’s exhausting.”

“She’s just a baby.” Grabbing her hands, you soften your gaze. “If you don’t want her, fine, let me raise her…I swear I can do it.”

Your mother perks up. “You would do that?” Yes. Of course I would, you respond instantly. You’ll never hear about us ever again. Her thin hand cradles your cheek warmly, and for a moment, you let yourself lean against it. Then she pulls away and strikes you harshly, causing you to stumble back. “Why would I ever please you like that?”

Bring your hand up to your stinging flesh, you sob. “I-I…what?”

“Here’s what you’re going to do; you're going to drop the charges against me and Connor.”

“No.”

She clicks her tongue. “Are you sure?”

Rising up with shaky legs, you keep a firm face even though it begs to howl in pain. “I said no. You’re not going to hand her over willingly, okay…Then I’m taking you to court.”

“Like hell you aren’t.” Tugging your arm, she presses her face insanely close to yours. You wince at the smell of intoxication; you can’t even tell what kind. “I will fucking kill you, do you hear me?”

You let out a wet laugh, ripping your arm away from her tight grip. “I don’t care. I don’t care anymore, but I am saving my sister from you two—no matter what.” Her nostrils flare as she heaves. You let out a sad whimper. “When did you become so inhuman? You used to be kind, beautiful, ha—”

“Heartbreak does that to a person,” she simply states before walking out, leaving you to yourself as you finally come crashing down.

He didn’t expect for there to be a racket, but the house felt awfully quiet. He knows you weren't at work—he had checked. He thought maybe you could have been out with friends, so he sighs before resting on the couch. He sits there for an hour or so before heading upstairs to take a shower.

As soon as he enters the bedroom, he finds you covered with thick blankets as you cry. Alarmed, he rushed to your side of the bed. Oh my God, you shriek at the anonymous person before squirting. “When did you get here?”

“That doesn’t matter—what’s wrong?”

You hope brushing your tears away would stop him from asking questions. “What makes you think something is wrong?”

A pinched up expression maps out. Your chin forms a peach seed as you let out a weak sob and stand on the bed, making you the same height as him, throwing your arms around his neck. He’s stunned, but snaps out of it as he hugs you back, calloused fingers playing with your soft hair. “What’s wrong?”

“My mom visited me at work. She said some nasty things, but that doesn’t matter to me, what does is that she won’t let me adopt Rosie,” you muffle against his neck, salty tears wetting his collared shirt. “She’d rather raise her out of spite. She’s not made for this, she's malicious.”

“What else did she say?”

You pause, sniffling before pulling back with a reindeer nose. “That’s it.”

The Austrian lowered his gaze with subtle threat. “No, tell me everything she told you.”

“I swear that’s all.”

His brown eyes scan your face, but you remain still, only shaky breaths being released. He clenches his jaw. “Where does she live?” Your face drops. Why do you want to know? “Where does she live?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Stop being so stubborn and let yourself be helped—”

“I don’t need your help anymore, Toto!” You purse your lips, trembling hands brushing your hair back. Anger rushes over him as he inspects the purple bruise.

“Who did this to you?”

Sitting back down on the bed, your nose twitches. “I’m moving out.”

“Who fucking did this to you?” His voice is lethal. Thank you for trying to fix things, but I’m sure I can do it myself from now on. “What you don’t seem to understand is that you don’t have to. It was your mother, correct?” Forlorn, you agree with your silence. “What have they done to you?” he whispers, pain lacing his raw voice.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into all of this,” you whisper, salty tears sliding down. “I’m going to kill your image—they’re going to hate you because of me.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” the brunette ricochets back. “All I care about is that you’re okay. That you find the happiness you deserve to have.”

Grimacing, you sniffle, shaking your head. “I’m starting to think that doesn’t exist. Or at least I’m so unlucky that I won’t get a piece,” you joke. “The closest thing I’ve felt to that is when I met you.” His heart melts as he stares back, adoringly. “You’ve helped me in so many ways, Toto. Thank you for that.”

“But—”

“I know.” Rising up on the fluffy bed, you tower over him a bit, pressing kisses on his temples, cheeks, nose, neck. “You’re the only man who's ever made me feel something real. I can’t explain it, but I hope it makes sense.”

He gulps. “It does. You want to know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve made me feel the exact same way from the moment you stepped into my life.” He closes the gap between you two as you stumble back against the mattress, but his large hands prevent you from getting away. “You’re not perfect—you’re flawed. You don’t have your life together—but you’re trying to. You’re not the tough girl you make yourself out to be—but that’s because you feel the need to build up walls to protect yourself from others.” Your stomach churns with every word he speaks. “And somehow…you have me wrapped around your finger.”

It happens so quickly, the way he presses his lips against yours. He can taste the saltiness but doesn’t dare to pull away. Like an animal, you move your mouth against his, whimpers flowing to his ears like symphonies. Toto knows why you never made the first move; you were scared to admit your feelings. But he was too.

Almost as if you read his mind, you run your fingers against his scalp as he breathes out, against your open mouth. “You won’t do the same, right Toto?”

“What, sweetheart?”

Gloomy eyes reflect against his own. “Leave?”

“Unless you ask me to, then no.” He pecks your temple. “I can’t even imagine living without you anymore.”

That’s all it takes as you jump on him, silky legs wrapping around his torso like a piece of ribbon. He grunts loudly when you bite down on his bottom lip before letting go. “God, Toto, you’re—” As soon as he sucks on your throat, your sentence dies. Writhing against him, you try pushing him off as he chuckles, then he sets you down against the white sheets.

Immediately, you crawl back to the edge of the bed to where he still stands. Frisky hands tremble as you aim for his belt. Such a pretty girl, he thinks as you slip it off. You don’t have to do this. “I owe you, remember?” Then eager hands push his pants down, along with his boxers.

You knew he would be big, but that was an understatement. Toto was huge. Being 6’5 should have been a warning itself, but still. Drooling over his cock, you lick your lips, doe eyes fixating back to him. “I might not be able to take it all in my mouth,” you sheepishly state, red faced. The fifty-two year old has probably had a much better encounter; you were just making a fool out of yourself. Running his thumb against your cheekbone, the corners of his lips fly up.

“I’ll walk you through it.”

Humming, you delicately wrap your hand around his length. Even just feeling it makes the heat in your belly grow. He clenches his jaw. Jerking him off, you wrap your lips around the pink tip. The Austrian releases a dirty groan, hips bucking as you smile around him. Pulling back, you stare up expecting the next step. Start off how you normally would.

Pouty lips welcome him down your throat as you whine, the vibrations sending him into an orbit. When your palm slithers to what you can’t reach, he tsks. “You haven’t even tried.” Soft brows pinch together as if to say; Probably because I know I can’t either way. His nostrils flare. “Relax your jaw.”

Doing as you’re told, you gag as you squeeze your eyes shut and curl your toes. Your back arches, ass flying up as you struggle. A large hand reaches out to smack it. Yelping, you ease your mouth, thick member sliding down furthermore than you could have even imagined. There you go.

Swallowing around him, you bob your head at a steady pace, reliving the steps, too scared to mess up. The Austrian throws his head back, sharp jaw in clear display as he pants. “Just like t-that, fuck. You’re doing so…shit.” While he’s enjoying himself, tears burst out as you clench your eyes, lashes becoming darker. The feeling is definitely getting him off, but he wanted to make things easier for you.

Brushing your untamed hair back, he traces the bridge of your nose. Your orbs remain closed, and he finds himself missing them. “Breathe through your nose.” Ragged breaths fly out as your fingers dig against his thighs. He hisses. But gradually, it gets better. Glossy eyes stare up at him, lips stretch around his cock as you continue your filthy movements.

As if to prove yourself to him, you deepthroat him even more as his head rolls back, floppy hair following along. Soft fingers brush against his legs as he shudders, face twisted with pleasure. Pulling away, you swirl your wet lips against his tip, feeding off of his precum before forcing yourself back down.

Thick ropes of cum slide down your throat as you moan loudly. The brunette grunts, shaky breaths flying past his lips. With a teasing pop, you kneel up as you open wide. He moans at the sight of his release swimming inside your sinister mouth, then you swallow. Even though your throat is extremely sore, you still beam at him.

“Where have you been all my life?.” Climbing over you, he lays you flat, slipping your dress off. He’s stunned to find out you’re completely naked. Cherry red feathers on your cheeks. “Are you sure you didn’t know I was going to be back?”

Your lips curl. “No idea.”

He wraps his mouth against your bud as you whimper, hand massaging his head as he repeats his actions to the other. You could definitely fall asleep to this. When you open your eyes, you’re impressed to find out he’s completely stripped down, toned body exposed. The sight makes you grow excited, nervous.

“Are you on birth control?”

You curse softly. “I’m not. Crap.” Disappointed, you’re expecting him to climb off, but he doesn’t. Instead, he let out a raw chuckle. “I t-told you I don’t fuck men on the regular—”

“I don’t need the reminder,” he grunts. His brown eyes soften. “What’s your wish in life?”

Confusion paints your face. “To have you?”

“Cute.” Flustered, you focus on his contracting abs. Foaming at the mouth, you try to picture rubbing your core against them. “The other one,” he demands.

“Oh…” No. He can’t possibly mean… Your heart stops beating. “To be a mom.”

“There it is.”

Briskly, he pushes into you as you wince in pain. I know, I know, he coos. But it’s better this way. It won’t feel so bad in a few minutes. Crying against his humid chest, your jaw hangs open. “It really hurts, Toto. Oh…it burns.” Hot tears reestablish themselves inside your orbs. “You’re too big.”

“Breath, sweetheart, breath.” His voice calms you down as your mewls lessen. “See?” You hum. “I’m going to move, alright?”

“O-okay,” you respond, dizzy. The feeling returns—less painful—but returns, nonetheless. Panic expands through your chest as you begin to think he might split you in half. His cock was just so thick and veiny. But it felt delicious between your velvety walls. “Fuck, baby,” you pant.

“I knew you could do it.” A warm peck lingers on your shoulder. “You feel so tight, schatz. So warm.” He sighs in relief as your tiny cunt compresses against his length, easing the pain from being as hard as a rock. Worse. Strong arms pick your legs up over his bare shoulders, making him travel deeper.

“Toto, Toto, Toto—”

Eyes entertained against your slippery hole, he raises his brows. Yeah, baby? Getting a hold of his hand, you bring it over your stomach. His jaw clenches. “I can feel you.” Writhing in ecstasy, you toss your head to the side, small whines echoing between the vaporized walls. Pouding into you at a faster pace, he growls, bite marks being left behind on your legs. You hiss, clamping your eyes even harder, which makes you clench around his cock even more.

“Do that again,” he begs. “Do it—” You oblige, attention set on how he moans feverishly, hands adding pressure to your legs. For sure his imprints would be left behind. Taking advantage of the little power you have, you untangle yourself, greedily climbing onto his thick lap.

“Looking good, Mr. Wolff.”

He looked more than good—he looked eternal. The way his chest heaves, his soft pants, sweaty hair framing his handsome face, dark eyes praising you as if you were Athena herself. A confession finds into your brain as you halt. Beads of sweat cover his long nose as he appears concerned by the sudden break. Is everything okay? Rubbing your eyes as if you just had the worst nightmare, you blink hastily.

Roxy couldn't have been right—she never was. Except, she is this time. It's as if a warm glow towers over him, your chest feels awfully vacant, but you’re not scared because you know your heart has found its home in the palm of his hand. You laugh in amusement as you touch his face all over. He smiles, eyes crinkling. “What’s so funny?”

“I love you, Toto Wolff.”

A lump forms inside his throat as he tilts his head. “You do?”

You shrug sheepishly. “I do.” Kissing his lips, you sigh with content. “I love you, I love you, I love you; I adore you.” He can hear the clock ticking as he stares back with his lips slightly parted. “You don’t have to feel the same, you dont have to say it back—I don’t care, but I can’t keep living a life of regret…”

“I love you, too.” Cartoon eyes blink back at him as he chuckles. “Do you believe me?”

“Uh…” Your lips stretch out. “Yes.”

Shifting on top of the Austrian, you make sure to slip him back inside as you moan in unison. Riding someone has never felt so addicting. Gasping at the raw feeling, you dig your nails onto his shoulders. When you look down at him, you are pleased to find him struggling to catch his breath. His fingers pinch your hips harshly as you bounce harder and faster, as if he would regret his words and leave you. “So big.” You drool, hair flourishing around you. “Stretching me out so good, Mr. Wolff.” He growls at you captivating words. “Making it so easy to ride you, huh? Cock brushing against the perfect sp—oh my God.”

Your face twists up with pleasure when the tip of his cock brushes against the mushy part that makes you almost black out. Movements slow down but it’s not long before he lifts you up and slamming you back down. “Toto!” you squeal, flimsy arms reaching out to balance yourself on his wide shoulders. Everytime he hauls you up and you look back at him, he represents like a giant. Your eyes roll back, mouth hanging wide open. “I-I’m close-e-e.”

“Me too,” he grunts. Like a devilicious man on a mission, he slaps your face carefully, forcing you to connect your glossy orbs with his loopy ones. “Gonna let me cum inside? Carry my baby, just like you’ve always wanted?”

“Yes,” you chant. “Yes—all of it—yes.” Cradling his cheek against your sweaty palm, you smile. “Cum inside of me, Wolff.”

With one final push, you both release loud moans, a strong wave of orgasms crashing violently against one another. Huffing, he makes a ponytail with your messy hair before letting go. “You think it worked?” You giggle.

“We’ll have to wait and see.” Leaning towards him, you kiss him gingerly. His mind grows blurry with how meaningful you make it seem. I’m yours—my heart is all yours—but please don’t break it, it seems to tell him as his enormous hands squish you closer to him, as if that were possible.

“I know of a few ways we can make sure.”

Though you had mutually admitted your feelings to one another, there still didn’t appear to be a proper label to it all. Time was slipping, he would soon have no other choice but to leave and face all his responsibilities.

But you can come back with me, he would desperately bring up as he fucked you against the wall. Tits would be bouncing at a hasty speed as you look back with your mouth in an O. I want you to. You won’t ever have to worry about anything, I promise. You can go back to Uni. You’ll get custody over Rosie, and Jack will be over the moon. We could have a family of our own, just you and I, Peaches. Huh? How does that sound, baby?

It sounded perfect; like a dream. You could taste it already. Early morning calls that you wouldn’t mind because he’d be laying down next to you. Quiet time as you jot down notes and he stresses over the next big decision for the team. And at the end, you would be glad you made the choice to choose him. Just like he chose you.

With shaky hands, you brush his messy hair back as he dotes on your bambi eyes. The way they glimmered extra bright that night; like starlight. The brunette’s face would soften up when you trace his nose, the curve of pink lips, his lines. Everything about him was breathtakingly dominant.

You’d be a fool to deny.

So, you accept.

If Toto were to be told that he had died and ascended to heaven; he wouldn’t second guess the possibility. Because being with you felt exactly like that. Every passing second only adds to the amount of love he bottles up for you. It would overflow and he’d be okay; bring out the next. Oh, that one’s full, too? Okay, next.

All of it made sense. You matched perfectly in sync with him like a cozy glove and he wouldn’t have it any other way. There’d be whispers from others, but he doesn’t care. He’d deal with just about anything for you.

“You’re leaving so soon.” A click. “Have you thought about quitting?”

He can see you grow as stiff as a tree. Your back faces him, but he can still spot your reflection. Of course you looked absolutely lovely, but there was something different about…God. He doesn’t even know what to call it.

“I’m not quitting.”

The Austrians' lips form a thin line; shoes clicking against the floor even more. A boom of lighting fills the room as you flinch. He smiles slowly. “Right—not yet, at least. Not until you move to Monaco.”

More heavy silence. “Sure.”

Now he’s worried. Strolling closer to you, he brushes his warm hand against your shoulder, kissing your exposed skin. “What is it?”

His heart stops when he notices you blinking back tears; bloodshot eyes tracing his tall figure. His first assumption is the most obvious; your mother and Connor. They had probably done something, said something, and now they’ve got you—

“I’m taking the car. See you later.”

He blinks. The cold demeanor was something unusual on your behalf, but leaving without a goodbye kiss was alarming. Toto tries to suppress his feelings with a bottle of scotch, but nothing seems to work. He has to see you.

Gathering his wallet and house keys, he strides out the door before he spots his laptop wide open. As soon as he returned, he would have to answer endless emails, but for now, that wasn’t his priority. Inching closer, he reaches down to slap it shut when his pulse runs cold.

We should think about Jack.

He’s too young to understand anything of what’s going on, Suse.

Let’s just try one last time. I swear I’ll change.

I love you.

He knew instantly; you had read the messages. He had sent them, there's no doubt, but that was so long ago. The date was right there; all before he met you. Before opening up to you. But he doubts you spared enough time to spot the tiny detail. You saw his texts and that’s all; the rest was blocked.

Toto’s palms get sweaty, ears burning red, and heart racing faster than a fucking F1 car. How must you feel? You had made him promise that he wouldn’t hurt you and now this? The confusion was completely explainable, but he had to get to you fast.

It’s as if he owns the place, marching fiercely past the open doors that swing once they spot the Austrian. NDA’s were rather foolish when it comes to him now because he just held that much power. That much respect. But he can’t think of why something feels off. You were hurt, and he felt awful, but no…there’s something else. As if there were an actual wolf lurking deep in the woods; ready to pounce. The hair in the back of his neck stands up, goosebumps forming, and eyes flickering all over the rich club, hoping to find you.

“Hey,” he pants when he spots the familiar redhead. Foxy lives up to her name because her laser glare has him scared for his life. She doesn’t even spare him a second glance before strutting away, a row of men following. The Austrian pushes past them all, pleading just like any other, but for a completely different reason. “Have you seen, Peaches?”

“Yes.”

“Great! Where is she?”

“Around.”

The dancer beams at the group of businessmen who relax against their seat, hunting down without shame. They wore wedding bands, but who cared, right? Toto’s large hand grasps her wrist, tugging her away as she gasps, causing a commotion. He doesn’t care, he just has to find you.

Brown eyes glimmer threateningly but also soft because they’re both aware he needs her, for she only knows where to find you. “Listen, I know she told you what happened, but it was all some misunderstanding! The messages..they were sent to my ex-wife a long time ago. Before any of this, I swear…you have to believe me.”

Foxy narrows her thin brows, digging a sharp nail against his toned chest. “No, you listen—Peaches is one of the sweetest girls I have ever met; she's my other half, so when you hurt her…” A beat. “That’s it. She doesn’t forgive.”

His shoulders drop like an avalanche. “B-but it was a...you don’t mean that.”

The redhead struts away, long legs prancing like a vixen. “Believe me; don’t believe me—I don’t care. Just leave her alone.”

But he can’t do that anymore, he's in too deep. No matter how many times Foxy cursed him to leave, he just wouldn't. He would explain. Even if it were that last thing he did. All's fair after that.

“Mr. Wolff?” A red drink is extended out towards him kindly, to which he shakes his head with a forced smile. If you can even call it that. He’s sure he looks awful, dressed in all black, but it perfectly represented him for who he is and how he was feeling. It’s almost as if he were ready to show up to a funeral.

As time ticks at a snail's pace, he grows more nauseous. There’d be a moment where you see him and he doesn’t know how you would react. Fuck—he doesn’t know how he would, either. To some it may be embarrassing to weep in front of a group of worldly men, but if you looked at him a certain way where he knew it was over? He’d be the first, and without hesitation or shame.

He’s come to recognize your set as fast as a racing strategy. The stage would light up a soft yellow; swallow the room like the early sun. The piano keys would start off slow, taunting, and almost sinister—Yayo. And of course, you’d prance around like a broken angel, wings brushing your hair like his long fingers would.

But this is strange.

He’s too busy analyzing the colorful club when the lights burn black, only the glass box raining a bright red. He doesn’t even recognize it’s you.

The intro isn’t the notorious piano lullabies, but rather scratchy violins. Million Dollar Man slithers across the crowded room like a venomous snake, waiting to strike anyone who doesn’t lay their attention on them.

And this time, you’re no angel, you’re no devil. You’re both. It’s confusing and alarming, but also beautiful and breathtaking. While your dress is cotton white, your makeup is dark and tempting, lips dark red. Your knee socks are tied with a simple ribbon, making men drool like some type of fuckery. You look miserably broken. If anyone were to guess, then they’d say that you’re high off drugs, but that’s not the case. You're high off heartbreak.

And the simple necklace you wear, with his marriage ring attached to it, is a pelluid indication. Even if it was new level petty.

Toto is in such a trance that he doesn’t even feel when a group of hands push him to sit down, eager to have a clear view of their own. They all secretly envy the Austrian when they notice that he had landed himself the best seat in the house without even trying.

So, was it fate to be sitting here, in front of you? Was it fate to have met, then hurt you without the means? The music is almost terrifying, along with your black wings and white halo. All of this is utterly puzzling; was he supposed to be into this, or fear it? Was he supposed to feel his heartbeat in the pit of his stomach, drumming against his ribcage, or was he supposed to be at ease? But most important; would you spare him this time to apologize, or would you kick him out of your life? The last notion scared him the most as he sat like a tired soldier, brown eyes blinking to where you start to seductively twirl.

I don’t know how you convince them and get them. Shiny legs drag behind your delicate figure as your eyes roam the room, sighing with every lustful stare. This is purely pathetic, it didn’t make you feel the way you intended for it to do, but shit. All you wanted to do was flee the state and never look back. But there were too many things tying you back; Foxy, Ro, Rosie…A stinging sensation begins to form behind your orbs and you fiercely blink them away, refusing for the thought of Toto to be what brings you down.

But in a moment like this, what were you supposed to think about? Toto was many things; devilishly, cunningly handsome, tempting, brilliant, intoxicating; but he was also a fucking no-good, professional heartbreaker, a screwed up man who roamed earth without a sense of direction, who truly never deserved to fall in love again, especially with someone was tainted and loyal as you—

But the eyes don't lie. He’s become known by you; someone in your favorite book whom you look for in every page, despite it all. His orbs remind you of your favorite kind of dark chocolate, swirly and dreamy; enough to make you swoon, but they’re filled with more than just that. They’re desperate, as if ready to run endless miles if that's what it took for you to speak to him. They’re loopy, blazing nervously when you spot him, brows knitted with concern.

And he deserves it…you think.

Still, that doesn’t stop your stomach from churning, causing you to panic at the thought of spilling your lunch in front of everyone eyeing the glass box you're hidden behind; it could only ever do so much. Everyone can see your usually tantalizing persona fly out the window, a frail—shattered—girl taking your place.

He’s tricked you. He made you let your guard down, let him in, and then ramshackled you whole; and he hadn’t been nice about it either. How could you have ever thought he would choose you over someone who actually held his kid for nine months? You had seen the messages that sunny morning; birds chirped, flowers bloomed. He had been busy doing God knows what, and when his bright laptop dinged, you couldn’t help but peek. As you once told him; you loved gossip.

Jack is asking if you remember where he last left his stuffed bear? You know, the one with the white spots?

Susie. You had heard a lot about her—you’ve read, a lot, too— she was someone to admire. Helped create a path of perseverance for young girls; it was astonishing. The thought of Jack made you smile, then the bear, then her. Which is why you aimlessly scrolled once, playfully, and then you came to a rude halt.

If someone were to grovel that way for you, you would helplessly fall for it. Fuck, he pratically begged for a second chance. Heat weaved through your body, anger rising, and then falling cruelly with a sense of undeniable ache. You had cried; sobbed. Then you got ready for work.

When he had asked what was wrong, you wanted to stab him with the nearby knife, and the thought scared you half to death. You could tell he was deeply wounded by the cold shoulder, but why the fuck should you care?

Here—in Machiavellian Nights—trapped behind a transparent case, with disgusting men eyefucking you, you realize; there’s no place to run. An attraction is what you are; tourists are what they all represent. Toto’s massive figure swallowed his seat whole, long legs spread open naturally. And you hate it how handsome he looks, dark clouds painting his usually happy eyes. His chest dances up and down, wrestling to catch a breath. The hollers make him flinch in the slightest, grimacing.

The Austrian is apologizing, cryptically. I’m sorry—I’m so fucking sorry. His lips aren't moving, but you can hear his pleads as the music continues.

C’mon! Dance, someone demands from afar, rough hand smacking the glass. Gasping, you purse your lips, continuing. Ignorance is horrible; especially coming from you. The idea of going on without you feel like a nightmare—torture. He tries standing up, and he doesn’t really know what his game plan is exactly in order to get to you, but heads turn and harsh arms force him back down.

It isn’t that hard, boy. To like you, or love you. It was as if you got yanked back into what is truly your reality. You can’t have good things in life. Your father hadn’t died—he had abandoned you. Your mother did too. And Toto…

Toto Wolff was just the same.

You’re glad no one can hear you choking back on tears, you wouldn't dare to fall. But emotions were running high, your throat felt raw, your eyes stung, knees felt wobbly, and it was too much. But aside from your hurt, an eerie feeling hugged your chest, forcing your rib cage to poke you as a warning. You allow yourself to look back up, rapidly scanning the unlit room. Everything was blurry—which didn’t help—but what was it?

You’re no longer focused; your legs sway, your gartner slides down, your nose is starting to get runny, and it was all a mess. Connecting your gaze back to his, you narrow them down like deathly blades. This is all your fault, they scream at him, enraged. If you hadn’t walked into my life, then I wouldn’t be this way.

You’re screwed up and brilliant.

“You fucking ruined me!” Running towards the glass, you violently slap and punch, over and over until you no longer feel any pain. Red bruises form rather quickly and everyone begins to murmur.

Look like a million dollar man.

“I hate you, Toto Wolff!” Muffled whimpers flow like a waterfall as everyone turns to face the fifty-two year old who sits with a hurt expression.

“I can explain,” he pleads, instantly rising up to his scary height and rushing over to where you’re caged. His large hand pathetically grasps it, fingerprints painting the shiny protection between you and him. “Sweetheart…”

So why is my heart broke?

“I’ll regret you for the rest of my—”

Chaos ensues; the volcano erupts. It’s suffocating, the way everyone tramples over one another, scattering like lab rats. The yells of terror make his blood run ice cold, swiftly turning around to face the open room. Foxy lets out a scream filled with agony as she crawls over to the stage. Acid slides down her face, makeup running. The other dancers run to hide where the bartender stands with his mouth wide open, orbs flickering with urgency. He doesn’t know what the hell is going on, but he has to get you out of here.

“Open it!” Foxy cries, hands hitting the clear box so forcefully that her nails begin to chip, light gore beginning to slide down. “Open the fucking stage right now!” She lets out a string of pleas, but no one is listening—they can’t even try to with all the loud noise. The alarms go off and that’s what snaps him out of his spot of confusion and what makes her cry and fall back against her arms.

The glass isn’t shattered like in the movies, all over the floor, no. There’s just a singular hole, scratches circling around it—and spikes of blood coloring the crystal clear mirror.

Even with eyes closed, face sticky with tears, and blood spurting out of your mouth and chest, pooling around your angelic body, you were still beautiful. The ring lays flat atop your unbeating heart, shining one last time against the cherry lights. You were gone as soon as the bullet hit, but Toto was the last person you had seen. And you wish you had time to tell him you never meant any of it. You could never hate him; you loved him, you loved him, you loved him.

“I…no. No. No.” Fists punch urgently, cuts finding a place in his pale skin. “Open it!” More pounds. “Let her out! Why is no one letting her out?” Trepidation sleeks over him as he stops his actions, taking a second to look at you. Your dark wings had somehow turned darker, your white dress is now drowned in crimson red, your halo is no longer on your head, and your lively skin is now ghostly pale, almost gray. “Peaches…” His voice quivers so much, he almost doesn't realize it's coming from him. “Get up, sweetheart—come on, just stand.”

His chest tightens when you go unresponding. “T-think about Rosie! She loves you; she needs you. I need you,” he declares, voice cracking. “The text messages are a mishap! I only love you, Peaches, that’s all! I swear I do, I swear it’s you…”

He dreads to turn around and face what was now his life. The music cuts, but the frightful screams continue. Toto blinks back the stingy feeling as he flickers up to make eye contact with who’s responsible for ripping you away from him.

You share the same eyes, but hers are sullen now. Her hair looks as if it could have once been glossy, but is now as dry as the desert. Her lips are nastily chapped, but an uncanny curl slips through as she ticks anxiously when Ro and the rest of the guards hold her without an ounce of remorse, cuffing skinny, needled wrists.

Your mother looks down at the gun, at her daughter, then at Toto. An unhinged stare strikes her impentent face.

“I brought her into this world…I can also take her out.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

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fairycheol · 3 months

Text

Sunday Morning

luke castellan x apollo!fem!reader

cw: pure fluff, kissing, minor injury, a little bit of angst

Everyone at Camp Half-Blood knew how good you were at your job as head counselor for the Apollo cabin. You were strong and agile, and had a great hand in archery, healing, singing and dancing. You were everything an Apollo kid needed to be.

Apollo himself took pride in that. Sending you arrows crafted by Artemis and even requesting Hephaestus make a gold bow just for you. His favorite daughter.

Everyone at camp also knew you as the girl who had stolen Luke Castellan’s heart. The two of you arrived at camp only a day apart, and despite being claimed by Apollo two weeks into your stay at the Hermes cabin, you were able to form a bond with the boy. A bond surely impossible to break. Right?

This Sunday morning was no different then any other day, the sun was up earlier than usual and in true Apollo kid fashion you followed with it. As a camp counselor it was your duty to take on the heavier jobs in camp. Hunting for food with some of the Artemis girls, gathering herbs with the Demeter cabin and other things.

Today’s chores involved restocking the infirmary, Capture the Flag was approaching and knowing Clarisse La Rue there was sure to be a few kids walking in with narly bruises after.

“What’s up Sunshine?” Turning around to the sound of a deep voice from the infirmary entrance you see Luke. His hair is messy and his shirt is inside out. Unlike the other cabins at camp, the Apollo kids don’t get the luxury of sleeping in late.

“Hey Curls you’re up bright and early,”

“Yeah well, Mr.D said I could help you with restocking the infirmary and I won’t pass up an opportunity to spend some time with you.” By this point Luke has walked forward so you stand toe to toe with him. Wrapping your arms around his neck you give him a quick kiss on the lips,

“Well that’s awfully sweet of you,” Luke leans in for another kiss but is stopped by your pointer finger being pushed against his lips

“But! you should probably fix your shirt. It’s inside out and I don’t want you to come mopping to me when Chris makes fun of you for it.” With a pat to his cheek you leave the infirmary closing the door behind you.

When Luke finally joins you outside his hair has been tidied and his shirt has been fixed so you grab his hand and begin to head for the forest.

The two of you spend the next two or so hours in pure harmony and bliss. Throwing strawberries at one another and stealing a few kisses.

Nothing could this moment, except maybe the raging storm that was soon approaching in the form of a 12 year old boy.

#luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #luke castellan imagines

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cassiopeiaemiliagaunt · 2 years

Text

Girlfriend | E.M.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

Summary: Your boyfriend is very drunk, doesn’t recognize you and tells you he has a girlfriend.

Word count: 1k

Warnings: this is literally just 1k of fluff. There is a tiny bit of angst about the upside down, but not really. A lot of mentions of Eddie being drunk

Author’s note: Canon divergence, it’s not really ST4 Vol. 2 compliant. Also, established relationship! :))

Disclaimer: GIF isn’t mine ;))

Eddie Munson, the notorious drug dealer of Hawkins High and more importantly your loving boyfriend, never drank very much. Sure, he’d have the occasional beer during Corroded Coffin band rehearsals or after their performances in the Hide Out, but he almost never got hammered. He much preferred the high of a – or several – joints, relishing in the fact that the hangovers weren’t nearly as bad.

Which is why you’re very surprised to see your leather clad boyfriend quite drunk during Steve’s party at Harrington Manor, as you liked to call it. It is the first time you’ve ever seen him like this.

It is a few months after the downfall of Vecna and the (hopefully permanent) closing of the Upside Down. Eleven expertly managed to defeat him and everyone’s wounds (albeit the physical ones) finally managed to heal. Emotionally though, you’d never forget seeing Eddie’s seemingly lifeless body getting dragged out of the Upside Down by Steve, mad at yourself that you couldn’t protect him better from those godforsaken demobats.

The weeks that followed were a blur of hospital stays, refusing to leave Eddie’s side, whispered love confessions in the dark and the newly reappointed Chief of Police Hopper clearing Eddie’s name. Once Eddie was cleared to leave the hospital, you went on your first date with him and you can’t imagine your life without him ever since.

Steve had decided to throw a huge graduation party. Everyone from the self-proclaimed Babysitters’ Club has finally graduated – including Eddie, you think proudly. For this occasion, Steve had decided to open his house to the Class of ’86. Though, you also think he needed an excuse to throw a party to escape from the everlasting trauma of the Upside Down. But you weren’t one to complain, ready to jump at the opportunity to forget everything supernatural for a second.

Which is how you end up with a very drunk Eddie in Steve’s well-equipped and fully alcohol-stocked kitchen. During the party itself he mainly hung out with the older guys from Hellfire, excitedly talking about the summer campaign they were planning. You on the other hand mostly hung out with Robin and Steve. You had done a few shots with them, but not too many. You could feel the buzz of alcohol, but you’re far from drunk.

“Hey hot stuff, how you enjoying the party?” you ask Eddie, grinning up at him.

“Yeah, sure,” he says, eyeing you warily. You wonder what is up with that.

“Maybe it’s time to go to bed,” you suggest. Steve had very kindly offered you and Eddie one of the guest rooms to share. That way you could enjoy the party to the fullest. Robin and Nancy would take his parents’ room to spend the night in and if other people wanted to crash, there was always the basement with the pull-out sofa and the couch in the living room.

“No, thank you,” Eddie mutters dryly at you.

You grow concerned. What could be wrong? Maybe he’s mad at you for something, but for what? You stand right in front of him and wrap your arms around his neck, gazing deeply into his eyes, hoping to maybe find and answer there.

“What’s wrong, babe?” you ask, growing a little insecure.

He quickly ducks out of your arms, keeping you at a distance. Your face falls.

“I have a girlfriend. She’s very pretty and I love ‘er very much so leave me ‘lone, please,” he says seriously, interrupted by a lone hiccup. This has your frown morphing into a smile. He clearly is very drunk. You can’t help but giggle.

“Oh, really? That’s nice. What is her name?” you tease him.

“Y/N,” he says proudly.

“What a coincidence, that’s my name too,” you wink at him.

He narrows his eyes at you, clearly not believing you. God, he’s long gone and has to get to bed very soon. A plan forms in your head.

“I know where your girlfriend is, follow me, ‘kay?” you tell him. He nods his head excitedly at the mention of his girlfriend, eager to follow you along now. He’s like a puppy sometimes, you think fondly.

You grab his arm and maneuver the both of you through the heaps of dancing bodies in the living room and up the stairs to the guest bedroom. Once you’re inside he looks at you expectantly.

“Let’s get you in bed, shall we? You need to sleep,” you tell him.

“But-” he starts, but you interrupt him. “If you go to sleep now, you can see your girlfriend tomorrow, okay?” you try to compromise with him.

“Yeah, ‘kay,” he mutters tiredly, the fatigue clearly kicking in. You watch as he takes of his tight jeans and leather jacket, getting into the bed in his shirt and underpants. You go into the guest bathroom and fill two glasses that you find there with water. You put one on the bedside table next to Eddie, the other one you place on the other side of the bed.

“I’m gonna sleep on the other side of the bed, is that okay?” you ask him, tentatively. You really don’t want to leave him alone in the room in this state. He gazes up at you tiredly and mutters something along the lines of “Only if there’s pillows between”. So you obediently make a wall of pillows in the middle of the bed, seeing him doze off. Then you quickly take off your pants and bra, leaving you in a t-shirt and your panties. You flick of the lights in the room and get comfortable in the bed. Luckily, sleep finds you soon.

---

The next morning you’re awoken by a whiny groan from the other side of the bed. You turn around to see him rubbing his eyes and gazing around confusedly. He looks at the pile of pillows between the two of you and looks up at you questioningly. You giggle, last night’s memories quickly flooding back.

“You didn’t want to sleep in the same bed as me, because you had a girlfriend named Y/N,” you tease him. He groans again his head falling back into the pillow he slept on. You only begin to laugh harder. He then looks up at you with a small smile and throws all the pillows somewhere in the room. He wiggles to lay next to you and wraps you in his arms, muttering “C’mere, girlfriend.”

You smile and let yourself be cuddled.

#eddie munson #Eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x female!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #ST 4 #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fluff #stranger things

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yothangie · 2 months

Text

Ateez Reaction: Interacting with your baby bump for the first time

pairings: Dad!Ateez x Fem Reader

warnings: No warnings that i know of just lots of fluff and a little tiny bit of angst and crack

word count: 422(?)

Dad Ateez Masterlist

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Hongjoong: You guys would be in the studio, he has you sitting next to him to keep an eye on you. As he is making magic with his equipment he has the idea to put headphones on your bump so your baby can hear the beats he is producing. He would get excited when it kicked, he will think the baby likes it.

“Baby seems to like the song its dancing in there”

Seonghwa: The gentleman that he is, he will ask first, the moment you started showing a bump. Although you had given him the permission he was still quite scared. It was while you were washing dishes, he came from behind and put his hands on top of your bump rubbing it.

“I’m gonna start doing this more often”

Yunho: He wouldn’t be one to interact since he’s not sure what to do LOL. The first time it would happen when you’re tired, carrying a baby is difficult work. You had asked Yunho if he can carry the bump for a while, he enjoyed it too much he offers even when you’re not.

“tired or not i’ll carry our baby for you”

Yeosang: He would be too scared to touch you and your bump, only admiring it from afar. The first time he interacted with it was during your sleep, he saw it as an opportunity to caress it and talk to it.

“Hello my little angel, sorry for being a bad dad and not talking to you”

San: The first time he kissed it and caressed it, it became a habit so before leaving for practice not only would he kiss you but he would also kiss the bump giving it a little tickle.

“Bye bye my baby”

Mingi: He would lightly knock on your bump pretending it’s a door. Would also kinda talk to it, i feel like he would be scared to interact with it as he doesnt want to hurt you

“Hello anyone there, it’s me your dad”

Wooyoung: I feel like he would talk to the baby rambling about his day and basically share everything with it, he would be scolding the poor baby for kicking too hard. Poking at it softly

“Hey don’t kick your mama too hard”

Jongho: THIS MAN he would sing. The first time he would be singing to you, having a little karaoke sesh, as the song was ending he got closer to your bump finishing the song singing to your bump ending it with a kiss on it.

“This song is dedicated to my little baby”

—————————————————————————————————————

A/N: i got so mang request for this dad ateez / husband ateez i’ll be doing those this week super excited!!

Taglist: @reooreo @starhwahwa @nnnarchives @chaerryful

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez fluff #ateez jongho #ateez mingi #ateez san #ateez seonghwa #ateez hongjoong #ateez wooyoung #ateez yeosang #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateezdad dadteez

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pathetic-sapphic · 5 months

Note

Arcane women + milfs (gimme ALL the ladies 😏) when their S/O runs away after a particularly bad argument...ugh I'm a whore for angst

Nuh-uh, JINX isn't letting you go anywhere, she won't let you run. Even if you're so insistent of leaving, she'll secretly follow you. She tells herself it's just to make sure you're safe. But it's also because she wants to make sure you aren't leaving her for good. Everyone abandons her but she won't let you, you can't- She thinks to herself as she chases you. As soon as Jinx catches up to you, she pulls you into a hug, clinging to you as if her life depends on it and sobbing into your shoulder.

''I'm sorry, I'm sorry for what I said but you can't leave! Don't leave me, please... I'll do anything, just stay! P-please, trinket, I'll be good, I'll listen! You're all I have... If I lose you, I lose everything. So just... stay.''

VI also isn't letting you storm off. She knows she should give you some space but she just can't deal with you leaving in tears. She chases after you, pulling you into a quiet hug. You don't have to say anything, no need to apologize, just don't cry... Vi wants you to feel safe with her and trust her. And that means staying when things are bad and not hiding from her. Just let her hold you for a bit, let her dry your tears, you can talk it all out later.

''Hey, no! I'm not letting you leave! Come on, come here, baby. I know, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled at you. No, no, don't cry, it's okay. I've got you, it's okay, just let me hold you for a bit. You know I hate seeing you sad, babe. I'm here.''

As much as she dislikes it, CAITLYN gives you some space. But she won't let you cry alone for long. If you don't come to her then she's coming to you first. Caitlyn doesn't mind taking the first step if it means she can see you smile again. She finds you in the garden, sniffling and silently crying on a bench. She takes a seat beside you, laying her hand on top of yours before intertwining your fingers together and lifting your connected hands so she can press a kiss against your knuckles. It's her way of letting you know that everything is going to be okay.

''There you are, I was looking all over for you. Hey... I know I said some things, things I shouldn't have said to you. I'm sorry, my dear. Could you ever forgive me for acting like a complete fool? Oh, thank goodness, I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. We're going to be okay, my love, I promise you.''

MEL can be surprisingly stubborn and wants you to come to her first. Will spend some time pouting and thinking back on your fight but refuses to apologize first. But when the thought of your dejected face and the image of tears running down her cheeks plagues her thoughts, making her unable to do any work, she decides to swallow her pride and make the first move. She invites you over to dinner at her place, where she spoils and pampers you with good food and sincere compliments. She feels bad about your fight and tries to show you just how much she regrets it. However, she knows that words mean just as much as actions, maybe even more in a situation like this and does her best to apologize to you.

''My love... I hope that this evening was enough to convince you of how sorry I am. it hurt to see you like that and knowing that it was my fault... I just couldn't bear it. I love you and I want you by my side, always. That means through good and bad. Thank you for giving me another chance, I love you.''

SEVIKA lets you leave, for both her sake and yours. She knows she has a nasty temper and uses your absence as an opportunity to calm down. The last thing she wants is to hurt you or say something she doesn't mean. When you don't come back after some time, she sets off to find you and once she does, be ready to discover a whole new side of Sevika. She feels so bad for arguing with you and you swear she has never been so gentle or looked so out of place as she stutters out an apology to you. It's so endearing, you know how new this is for her and you can see how hard she's trying. She's so relieved when the two of you reconcile and pulls you into a loving bear hug, pressing a kiss against your hair.

''Hey. Look, you're mad at me, I get that. You have every right to be. What I did was shitty and I shouldn't have acted like that, I'm not angry with you for leaving and I guess I'm trying to say that... I'm sorry, y-you were right. I was totally unfair to you but... can you please come home? I-I can't sleep alone in our bed, it just doesn't feel right without you. You will? Thank fuck, I love you so much, babygirl. I'll make it up to you, I swear.''

Oh, GRAYSON absolutely hates fighting with you and does whatever she can to avoid it. But, arguments in a relationship are inevitable and she feels her heart break as you storm out of your shared apartment. She lets out a sigh and hangs her head low. It wasn't your fault that you fought, she was just on edge and stressed out from work but that didn't mean she could take it out on you. She gives you time, preparing dinner to surprise you when you come back. As soon as she hears the front door opening sometime later in the evening, Grayson wastes no time before rushing to pick you up into her arms, apologizing as she presses kisses against your face, ushering you into the warm apartment and out of the cold winter street.

''My love, you're back! I-I'm so sorry, it wasn't your fault! I've been so stressed out with work and-and the situation with the Undercity has been getting worse and Marcus has been driving me crazy but none of that is your on you. You're always doing whatever you can to help me and I'm sorry for acting that way towards you. Come now, let me pamper you tonight, I want to spoil you properly, my dear.''

As poised as CASSANDRA tends to be, she is also not the most patient partner when it comes to quarrels. She always needs to have the final word and can appear uncaring, which frustrates you to no end. At first she scoffs when you leave, figuring you were just being dramatic. But eventually, she starts replaying your argument in her mind and sees just how unfair and rude she acted towards you. Finds you sulking in the lounge room and wastes no time before she sits next to you and pulls you into her embrace. Apologizing doesn't come easy to her and Janna knows it's too late for her to change but... for you, she's willing to try.

''I'm sorry, darling. I was so wrapped up in my own mind that I didn't even try to pay attention to your perspective or feelings. It was never my intention to hurt you or make you feel ignored. I know I can be hard to deal with at times, but I swear I'll do my best to change. For you, I'm willing to do anything. Good, I love you, let me hold you for a bit, yes?''

Oh boy, AMBESSA is so damn stubborn and a tough nut to crack. She will defend her point until the end and eventually forget who she's even arguing with. She'll talk to you as if you're a political opponent, not her partner. Is seething when you leave, thinking of you as weak. But she cannot deny the way her heart sinks when you don't show up for dinner. She lays in bed alone that night, thinking of how stupid she's acted towards you. Eventually she cannot take it anymore and goes out into the balcony to have a drink, hoping it will help clear her mind. That's when she spots you, crying your heart out in the garden. The sight of your tears is the only motivation she needs to run down and, before you can even register it, she's towering over you. Seeing your puffy, crying face spurs her on to pick you up, holding you in her tight embrace as she whispers apologies into your ear.

''I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, my love. I should have never said those things. I love you so much and I'm sorry for being so bad at showing it. Let me carry you to a warm bath and then to bed, you're freezing. I love you too, sweet thing. I'm so sorry for making you think otherwise.''

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane headcanons #sevika x reader #grayson x reader #cassandra kiramman x reader #ambessa x reader #caitlyn x reader #vi x reader #jinx x reader #mel medarda x reader

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fluentmoviequoter · 3 months

Text

A Room Away

Requested Here!

Edit: Part 2 Here

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: Tired of Tim's bad moods, Angela gets him a new roommate: you. As Tim gets to know you and learns about your past, you slowly become more than his roommate.

Warnings: mentions of past domestic abuse (reader and Tim), reader has chronic migraines from past head trauma, nightmares, reader has a panic attack, angst, fluff, Nyla and Angela. (roommates to lovers)

Word Count: 4.2k+ words

A/N: Parts of this are so self-indulgent. The migraine depictions are based on my migraines, but I think they're some of the most common symptoms. I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think! (I'm still trying to get Tim's character down, so apologies if he's OOC.)🤍

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Picture from Pinterest

Tim sits in the back of the room for roll call, his arms crossed tightly across his chest as unimpressed sighs escape him. Angela is getting tired of his seemingly perpetual bad mood. Clearly, he’s lonely, but he will never admit it. And that loneliness makes him mopey and broody (Angela’s official motto for Tim Bradford) until he has enough and snaps at someone.

Sitting at her desk, Angela watches Tim yell at a boot. He’s always harsh with them, trying to prepare them for anything, but now he’s using them as punching bags for his forbidden feelings.

“What’s his problem? He’s grumpier than usual,” Nyla says as she joins Angela.

“He’s lonely,” Angela answers. “Won’t admit it or do anything about it.”

“That man needs a girlfriend,” Nyla muses.

Angela sits up straighter and smiles. “You’re a genius, Harper.”

“I know.”

Angela opens a website on her computer, and Nyla pulls up a seat to watch her intervention into Tim’s personal life.

“You’re going to rent out his spare room without telling him? This’ll be fun to watch,” Nyla says, laughing.

“He has way too much room for just one guy. Getting him a roommate and a girlfriend will surely help with.. that,” she finishes, gesturing toward Tim.

“A roommate and a girlfriend, or a roommate who becomes a girlfriend?”

“Either should work.”

“That’s your number.”

Angela nods, putting her contact information on the listing. “Tim would shut it down after the first call, so I’ll interview them, run background checks, whatever, and find the perfect one.”

“Well, Mrs. Right is always found on Craigslist,” Nyla jokes.

“This isn’t Craigslist.”

“Semantics.”

Angela posts the listing, and she and Nyla hope getting Tim a roommate will help nudge him out of his bad mood. He needs someone to talk to and bond with, but he’ll never come to that conclusion on his own. Which is why Angela considers herself to be such a good friend.

✯✯✯✯✯

Los Angeles is a big city, which is part of why you chose it without another thought. Full of opportunities and a chance of fading into the background, it’s the complete opposite of your home, which overflows with memories. The patched drywall you were pushed into, the stained tile where you thought everything was going to end, and the china cabinet with the shattered glass are left behind and traded in for a minimum wage job, a used car, and a lot of panic that you won’t be able to find somewhere to live.

You’ll need a roommate until you can save enough money for your own place. However, finding a decent place with a decent roommate is nearly impossible in your price range. Browsing online listings, you see one that could be promising. The information at the bottom says there is an interview process, which catches your attention. Sending a text to Angela Lopez, you cross your fingers for good luck before walking into work.

By the end of your shift, Angela has replied and asked you to meet somewhere nearby. You want to go home, a dull headache building at the base of your skull impairing your mood. But you also really want a better place to call home than the pay-by-the-month motel you’re currently living in.

Angela gives you a firm handshake as she introduces herself as an LAPD detective. She asks questions about your life, job, hobbies, and finally, why you moved to Los Angeles.

“I just needed a change of pace; was ready to leave my old life behind, find something bigger and better,” you answer, a simplified version of the truth.

Trying not to show it, Angela immediately takes a liking to you. Each of your answers solidifies her gut instinct that you’re a good fit for Tim. You ask why her name was on this listing if it’s not her house, and she follows your lead and gives you the truth, but not all of it.

“Tim, the owner of the house, is a coworker and friend, and I’m just trying to help him out while he’s busy with work,” she explains.

As you leave the meeting, Angela gives you her personal number, as well as someone named Nyla Harper’s number, “just in case you need anything.”

She texts you a time and address, telling you to meet her at your new place the following afternoon. You thank her repeatedly before driving to the trashy motel one last time.

✯✯✯✯✯

Parking outside the house, you fall in love with the neighborhood and the cute architecture of the home. Angela meets you in the driveway, seeming more nervous than excited. You realize she may not have been totally honest with you as you follow her to the door.

An incredibly handsome man opens the door, sighing when he sees Angela. He lets both of you in, seeming to trust Angela completely.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim knows he will regret opening the door, but the woman with Angela is beautiful, and deep down, a small part of him wants to know who she is and why she’s on his doorstep.

“This is your new roommate,” Angela announces, giving Tim your name.

“You didn’t,” Tim responds. “Please tell me you didn’t rent out my spare room without asking me, Lopez.”

“I won’t tell you that, then.”

Standing quietly to the side, you anxiously watch their argument.

“Um, sorry,” you begin, interrupting them. “But I can go, and find a new place, since this is clearly not what you signed up for.”

You move toward the door before stopping when Angela demands, “Don’t go anywhere.”

She gives Tim a stern look before cocking her head to the side. He sighs like he has accepted his fate, a tragedy based on his reaction. Gesturing for you to follow him, he gives you a quick tour before showing you to your new room and bathroom.

“I’m not home a ton, but when I am, I’m usually watching a game or just hanging out, so,” he tells you before trailing off.

You nod before promising, “You won’t even know I’m here.”

Tim wants to believe you, but he also thinks you’re pretty and kind enough that he wouldn’t mind seeing you occasionally.

✯✯✯✯✯

You cross paths with Tim a few times in the first two days of living with him. He’s struck by your beauty each time but recognizes that you don’t open up willingly, so he never presses you to talk. Content to be ships passing in the night, Tim gives you a nod before continuing out the door.

It’s your third night in the house that Tim learns your reserved qualities may not be as simple as a personality trait. Waking when he hears a strange noise, Tim listens in the darkness before deciding it’s your footsteps he hears. Based on the sound, you're pacing, so Tim gets out of bed and walks to the kitchen. He walks right past you, and you give him an apologetic smile before slowing down. Tim makes you a mug of calming tea, sliding it across the kitchen island before sitting beside you as you drink it. Suspecting you had a nightmare or some similarly disturbing experience, Tim reminds you where you are and that everything is okay in his own way.

Over the next week, you wake him up a few more times, thrashing in your bed or exiting your room once you wake. He nudges each time, offering to let you talk about it, but you never do. You always apologize for waking him, thank him for keeping you company and making you tea before you disappear back into yourself and into your room.

✯✯✯✯✯

You’ve lost count of the days and nights spent in Tim’s house, your sense of time thrown off by the continued plague of nightmares and the monotony of your days. As you wake up after a surprisingly dreamless sleep, you immediately turn your face back into the pillow. Your heartbeat pounds in your head, and everything seems brighter and louder. The migraines have been nearly as consistent as the nightmares since before you left for Los Angeles.

Tim knocks on your door, and you groan as the sound echoes in your brain. He cracks the door, concerned that you aren’t up yet.

“Are you okay?” he asks, seeing your current state.

“Migraine,” you answer. “I called in sick.”

He closes the door to block the light from outside and lowers his voice to ask, “Do you need anything before I leave?”

“I’m okay. Thanks.”

“Well, call me if you do, or if anything changes, okay?”

“I will. Thank you, Tim. Have a good day.”

Tim nods, even though you can’t see him, before backing out of your room and exiting the house as quietly as possible. He keeps his ringer on, looking at his phone every few minutes as his concern for you remains at the forefront of his mind.

Angela and Nyla notice his usual grumpy disposition seems to have been replaced with concern for something, or someone. After he checks his phone for the fifth consecutive time, Angela decides to pry.

“How’s the beautiful roomie? Still just a roommate?” she asks.

“She’s not feeling well,” Tim answers.

Angela waits for an elaboration, but Tim doesn’t offer one. She looks at Nyla, who gives a knowing look. It’s obvious that Tim is softening toward you, but you haven’t made enough of an impact that he’s less grumpy or snappy. As the day continues, his usual personality returns, convinced that you must be okay, or you would have called.

The next day, after learning that you are, in fact, feeling better, Tim is back to his pre-roommate levels of anger and high strung-ness. To worsen his mood, you wake him up with a nightmare but refuse to let him in, not even acknowledging his kind questioning as to how you are. He’s worried about you because you welcomed his presence before, but he is also angry that you changed so quickly, and now you don’t trust him. Everything is piling on, and Tim isn’t sure how much more he can carry.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Just tell me something,” Angela presses.

“Stay out of it, Lopez!” Tim yells, his emotions reaching a boiling point. “I didn’t even want a puppy- a roommate! If you like her so much, why don’t you take her in?”

Angela waits for his shoulders to drop slightly before asking, “Timothy… is this because you don’t like her, or because you do?”

Tim’s jaw clenches, and his nostrils flare as he turns away, offering to go on patrol while Nolan and Celina go to the shooting range. Everyone seems to think they know Tim better than they do; Angela is pushing him toward you while you’re distancing yourself, and the push and pull is tiring.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim waits in his truck in the driveway for a few minutes before walking in. When he walks in, you’re standing in the kitchen. He hasn’t actually seen you since the day of your last migraine when you stopped trusting him, and your sudden willingness to be in the same area confuses him. Anger and confusion rarely mix well; with Tim, it’s a fatal combination.

You notice his tension and knitted brows, chewing your bottom lip before asking, “Are you okay?”

Stumbling to his tipping point for the second time in the day, Tim takes all his anger and confusion over his feelings out on you.

“What do you think? You can’t decide if I’m worth trusting with something as small as a nightmare, and Angela thinks that I’m practically neglecting you,” he begins.

You swallow harshly as his voice rises, stumbling backward when he starts moving his arms.

“Especially considering I didn’t even want you here!”

Flinching, you snap your eyes closed and catch yourself on the corner of the wall. Tim freezes as he watches you. Everything begins snapping into place in his mind: your nightmares and the distance added to your reaction to him yelling and moving his hand are all signs he should have noticed sooner.

Your chest is heaving as you take short breaths, and when you finally open your eyes, you look terrified. Tim steps back, keeping his hands where you can see them. You focus on him as you slide down the wall, cradling your head in your hands as you fight off bad memories and a growing headache.

Tim watches you before sitting on the floor, keeping his distance. He waits for you to calm down, willing to let you decide whether or not you want to talk to him. You finally look back up at him, but he doesn’t move.

“I- I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“Can I come closer?” Tim asks.

You nod, and Tim slides across the floor, not wanting to stand up and look any more imposing than necessary. His knee presses gently against your thigh, and when you don’t move, he gives you a small smile – the first you’ve ever seen.

“I’ll leave in the morning,” you say, fiddling with your fingers.

“Please don’t,” Tim replies, shaking his head. “I’m really sorry. I wasn’t mad at you, just angry with a long day. But that’s no reason to yell at you or act like that. You confused me, and I didn’t know how to deal with it. That’s on me.”

“I’m sorry,” you repeat.

“Don’t. When I was younger, my dad took his anger out on me sometimes. I’m sure I deserved it once or twice, but I also know better than to treat people like an emotional outlet. If you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

You nod before saying, “My ex.”

Tim feels a protective surge at the idea of anyone hurting you, let alone doing it enough times that yelling pushes you to the point of a panic attack.

After comforting you with proximity and kind words, Tim offers to walk you to bed. Your hand brushes his as he opens your door, and you smile as you thank him for everything. It’s a minor change in your relationship but an important one.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim leaves before you wake up the following morning, determined to find out as much as he can about you and your past. He’s not necessarily being nosy, but he wants to know if there’s anything specific that could help or hurt you.

“What do you know?” he demands as he storms up to Angela’s desk.

“About what?” she replies, raising her brows.

“What do you mean ‘about what’? Her!”

Nyla leans back in her chair, glad to watch the unfolding drama.

“Tim, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Angela explains.

“Why’d she move to LA?”

“Are you seriously trying to find something wrong with her? That’s low.”

Tim moves around her desk, dropping his voice to answer, “I’m trying to figure out who thought it was okay to put their hands on her. Because she won’t let me in.”

Angela begins connecting the dots you left untouched. You ran from the person controlling your life, not your actual life. She knew that you were omitting something during your initial meeting, but she didn’t expect it to be so big.

“Have you been open with her?” Angela asks finally. “Because that’s a two-way street. I’ll talk to her if you want me to, but she trusts you, Tim.”

“How do you know that?”

Nyla’s eyes bounce back and forth like she’s watching a tennis game. She sighs before deciding to interject. “She told her! Sent her a text one night!” she calls out, smiling and waving when Angela and Tim look at her.

Tim nods, giving Angela the closest she’ll get to an apologetic look before leaving.

✯✯✯✯✯

Returning home, Tim is surprised to find you on the couch, in your work clothes, with your face pressed into a pillow. You wave your fingers without moving to acknowledge him, and he remains silent as he walks to the kitchen.

“You don’t have to be silent, it’s your house,” you mumble. “I’ll figure out a way to get to the bedroom.”

“You’re fine here,” Tim answers, setting a glass of water beside you. “Another migraine?”

“Skull fractured from getting my head pushed through a window a few months ago,” you explain with a sigh. “The migraines have gotten worse since then.”

Tim lays a hand on your shoulder, giving you plenty of time to tell him not to touch you. You don’t, relaxing under his touch instead. Tim takes a seat beside you, hoping to comfort you once more.

“Your ex?” Tim asks.

You hum a yes, and Tim’s jaw tightens, even as he comforts you.

✯✯✯✯✯

Walking into the police station, Tim’s wallet is tucked safely in your bag. Approaching the front desk, you say your name and are wordlessly handed a visitor’s badge before someone gives you directions. You don’t have time to argue, shrugging as you attempt to remember where to turn. Angela sees you before you see her, rushing to your side and looping her arm with yours.

“What are you doing here?” she asks happily.

“Uh, Tim forgot his wallet. I was just going to drop it off, but they sent me back here,” you answer.

Tim says your name, coming around a corner, and Angela pushes you toward him, joining Nyla as they watch your interaction.

“You know she was trying to get you a girlfriend and not just a roommate, right?”

Tim nods a thanks as he accepts his wallet, glancing over at your audience. “I’m half-tempted to make them think I kicked you out.”

You smile brightly, and Tim licks his lips to keep his smile from mirroring yours. His eyes tell you more than enough, and you’re happy to see him, too.

“Do it,” you whisper. “Just let me know when so I can play my part. Angela told me to call her if you were ever mean to me.”

“Have you?”

You don’t answer, opting to wink at him before stepping back. Waving at Angela and Nyla, you leave the station as they rush to Tim’s side. As they ask overlapping questions and talk about how cute you and Tim look standing together, Tim ignores them before walking away.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim is pulled from his sleep by your panicked yell. He leaves his bed and barges into your room with no thought. His heart rate slows when he sees your teary face and tangled sheets.

“Sorry,” you mutter as you wipe your tears. “I just don’t know how to make them stop.”

Tim sits beside you, opening an arm toward you. It’s a bold move, especially for him, but you take his offer and curl into his side.

“Are- did you mean it when you said I could talk about it?” you ask.

Tim nods, and you tell him more, but not everything. You remind yourself that he’s your roommate and maybe, just maybe, he's your friend, but he’s not here to listen to all of your baggage.

“The last thing he said before I left was, ‘there is nowhere you can go that my love won’t lead me to find you.’”

“You know that wasn’t love,” Tim replies, waiting for your nod before continuing. “And I’ve got your back, Angela and Nyla are right here, and we won’t let anything happen to you. No matter what.”

Drifting back to sleep in his warm, safe embrace, you finally learn what it’s like not to be scared.

When you wake alone, neither you nor Tim acknowledge what happened. You’re okay with slow changes, as long as there are changes.

“Tim,” you say, interrupting him on his way out. “Thank you. For last night.”

“I’m only ever a call away,” he reminds you.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your head starts aching around noon, quickly worsening into a full-blown migraine. When you’re ready to go home, it’s bad enough that you can’t drive. Sitting in your car and resting your head against the steering wheel, you want to call Tim but can’t find the strength to move.

Tim, meanwhile, returns home and begins wondering where you are. He calls, and you don’t answer, so he lets his worry control him as he gets back in his truck and drives your usual route. Tim hopes to pass you or find you waiting as someone changes your tire. When he gets to the parking lot of your job and sees you slumped in your car, he has to fight not to panic.

Rushing to the door, he’s both grateful and concerned that it’s unlocked. He kneels beside you, saying your name before bending to see you. Your eyes are tightly closed, but tears are still leaking out.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he says.

You whimper as he picks you up, clinging to him until he lays you down in the backseat of his truck, buckling you in as well as possible.

“Hospital can’t help,” you mumble.

Tim wants to argue, but remembers what you said about the skull fracture. You’ve already been to the doctor, so maybe getting you home and comfortable will be enough.

After a nap partially influenced by unbearable pain, you wake to see Tim sitting by your bed.

“Why are you so nice to me? You didn’t even want a roommate,” you mutter sleepily.

Tim smiles, making you think you’re hallucinating. “Yet I got something better.”

✯✯✯✯✯

You don’t quite make it to work the next day. Walking into the station, you’re surprised when Nyla greets you first.

“I’m assuming it’s a joke,” she says.

You furrow your brows in confusion before you see Tim leaning on a desk with his arms crossed while Angela yells at him.

“Unless he really kicked you out,” Nyla adds.

You nod, walking towards Angela and Tim.

“No, you don’t get to blame me! I got you a roommate, a friend, a beautiful woman who could have been more than a friend, and you’re mad at me?” Angela exclaims.

Tim locks eyes with you, not changing his expression as he gauges whether or not her yelling is upsetting you.

“Can I talk to you?” you ask Tim.

Angela steps back, hoping to hear Tim apologize, but he stands up and gestures for you to follow him without speaking. Worried that you’re sick again, Tim waits silently.

“I’m okay,” you promise. “I just wanted to see you.”

Not believing something so simple, Tim shakes his head. “Tell me what happened.”

“I saw a guy who looked like him while I was driving to work. He was yelling at a girl outside of a diner, and it made me nervous.” You keep your eyes on the floor, but Tim gently raises your head.

“You’re not alone, and I know that things still seem uncertain, and probably will for a long time, but you don’t have to be afraid of anything while I’m here.”

“Then why’d you kick me out?” you tease with a pout.

Tim shakes his head, telling you to go before following you out. You wipe an imaginary tear before waving at Angela.

“No, you’re not leaving,” she says, grabbing your shoulders and steering you toward her desk.

Nyla smiles at Tim, and he sighs before following.

“Tell me exactly what happened between you two,” Angela commands.

You look past her before tensing, and Tim immediately catches on. He follows your line of vision and sees Nolan and Celina booking someone. You shrink in on yourself, and Tim moves to block your view.

“Get her out of here,” he tells Angela.

Angela doesn’t wait before obeying, ushering you into the bullpen and out of sight.

“What’s the charge?” Tim asks Celina.

“Assault. Beat up a woman outside a diner,” she answers.

Tim’s jaw tightens at the knowledge that this man made you nervous this morning, reminding you of your ex. He hates abuse in every situation, but when you’re involved, his protectiveness and anger differ. Tim leaves before saying or doing something he’ll regret.

When he finds you in the bullpen, he takes one look at you before hugging you. It’s quick, but Angela and Nyla look at each other in shock.

“So, you’re good?” Nyla asks.

“We were never bad,” you reply. “Just wanted to get back at Angela for trying to set us up.”

“It worked?” Angela inquires excitedly.

“Not yet.”

“Not yet?” Tim repeats, looking over at you. He shrugs as he concedes, “Okay.”

✯✯✯✯✯

When Tim gets home, he drops his stuff by the door, raising his arms in question as he looks at you. “Not yet? What is that supposed to mean?”

“You haven’t made a move. How do I know you’re not just protective and caring under that handsome, gruff exterior?” you ask with a shrug.

Tim shakes his head, cupping the back of your head gently as he kisses you. You raise your hands over his chest to hold his jaw, pushing yourself closer as you reciprocate his every move.

“Because I don’t protect just anyone like this,” he says against your lips.

You kiss him again before asking, “Does this mean you can reduce my rent?”

Tim rolls his eyes, tucking you against his side where you’re safe from everything and everyone.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x fem!reader #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #the rookie #requests

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normspellsman · 1 year

Text

A Lesson in Pinky Promises

part one | part two (wip)

pairing: jake sully x daughter!reader

genre: angst to fluff & comfort (from jake to reader)

word count: 3.3k+

warning(s): mentions of reader being bullied for looks – reader has 5 fingers, kids being mean, physical + verbal harassment, reader being sad, reader feeling like she doesn’t fit in, jake calling reader babygirl (cuteness overload fr), mentions of self inflicted injuries, mentions of children hurting you, reader looks up to jake + feels unworthy of being the heir of the olo’eyktan title, jake being angry, cursing, both jake + reader crying, & reader having self-loathing thoughts / being mean to herself

request details: here!

taglist: @aonungsmate @optimisticblazetrash @dearstell @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @minkyungseokie @universal-s1ut @goodiesinthecloset21 @amortencjja @blushhpeachh @sweetirilly @liyahsocorro @arminsgfloll @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic @bigdikzaddy @cheyehc @ihave500hubbiez

word bank: sempul — father, sempu — daddy (term of endearment), ‘evenge — girl, sa’nok — mother, eywa / great mother — goddess deity that the na’vi believe in, toruk — last shadow; large winged creature jake rode in the first film, syulang — flower, & ‘angtsìk — hammerhead titanothere

note: the reader is the eldest child of jake in this fic & is around 11-12 years old. set wayyy before the events of atwow. there will be a part 2 to this since someone requested something similar to this but w/ lo’ak & i couldn’t pass up the opportunity 🤭. be on the lookout for part 2 <3

You wished that you were more like your Father.

Your Father held this kind of confidence wherever he went. You guessed being Olo’eyktan would do that to you over time. He took every insult and objection to his rule with stride. You wanted to be like him one day, especially since you were the next in line for his position when he decided it was time for him to step down.

But it was hard. Really hard. The children around your age loved teasing you for your ten fingers and ten toes. They often pulled at your pinky and tried to pry it from your hand, giggling at how it looked and your reaction to it, hissing in pain as they basically almost dislocated the finger. They also reached out towards your hairy eyebrows, plucking at them to observe the strange hair further. Many had also called you demon or fake due to your mixed heritage. They loved making your life hell and took joy in hurting your feelings with their harsh words. Of course they never dared to do anything like that around your parents or siblings, deciding to do it whenever you were alone or training.

You felt insecure about your five fingers, often trying to hide it or make it look more like the other four fingered hands of your fellow acquaintances. You’ve injured yourself a couple of times trying to hide your pinky, bruising it or spraining it multiple times. You never meant to hurt yourself but it always happened whenever you did it. You just wished you looked more like the children your age than your Father.

You absolutely loved your Father and looked up to him so much. But it was hard looking like him when his past kind had caused so much pain and suffering to your Mothers people. It was a constant reminder that you had to work twice as hard as compared to your younger brother, Neteyam, to get the acceptance of The People. They always had their eyes on you, watching your every move, ready to criticize everything you did wrong. Nothing was ever good for them. Not good enough to live up to your Father, to be the next leader of your clan.

You never told your parents about how you felt or what the children your age did, dealing with it yourself. It wasn’t very good that you kept it to yourself but you felt like you had no choice. You didn’t want to worry your parents with what was happening, didn’t want to seem weak in front of them. You wanted to be strong like your Mother and Father, strong heart like those before you. Surely both of your parents experienced more traumatizing things throughout their lifetime than what you were going through. You could handle it yourself.

But, alas, you failed at having it handled.

Hours prior to where you were currently, crying as you cradled yourself with your knees to your chest, was probably one of the worst things you’ve experienced throughout your whole twelve years of life.

The regular group of bullies that teased and hurt you had taken it to the extreme, encircling you as they pushed you around and yelled insults at you, eventually grabbing at whatever body limb they could and punching it with as much strength they could muster. At the end, you were covered in bruises and bloody. You were pretty sure your right pinky was broken, it being stepped on by a kid you sure was named Keno.

You limped all the way to your secret hideout, delaying going home as much as you could. You had the plan of cleaning and patching yourself up with the limited supplies you had stashed away before going home late into the night. You were probably going to stay hidden for another hour or so, way past when you’re supposed to be home and were probably going to do that for the next couple of days before you healed completely. You didn’t need either of your parents to fret after your every move if they found out.

What you didn’t know was that your Father had seen you rush out into the thick foliage of the forest, calling out your name, which you didn’t hear. So, he followed you.

Jake had tried his best to stay quiet, expertly stepping over rogue twigs and sticks that were strewn across the forest floor. He kept his breathing steady as he urged forward, staying far enough behind you so that your enhanced senses couldn’t sense his presence but close enough to still see where you were going. He knew that he probably shouldn’t be following you, but his Father instincts were telling him to follow after you. There was something clawing at Jake that told him you were not okay.

Growing up, you told your Sempul everything. There was nothing that you kept from your Father and he felt his heart swell every time you ran up to him, bouncing with excitement as you hurriedly told him everything about your day or something new you just learned in training. He’d always scoop you up in his arms and tickle your belly before lending a listening ear to you, hanging on to every word you spoke. Jake missed the days where you would come to him and just talk. Recently, your visits had become few and far in between. Of course he acknowledged that you were growing older and needed to keep some things to yourself, but he couldn’t help but feel that there was something else that was keeping you from reaching out to your Sempul. And he knew that following you to wherever the hell you were going was most likely going to reveal the reason why. At least, he hoped so. He just wanted to help you. You were his little girl and he’d do anything to make sure that you were safe and sound.

You stopped before a small clearing, discreetly checking over your shoulders in paranoia. You knew that no one had seen you rush out to the forest, but still, you needed to make sure of it before continuing on. Once you were satisfied that no one was around, you continued forth.

Jake wasn’t necessarily shocked to say the least when he saw where you were going. He was pretty sure that some kids came out here to do whatever the hell children did, but didn’t suspect you to be one of them. Lo’ak seemed to the one who would.

A few years back, when still dealing with the aftermath of the RDA’s equipment and all the shit they left behind, the clan had decided to leave alone some of their labs or established campsites, marking it as outskirts of the forest where children were not allowed to visit. And you had claimed the closest one to Home Tree. Well, it wasn’t completely yours but you were the one who frequented it the most so you found it suiting to call it your hideout.

The Olo’eyktan shook his head as he watched you open the metal door with a small grunt, walking inside while holding your side in a pained expression that Jake missed as your back faced towards him.

Every inch of your body ached. You were more than certain that multiple bruises covered your azure skin and that scratches from your bullies' pushes and nails littered its expanse. It sucked. Being treated this way by people who you were supposed to lead one day. Feeling like you weren’t enough to become clan leader when the Great Mother deemed it necessary. It all made you feel like perhaps Neteyam was more deserving of the title, albeit him being only eight years old. In your eyes, he was the perfect image of what a true Na’vi should be. Four fingers on each hand and foot, no eyebrows on his brow bones, and he practically oozed confidence and leadership whereas you, you were you. A five-fingered freak who will only ever be seen as outcast, alien, and a monster. Your entire existence was a reminder of what the sky people did to the natives of Pandora. Of what they stole from them. Of the lives they greedily took. How could you be a leader to people who only ever saw you as such? Who didn’t even want you there in the first place?

“Fuck!” You hissed, hot electric pain shooting up your entire body as you attempted to clean the wounds scattered across your skin. It didn’t help that you only had one working hand as well. It hurt too much to move your right hand, your pinky always wanting to follow its fellow fingers in whatever movement you did. So, you opted to just use your left for addressing your wounds, which was a much harder task than you thought.

Fucking pathetic, you thought, getting angry at yourself. You couldn’t take one little beating without crying and groaning in pain. What kind of future leader are you? You’re supposed to be strong. Take beatings in stride.

You were abruptly pulled from your self-loathing thoughts with a loud cough, making you freeze in your spot. As your eyes slowly traveled to your Fathers figure in the doorway of the metal infrastructure, you knew that you were fucked. Like, really fucked.

Anxiety exploded within your chest, causing you to gulp, trying to swallow it down so you didn’t seem weak in front of your seemingly impenetrable Father. He was everything you wanted to be. Everything you couldn’t be.

“What is this?” He asks, voice surprisingly calm. He hadn’t been able to properly see your figure when he followed you through the dark forest, not seeing the full extent of your injuries. He didn’t even know that you were injured.

“Uh, nothing, just…got done with sparring and needed to clean myself up,” you responded, eyes never meeting those of Jake’s. You knew better not to. For if you did, you’d spill everything that happened to you and how you felt. You could never lie to your Sempul, which is why you tended to avoid him whenever you got into another scuffle with the other children.

Jake puts his hands on his hips as he stands there, not believing your words. You knew he wouldn’t. Your Father was great at knowing whether or not you were telling the truth, the avoidance of his gaze being one of them. His shadow from the door seemed towering and all consuming as it nearly reached your dangling toes from where you sat atop of a metal table.

“Do not lie to me, ‘evenge,” he grumbled, face scrunched into an unreadable expression. “What happened? Why are you bleeding?” He continued, serious concern laced within his voice. Jake didn’t even need to take a handful of steps before he was in front of you, kneeling to match your height.

You refused to speak, eyes looking everywhere except for your Fathers face. You just couldn’t. You needed to be strong, strong heart at this moment. For if you didn’t, you’d feel as if you were too weak for your birthright.

The man in front of you sighed out, moving his head to try to catch your gaze, “Baby girl, please. Tell me what is wrong so Sempu can fix it,” he pleaded. He was so desperate to help you, you could hear it evident in his voice.

You shook your head as tears stung your eyes, tightly screwing them shut to prevent them from spilling out. But, your Father pleaded with you again.

“Please, baby girl. What happened? Why are you hurt?” He softly asked, tears pricking his own waterline as you refused to tell him anything. He felt like he did something wrong for you to not want to tell him what happened. Like he failed at being a Father. Was he not there enough for you? Did he say something to you that made you scared to open up to him? He racked his brain for a million things.

Hearing the crack of emotion within his voice is what persuaded you to break in front of your Father, tears continuously falling down your cheeks as they escaped from the corner of your eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jake cooed, bringing you into his arms, now fully seated on the cold floor as he brought you into his lap and wrapped his arms around you, gently running a hand through your hair in hopes to calm you down. Sobs racked your body and Jake felt helpless. He wanted to help you so badly but he couldn’t do anything without knowing the reason you were upset. It broke him to see his little girl like this.

“It’s okay, princess. Whatever it is, I swear Sempu won’t be mad. I just want to make it better,” he whispered, gently and slowly rocking from side to side, something he did frequently when you were a toddler and had trouble falling asleep. It never failed to make you sleepy and passed out in his arms when you were smaller.

Eventually, you caved and told him everything. How mean the other kids are. How they like to pull and tug at your pinky. How they routinely pick at you and beat you. How they beat you an hour prior and probably severely hurt you. How they love calling you colorful names. How small and insignificant they made you feel. You told him how inadequate you felt as the heir to his title. How much of a freak you were and how the People deserve a true leader, someone like Neteyam. How it felt like the whole world was on your shoulders. You let it all out. And by the end, you ran out of tears to cry and your body stopped shaking, hiccups escaping past your lips as you laid there wrapped up in your Fathers arms.

Jake listened as you cried and sobbed out how you felt and what was going on. How you felt like you had to hide what was happening in order to seem strong and worthy of being a leader. How you wanted to be strong like him and Neytiri. How you felt like you needed to deal with all of this on your own in order to feel like you deserved the title of heir to the Olo’eyktan throne. The more you spoke, the more Jake felt his heart break into two. He felt awful for not noticing how you were struggling. He was your Dad, he was supposed to know when you weren’t feeling well and coke comforted you. But instead, he became too consumed with his duties to the clan and neglected you in the process.

“Oh, my little star, I am so sorry,” Jake utters, tears falling down his face as he finally got you to break and bare your troubled spirit to him. He felt saddened at how you felt but angry towards the children who relentlessly teased you about your differences.

“You are not a freak or a monster. You are my daughter. A product of your Sa’nok and I’s love. You are a part of me as you are your Mother. You are a result of a story that will forever be known by the people of Pandora. You are the new hope for the future. You are every part Na’vi as the rest of your siblings. You are the fruit of those who came before you and proof that you are meant to be here, to be the next leader of your people,” he gently said, tone firm and serious. He meant every word that he said.

“Your spirit is strong, so is your heart. Strong heart,” he added, making you pull away from the safety and comfort of his neck to face him. You’d never thought you’d ever hear those two words come from his mouth. You never thought you were worthy enough to bare those words on your shoulders like your Mother and Father did. You felt comforted by his words, validated by them.

“I need you to promise me that you will tell me the next time you ever feel this way again, baby girl,” he commented, bringing up one of his hands as he extended his last finger and balled the rest up into a fist, “Pinky swear it.”.

Your eyebrows furrowed at the action, not knowing what it meant or what you were supposed to do. “A what?” You questioned, voice hoarse from all the sobbing you did.

“A pinky promise,” Jake answered, a small smile on his face, “It’s something humans did back on Earth. They did it to make promises together and ensure that no one breaks it.”.

You nodded in understanding, bringing out your non-injured pinky and wrapping it around your Father’s, giggling as he slightly tugged your intertwined fingers to make sure that the promise you made him was stable and unbreakable.

“You cannot break this promise, ‘evenge, or there will be consequences,” Jake commented, tone mixed with playfulness and seriousness.

“What will happen if I break it, Sempu?” You asked, slight worry laced within your voice. Your Mother always warned you to stay away from tawtute things, or things that were foreign in general. So Jake introducing something human to you made you nervous. A million things ran through your head as to what could happen to you if you broke the promise you just made with your Father, temporarily distracting you from your chaotic thoughts.

Jake smirked, the tip of his fangs poking out from his lips and catching on the flesh of the bottom one. “If you break the greatest oath there is, the pinky promise, then the great toruk will come down and snatch you up!” He exclaimed, head going in between your neck and shoulder to blow raspberries into your jugular, causing you to shriek out a giggle.

Your feeble attempts at trying to push away your Father from your sensitive neck were all for nought, shrieky giggles escaping your lips as he continued his attack on your neck as he brought up his free hand to tickle the side of your stomach, his other one still intertwined with your pinky.

“Okay! Okay!” You panted, finally pushing your Father from your poor neck, “I won’t ever break our pinky promise!”.

Jake laughed at your reaction, smiling as he brought up your still connected pinkies, “Good, I’d hate to lose you to the mighty toruk.”.

You giggled out in response as well, wiggled your small finger from your Fathers much larger and stronger one, placing it back into your lap. You had a big smile on your face, matching the one of your Fathers as he lovingly gazed down at you.

The relaxed atmosphere didn’t last for long though, your face dropping once the painful throbbing in your body returned. You forgot about the events that happened hours prior, your Father being a great distraction. But nothing sweet lasts forever.

Jake seemed to catch onto your now saddened mood, frowning along with you. He hated seeing you in pain, whether that be physically or mentally. He hated it.

“Want me to help you clean up, syulang?” He softly asked, pushing some of your braids away from your dropped face, hooking two of his fingers underneath your chin so you looked up at him.

You only nodded in response, wrapping your arms around the back of your Fathers neck before placing your head on his shoulder, seeking his warmth as comfort. Your body was no longer running on adrenaline and all of your injuries seemed to hit you like an ‘angtsìk. Pain and sleepiness was the only thing you were able to feel in the moment, letting out a little yawn against your Fathers azure skin.

“Okay, baby girl,” he whispered, putting one of his hands behind your head as he began to sit up, “I got you. Just sleep, okay? Sempu’s got you.”.

And sleep you did. You soundly slept as Jake quietly and gently cleaned the blood and dirt off your skin, promising to deal with the children that did this to you. No one would hurt his little girl and get away with it. He’d personally see to it that they won’t.

#avatar #avatar imagine #atwow imagines #avatar x reader #avatar: the way of water #atwow #atwow x reader #atwow x you #angst #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #jake sully x daughter #jake sully #jake sully imagine #jake sully x y/n #jake sully x you #jake sully x daughter reader #jake sully imagines

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welcometomyoasis · 2 months

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Petrichor | Joshua Hong

Synopsis: Joshua Hong has felt inexplicably drawn to you since the first time he saw you. Alas, he was betrothed to another. Against his better judgment, Joshua still allows himself to get close to you. When you start to fall for him too, what happens then? Pairing: naiad! joshua x human g/n! reader (ft. spirit of opportunity! platonic minghao x reader, cameo by cupid! jeonghan, mention of god of time, chronos! seungcheol) Genre: greek mythology au, ancient athens au, forbidden love, fluff, angst Word count: 26.6k words Warnings: loss of vision, discrimination, greek deities, insecurities, blood, slight profanity, toxic relationship (Joshua’s betrothed is a b*tch), dehumanisation (because of Joshua’s betrothed. She calls him pet), mention of mutilation (again it’s the betrothed) , violence, food, slightly suggestive, fainting and sickness (reader gets sick), nicknames (darling, bunny) Note: I’m including the preview in this version of the full fic because it flows better. I also apologise in advance if there are any spelling/ grammatical errors. A/n: Once again, thank you Yena @fairyhaos for inspiring this fic! And a huge thank you to @wonijinjin, @brownsugarbaybee, @wheeboo and @slytherinshua for listening to me ramble about this fic ❤️ I hope I’ve done this trope justice and I’m really sorry for the wait. As always, feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated!! Thank you ❤️

ᨒ Petrichor (noun): the scent of the earth after rain. Some would describe the scent as distinctively earthy, pleasant, and sweet.

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The situation that Joshua Hong found himself in was one he never expected. The whole thing was ironic really. As a naiad, a water nymph, he knew that mortals, humans specifically, would be inexplicably drawn towards him should they ever lay eyes on him. In fact, much to Joshua’s annoyance, there were several occasions where he had to avoid some rather unsavoury characters.

Yet this time, the tables were turned. Here Joshua was, crouched behind some foliage near the creek he presided over just so he could observe this one human from afar. There was something about this human that inexplicably drew Joshua towards them. He was completely enamoured and fascinated by everything about them.

They became a regular sight at the creek over the past few months. Joshua remembered the first time he laid eyes on them. It was a balmy morning in spring. He had just finished his duty of directing some fresh water to a nearby town. When he returned to the creek, the human was there, sitting on a sky blue picnic mat crafting an intricate looking object. He remembered being struck by the sheer brightness in the human’s eyes. Literally and figuratively. Their eyes glistened under the sunlight, reflecting the sparkles from the water’s surface. At the same time, their eyes were full of life. They told Joshua everything about the human’s appreciation for their surroundings, their life, and most of all their determination to live life to the fullest. Joshua was in awe. That was the first time he ever saw such striking eyes.

Since then, Joshua felt as if there was a magnet pulling him closer to the human. Overtime, Joshua began noticing other details about the human. They would always visit the creek on the weekends, often staying for hours at a time. They would simply sit on the picnic mat reading or making those intricate looking crafts. There were even instances when they would pluck the tiny flowers around the creek to make flower crowns. He even noticed some of the human’s quirks. Like how their eyes would crinkle slightly, or how there would be a ghost of a smile on their face when they read something funny or accomplished something. They would also crinkle their nose and furrow their brows when they were concentrating. One thing Joshua definitely picked up on, was that the human was always alone. This puzzled him immensely. Weren’t humans supposed to be social creatures?

Eventually, the amount of time Joshua was spending observing the human began to drive him crazy. Sure, he could partially blame the fact that naiads were naturally curious creatures. But he knew that the attraction he felt went beyond the confines of rational curiosity. This was infatuation, obsession even. In Joshua’s attempt to figure out what this attraction was, he approached his acquaintance, a relative of Cupid, Yoon Jeonghan, to ask if he was hit by yet another one of Jeonghan’s infamous stray arrows. To his disappointment, Joshua was not. (Jeonghan adamantly insisted that “using arrows is soooo 2 centuries ago” although he cheekily admitted that he did randomly shoot love arrows into the air “just for the fun of it”.)

Still, Jeonghan did give him a somewhat useful piece of advice. Infatuation. Love. Jeonghan explained that these feelings were complicated. There was usually much more nuance that needed to be teased out when attraction was involved. Especially in this case where the attraction was one-sided (for now anyway). Simply put, Joshua had either really fallen for this human, or there was something about this human that he longed for. Something that sparked an intense sense of desire and curiosity within him, like a personality trait or the human’s way of life. Perhaps it was a bit of both possibilities?

Whatever it was, Joshua would need to figure that out for himself. Outwardly, Joshua cursed Jeonghan’s advice, thinking that it was just like a relative of Cupid to tell people to keep spying on humans like a creep from the sidelines. However, deep down, he knew Jeonghan was right. His desire, his need to decipher this complex feelings of attraction for the human was overwhelming. That human lit a fire within him, and he needed to quell those flames before it completely consumed his life.

So, Joshua (rather reluctantly) continued his routine. He hid behind the foliage, and he watched.

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When you emerged from the shade of the dense forest, the warmth and light of the mid-morning sun welcomed you. Taking a moment to recenter yourself after the somewhat strenuous trek to your destination, you closed your eyes. Reopening your eyes, you were once again greeted with the most picturesque landscape before you.

Sure, it might seem like another open field of grass next to a creek. A sight that was not uncommon in the rural forested areas surrounding the Athenian capital. But this place was different. There was something about this particular field of grass next to this creek that was absolutely mesmerising. You shouldn’t be surprised. Afterall, the gods lived on Mount Olympus which overlooked Greece. The scenery should be befitting for the gods to lay their eyes upon. Regardless, no matter how many times you visited this place, you were always enthralled by the scenery.

The field of grass was extremely luscious. You loved to feel the blades of grass brushing against your fingertips. They were soft, almost feathery. Tiny flowers were scattered across the entire field, providing subtle pops of different colours to the otherwise uniform vibrant emerald colour of the grass. You were also treated to the sight of butterflies. Besides the occasional rustling of the foliage, if it was silent enough, you swore that you could almost hear their wings fluttering as they flew across the field towards the mountains that lay in the background. Sometimes, when you arrived early, you would be treated to the sight of the majestic mountains that were shrouded in the morning mist slowly clear, allowing the sun to peak out from between the mountain peaks.

You always loved the way that the streaks of the sun’s rays would descend upon this little oasis. They illuminated the whole area with a gentle, golden glow, making the whole space look ethereal. You liked to think that the sun god Helios paid extra attention to illuminating this field because it was so secluded, so untouched from civilisation.

You especially adored the way that the sun’s rays were reflected on the creek. This was certainly the clearest, bluest waters you had ever seen. Where others saw water, you saw alluring pale blue crystals that sparkled and twinkled underneath the sun’s rays which danced gracefully across the surface of the water. Even when the light breeze brushed against the water, the ripples simply created another bewitching performance for you. You could spend hours watching the water, entranced by the beauty of it all.

However, you had to admit that you loved the scent that blanketed this area more than anything. You would inhale deeply, savouring the fresh air. The air was such a stark contrast to the stuffy air you were usually surrounded by in the Athenian capital. While you could detect the crisp, fresh odor of pine from the forest, it was faint compared to the scent being emitted from the open field of grass next to the creek that lay before you. The scent was distinct. It was sweet, pleasant, and had an element of earthiness to it. If you could liken the scent to anything, it would be the scent that lingered in the air right after there was a bout of rain, or the scent of the morning dew that always lingered on the grass and flowers. Petrichor. Yes, that was the word used to describe this scent.

As your eyes drifted over the landscape, and you inhaled the scent of petrichor that wafted through the air, a wave of peace, contentment, and emotional reprieve washed over you. Beyond that, you were overcome with a feeling of gratitude and nostalgia. Gratitude towards your friend, Minghao, for pushing you to find this place, gratitude for being able to actually see this ethereal sight in your lifetime, and nostalgia for all the times you had spent your weekends here. You smiled softly, allowing yourself to embrace all these emotions all at once. There was no need to repress any emotions here. You could just let go. Here, you were alone. Alone but free and happy.

Yes, you thought to yourself, this field was a sacred space for you. A sanctuary, an escape where you could rest, heal, and seek refuge from the chaos of daily life.

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Once you made yourself comfortable on your picnic mat, you gazed fondly at the well-thumbed leather bound book that lay on your lap. Out of all the Greek tragedies and epics you read, you had to say that this compilation of popular Greek quotations was your favourite. Sure, you read this book multiple times over, to the point that you could recite most of the quotes by heart. But you loved the feeling of physically flipping through the pages and letting your eyes drift over the words on the paper. Running your fingers over the leather, you carefully opened the book and let yourself be immersed in the beautifully crafted words.

You quickly lost track of how much time passed. Only when your stomach called out for food did you notice that it was already midday. Placing your book down, you turned to rummage through your woven basket for the lunch you packed. As you did so, you accidentally nicked the palm of your hand on one of the unfinished crafts inside. You hissed at the stinging sensation, quickly pulling your hand out to inspect the damage. You sighed when you saw a tiny cut across your palm. It wasn’t deep, but it started to draw a bit of blood.

Unbeknownst to you, someone had been watching you all morning. It was Joshua. He was silently observing you from his usual spot behind the foliage. Currently, he was lost in his thoughts wondering why you were reading the same book again. Today was probably the fifth time that he’s seen you bring the book to the creek. When you placed your book down and turned towards your basket, Joshua stood on his tip toes while craning his neck to see the title of the book engraved on the leather cover.

However, your hiss of pain broke Joshua’s concentration. Out of shock, he yelped and stumbled forward, fortunately regaining his balance before he fell through the foliage. Joshua’s eyes widened and he instinctively slammed his hands over his mouth to try and muffle the yelp that had already escaped him.

You were making your way to the creek to clean your wound, but the sudden rustling of the foliage behind you caught your attention. Also, was that a yelp? Was someone else here? Turning, you stalked cautiously towards the foliage.

Joshua did not dare to move a muscle as he heard your footsteps approach. He thought the best thing was to just stand still and pray to the deities that you would walk away. Well, today certainly was not his lucky day. In his attempt to stabilise himself, he had forgotten that he was in fact taller than the bushes that he was hiding behind.

You eyed the black tuft of hair sticking out from between the bushes. So your suspicions proved to be correct. There was someone else here.

“Hello? Is everything okay?” You called out.

Joshua scrunched his face, internally cursing to the deities that they had once again let him down. He began to shuffle around trying to figure out what he should do. His brain told him that he should turn and flee, but his heart said otherwise. It was the first time Joshua had heard your voice, and his heart fluttered in response when you called out to him. This was okay, right? Meeting you would be okay. Maybe he would be able to figure out why he was so drawn to you better this way. Relenting to his heart’s desires, he steeled his nerves and tried to push his way through the foliage to meet you, which proved to be more difficult than he expected.

Your caution turned into amusement and curiosity as a figure emerged from the bushes. Or at least was trying desperately to. It was apparent that he was struggling to disentangle himself from the bushes. He was cursing under his breath, muttering how he was not going to help the Goddess Gaia water her plants anymore. He stomped around, shoving the plants aside before finally stumbling out of the bushes.

Huffing, he pulled the twigs out of his hair, brushed the leaves off his chiton, and made sure that the gown rested comfortably on his shoulders. He readjusted the belt around his waist as well. You watched as he proceeded to angrily twirl his gold jewelry back in place, his necklace, his ring on his pinky finger, and the arm bands around his biceps. You swallowed thickly at the sight. With that build, the divine aura around him, his gold jewelry, there was no way that he was an ordinary man. His aura reminded you of Minghao’s. Perhaps he was a spirit as well?

You were unable to keep yourself from snickering. He might be a spirit but just now, he seemed like a clumsy, stumbling fawn trying to walk.

Hearing your snickers, it finally clicked in Joshua’s mind that he was being watched. And by the entrancing human that captured his attention. He suddenly ceased his frantic readjustments and looked up at you like a deer caught in headlights.

His wide eyes made you burst out laughing.

Joshua’s expression softened. You were even more mesmerising up close. Your laughter was like music to his ears. Taking in your presence, Joshua’s eyes landed on the injured palm you were clutching close to your body.

Joshua cleared his throat awkwardly, “Uhm, you should really get that cut healed.”

Sobering up quickly, you nodded, “I’ll just clean it in the creek and bandage it with a cloth that I have on me.”

When you turned towards the creek, Joshua’s hand shot out to grasp your wrist, “No… Don’t clean it in the creek… Wait… I mean… I can heal that for you if you want? Does that sound creepy. I swear I’m a naiad? Yea, you probably have never heard of a male naiad before. That explains why I’m so weak. I can’t heal big wounds or reverse curses or whatever. I’m kind of useless as a naiad. That’s what everyone else says. I can’t do anything the other naiads can… Uh…I apologise, I’m rambling again aren’t I?”

You shook your head, indicating that it was okay. He was a naiad. That explained the divine aura around him. He was definitely a cute naiad, though you felt a pinch of pity for him since that was how lowly he thought of himself. You stood there, patiently waiting for him to gather his thoughts.

Realising what he was doing, Joshua let go of your wrist. He gave you a sheepish look, “I mean… I can still heal small cuts like that… if you don’t mind of course.”

“Sure!” You chirped.

“Really?” Joshua was dumbfounded. Why would you trust him when you both just met?

You shrugged your shoulders and extended your injured palm out to him, “I’m y/n by the way. What’s your name? I think I should probably know the name of the handsome naiad who is going out of his way to heal me. Don’t you think so?”

Joshua flushed at your words, even your name was beautiful. Muttering that his name was Joshua, he took your hand in his, treating your hand as he would treat a delicate rose petal. A soft, warm blue light emitted from his hand enveloping yours. Soon, the cut was gone. All that was left was a faint line from where the cut was, and the strong scent of petrichor which calmed you down greatly.

Inspecting your palm, you beamed at Joshua, “Thank you! Wow, that was amazing! I’ve never actually seen a naiad’s powers in action!”

Joshua turned his body away from you, refusing to look you in your eyes. He couldn’t believe that you, the human he was completely enamoured with, was treating him with such kindness and gratitude. You thought he was amazing, that his powers were amazing. He had expected you to run or look at him in disgust. He didn’t make a good first impression on you with his stumbling and rambling. Plus, he had basically blurted out all his flaws, his insignificance compared to other naiads.

Sensing Joshua’s discomfort, you tried to tone down your excitement. Trying to convey as much sincerity as you could in your voice, you said, “really Joshua. Thank you, I really mean it.”

Joshua fiddled with the hems of his chiton. Then, he lifted his head and whispered, “no problem.”

You observed Joshua’s nervous disposition, finding yourself unable to look away. There was something about Joshua, something that made you want to find out more about him, something that made you want to spend time with him. Obviously, there was the physical attraction you felt towards him. Joshua was incredibly attractive. His black undercut made his otherwise gentle eyes look more piercing, as if he was staring right into your soul. But the corners of his lips curled upwards, softening his appearance. His muscles were made more prominent by the golden armbands that rested on his biceps.

Joshua’s physical appearance screamed strength. Yet, you could discern that within him, there was inner turmoil, deep seeded sadness, hopelessness and self-loathing. You chalked it up to being the accumulation of emotional scars over the years, left by the sharp swords of those who had repeatedly hurled insults at him. The ones who called him a useless naiad. The ones who damaged him, ostracised him, leaving him a vulnerable shell of what he could have been.

Your heart ached for Joshua. From personal experience, you knew that underneath all the hurt and discrimination he endured, lay a pure, innocent, soul who longed to be healed. You were determined to help him, to save him. You wanted him to find the strength to love himself, and make peace with who he was as a person, who he was as a naiad. You swore to yourself that as long as he would let you, you would stand by Joshua’s side.

An awkward silence filled the air. Joshua shrank into himself slightly under your tender gaze, snapping you out of your thoughts. Biting your lip to reprimand yourself from staring too long, you hesitated before gesturing towards your basket, “Joshua? It’s midday right now. I was actually just about to have lunch. Please, you’re welcome to join me, I always bring extra food… and I would really love to get to know you better. However, if you’re uncomfortable with my presence, I can go and you can have the creek to yourself.”

“Me?” Joshua pointed to himself.

“Who else here is named Joshua?”

“Why?” Joshua breathed incredulously.

“Why not?” You replied.

Hearing your response, Joshua recoiled even further. It was beyond his imagination to think that a person as perfect as you would want to get to know someone as damaged as he was. He really longed to get to know you too. It’s just that this was all so embarrassing for him, and he really should not let himself get close to you. This could end badly for the two of you. He should have run earlier, he actually should run and hide right now. He was grateful that you would give him the option to choose whether he wanted you to stay or not, though you shouldn’t have to go because he was being a blushing idiot. He looked at you patiently waiting for him to give you a response while he grappled with all his emotions.

Just as Joshua opened his mouth to excuse himself politely, his heart once again betrayed his brain. To your delight, and his horror, he blurted, “No, please don’t go. Stay. I… I would love to get to know you better too.” 𓇼 ༄ ᨒ .𖥔 ݁

Wheezing, you grabbed onto Joshua’s forearm, “So the rumours were true? Narcissus is only Narcissus because that stupid cupid Jeonghan shot a love arrow into the pond where he was trying to check his reflection?”

Despite Joshua flushing at the close contact between the two of you, Joshua nodded enthusiastically, “Yes, it’s true. Stupid cupid. That’s a new name for Jeonghan. I’ll have to call him that next time.”

In the short span of three hours that you spent talking to Joshua over lunch, you had gotten more comfortable with each other. Once Joshua warmed up to you, seeing that you were really sincere in wanting to get to know you, he opened up a little. He still wasn’t quite comfortable talking about himself, but he was happy to talk about the adventures of his acquaintances.

By now, you could safely say that you were completely enamoured with Joshua. He was so gorgeous. You loved the spark of life that lit up in his eyes when he talked about something stupid his acquaintances did (and especially when you said something funny). His laugh was melodic. You adored his little quirk of raising his clenched fist in front of his face while leaning backwards when he laughed. It was so endearing to see how the reserved chuckles turned into full blown belly laughs now that he was enjoying himself. You were definitely successful at breaking down some of his walls today. You also came to know that Joshua was hilarious, witty, and best of all, he was unpredictable in the best way possible. You thought you were about to cry laughing when Joshua placed a piece of lettuce on his head, insisting that he needed some shade from the afternoon sun.

Squeezing Joshua’s arm one last time before letting go, you heaved a deep sigh to compose yourself. Your eyes landed on your tiny sundial. It was almost 4 in the afternoon. You pouted slightly, realising that you would soon have to part ways with Joshua.

Noticing the change in your mood, Joshua asked, “Do you need to go soon?”

You shook your head, “I can stay for another half an hour.” You would really be pushing it as the forest would get dark very quickly. However, anytime spent with Joshua was worth possibly getting lost in the forest.

Shaking those thoughts out of your head, you took another deep breath, relishing in the scent of petrichor that lingered in the air. Was it just you or was the scent stronger now that Joshua was right next to you? Shrugging, you let a comfortable silence envelop the two of you.

“Y/n? Can I ask you a question before you go?”

You let out a hum in response to Joshua.

“How did you find this creek? It’s kind of far from the rest of Athenian civilisation.”

Musing over his question, you explained cryptically, “I guess it all started with one word, kairos.”

Joshua raised his eyebrow at that. You shifted so you were facing him, “You see, my friend, Minghao, he’s a spirit of opportunity. You’ve probably never heard of him. Long story short, I was going through some stuff, and was in desperate need of a break. When Minghao found out, all he said was that word, kairos. He explained that kairos meant the right time. He said that despite all that I was going through, it showed that it was the right time for me to get out of my comfort zone. The right time to venture out of the capital which I lived in all my life to try and find something, perhaps a place, that would help to heal me.”

You paused to gesture to the scenery around you before continuing, “As you can tell, I found this place. You can bet I really hated him at the time. Like you said, it is far from the rest of Athenian civilisation. Honestly I almost gave up when he told me I had to walk through the dense forest. But it was worth it. I don’t know how to explain it. When I was walking through the forest, it was as if there was a little voice in my head telling me to walk this way. It felt like there was a magnet drawing me to this place. Then I came across this little oasis. Minghao was right, it was the right time for me to venture out. I guess… you could say that this creek, this whole area, I didn’t find it. It found me. It healed me when I needed it the most.”

You could still remember the day Minghao told you to walk through the forest.

“Y/n. You will find what you need when you take the opportunity to venture out of your comfort zone. Given you’re feeling this way, it’s the right time.” Minghao said exasperatedly.

You rolled your eyes at him, “of course you would say that, you’re a spirit of opportunity.”

Finally sick of your protests, Minghao pushed you out of your house towards the path he had asked you to take, “Don’t come back until you actually try to find what you need.” Then, he added more quietly, “Y/n, please. I promise you won’t regret it.”

Seeing Minghao’s pleading eyes, you relented. If Minghao was this convinced that this walk would do you some good, you should at least try. Minghao’s advice had never steered you in the wrong direction before. Still, you grumbled as you stormed through the dense forest, pushing away the twigs and foliage out of your way. You didn’t know how long you were stalking through the forest. Letting out a frustrated growl, you were about to give up. Your feet hurt, you were tired, and all you wanted to do was go home to sleep. Just then, you saw some light streaming through the thick shade of the forest.

It was as if the light was a rope, wrapping itself around you and pulling you in that direction. Something inside you told you that you should venture forward, just a little more. So that’s just what you did. And you’ve been coming back to this oasis ever since.

You smiled at the fond memory. You should thank Minghao once again for leading you to find this place. You did meet Joshua because of it. He’s one more attractive reason as to why you will be returning again next week, if he is agreeable to it that is.

Joshua nodded in understanding. Since there was a naiad presiding over this creek, ie, him, it was normal that mortals would find the creek more alluring.

You let out a regretful sigh, “I’m sorry Joshua, I really have to go now before it gets dark… I really had a good time today. With you. Would you be okay meeting again next week? You see, I return here every weekend. Only if you’re okay with it.”

You looked at Joshua hopefully. You really wanted to see him again.

Joshua’s heart fluttered at the prospect of spending another weekend with you. While his conscience began acting up, telling him that this was a really bad idea to make it a recurring thing as you both might end up hurt or worse should she find out, against his better judgment, he elected to ignore his conscience.

Joshua stood up, smoothened out his chiton, and held his palm out to you shyly, “Sure. I’ll be happy to. Same time and place next week?”

𓇼 ༄ ᨒ .𖥔 ݁

Before you knew it, a month and a half had already passed since that fateful day that Joshua stumbled (literally) into your life. “Same time and place next week?” became a routine question that you would ask each other at the end of your weekly meetings.

During that time, you made some progress with Joshua. You were beginning to break down the walls he built to protect himself. You were happy and touched that he was now comfortable enough with you to open up a little bit more. You could tease each other, and share little stories about your daily lives. Joshua no longer lowered his head or turned away when talking to you. He would look you in the eyes and listen to your stories intently with his face scrunched in concentration (and with a light blush dusted across his cheeks). More often than not, you would both talk about your shared interests and hobbies. In one of your earlier conversations, you were overjoyed when Joshua expressed his interest in the crafts that you frequently made by the creek. As it turns out, Joshua loved to make little crafts as well, and your meetings soon turned into crafting slash gossip sessions.

Originally, you were prepared to do most of the talking. However, as Joshua got more comfortable with you, you were pleasantly surprised that he was more willing to tell you stories as well. Sure, he was still rather reluctant to delve into his personal life or history too much, but he was more than happy to tell you about all the little flowers he was able to water, or all the little animals he came across in the forest. Of course, you respected his boundaries. Afterall, there were things about your own life that you hadn’t shared with him. You understood that he needed time to overcome his insecurities and issues regarding his own identity.

And in the times that Joshua slipped into his self-deprecating ways when talking about himself, you would just gently remind him that he was doing well before tactfully steering the conversation in a different direction. Spending time with you hearing all those little words from you that reaffirmed his importance and successes slowly mended the wounds and scars that were left on his soul.

Although he was a naiad, Joshua began to think that you were the one who had mystical abilities. It was as if you were a god of love. You embodied love, care, and beauty. You treated him so gently, with so much care that Joshua began to feel normal again. You indulged his silly little antics, his quirks, his flaws. You made him feel loved. For once, he felt like he mattered.

Joshua was convinced he did want to be near you. He wanted to be with you. In fact, instead of having his initial curiosity satiated, his desire to learn more about you had only magnified in the last few weeks. You exuded an air of self-confidence, and your unconditional acceptance of him, flaws and all, were qualities that Joshua was completely baffled by. How could you be so lovely, humble, and kind? Yea, he had really started to fall completely, and hopelessly in love with you. Luckily for him, you felt the same way towards him.

𓇼 ༄ ᨒ .𖥔 ݁

Humming to yourself, you checked your basket one last time to make sure that you had all the materials needed for the day’s crafting session. The crafts Joshua made usually consisted of beaded jewelry. He was fascinated by your ability to weave baskets in a variety of styles and had asked if you could teach him today.

With one last huff, you pushed past the last of the foliage from the dense forest, brightening up immediately at the sight of Joshua. Or more specifically, Joshua’s broad back. He was crouched over the creek with his back turned to you. For someone that tall, he looked so small and cute. That was when the most amazing idea came to your mind.

You placed your basket down as quietly as you could. Snickering, you launched yourself at Joshua’s back, hoping to give him a surprise back hug. Sadly, today was not your lucky day. Just as you were about to wrap your arms around Joshua’s shoulders, he shuffled to the right and stood up. You let out a loud squeal, your arms flailing around wildly in the air. You thought you heard Joshua’s distant, worried scream of your name when your body came into contact with the cold creek water.

Almost instantly, you felt Joshua’s hands grab onto you, heaving you out of the water.

You shot him a glare, squirming in his arms, “you weren’t supposed to move.”

Joshua scoffed, “that’s the first thing you say to me? Maybe I should have left you in the water. How was I supposed to know my gorgeous Y/n decided to be an idiot and launch themself at my back?”

At Joshua’s words, you stilled. You felt the heat rising to your cheeks. Joshua thought you were gorgeous? He called you his? This might be a good time for you to combust on the spot. Coughing to cover up your embarrassment, you let a cheeky grin spread across your face, “You think I’m gorgeous? And I’m yours? Since when? I don’t remember agreeing…”

Joshua flushed, sputtering, “No… I… I didn’t say any of that… I said sly… yea… sly ridiculous Y/n. Yea… that’s it…”

You brought your face dangerously close to his, enjoying the view of his eyes darting around from beneath his long lashes, looking anywhere but your eyes. You teased, “Reaaalllllyyyy? Because I could have sworn that you said my gorgeous Y/n….”

Joshua sulked, whining that he didn’t under his breath. You chuckled at his adorable expression.

Sneezing lightly as a gust of wind passed by, you shivered. Noticing this, Joshua sighed, “What am I going to do with you? Come here. I can only dry you off slightly, but it will be enough to prevent you from catching a cold.”

You scooted closer to Joshua. He raised his palms, letting them glow the soft, warm blue light that was always emitted when he used his naiad abilities. As he started to pull some of the water out of your soaked clothing, the strong scent of petrichor invaded your nose, causing you to sigh in contentment.

“Why are you always doing that?” Joshua asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You always sigh when I use my powers. I’m sorry, is it uncomfortable for you?”

Whipping your head around, you raised your hand to squish Joshua’s cheeks together, “NO! It’s nothing like that. Don’t ever think that. Your powers are amazing. It’s just that when you use your powers, there’s a really sweet, pleasant smell that I really like.”

“Imndnmmdonenee.”

“What?” You tilted your head, wondering what Joshua was saying.

Annoyed, he pointed to his squished cheeks.

“Oh, sorry.” You said, letting go of his face.

Joshua repeated himself, “I said, I’m done. Drying you off I mean. Here, you can have my coat first. Shall we begin basket weaving then? We really don’t have all day.” Joshua feigned an indifferent look, but you could tell he was secretly happy that you actually liked it when he used his abilities.

You wrapped Joshua’s coat around your shoulders. Wow, you thought to yourself, he really did smell like petrichor. Plopping yourself down on your picnic mat, you snuggled into his coat further, inhaling his comforting scent.

For a while, you both just sat there, with you teaching Joshua how to weave the different basket styles. You watched, amused by Joshua’s concentration. It was endearing to see how much he loved crafts. It wasn’t exactly an easy task, but it was nice to see that Joshua was able to find joy in engaging in his favourite hobbies.

When he finished weaving a small basket, you cheered loudly, praising his amazing handiwork, “Wow!! It was your first attempt but you did so well? I think I’m going to need you to do all my basket weaving from now on.”

Joshua smiled shyly, still unsure how to feel about being praised, “That’s because I had a good teacher.”

You clicked your tongue, “Flattery will not get you out of helping me. Now, let’s eat!! It’s already two in the afternoon.”

You both cleared the picnic mat, laying out the bread, butter, and fruits that you packed for your lunch. You eagerly dug into your food, savouring the taste of a nice meal after working hard all morning.

Oh how Joshua adored you. You looked like a little bunny shoving the food in your mouth. You really knew how to enjoy all these simple pleasures in life. He really should watch his mouth better. He already slipped up earlier, calling you his gorgeous y/n. Now that you were both closer to each other, he didn’t want to do anything that might push you away.

Swallowing another mouthful of food, you could feel Joshua’s eyes on you. Teasing him, you said, “Aren’t you going to eat? Or are you just going to stare at me, your gorgeous Y/n?”

Joshua scratched his cheek sheepishly, trying to cover up the fact that he was staring at you, “I wasn’t staring. I was… thinking. Yea, thinking. Actually, I was thinking, why do you always make so many crafts anyway?”

You looked at him, questioning his weird behaviour. Shrugging it off as another one of Joshua’s awkward episodes, you replied, “On the weekdays, I work at the Athenian agora. You know, the central market? I thought I mentioned this before at some point. Anyway, I sell these baskets and crafts to make a living.”

Your words floated through the wind, along with Joshua’s hum of understanding. You both fell back into a comfortable silence as you finished the remains of your meal. Shortly after, you saw that it was already time to go. You reluctantly pulled Joshua’s coat off your shoulders, though not before you took one last whiff of his comforting scent. Passing Joshua his coat, you began to repack your basket, “Same time and place next week?”

𓇼 ༄ ᨒ .𖥔 ݁

The following week, you were sitting on your picnic mat working on a beaded bracelet waiting for Joshua to show up. He was late today, but you weren’t worried. Joshua did tell you that sometimes his daily naiad duties took longer than expected.

Hearing a twig snap in the distance, you lifted your head from your basket, frowning slightly out of concern as Joshua approached you. You took in his disheveled appearance. He usually swept his bangs to the side, but today, he let his bangs cascade down his face, covering his eyes. Speaking of which, his eyes were downcast. Instead of the brightness that you saw in his eyes during your weekly meetings, he eyes just looked empty.

“Shua?” You asked tentatively, unconsciously using a more affectionate nickname.

Joshua let out a frustrated growl, ruffling his hair further. Beaded bracelet long forgotten, you shot up, rushing to grab Joshua’s hands, yelling, “Shua!! Shua! Stop it! You’ll hurt yourself!”

When he didn’t respond, with your hands still on his, you wordlessly guided him to sit down onto the picnic mat. Joshua was normally really good at controlling himself around you, but his emotions were heightened and all he wanted right now was to be wrapped in your embrace. He wriggled his hands free from your grip, diving towards you. You both landed on the picnic mat with a thud.

As your brain rushed to process what just happened, you felt Joshua turn to bury his head against your stomach, and wrap his arm around your waist. You were taken aback by his actions. Sure, you both had gotten close enough that physical contact wasn’t uncommon. However, besides the occasional heat pat (or the few times Joshua would have to grab your hands/ arms to save you from injuring yourself), Joshua never initiated the physical contact. He must really be feeling bad today if he was initiating physical contact this intimate.

Sighing, you twisted your body, shifting yourself slightly. Joshua let out a whine at your movement. You hushed him, “I’m moving to make us more comfortable.”

Finally, when you both were in a more comfortable position, you began to run your fingers through his hair, untangling all the knots that formed during his little tantrum.

“Bad day?” You probed lightly.

“Yes.” Joshua replied, his voice muffled by the fabric of your chiton.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. Let’s just say… I saw some old acquaintances… they… weren’t very nice to me in the past. They didn’t see me though.” Joshua mumbled.

You felt your heart break at the hurt that laced his voice. Seeing them must have brought up bad memories for him. You couldn’t understand how anyone could be mean to Joshua. He didn’t deserve any of that. Respecting that he didn’t want to talk anymore, you simply hummed in response.

You continued running your fingers through his hair. Joshua tightened his grip on your waist, “Y/n? Do you think we could just stay like this for a while?”

“Of course, we’ll stay like this as long as you need,” you cooed.

At some point, Joshua’s grip had slackened, and his breathing became more rhythmic. You stared at his figure adoringly. He fell asleep. You weren’t pleased that Joshua had to relive his painful memories, but your heart fluttered with the knowledge that Joshua felt safe enough to be vulnerable with you. He didn’t have to be afraid to let his guard down when he felt himself breaking, because he knew that you were there to pick up all the broken pieces and hold him until he felt whole again.

You soon lost track of how much time had passed. You were sure you both missed lunch, though you didn’t care. Joshua was resting so comfortably. His figure looked so peaceful that you didn’t want to wake him. Fortunately, you both landed pretty near your basket. With as little movement as possible, you grabbed your leather bound book and began to read.

A long, long while later, Joshua’s eyes fluttered open. Where was he? Why did he feel so protected, like he was being shielded from the world? Why did this pillow he was hugging smell so nice? Content, he buried his head further into the pillow. As the fog in his brain began to clear, one thought came to his mind. Since when did he cuddle a pillow to sleep? His eyes shot open, pulling away from the pillow only to see that his ‘pillow’ was you.

He blushed furiously, hiding his head in his hands. You giggled at his reaction, “good morning sleeping beauty. Or, well, good evening? You slept for quite a long time. It’s already four in the afternoon.”

Joshua groaned. It warmed his heart to know that you had stayed by his side for so long. Still, he was so embarrassed. Silently berating his heart that was still pounding, Joshua looked up at you. You were now sitting up cross legged, gazing at him fondly while holding your book in your hands.

It was that book again. The one he always saw you reading. Joshua craned his neck trying to read the title of the book, bending in such an awkward position he almost tipped over. You let out a haughty laugh. Joshua pouted, sulking that he had once again embarrassed himself in front of you.

Regaining your composure, you extended the book towards Joshua, “Shua? You wanted to see this?”

Joshua gingerly took the book from you, “A compilation of popular quotes. Compiled by Y/n? You wrote this?”

You shook your head, “No, I just copied out some of my favourite quotes from all the books I read.”

Joshua flipped through the pages in awe, your elegant handwriting making the quotes stand out to him even more. You really had taken the effort to copy all your favourite quotes, many of which he had never seen before.

“You can borrow the book if you want. I don’t exactly need it.” You offered.

“Really? But this is a one of a kind copy. It’s your prized possession. I couldn’t. What if something happened to it?”

“I’m sure you’ll take good care of it. Besides, I always see you staring at this book. Since you’re so interested in it, I might as well lend it to you.”

“Are you sure?” Joshua hesitated.

You shrugged your shoulders, “Sure. I trust you, just like you’ve shown you trust me.”

And just like that, when Joshua thought he could not fall for you any harder, those three words, “I trust you” proved him wrong.

𓇼 ༄ ᨒ .𖥔 ݁

“Y/N! I’m just saying. This quote doesn’t make sense to me. What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others? You can’t weave anything into the lives of others. That’s the Moirai’s job? They literally weave the fate of humans? Clotho will not be happy to know that her spinning job has been overtaken by this Pericles guy.”

“Shua. Seriously. It’s just a quotation, you don’t need to take it seriously.”

“But it doesn’t make sense.”

“Shua. Again. Don’t worry about it.”

Today, the peace of your little oasis was broken by the banter between you and Joshua. Ever since you lent him your book a few weeks ago, Joshua has been pestering you about how some of the quotations don’t make any sense to him. You were both amused and exasperated at how smart and just how dumb Joshua could be. Sometimes, you were able to carry out intelligent conversations about some of the quotes. Other times… they looked more like this.

Joshua grumbled, “It makes no sense. You know what else makes no sense? This one.”

You looked at the quote which Joshua was pointing at written by Heraclitus - No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.

“What is it about this one then?” You ask.

“One, it's going to be the same idiot who decided that it would be a good idea to get into the river. Two, the river doesn’t change. It’s the same damn river.”

“Okay, so maybe it’s the same guy. But you of all people should know that the river is not the same. The water passes through it, just like what happens at this creek.” You retort.

“No, it’s the water that is not the same. The river is the same. The name of the river is not going to change, and it’s the same river bank. Like this creek. The creek is always going to be called the Iremia creek. Only the water is different. Your human philosophers are trying too hard to write something profound in the simplest of things,” Joshua remarked rather smugly, seeing that he was able to poke holes at one of the quotations in your book.

You rolled your eyes and stuck out your tongue playfully at him, “Fine, fine. You win this time. Some friend you are though. We’ve been meeting here for what? Three months now? You never told me that this creek was named Iremia. Next thing I know, you’re going to tell me this is the creek you preside over and that as a human, I should be giving you offerings or worshiping you.”

Joshua raised his eyebrows at your playful remark, “actually, this is my domain… Just because those other narcissistic deities like their domains to be named after them doesn’t mean I do. I’m not naming my creek Joshua’s creek…”

“WHAT? SERIOUSLY? WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?” you shrieked, cutting him off abruptly.

“I mean, it’s not like I go around advertising it. And no, I don’t expect humans to bow down to worship me. Honestly, it’s a stupid practice. Others engage in it just so they can dangle their power over you humans. Although… if you wanted to, I’m not opposed to it,” Joshua smirked.

You lightly punched Joshua’s arm, “Hell no. Not even if Hades dragged me into hell.”

You began tapping your index finger against your cheek, another quirk of yours that Joshua noticed, one that you did when you were lost in thought.

You mused, “I think Joshua’s creek or Shua’s creek would be pretty names. Your name means to save or to deliver. It makes sense because of your job directing fresh water to nearby towns. But I agree with your choice of name for this creek. Iremia is the perfect name. For such a breathtaking place, it lives up to what its name means. Serenity.”

Then, you suddenly turned to jab your finger accusingly at Joshua’s chest. You whined, “Still. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

“To be fair, you never asked.”

“Shua. I hate you.”

“No you don’t. You adore me.”

As soon as those words escaped his lips, you stared at Joshua, wide-eyed. You felt the heat rising to your head, you were sure your jaw dropped, and your heart began to beat wildly in your chest.

With your head spinning, you sputtered indignantly, “So… so… so what if I do? Adore you… I mean.”

Now, it was Joshua’s turn to become a blushing, sputtering mess. His hands flew to cover his reddening face. He had mindlessly uttered those words in response to your remark, not expecting you to actually respond to it.

Joshua bashfully averted his eyes from yours, murmuring, “Do you really mean that?”

Your heart melted at his tentativeness. Slowly, you brought your index finger under his chin, lifting his head so you could look him in the eyes. When your eyes finally met his, you affirmed seriously, “I do. I adore you. So so so much.”

𓇼 ༄ ᨒ .𖥔 ݁

Squealing, you slid down against your front door, curling up into a ball on the floor. You rubbed your palms against your cheeks, hoping that the coldness from your palms would calm the hot flush that hadn’t disappeared. Your mind was racing. Your heart was pounding. Adrenaline pumped through your veins. Did you really say that to Joshua? No, actually more specifically did you really say “I adore you” to Joshua while tilting his chin towards you just now?

You let out a giddy shriek. YOU DID! That was practically your indirect, direct confession to Joshua. Gods, you liked Joshua. He was just so handsome, so sweet, so quirky, so unpredictable, so delicate, so gentle, so shy, so bold, so reserved, so mysterious. You liked all of his qualities, as contradictory as they might seem.

You swooned thinking about the changes in his personality between the time when you first met and your meeting this afternoon. He opened up to you, he joked around with you, he was comfortable enough to initiate physical contact (or affection?) with you. Best of all, he was growing to become more and more confident in himself. Those walls that he built, the same ones you had been chipping at slowly? They crumbled enough for you to squeeze your way in. And those scars and wounds that Joshua bore? You patched them up with as much love and care as you could. Perhaps you were giving yourself too much credit, but you couldn’t help it. At the end of the day, you were the reason why Joshua looked happier, why there was more life in his eyes than ever before, why he walked with a spring in his step, why he no longer averted his eyes when talking about himself (most of the time anyway). Joshua was breaking out of his shell, and you couldn’t be more proud of him.

Honestly? Romance had been the last thing on your mind. Since you were in your teens, your primary goal was to earn a living. Sure, your parents left you with enough for you to live comfortably, but you didn’t want to rely on their money. Between work and educating yourself, socialising and by extension being in a romantic relationship was not what you prioritised. Then you met Joshua. Initially, you thought that you simply wanted to help his injured soul heal. You were wrong. As you grew closer, Joshua intrigued you, he captivated you. You liked him in his entirety, he had pulled you in until he was all you could think about.

Joshua believed Pericles’ quote made no sense, though you had a different perspective. Like it or not, people were able to weave themselves into the lives of others. Joshua is a great example of that. Your lives were now intertwined, tightly you might add. Everywhere you looked, in unexpected actions, you saw traces of Joshua, and the times you spent together. The baskets and jewelry you sold, the freshly baked bread from the market, quotes that you came across. Crystals. The vastness of the sky. Gold arm bands. Bunnies. The colour blue. Feathery blades of grass. Black hair. The stars littered across the sky. Water. Puddles. Morning dew. Rain. The scent of petrichor that wafted through your nose after heavy rainfall. Everything reminded you of Joshua.

Ah. Maybe the word like was putting it lightly. You loved Joshua.

When that realisation set in, you screeched, loudly pounding your fists against your floor boards.

“Y/N?? ARE YOU OKAY? I HEARD THE SCREAMS OF A DYING ANIMAL!!” Minghao burst into your house, literally taking your front door off its hinges. He flung the door away, which meant that since you were crouched in front of the door, you were flung along with your poor door to the side.

You yelped at the force of being thrown. Regaining your bearings, you scowled at Minghao, who at least had the decency to pretend to cower under the intensity of your gaze, “There was no animal you moron. It’s just me. This is the fourth time this month that you’ve come running in here, taking my door out in the process. Gods, and do I have to remind you to be gentle? I get you’re a super powered spirit but I’m only a human! I’m too cute and delicate to be thrown around like that.”

Minghao snorted, “Cute and delicate are not words I would use to describe you. Not after those animalistic screeches you let out. Please, if you are cute and delicate, then I am beauty personified, Aphrodite herself.”

You huffed, rubbing your butt to soothe the ache of landing on it.

“You’re late by the way. You’ve been arriving home later and later on the weekends. I’m not going to lie, it’s worrying. Don’t forget that there are wild animals in those forests you have to trek through,” Minghao notes, his tone much softer this time.

You chuckled sheepishly, “Uh, right. Sorry about that. I’ve been… distracted? Yea, that’s the word, I lose track of time when I’m by the Iremia creek.”

Minghao gawks at you.

“What? Oh yea, I just learned the name of the creek today! Iremia. Pretty right?” You chirped, unaware of the feeling of terror that rushes over Minghao.

Minghao lunges forward, grasping your arms a little too tightly, horror and worry etched on his face, “Why would you go there? Are you okay? You’re okay? Please please please tell me you’re okay.”

Stunned by Minghao’s outburst, all you could manage was a small squeak and a nod of your head.

Although relieved, Minghao’s grip only tightens, “Out of all the creeks in Athens, why would you choose to go to that one? I can’t believe it. What am I going to do with you?”

“Is something wrong with it? It’s been nice…” you stammer, your voice trailing off. In all the years you’ve known Minghao, he has never reacted like this before.

Minghao sighs, finally letting go of your arms, “For one. You have to push through the dense forest just to get there. Which again, has dangerous wild animals.”

“Pshh that’s nothing,” you boast, cutting Minghao off.

Minghao glares at you, irritated that he was being interrupted, “Fine. But how about the fact that it backs up onto the Nomia mountains.”

“What is a Nomia?” you ask.

“Shhhhhh. I’m getting to that. You are an impatient, ditzy human.”

You make a face at him, but Minghao ignores you, continuing his story, “I actually can’t believe you don’t know who she is. Nomia is the most infamous, wretched, selfish, downright wicked nymph there is. She’s an extremely powerful Oread, a mountain nymph. You’ve seen how expansive the mountains are. It’s a reflection of her power. She likes to toy with humans who don’t worship her. If you aren’t licking her feet, she will put a curse on you. I heard a story where she turned a man into stone because he refused to be her lover. She’s dangerous y/n. Why would you go there? I thought I told you NEVER to walk on the path leading to the left.”

You pouted, apologetically admitting, “Heh? Hao, you always say left and right this, left and right that. Blah blah blah. I’m not the best with instructions or directions if you haven’t noticed. How was I supposed to know. I guess I got confused. That does explain why people always give me weird looks when I venture into that part of the forest. BUT! You can’t blame me for going back. That creek is perfect. A real gem. Besides, I’ve never run into this Nomia. It’s not her creek.”

“Still. She’s dangerous. You shouldn’t go back. It’s not worth the pain that comes should you have to face her fury.”

“You? Minghao, the spirit of opportunity has reservations about me going to this place? You’re telling me I should not grasp the opportunity I have to enjoy that place to the fullest? I can’t believe the day has finally come for you to dissuade me from doing something.”

“Y/n. I want to protect you. Believe me please. It’s not worth it.” Minghao seethes.

You look down, tracing patterns on the floor boards that seem to be more interesting at this moment. You think back to all the good times you spent near the Iremia creek. You loved it even before you met Joshua. Joshua… he was there. The fact that he was there was enough for you to throw Minghao’s warnings out the window completely. You would go to the ends of the earth to meet Joshua. The risks didn’t matter. You would take the risk. Joshua was worth it.

“But it is,” you whisper dreamily.

Minghao groans, finding himself unable to scold you further when he sees a contented, dreamy look spread across your face. You looked happy.

“Fine. At least do me a favour? Promise me you’ll be careful. And whatever you do. Do not. I repeat. Do not talk to any nymphs or naiads in that area. You don’t know if any of them are affiliated to Nomia, or if they are Nomia.” Minghao sighs, accepting that you weren’t going to stop visiting the Iremia creek.

You gave him a dopey smile and saluted him, agreeing to his terms outwardly. You would heed his advice and not talk to any other nymphs. Joshua on the other hand? You knew him. He was more of a lone wolf amongst the nymphs. He was definitely male which meant he was not Nomia. You were one hundred percent going to continue talking to Joshua. You trusted him. Plus, Joshua never mentioned anything about being affiliated to Nomia. So yes, you were safe with him. Right?

𓇼 ༄ ᨒ .𖥔 ݁

At that moment, as you gleefully daydreamed about what your future meetings with Joshua would bring, back near the creek, Joshua was storming into his own house with hot angry tears streaming down his face.

Joshua had returned home in high spirits, his head in the clouds. The moment you flustered him by saying you did adore him was replaying in his head on a loop. However, when he approached his house, a shrill voice rang out, “Joshua Hong Jisoo? Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for you here.”

Annoyed that his good mood was about to be ruined again, Joshua gritted his teeth, “Nowhere… I’ve been out. Doing chores. Some of us nymphs have to exert extra energy to carry out our tasks.”

The owner of the voice laughed haughtily, emerging from the shadows, “You see. You say that, but I can practically smell the human on you. You reek. So I’ll ask again. Where have you been?”

“Nowhere. I told you. I was doing chores. I have to go into town for that. Obviously I would be surrounded by humans,” Joshua spat.

“Giving me attitude are you? Don’t you dare speak to me this way!”

After the day Joshua had, all he wanted to do was to go home, and dream of you. Obviously, that wasn’t going to happen now. Joshua rolled his eyes, refusing to entertain this nonsense. He brushed past the figure roughly.

Joshua stormed into his house, the figure’s grating voice still following him. She barked, “YOU BELONG TO ME JOSHUA HONG JISOO. I. OWN. YOU. I swear I will find out why you’re acting this way and who you’re hanging out with. You’ll regret pushing me away. Whoever you were with will pay for getting in my way. They are turning you away from me. No one. And I mean no one. Messes with what belongs to me. Nomia.”

𓇼 ༄ ᨒ .𖥔 ݁

“As I was saying, the Panathenaea festival is coming up. It’s going to be so fun! I can’t believe it’s already nearing the end of summer! We spent the whole summer together. Can you believe that Shua? This festival is held once every four years to celebrate Athena and some other Gods. There’s sports and music performances. I don’t really care for all that, but I really want to try all the sweets that are made of honey. It’s a special delicacy…”

You continued to drone on and on, waving your arms about animatedly. You weren’t particularly fond of other festivals. Those were too hedonistic for your liking. The Panathenaea festival was different. It was more of a communal celebration rather than just a ritual for the Gods. It was a time when the Athenian community would gather to partake in the games together. In this festival, humans were supposed to enjoy it as much as the Gods it was held for.

However, in your excitement, you didn’t notice that Joshua wasn’t listening to you at all. He was still incredibly shaken after encountering Nomia the previous week. While he nodded along to your babbles, the words weren’t registering in his brain. His mind was distant, yet still extremely alert. He wasn’t going to deny that he was extra jumpy today. His senses were in overdrive. The buzzing of the bee, the water rushing down the creek, the water droplets from the morning mist, the distant howl of a wolf in the forest, Joshua heard, and felt it all. He was on edge. He felt like a sitting duck, waiting for something, someone, to interrupt your peaceful time together.

Truthfully, Joshua was terrified of meeting you today. He was worried that Nomia would follow him, or send someone to follow him. He didn’t want to put you at risk. You were in enough danger as it was if Nomia found out you were the human he was spending his weekends with. The logical plan would have been to avoid you, to break all contact with you. Alas, the heart wants what it wants. You were his escape, the only one he had and could rely on in this cruel world. With that, Joshua found himself unable to stay away from you.

“Shua? Shua!! Hello? I’ve been calling your name for the past thirty seconds. Are you okay? You’re looking kind of, uhm, how do I put this lightly… Your face is all twisted, like you're disturbed by something. Is it something I said?”

Your voice startled Joshua, causing him to jump from his sitting position into a defensive position. Instantly, he pushed you behind him, standing in front of you protectively. His eyes darted around frantically. He was looking out for danger. It was strange, he didn’t feel any ominous presence around the two of you. Nevertheless, whisps of pale blue light danced around his finger tips. Regardless of how overpowered the others might be compared to him, Joshua was ready to unleash all his powers to defend you. He would defend you to his dying breath.

Confused and a little freaked out at Joshua’s actions, you grabbed onto the fabric of Joshua’s chiton, ducking behind him and squeezed your eyes shut. After a couple of seconds, you lifted your head, peaking at your surroundings from behind Joshua. There was nothing wrong? No danger at all?

Calming yourself down, you rubbed circles around Joshua’s back in an attempt to soothe him, “Shua. Calm down. There’s no danger around us.”

You felt him stiffen at the contact. You continued your actions, reassuring him by repeating the words, “It’s okay. We’re okay. You’re okay. I’m okay.” until his form relaxed a little.

Hesitantly, you asked, “Shua? Is everything okay?”

Joshua let out a shaky breath, murmuring, “No no, nothing is wrong.”

Liar. You wanted to say. No one has that kind of reaction if nothing is wrong. You looked at him doubtfully. You opened your mouth, wanting to comment about his reaction, but you didn’t have the heart to. Joshua’s appearance was haggard. He was inhaling and exhaling deeply, trying to calm himself down. You could still see a sliver of the pale blue light around his fingers. He was still on edge. He was trying to convince you as much as he was trying to convince himself that you were both okay, that there was no danger around you.

Deciding to let him go this time so as to not rattle Joshua further, you brushed over his reaction, opting to return to what you had been talking to him about previously, “Uhm. So as I was saying. Are you going to the Panathenaea festival? I don’t know how you naiads celebrate it. Do you gather with the others? Meet distant relatives or something?”

Unfortunately, though you were trying to lighten the mood, your words had the opposite effect on Joshua as he tensed up. His mood souring even further. He scoffed, “No I don’t plan on partaking in that stupid festival. I don’t have anyone to celebrate it with anyway.”

“Oh… uhm… that’s fine. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea I guess. I don’t really have anyone to celebrate it with either. I just go for the vibes you know? It’s the one day of the year people are more accepting of everyone in the community.” You stammer.

An awkward silence fell upon you both. Seeing your dejected expression, Joshua grimaced. You were so excited about the festival and his bad mood only served to make you feel bad as well. Joshua wrecked his brain, trying to think of something, anything to say to make you feel better. But the more he thought about the festival, the more infuriated he became. All his brain seemed to be able to fixate on was the fact that he would be alone. Then he thought back to all the times he saw you alone near the creek, that content look on your face when you were by yourself. He was green with envy. How did you do it? It wasn’t fair.

The anger and jealousy bubbling in his chest, Joshua spitefully blurts, “I don’t know how you can be so okay with being alone. It never seems to bother you at all. I’m all alone and I hate it. I’m not powerful. All I can do is manipulate water a little, maybe heal small cuts. It’s enough to direct fresh water towards the neighbouring cities. But for me it takes so much effort. I don’t possess any of the other famed healing powers, or prophetic powers naiads are supposed to have. In addition to being a failure of a naiad, I’m a freak of nature. Male naiads are extremely rare, they aren’t supposed to exist. Right now I believe I’m the only one in existence. Everyone either ridicules me or wants to use me for their political gain. No one truly cares for me in that community.”

Clenching his fists, Joshua continues bitterly, “I have no family. I’m all alone.”

After Joshua’s tirade, he looks at you expectantly. Your heart went out to him. Under the anger, jealousy, and bitterness that laced his voice, under his accusatory gaze, you could hear and see his plea for answers. He was exhausted, drained. He wanted to know, no, he needed to know how you coped.

You contemplated on what to say for a while. Breathing in deeply, you say softly, “I wouldn’t say that being alone doesn’t bother me at all. I do get lonely. It’s not like I don’t talk to people. I try my best to be outgoing when I’m working in the marketplace. But that’s how I make a living. Other than that… Shua, I get it you know. What it’s like being an outsider within the community that you live in. Everyone either shames you or wants to be friends with you. I get it, I understand how you feel. Aside from you and Minghao, I don’t have any friends. I’m not actually an Athenian citizen. I’m a Metic, a foreigner who lives in Athens.”

You pause, looking at Joshua to gauge his reaction. You were slightly afraid that Joshua would see you differently once you revealed your identity to him. Metics weren’t usually treated kindly or seen positively by most Athenians and deities.

Relieved when the only reaction you received was an emotionless blink, you continued, “My heritage and identity guarantees that regardless of how long I live in Athens, I lie outside of Athenian society. They don’t accept me because of where I come from, who I am. Metics, our wealth is usually passed onto us from our families. For those who know, they don’t see me as a genuine friend. They see me as someone to leech off given the change, someone to try and manipulate. I don’t have any family here so like you, I’m alone. I have to stand up for myself. It’s just, after so much time of being alone, I’ve come to terms with it? I’m at peace with it. I’m different from others, and that’s okay. I am who I am, I can’t control or change that. What I can control is who I surround myself with. I rather be alone than be manipulated or treated like dirt.”

Taking in your words, hearing that in a way, you were an outcast like him, the last of Joshua’s walls crumbled. He knew you were one of the most accepting people he would ever meet. Since the first time he met you, you accepted him for who he was. You never judged him for being different from other naiads. You never judged him for being weaker, for making self-deprecating comments. In fact, you took his words and turned them around, finding beauty in his abilities. You constantly affirmed him, made him feel appreciated, loved. You wanted him to see how beautiful, and perfect he was, flaws and all. You always longed for him not only to see himself how you saw him, but to believe in himself, just as you believe in him. Honestly, Joshua thought that it was weird that you thought so highly of him. He wondered why you were so accepting. Now, he knew. You were different too.

“Also Shua? We’re not always born into the family we want, nor are we always blessed to live within a community we want. It’s also easier said than done for us to uproot our whole lives to get a fresh start. Sometimes that’s just not possible. But the good thing is, like I said, we can try to control who we want to surround ourselves with. We can make our own family.”

Joshua’s head snaps up, his eyes meeting yours, you flush, shyly offering, “Since we’re two familyless outcasts, if you want, I’ll be your family.”

Joshua stares at you in disbelief, “Really?”

His question, though seemingly simple, reflected all the emotions that flashed through his eyes. There was the shock that you would even offer. Hesitation, doubt, and caution, which were instinctual given years of alienation and his experiences of being manipulated, perhaps you wanted something more from him. He was also afraid of being let down. But Joshua knew you had no malice in your words, you were sincere. He trusted you as much as you trusted him. So finally, his eyes shone with hope and gratitude.

You scrunch your nose, stating in a matter of fact tone, “Not to be that annoying person, but I should point out that Euripides once said that love is all we have, the only way we can help the other.”

You nodded your head seriously after, though the seriousness was broken by the upturned corners of your lips, and the crinkles at the corners of your eyes. Since Joshua’s eyes were so bright, you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling, having already (accurately) predicted what Joshua’s answer would be. As sincerely as you could, you said, “I would be honoured to be your family.”

A deep blush spreads across Joshua’s face, and he whispers, content and happy, “Okay. We’ll be our own little family. Just you and me.”

Joshua thought no one would understand him, the loneliness, emptiness, alienation, discrimination that he felt. Then you came along, revealing the most personal aspects of yourself to him. Your words brought him an immense amount of relief. It was as if you extended your hand to him, pulling him up from drowning in his loneliness. For so long, he punished himself, blaming himself for not fitting on, for not having a family, for being an outcast. But the thing is, he didn’t need to. All Joshua needed to do was to find his own family, one that accepted him for who he was, and one that didn’t condemn him for who he wasn’t. 𓇼 ༄ ᨒ .𖥔 ݁

Since that fateful day when you both swore to be each other’s family, you and Joshua became closer than ever. All the walls Joshua built to protect himself now lay in ruins, making way for you to deliver as much love, affirmation, and affection as possible into his heart. As Joshua thought about all this and what you have done for him, his heart fluttered. He felt eternally grateful and indebted to you.

Before, he was broken. Going through the motions of life was tedious, and regardless of how much effort he put into his duties, it was never enough. But you certainly healed him. You taught him that titles and labels didn’t define who he was and how he should be living his life. Spending time with you, you helped him to learn that life wasn’t so bad. In fact, life was palatable. He learned to find joy in all the little things like taking in the ethereal scenery, listening to the light trickles of the water, sharing a meal with someone you loved, even weaving baskets in comfortable silence. Life was worth living.

At the same time, you were also relieved and grateful that Joshua didn’t make a fuss about your foreign heritage and identity. It was hard for you to open up about these things. In the past, every time you had, it backfired. However, Joshua was different. He wasn’t a hypocrite, he wouldn’t have cast you aside just for that. You were ashamed of yourself for even thinking that he would. You really should have given Joshua more credit. Afterall, you were both two misfits in the same pod.

When you were both together, labels were mostly irrelevant. The creek had been a space you carved out for yourself, an escape and a place of refuge from life in the Athenian capital. Now, you saw the creek as a space that you and Joshua carved out for yourselves, a space you both could be yourselves. “Misfits”. “Outcasts”. “Joshua the male naiad”. “Y/n the metic”. Who you were in your respective communities didn’t matter here. When it was just the two of you, within that little oasis next to the Iremia creek, you both were simply Joshua, and Y/n.

The only time labels were still a tiny bit important for you both, was when you were trying to describe your relationship with each other. You were certainly best friends, and each other’s confidants. And above all else, you could describe your relationship as a found family.

However, neither of you could deny that you definitely wanted something more to happen between you. The gentle, feathery touches between you that left the butterflies in your stomach fluttering in a frenzy. The tender, fond, love-filled gazes that you exchanged with Joshua. All the playful banter that bordered on flirting, all the times you both actually flirted with each other. These were just some of the pieces of evidence that proved there was a romantic attraction and connection between you and Joshua.

Honestly? It was obvious to the two of you that you loved each other. But neither of you wanted to openly acknowledge those feelings. More than anything, because you were certain that you did love each other, the explicit acknowledgement of those feelings would make things real. It would mean that you would have to discuss it, things might change. Perhaps it would be the more light-hearted, playful dynamics? The way you go about your meetings? The future? (And of course, Joshua was afraid of what Nomia would do if she found out). So, you had an unspoken mutual agreement that you wouldn’t ever venture a step into that direction.

For the sake of maintaining the status quo, you and Joshua would just continue to feign ignorance, pretending that your budding romance wasn’t anything more than a light drizzle rather than what it really was - a heavy downpour.

The only thing was, this downpour wasn’t one that would eventually fade away. It was one that would continue to build, roaring and howling away until it was a torrential rainstorm that threatened to wreck havoc at some point in the near future.

𓇼 ༄ ᨒ .𖥔 ݁

Annoyance. That was all you felt. Exhaling sharply, you turned away from Joshua, refusing to look into those adorable, large, doe eyes. If you did, you knew you would crumble straight away. But right now, you wanted to stand your ground firmly. Joshua had crossed a delicate line. He should never have said it. He knew he shouldn’t, and he said it anyway. There was absolutely no way you were going to forgive him for what he said.

“Y/nnnn,” Joshua whined, poking at your sides. He still didn’t understand the severity of what he said, and you weren’t going to let him go that easily. He needed to learn that his words had consequences.

Casting a quick glare at Joshua, you crossed your arms, harrumphing and looking away. You wouldn’t give in to him today, no matter how hard he pleaded.

“Y/nnn…” Joshua tried again. When he saw that you had no reaction, he moved in front of you. He kneeled down, rubbing his hands together. He pouted, widening his doe eyes wider than normal, knowing that that always wore down your defenses. Alas, his move had no effect on you because you squeezed your eyes shut tightly.

Pursing his lips together, Joshua decided that he would make one last attempt to get your attention. He was going to bring out the big guns. If this didn’t work, then he would give up, admit defeat, and walk away until you were ready to speak to him again.

Opening his mouth, Joshua cooed tenderly, “Darling…”

Damn. He was really giving it his all. This was the first time he called you by this affectionate nickname. You felt the heat rising to your cheeks. Your heart fluttered at his voice, begging you to open your eyes so you could look at him. You tried as hard as you could to fight off the smile that was starting to spread across your face, your defenses cracking.

Seeing your demeanor falter, Joshua tried once again, cooing, “Darling… My darling y/nnnn…”

Cursing your huge soft spot for Joshua and his use of that nickname, your defenses were completely defeated. You cracked your eyes open, seeing Joshua giving you an adorable eye smile. He was beaming at you, happy that he managed to win you over.

You scrunched your nose, still unwilling to completely give in to him, “I’m still angry with what you said. Don’t think you calling me darling is going to make this go away.”

“Really? Because I think it was really effective,” Joshua teased.

“Shua! You called that basket I made ridiculous!” You exclaimed, picking up the tiny little basket you weaved, cradling it to your chest.

“But it is!”

“Is not!”

“Is too!”

“Shua! Is not!”

“Is too! Darling, what can you even put in that? It’s two centimeters in diameter.” Joshua retorted.

You gave Joshua a deadpan expression, raising your finger to tell him to wait as you fished around your larger basket for something. Once you found it, you looked smugly at Joshua, dropping it into the tiny mini basket.

“Darling. That’s a walnut.” Joshua stated.

“So?”

“It’s one singular walnut.”

“Yea.” You nodded proudly.

“I stand by my original statement. It’s ridiculous.”

You clicked your tongue at him, “No, it’s practical and cute. You don’t appreciate art.”

Joshua rolled his eyes at you, but nodded along, half-heartedly agreeing with what you said to get you off his back.

Needing to get in the last word, you blurted, “It’s cute. That’s final. Unlike someone when he first stumbled out of the bushes over there. You looked like a fawn trying to walk for the first time.”

Joshua reeled back in horror, “You promised never to talk about that! It’s embarrassing.”

You shrugged, “All’s fair in love and war.”

Puffing his cheeks, Joshua muttered some curses under his breath that even Hades would blush at. You laughed. It was always fun to get Joshua riled up because he would never openly curse at you. He had too much patience and was too much of a gentleman.

Actually, speaking of your first meeting, there was something you were always curious about but never brought up.

“Shua? I’ve always wondered, what were you doing behind those bushes anyway?”

Joshua stiffened. After speaking to you and getting closer to you, he forgot that he had spied for weeks. You never brought it up before, and he pushed that memory to the back of his mind. Perhaps it was time to come clean with you. What’s the worst that could happen? Oh right, you might be extremely put off by him. You could potentially call him a creep and storm off…

Joshua gulped, “Honestly? I was watching you. The first time I saw you, you completely captivated me. Then you kept returning, and it made me curious… so you know… I decided just to watch you until I could figure out why I was so attracted to you.”

Putting his hands up in surrender, Joshua was quick to try and explain his actions. “It was Jeonghan! He told me that the only way for me to figure out why you were so alluring was to just watch you! I swear I wasn’t trying to be a creep. Well… I was being a creep… No. What I meant to say was… I didn’t mean any harm… Uh… Nevermind that. I’m sorry???” Joshua squeaked, completely flustered.

You gawked at Joshua, shocked that one, he had practically been stalking you, and two, he basically just confessed that he was attracted to you.

Joshua swallowed thickly. You were just gawking at him. And yea, he deserved it, but he felt himself shrinking and shifting uncomfortably.

Finally, electing to conveniently ignore Joshua’s confession. You fixated on his stalker-esque behaviour, asking, “Uhm.. well, was I at least fun to watch?”

“What…” Joshua was stumped, “Wait… that’s your response? No yelling, no screaming, no shouting pervert! Or creep! What happened to having normal reactions!”

You looked at Joshua expectantly, replying smoothly, “Who said I was normal? Besides, I think if you meant to harm me, you would have done it a long long time ago. You mentioned once that naiads are naturally curious. I guess I can’t exactly fault you for that. But I would like to know. Was it fun to watch me?”

Joshua nodded, still speechless.

Satisfied, you snickered at him, “Who knew huh? Mr. Gentleman has a naughty side.”

Joshua laughed, getting up from his sitting position. He inched closer to you, reaching out to wriggle his fingers at you, “Naughty? I’ll show you.”

You screeched, springing up from your seat. You nervously inched away from Joshua before running off in the opposite direction, yelling, “You’ll have to catch me first!”

Immediately, Joshua sprinted after you, laughing maniacally along the way. Every time he neared you, he reached out, trying to grab onto your arm. But you were faster, managing to evade his grip.

Your laughter floated through the air melodically. You looked so happy, so carefree, just running around across the big open field as the wind brushed past your face. Joshua instinctually slowed down, staring at you in awe.

Noticing Joshua was some distance away from you, you stuck out your tongue at him, teasing him lightly, “Shua, for a big strong naiad, you’re kind of slow.”

Snapping out of his daze, Joshua lunged forward suddenly. He caught you off guard and was able to wrap his hands around your arms. Bringing you closer to him so your body was flush against his, he breathed in a low voice, “Who’s slow now?”

Your brain stopped working. Joshua was close enough that you could feel his breath against your face. You could feel his firm muscles against your body. You knew he was sculpted like a Greek god, but you didn’t know he was this muscular. And did he always smell this strongly of petrichor? Your senses were buzzing. Blood rushed to your face. You flushed under his half-lidded, alluring gaze, and his teasing. Your heart was running a thousand miles per minute. You felt your lungs constrict. You held your breath, not daring to breathe or move, afraid that if you did, Joshua would realise the hold he had on you.

That said, you were sure that your proximity meant he could feel the rapid thumping of your heart. And you weren’t sure if your senses were playing tricks on you, because for a moment, you swore you could feel Joshua’s heart doing the exact same thing.

Just as you thought you were going to overheat and combust, your moment with Joshua was interrupted by a sudden flash of lightning followed by the jarring rumbling of thunder in the distance. You felt a few water droplets fall on your head. Looking around, you were a little disoriented that there might be an incoming storm despite the seemingly clear, sunny skies. Looks like Zeus was in one of his moods again.

Breathing a sigh of relief at the escape the incoming storm provided you from that nerve wracking moment with Joshua, you wriggled around in Joshua’s grip, whining, “Shua, we really should get out of here. There’s going to be rain.”

Your wriggling proved to be futile. Joshua kept a firm grip on you, “there’s no rush darling.”

“Shua! Seriously, we’re going to get wet!”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head darling. We’ll be fine even with the rain coming.”

You scoffed, “easy for you to say. You can’t get sick, but I will. Human. Remember?”

Joshua shook his head at your protests, “In case you hadn’t noticed darling, it’s already pouring.”

Loosening his grip on you slightly, Joshua nodded upwards, gesturing for you to take a closer look at your surroundings. Confused, you let your eyes trail upwards, following Joshua.

Gasping, you were utterly in awe at the sight you were met with. There was something like a barrier sheltering you from the downpour, something transparent. It was almost like a bubble, but one that only enveloped you and Joshua. Beyond that, the heavy downpour continued.

Upon closer inspection, the rain droplets around you appeared as though they were suspended in the air. It wasn’t that there was a dome around you. Rather, the rain droplets were being directed around you in a dome-like shape. This made the droplets look akin to a gorgeous, extravagant, crystal chandelier. Similar to the sparkles that you loved so much when you observed the water on the creek’s surface, each of the rain droplets sparkled under the light. Together, they emitted a pale blue shimmer. The colour was familiar to you, reminiscent of the colour that you always saw when Joshua used his powers.

Looking at Joshua’s hands that were still gripping your sides, a similar faint glow could be seen around his fingers. Putting two and two together, you realised that Joshua was using his abilities to keep the two of you dry. That was why the scent of petrichor was so strong. In a way, you were right to note that the scent came from Joshua, though it was due to him using his powers and not the proximity of your bodies. Seems like it had been raining for a while, you were just too preoccupied going crazy over more important things (Joshua’s body against yours) that you were completely unaware of your surroundings.

Noticing that you understood what was going on, Joshua hushed you, “Hush now darling. Now you see why there’s no rush? We’re perfectly dry here.”

You nodded, still speechless. The little dome you were in with Joshua was beautiful. Enthralled by the sight, you raised a finger out, gingerly trying to touch a suspended water droplet. You giggled when the droplet still splashed against your finger. Out of curiosity, you stuck a hand outwards, wondering what would happen if your hand went out of the little dome Joshua created. You squealed when you felt the cold rain water hit your hand. Obviously, outside the dome, the rain water continued to fall as per normal.

You snickered when you heard Joshua sigh in loving exasperation. You wiped your wet hand on Joshua’s chiton, ignoring his protests. Then, you continued to observe your surroundings with child-like awe and glee, commenting, “It’s beautiful.”

“You are.” Joshua murmurs mindlessly, his eyes never leaving your form.

As always, Joshua had been watching you from the background as you went about exploring and observing the space around you. This reminded him of the reasons why he was so inexplicably drawn to you in the first place. Your bright eyes. The ones that were so clear, so filled with life, curiosity and wonder. Your eyes sparkled under the glow of the crystal-like water droplets. The corners of your eyes crinkled more and more as you became increasingly captivated by the rain droplets.

He continued to watch you silently, feeling his heart melt and the butterflies in his stomach stir as you shot him appreciative, joyful glances. He remembered seeing you have that expression when you took in the scenery of the little oasis you were currently in. Now, you had that same expression while enjoying something with him, something that he created. More than that, Joshua recognised that your eyes reflected something more than appreciation and gratitude. Love. That was it.

You looked at him like he created the whole world. That look, it was so full of love. It was directed at him. It was for him.

Of course he would recognise that look… It was the exact same look that he had, one that only appeared on his face when he looked at you.

Not completely aware of what you had said, Joshua only picked up on the word “beautiful”. Beautiful. He didn’t think that that word could encapsulate how attractive he found you. But in his daze, while he was completely captivated by you, the word “beautiful” continued to be repeated in his head. It was the only word he could think of as he thought of you, and “you are” just slipped out before his brain registered what he should say in response to your remark.

Stunned, your head snapped to look at Joshua.

“Shua?” You asked, noticing his dreamy, dazed expression.

Beautiful, Joshua thought, his eyes trailing down to stare at your lips which looked so inviting.

Unable to control himself, Joshua removed his hand from your side, reaching upwards for your face. His touch as light as a feather, Joshua brushed his thumb against your face tenderly. While the feeling of his touch against your skin still lingered on, you felt him shift once again, only this time, he was gently pulling your head closer to his as he leaned towards your face slowly. Although his eyes were glazed over, you could see them flickering between your eyes, your face, and your lips.

As you processed Joshua’s actions, time came to a stand still. You stood stiffly. Was this happening now? Was he going to kiss you? It’s not like you didn’t want to kiss him. Your heart yearned for Joshua’s touch, you yearned to be able to kiss him, to mold your lips to his. It was just a shock that Joshua was initiating it.

Unconsciously, you closed your eyes, leaning into Joshua further until you could feel the outline of his face near yours, and until you could feel his warm breath. You both lingered in that position, each too hesitant to make the final move to connect your lips.

Then, you felt your head being jerked forward. Joshua pushed your head towards his, just as he lunged forward. Before your brain registered the movement, Joshua’s lips were on yours.

Just as Joshua’s lips reached yours in that electrifying kiss, all of Joshua’s feelings crashed down on him like a wave all at once. Your lips were so soft that Joshua wanted to melt into you, and he could taste the aftertaste of the honey filled desserts you liked on your lips. His heart fluttered, wanting more of you. He waited so long for this moment.

But as he hungrily pressed his lips on your harder, he was immediately reminded of the fact that you couldn’t happen. The relationship between you and Joshua could not, and should not happen. It was dangerous. He already broke his own vow not to get close to you, not to fall for you. He wasn’t supposed to. Not falling for you, not interacting with you should have been the way. It was the best course of action to protect you. Fear filled his veins of what could happen to you if Nomia found out about you. The fear chilled him to the bone. You could be hurt, or worse.

So, as fast as Joshua’s lips were on yours, as you felt the pressure of his lips on yours, they weren’t anymore. Your mind still hazy from the kiss, you opened your eyes when you felt Joshua pull away hastily. Dazed, you could only stare in confusion and hurt when you saw Joshua’s back turned towards you, his figure getting smaller and smaller as he ran through the rain away from you.

Your head reeled from the lingering feeling of Joshua’s lips on yours, and the cracks on your heart began to form. However, the moment you felt the world crashing down on you was when you vaguely heard his whisper of “sorry” floating through the wind. His voice crashing into you just as his hold over the water droplets broke, causing the harsh downpour to hit you all at once.

Somehow, the pain and cold of the sudden rush of the howling wind, and the angry rain droplets pelting down on your skin didn’t matter to you. All you could feel at that moment was the unfathomable pain of your heart being shattered by Joshua as he left you there soaked in the rain, all alone.

You didn’t know how long you stood there, alone under the pouring rain. You were numb to everything around you. Whether it was from the cold wind and rain pelting down on you, or the shock of Joshua kissing you and running away, you had no idea. At some point, everything went black.

𓇼 ༄ ᨒ .𖥔 ݁

Ugh, everything hurt and it was cold. Your arms, your back, your legs, your head. Why was everything so painful?

You shifted, trying to make yourself more comfortable and to soothe your aching body and the pounding in your head. Snuggling closer underneath the sheets that lay on top of your body, you inhaled their familiar scent, trying to get as much warmth as possible so you could slip back into your slumber.

Wait… sheets? The last thing you remembered was being out in the field next to the creek. Your eyes shot open. Immediately, you groaned, shutting your eyes again, regretting your decision as the light from the room burned your eyes and made the pounding in your head worse. You clutched your head in your hands, moaning in pain.

“I see you’re up. You’re at home by the way. You’re welcome. And you have a high fever. That serves you right for standing out there in the rain.”

You cracked an eye open slowly, hissing at the light and at the person that the voice belonged to, “Shut up Hao. I’m in too much pain for your snarky comments.”

Minghao walked over, setting a cup of water and a steaming bowl of soup on your nightstand. He sat down next to you on your bed, your bed dipping under his weight. He placed a hand against your forehead, muttering, “your temperature is still high, but at least you’re awake.”

You slapped his hand away weakly, “yea i got that from the excruciating ache in my body.”

Shaking his head, Minghao scolded, “Y/n. This is serious. You were unconscious for almost 24 hours. I had to keep sponging your body to bring your temperature down. Even then, it’s still there.”

You sulked at Minghao’s scolding, but allowed him to help you sit up so you could take your medication and eat some soup.

Shivering when your body left the warmth of the blankets, Minghao scooted onto the bed, wrapping his arm around you, providing you with as much body heat as you needed. Spirits and Greek deities usually had a higher body temperature than humans. You refused to eat the soup, your stomach still feeling funny after waking up. Minghao sighed, knowing how fickle and fragile humans were when they were sick. Instead, he shoved the cup of water in your hands, asking you to sip on that.

Snuggling closer to Minghao, you rested your head on his shoulders and closed your eyes. You had only been awake for a few minutes and you were already exhausted.

Just as you were dozing off once again, Minghao’s voice startled you, “You know, when you didn’t return home last night, I got worried and went to find you. Mind telling me about why you were lying unconscious by the Iremia creek running a high fever when I found you?”

You shook your head. You were tired and you didn’t want to go into the whole story with Minghao. He would be mad at you.

“Does it have anything to do with someone named Joshua?”

You stiffened, peeling your head away from Minghao’s shoulder. You said firmly, “I don’t know anyone named Joshua.”

Minghao exhaled sharply, trying to contain his anger, “Y/n, don’t bother trying to hide it from me. You were unconscious for 24 hours, or rather for most of it. The times you were awake, you were delirious. You kept crying for this guy, Joshua, asking why he was leaving you.”

With that, the dam broke. Your emotions, already heightened from what happened with Joshua, and from being sick, all bubbled up to the surface at once. You wailed, tears flowing uncontrollably as you spilled everything to Minghao. You told him everything that happened from the time you met Joshua to that moment when he left you in the rain. You told Minghao about all your feelings for Joshua, how much you loved Joshua, how much you adored him, and how much it hurt when he left you.

During your little venting session, Minghao simply sat there with you in his arms, rubbing your back comfortingly. He might not approve of your actions or the fact that you hid all this from him, but what was done is done. He couldn’t change any of that. All he could do now was to be there for you.

When you were done, you sniffled, wiping your snot with the back of your hand. Minghao gave you a disapproving glance, handing you a tissue before speaking, “I think when you’re well and only when you’re ready to, you should go back and talk to Joshua.”

Hearing that, you opened your mouth to protest. Minghao shushed you, “Despite what he did, from the way you talk about him, how he acts around you, how he treats you, I believe he does truly love you. There has to be a logical explanation as to why he acted in that manner, and I think you should go and talk to him to find out what it is. One, it is a way for you to confront him. Two, if nothing else, trying to talk to him, whatever the outcome, be it good or bad, it will give you closure.”

Letting Minghao’s words sink in, you murmured, “I don’t think I can face the pain of being rejected again.”

At that, Minghao squeezed you reassuringly, “Only do it when you’re ready. On top of that, the way that things played out, you weren’t exactly rejected. It’s just my personal advice, and call me biased for being a spirit of opportunity, but I really think you take this opportunity to hash out your feelings for each other. You should go back and talk to him.”

“What about that creek being dangerous?”

Minghao hummed thoughtfully, “Well the risk is always going to be there. And you still went back after I warned you. Just be careful and let me know when you go back.”

“Hao… I really don’t know…” you hesitated.

“Do you love him?”

Minghao’s question threw you off guard, but you answered instantly, “Yes.”

“I won’t force you, but if that is your answer, I think you should trust me on this. For now though, rest. I’ll be here if you need me.”

Minghao slipped out of your bed, laying you back down gently. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, closed the blinds, and left you alone to your thoughts.

𓇼 ༄ ᨒ .𖥔 ݁

You mused over Minghao’s advice for the next four weeks. The first week after, Minghao refused to let you out of the house, telling you that you really needed to rest. You didn’t try to fight him. You were too weak to venture too far from home, and you didn’t feel ready to try and confront Joshua yet. The wound he inflicted on your heart still felt too raw.

Then came the second week, the following week, and the week after that. Although you completely recovered by then, you didn’t feel ready to face Joshua. You pushed down your intrusive thoughts of all the possibilities of what might happen if you confronted Joshua. All the positive outcomes, negative outcomes, and everything in between were forced to the back of your mind. You really did try your best to go about your life, returning to your normal routines, selling crafts in the market, and having tea with Minghao.

But the ache and pain of what happened remained. For all the times that you tried not to think about Joshua, memories of him forced themselves back into your mind two times stronger. It was funny. In the past, you used to relish in the giddy feeling of thinking about Joshua whenever any little thing you saw reminded you of him. The crafts, the water puddles, picnic baskets. Now, they acted as swords impaling in your side, painful memories that you just couldn’t shake no matter how hard you tried.

The weekends were especially hard. The days that used to be full of chatter with Joshua by the Iremia creek in your little oasis were now full of you just trying to fill the time by distracting yourself. You missed that field, the scenery, the calming sounds of the water, the serenity of it all. Most of all, you missed Joshua. Yes, he hurt you, but you loved him. Minghao was right. By not doing anything to confront Joshua, you were only prolonging your own pain. You wanted to see him. You wanted to cry and yell, asking him why he did what he did. You needed to.

Finally, after four weeks of wallowing in your own self-pity, you steeled your nerves. You grabbed your things, left a note for Minghao, and ventured back to the field.

Pushing through the last of the heavy foliage from the forest, you emerged back into the field. Unlike the other times when you felt emotional reprieve coming here, you still felt nervous and jumpy.

Honestly? You weren’t even sure that you would find Joshua here. You knew Joshua would always be nearby, this being the creek he presided over. But would he want to see you? Would he be willing to talk to you? What if he never wanted to see you again? You shook your head. There was no point in entertaining those worries right now. What mattered was that you were here, trying to reach out to Joshua.

Looking around and still not finding Joshua anywhere, you lay out your blue picnic mat and made yourself comfortable. There was no reason for you not to enjoy the clear skies today though that wasn’t the primary reason why you came. Opening a book, you decided to immerse yourself in an alternative universe to distract yourself while you waited for any signs of Joshua.

Simultaneously, Joshua was tiredly making his way back from his duties. These past few weeks have been trying. The moment when his lips touched yours kept replaying in his head, as did the moment that he ran off. He was frustrated. He couldn’t believe he did that. The least he could have done was to talk to you, leaving you with some kind of parting words before he ran off. But no. He tucked his tail and ran. That was all he was good at anyway, being a coward. He chastised himself. His whole life, all he did was run away from his problems and fears instead of facing them head on. And now he hurt you deeply because of his cowardice.

Despite knowing that you needed time, and that you probably didn’t want to see him, Joshua continued to make his way back to the creek after his duties to see if you were there. To his disappointment, for the past few weeks, you were not. However, today, as he approached the creek, he saw a figure sitting quietly in the field. Fearful that his eyes were deceiving him, he rubbed them to check if it was really you.

His heart almost leapt into his throat when he confirmed that it was you. He shuffled around behind the foliage awkwardly. It was almost as if he was back at square one again, hiding behind the bushes, too scared to approach you. Part of him wanted to run to you. He missed you terribly. But the other part of him was too afraid to. He was worried you would reject him. Lingering around, Joshua continued to battle his thoughts.

Rolling your eyes, you looked up from your book in the direction of the bushes. You knew Joshua was there as soon as he approached. He wasn’t especially quiet, and since you knew that he always came from direction, you were specially keeping an eye out for any movement. You were hoping that he would come out and make the first move. Well, it looks like you were going to have to do all the heavy lifting today.

You stormed over to the bushes, brushing them aside harshly. Joshua yelped, surprised at your sudden appearance. He shrank backwards under your glare. Nodding towards the field, you put your hands on your hips, waiting for Joshua to walk out from the bushes. This time, Joshua tried not to trip as he obediently walked towards your picnic mat. He didn’t want to embarrass himself even further.

Once you both settled down on the mat, there was an awkward silence between you. You twiddled your thumbs, wondering how to broach the subject. You hadn’t thought about what to say to Joshua before this. You didn’t actually think you would get this far.

“Shua…”

“Y/n…”

You both started at the same time. Joshua clamped a hand over his mouth, shutting up to let you speak first.

You began, “Shua… I… I just…”

You cleared your throat. Unable to get the words out, you settled for asking him a direct question, “Why?”

Joshua hesitated. You were really just ripping the bandaid off. Not meeting your eyes, Joshua said softly, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

“No. What you shouldn’t have done was kiss me and then run away. Right now, I don’t care about the kiss. I want to know why… why did you run?” you stated, hurt lacing your voice.

Joshua grimaced at your tone, “I… we… we can’t be together. It’s wrong. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t even have gotten close to you. It’s my fault.”

“I think that doesn’t matter right now. It’s obvious we both like each other. So if you say that, then explain it to me. What’s so wrong about it?”

“I can’t. Please Y/n, you wouldn’t understand. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You glared at Joshua, “Don’t assume I wouldn’t understand anything. How would you know that if you won’t even give me a chance by explaining things to me?”

You were furious. How could he? After everything, he still didn’t think you would understand?

You knew it would be a low blow, but you said it anyway to drive your point home, “Well I suppose it’s too late now if you didn’t want to hurt me. I did get hurt. I got sick because of you. I collapsed because of you. Because you left me there. I think I deserve an explanation. Whether you like it or not, I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”

Joshua felt another wave of shame wash over him. In his attempt to spare you from the pain, he ended up hurting you more.

Repeating his earlier words, Joshua said, “We can’t be together.”

Fed up, you spat, “Yes. I’ve got that part. But explain it to me. I’ve never heard of any rules that forbid humans from being with naiads.”

Joshua shook his head, muttering, “You’re right. There are no rules against that. If that was the case, it actually wouldn’t be as complicated. It’s not that. It’s just… I really can’t be with you. You’re in enough danger as it is right now for having spent time with me.”

You rolled your eyes, “So I’ve been told. What about it?”

“You’re aware of who Nomia is?”

You nodded.

“I’m bound to Nomia, and not just in the way that weaker nymphs are bound to stronger nymphs. Right when I came into existence, as a male naiad, she claimed me as hers. Y/n, I’m promised to her. I’m supposed to marry her some years in the future. I can’t leave her, ever. The only way is for her to break the engagement, which would never happen. Don’t you see? You’re in danger. She’s possessive. She will hurt whoever dares come between me and her. Right now, that’s… you. That’s why… we can’t be together.” Joshua revealed, his voice getting louder with each word before faltering near the end.

Your mind reeled. You took a minute to process all that information. He was engaged? No. It wasn’t a consensual engagement. He was promised to Nomia, probably as some power play. That was the wicked, infamous nymph that Minghao warned you about. You were beginning to see why Minghao warned you not to interact with any naiads in the area.

Seeing that you were speechless, Joshua began to rise from his seat, “Y/n… darling… I love you. I really do. With all my heart. But we really cannot be together. We shouldn’t keep meeting either… You’re always welcome here. We just shouldn’t meet again. Ever.”

As he turned his back to you, you hand shot out. You grabbed his wrist, preventing him from walking away from you once again.

In a low voice devoid of emotion, you said, “Who says I’m letting you go that easy?”

“Darling…” Joshua begged, gently trying to remove your hand from your wrist.

You growled, “I wasn’t finished. What I meant to say was, if you think Nomia is going to scare me off, then you’re mistaken.”

Joshua’s eyes widened in fear, “Darling. Please. She’s very dangerous.”

“Then why don’t we run away? You’ve mentioned that some naiads can travel across all bodies of water. Let’s run. We can be together then? Isn’t that simpler?”

Shaking his head, Joshua explained brokenly, “Darling, I really can’t. I’m not that kind of naiad… I’m not powerful enough. If I leave this area for too long, I’ll die…”

Gripping onto Joshua’s wrist tighter, you pulled him back down to sit next to you. You sighed, “Well then, we’ll just have to keep meeting up here.”

“Darling…”

“I love you. My love for you is not going to change. And I’m certainly not letting some spoiled nymph ruin the love and the relationship that we have.”

Joshua’s eyes widened. He protested violently, “As much as I would love that, I can’t! We can’t! It’s dangerous. Y/n, I don’t have the power to protect you. I never have, and I never will. I’m weak…”

“You’ve told me this a thousand times before. You think I care? If I did, I wouldn’t be sitting here. So what if you’re weak? Powerful or not. I love you in your entirety, flaws and all. You’re imperfectly perfect. Shua. I’m not saying that we enter a romantic relationship, nor am I completely ruling that option out for the future. All I’m saying right now, is that we should continue to meet here.”

Smiling sincerely at Joshua, you noted, “Besides, being able to spend time with you. I think that’s worth the risk. You’re worth the risk.”

Then, more sadly, you added, “However, if you still think that you never want to see me again. If you think that is best, then I will respect your decision.”

Joshua lowered his head. He was terrified of what would happen if Nomia found out. But at the same time, he really loved you. The words that you spoke today, the reassurances that you did want to be with him, your firm conviction that he was worth risking your safety for, and your confession that you did love him too.

Musing over your words for a while longer to weigh each option, eventually, his heart’s desires won out once again. He could never say no to you.

Finally, after keeping you in suspense long enough, he whispered, “okay.”

With that, you broke out into a wide grin, launching yourself at Joshua and wrapping your arms around him. Nuzzling into his neck, letting yourself take in his comforting scent, you exclaimed, “Okay!”

Joshua melted into your embrace, leaning further into you. He really missed you.

Speaking into your ear, he said, “Promise me this though. At any time that you’re not comfortable, tell me, and we’ll stop these meetings at once.”

Although you were about to protest, knowing that you could never be uncomfortable with Joshua, you agreed to put his mind at ease.

At once, Joshua placed a kiss onto your temple, murmuring with love and happiness, “Darling, I love you. So so much.”

Content, you replied, “And I, you.”

Deep down, you knew that there was another storm brewing, though you would try to weather that storm together with Joshua. You would fight for Joshua to the last moment, until you couldn’t anymore. There was no way in hell that you were going to let Joshua go now that you had him back. Together, you would be able to face whatever, and whoever came your way, come what may.

Or at least, that was what you hoped, and perhaps you were a little too idealistic in your thinking…

𓇼 ༄ ᨒ .𖥔

Slowly but surely, you and Joshua fell back into your routine of meeting up by the Iremia creek on the weekends. Initially, after your emotional confrontation, things were a little awkward. You weren’t dating, already having decided that you both weren’t ready for that at this moment. On the other hand, now that the information that you both loved each other was thrown out in the open, it was impossible to revert back to your previous dynamic.

Hence, you and Joshua eventually settled on being in this weird, transitory stage between friends to lovers. You acknowledged that you both weren’t platonic friends. With the kiss, you both crossed that boundary a long time ago. But you weren’t at the stage of being romantically involved lovers yet.

Currently, you and Joshua were just content being with each other. There was no better feeling than being able to spend time with the person you loved. You both treasured each second of it, knowing that there was always a possibility that you both would be ripped away from each other by the circumstances that Joshua was bound by.

You sulked at the thought. Stupid Nomia and her stupid need for power and prestige. If it weren’t for her, you would have been happily dating the love of your life. Nevertheless, you tried to swallow the feelings of annoyance and anger.

Instead, you chose to focus on the day that you just had with Joshua as you skipped along in the forest on your way home. You let out an embarrassed squeak thinking about it. It all began after lunch when Joshua presented you with a delicious smelling brown paper bag, mumbling something about how it was a fried doughnut made with honey…

Opening the bag, your eyes brightened and your mouth watered at the sight of the delicious looking doughnut. You squealed, thanking Joshua. You reached for one immediately, biting into it. As soon as you bit into the soft dough, the sweetness of the honey spread through your mouth, causing you to moan in happiness. These sweets were expensive and you only splurged on them during festival season so for Joshua to buy them for you, it was such a welcome surprise. While you did offer to share with Joshua, he said it was all for you. With that knowledge, you reached into the bag to pull out another doughnut.

Joshua stared at you adoringly as you stuffed your face. Although you looked like a mess with honey smeared all over your face and fingers, Joshua still thought you were the prettiest person in the world. The trek to find the doughnuts and the price of them was worth seeing you enjoy the sweets with sheer joy plastered on your face.

Joshua choked back a laugh. You were chewing on your doughnut with your cheeks all full, making you look like a bunny. He didn’t understand how every single one of your actions could be so adorable.

Swallowing a bite of the doughnut, you asked, amused, “Why are you laughing? Is it because I have honey all over me?”

Nodding his head, Joshua began to chortle with laughter, “You look like a messy bunny.”

You scoffed, “You try eating these doughnuts. Just you wait, I’m sure you will look like a chubby deer.”

Joshua shook his head, leaning towards you, “Bunny, I highly doubt it. I would still look good. You on the other hand…”

His voice trailed off as he extended a hand towards your face, bringing you closer to his face. You felt the heat rising to your cheeks. Cupping your face, he wiped a smudge of honey that was on your lips before bringing it to his lips. He smirked, “Sweet… just like you… my sweet darling bunny.”

Remembering Joshua’s actions, you harshly rubbed your hot cheeks. This man… this naiad would be your cause of death. He was just too attractive for his own good, and ever since you told him you loved him, he’s been so flirty. One day, you were going to combust or blow a fuse.

You exhaled, calming your rapidly beating heart. Continuing your journey home, you shivered slightly when a cold breeze rushed past you. Startled, your head snapped up. You looked around, alarmed. Taking note of your surroundings and finding absolutely nothing aside from the rows and rows of trees, you wrapped your arms around yourself, hastening your pace. Getting home wasn’t your top priority. Your priority was to get out of the forest and back to the main trails leading back to Athens. You hoped you would feel better once you reached an area where there were more people walking around.

You shuddered. You were feeling horribly unsettled. Something about that breeze didn’t feel right. It was hard to explain, but somehow, that breeze didn’t feel natural. It was almost as if something swooped past you, as if someone was watching you.

𓇼 ༄ ᨒ .𖥔 ݁

On the other side of the forest, there lay an expansive, extravagant looking palace built right into the side of the Nomia mountains. Going further into the palace, within the central atrium on a raised platform Nomia was sitting on a gold plated throne covered in crushed dark green velvet.

Although she was lounging around lazily, playing with a mountain lion cub on her lap, there was no mistaking the powerful, ominous aura that she exuded. The double doors to the central atrium creaked open, and a small tortoise crawled in. The tortoise was trembling, its eyes trained to the ground as it approached the area before the platform.

When the tortoise came to a stop, Nomia looked up to see who was the one that disturbed her downtime. Her face was devoid of any emotions. Her eyes narrowed, her gaze cold and calculating as she sized up the tortoise. Affirming the identity of the tortoise, a sinister grin spread across her face.

With a wave of her hand, the tortoise was shrouded in a dark green mist. Opening its mouth, the tortoise spoke, “My lady, I have collected the information that you ordered me to find… should this information prove to be what you wanted, I trust you will hold up your end of our arrangement to return me to my original form?”

“Chelone, I don’t have all day. Tell me what you know before I lose my patience,” Nomia ordered.

“Like you suspected, your betrothed, Joshua, has been in the company of a mortal. According to the ravens I sent out, the mortal would visit Joshua every weekend. From their intimate behaviour, it seems that they have known each other for a while, and that they are in love.”

Her suspicions confirmed, through gritted teeth, Nomia seethed, “The nerve of that ungrateful naiad. He could have been with me, getting all the prestige, respect, and riches he could ever want. Yet he chose a pathetic mortal?”

In fury, Nomia crushed the glass of wine she had been holding, the wine splattering everywhere. The mountain lion cub on her lap let out a howl, scampering off in fear.

Raising from her throne, Nomia brushed off the wine from her gown, “Well then. Where does this mortal reside?”

Slightly taken aback, Chelone stuttered, “Uhm… I believe the mortal resides at the edge of the Athenian capital…”

“Very well then,” Nomia said, turning to leave.

“My lady… your promise? You promised to return me to my human form if I collected the information for you,” Chelone interrupted.

Snapping her fingers, Nomia turned so she was facing the tortoise. Nomia chuckled evilly, “about that, I’m afraid I can’t make good on that promise.”

“BUT YOU PROMISED!” Chelone yelled, enraged.

“What. Did. You. Say.” Nomia asked. The tone of her voice sent an overwhelming feeling of dread over Chelone.

Nomia strutted down from the raised platform over to Chelone. With each click of Nomia’s heels, Chelone’s eyes darted all over the atrium. Retracting her head into her shell, Chelone’s whole body cowered in fear.

Nomia picked up the shell of the shivering tortoise with one hand. Raising it so Chelone was just below eye level, Nomia mocked, “Dear Chelone. I said I’m afraid I can’t make good on that promise. You were the idiot who refused to appear at Zeus and Hera’s wedding despite being summoned. It’s no wonder that Hermes turned you into this pitiful form. Really, I’m flattered that you came to me, thinking that I could reverse the spell. Unfortunately, even I can’t go against the will of a God. You understand, don’t you dear? You should be thankful that I was able to give you your speech back. That’s as close to your Oread form as you can get. Now, you really should leave before I lose my patience further. I hate to see what would happen if I squeezed your shell a little too hard.”

Dropping Chelone’s body, Nomia smirked as the tortoise scampered off hurriedly, “Now… what to do about that pesky mortal…”

Retreating to the darkness of her personal suite, Nomia shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, “What’s there to think about? It’s simple. Retribution. That’s all there is to it.”

𓇼 ༄ ᨒ .𖥔 ݁

Rubbing a smudge of flour off your brows, you smiled proudly at the variety of freshly baked bread that you just pulled out of the oven. Since you were busy on weekdays, you usually elected to purchase bread from the agora where you worked instead. However, you closed your stall early today so you could bake something for Joshua.

You clicked your tongue disapprovingly, thinking back to how Joshua recently sheepishly admitted that he didn’t really eat properly whenever he was alone. You had fussed and fretted over his confession. Despite his reassurances that he was fine, you promised to bake something for him. He deserved to be pampered a little, and at least with this spread, he would be well fed for the next week or so. You bounced on your heels excitedly. You couldn't wait to share the bread with Joshua when you saw him next.

Fishing around your kitchen for some cloth to wrap the bread in, you were interrupted when you heard a harsh knock on your front door. Pausing to glance at the sundial that sat on your kitchen window, you saw that it was almost time for supper. You mentally smacked your forehead. You forgot that you had plans with Minghao for supper today. You were supposed to be at his house half an hour ago.

Thinking it was Minghao at the door, you called out, “Hao? Just a minute. Let me get something and I’ll be right there.”

The harsh knocking continued. Irritated, you shouted, “Minghao! I said I’ll be right there.”

Your words proved to have no effect, and the knocks only intensified. You grumbled, setting down the pieces of cloth. You strolled over to the door, intent on scolding Minghao for being impatient when you saw him.

When your hand gripped the door handle, you suddenly felt yourself being hurtled to the side roughly along with your door. You howled in pain as your back hit the wall. That was going to leave a mark. Your eyes snapped up in fury. What was Minghao thinking? He should know better.

You opened your mouth, about to yell at Minghao, but faltered when you saw who was standing in your doorway. Instead of Minghao, you saw a tall beautiful woman. There was no mistaking that she wasn’t human with the way that she carried herself. She had a fiery, menacing aura around her.

Seeing you pathetically splayed out on the floor and in pain, she smirked, “Oh good, it looks like you’re already bowing down to me.”

You didn’t know who this woman was, but she was definitely dangerous. You needed to call Minghao. You gritted your teeth. The pain from your back was killing you. Slowly pulling yourself up, you steadied yourself using the wall. You seethed, “You know, I just had that door fixed. And go to hell. There’s no way I’m bowing down to anyone.”

The woman laughed haughtily, “You’ll be singing a different tune very soon my dear.”

You rolled your eyes, even her voice was grating. With your back against the wall, you inched closer to the coat rack in your foyer. There was an enchanted raven feather in the coat pocket. Minghao left it with you when you insisted on returning to the Iremia creek the last time, explaining that the feather had two functions. The first was so he could track you down if necessary. The second and the more important function, was that if you found yourself in any danger, you could brush your fingers against the feather and it would alert him that you needed immediate assistance.

You regretted not listening to Minghao when he told you to keep it on your person at all times, though that didn’t matter right now. You just needed to focus on getting to it without alerting the woman. What you needed to do was to keep her busy.

“If you say so,” you mocked.

“Why you pathetic little….” the woman started, shaking her fist at you.

Cutting her off before she could finish her statement, you said, “Don’t you think I should know who you are? You did break into my house and throw me into a wall.”

“You don’t know who I am?” The woman asks, incredulous that there is someone who wasn’t aware of her identity.

You raise a brow at her, “no? Am I supposed to?”

“ENOUGH!” The woman roars. She’s in front of you in a flash. She grips your collar, flinging you away from the wall.

You land in the middle of your foyer, sputtering and coughing, trying to get as much air into your lungs as possible.

Straightening her posture, the woman turns. Her condescending eyes laced with hatred trained on you. She stalks over to you, like a lioness hunting its prey.

“You pathetic, ignorant mortal. I shall just have to educate you. My name is Nomia.”

She observes as your eyes flash with recognition, “So you have heard of me.”

You recoil slightly. This was Nomia? Joshua and Minghao were right. She was terrifying.

Concealing your fear as best as you could, you fiddled with the feather that you had managed to grab before Nomia flung you. You could only hope that Minghao would receive the alert. For now, you would have to stall her. You stared right into her eyes, saying sarcastically, “Of course I have. I’ve heard you’re a notorious annoying, wicked, selfish, conceited, power hungry bitch who has no regard for anyone else but herself.”

Nomia chuckled darkly, “You forgot to mention. I’m also beautiful and powerful.”

“You just proved my point.”

“You also forgot one other important thing. I’m Joshua’s betrothed. And as his betrothed, I order you to leave him alone for the rest of your life. I also order you to apologise to me, for trying to steal what belongs to me. He’s mine, and I don’t want him to be burdened with the likes of you.”

At her mention of Joshua, the memories of all the pain she caused him flashed through your mind. All the suffering Joshua went through because of her, and the suffering he would go through in the future because of her. He didn’t deserve to go through any of that. Your blood was boiling by now, and you snapped.

You weren’t sure where the courage came from, but you were on your feet in an instant. You raised your hand, swiftly delivering a slap to Nomia’s face, your palm making contact with her cheek with a satisfying crack.

“YOU DON’T EVEN DESERVE TO SAY HIS NAME. Joshua doesn’t deserve any of this. He doesn’t deserve to have to be bound to someone who doesn’t even love him. He doesn’t deserve to be with someone who only wants to use him for your own gain. You see him as someone who you can control and manipulate. You want to strut him around, showing off that you own the only male naiad in existence. He just wants to be free and happy. He deserves to be free and happy, with someone who loves him. And that’s certainly not you.” You growled.

Nomia’s eyes darkened further, “His desires and wants are of no consequence to me.”

Livid, you raised your hand to slap Nomia again. Just as your hand was about to make contact, she caught your wrist. She squeezed your wrist tightly, making you cry out in pain, “You know, for a pathetic mortal, you’re even dumber than I thought. Don’t you know that nymphs are vengeful creatures? You stepped between me and Joshua. You turned him against me, you tainted him with your mortal desires. You raise your voice to me, and then you dare to lay a hand on me? You will bow before me.”

Tears pricked the side of your eyes. You were aching and bruised everywhere. Your wrist was on fire. If Nomia squeezed any harder, she would break your wrist. You wanted to scream, to cry and yell. But, you refused to show any form of weakness to Nomia. You would not submit to her. You said, “I did nothing of that sort. It was your pursuit for power that turned him against you.”

Nomia twisted your wrist, looking pleased when she heard your scream. She leered, “Very well then. Since you still can’t get it into your brain that you should be wallowing at my feet for forgiveness right now. Just know that it was your own stubbornness that led us to this point. I shall have to punish you and Joshua for your actions against me.”

Your blood ran cold at the threat she issued next, “Perhaps I should strip him of his powers, or shall I mutilate him? He doesn’t need all his limbs to carry out his duties, nor his manhood for that matter since I am not marrying him for love or physical pleasure…”

“Stop! Don’t hurt him!” You cried desperately.

Nomia sneered at your reaction, “I wasn’t finished. I could do all those things… Or… you could take the punishment. You would let me punish you in whatever way pleases me most won’t you? After, you’ll never return to the creek, and you won’t interact with Joshua ever again. Agree to those terms and I promise I won’t hurt Joshua.”

Without hesitation, you made your choice. Resolutely, you said, “I agree.”

Within you, your heart was breaking. You failed to keep Nomia at bay. You failed Joshua. You had allowed your delusions that you and Joshua would be safe, happy, and in love for years to come overtake your senses. And you had convinced Joshua of that too. But ultimately, your delusions of grandeur were just that, delusions. You should have been more realistic. You whimpered, knowing that you were going to be forcefully ripped apart from each other.

Your mind was reeling. While you were terrified of what suffering would befall upon you, you couldn’t let her hurt Joshua. He was too precious to you. You adored all of him from his mannerisms, his cheeky personality, and especially the love-struck behaviour that he only showed to you. He was finally happy…

Nomia was right. You were just a mortal, a human. You couldn’t stand up to a powerful nymph. You were completely helpless in this situation. You couldn’t even guarantee that Nomia would keep her promise not to harm Joshua. You also knew that Joshua would continue to suffer at her hands in the future but you had to protect him as best as you could right now. You would do anything for him. Stilling your heart, you resigned yourself to your fate, muttering an apology to Joshua hoping that he would find it in his heart to forgive you one day for the choice you made. Even if you had to give up everything, you would protect him.

Pleased with you choice, Nomia gaffawed, a wicked smile spread across her face, “so be it.”

She dropped your wrist, causing you to fall to the ground in a heap, cradling your broken wrist to your chest. Nomia waved her hand lightly around you.

She nodded in satisfaction, turning to leave, only to find that her exit had been blocked by Minghao.

His eyes travelled to you all hunched over and whimpering in pain on the ground.

Flying into a fury, Minghao rushed to your side protectively. He boomed, “What did you do?”

Completely unphased, Nomia said, “Nothing much. I just put that mortal in their place. It’s as simple as that.”

“Leave. Leave before I call Seungcheol.” Minghao ordered, moving to usher Nomia out the door.

Making her way out of your house, Nomia laughed deviously, “Despite being the God of time, even Seungcheol would not be able to reverse what I’ve done. Just try and reverse it, the spell will only hurt the mortal more. Enjoy the consequences of your poor choices. Ta ta!”

As she said that, you began to be shrouded in a dark green mist. The mist stung your eyes and burned your lungs, causing the tears you had been holding in now to run freely down your face. The mist continued to swirl and travel around you. The room began to spin. Your eyelids felt heavy. You fell onto the ground, unable to move. The last thing you saw before the mist completely consumed you was Minghao crying your name and running to you with an alarmed expression painted across his face.

𓇼 ༄ ᨒ .𖥔 ݁

Something was wrong, Joshua thought. You were supposed to meet him 2 hours ago. You were never late. And with the exception of those few weeks when you were mad at him, you never missed a meeting with him by the creek.

Pacing around nervously, Joshua continued to take frequent glances towards the forest that he always saw you disappear into when you left for home. For some reason, the forest looked even denser and darker than the last time he saw it.

Joshua debated as to whether he should try to go into the forest to look for you. The forest was full of dangerous wild animals that would gladly devour a human if given the chance to. Or, he could be wrong. You could just be late. There was a first time for everything. Scoffing that he even entertained that thought, he made up his mind. He was going to go look for you.

After stepping into the forest, Joshua’s quest to look for you was interrupted by the rustling of the foliage next to the creek. He turned, scurrying out to see who it was. He skidded to a halt, the blood draining from his face instantly as he laid eyes on Nomia. It would appear that you and Joshua were out of time.

“What are you doing here?” Joshua demanded, glaring at Nomia.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Nomia countered.

Strolling leisurely over to Joshua, Nomia looked around, nodding approvingly of how beautiful the place was.

Joshua burned with anger seeing Nomia stroll all over the place like she owned it. This was supposed to be your oasis, your refuge. How dare she sanctity of the place.

“You have no right to be here,” Joshua hisses.

Nomia strolls over to him, saying casually, “As your betrothed I do. The person who had no right to be here was that pathetic mortal. Y/n, was it?”

Joshua’s heart leapt into his throat. She knew about you?

Enjoying the sight of Joshua’s terror, Nomia grinned, “Oh? So I was right. Don’t worry now my pet. I’ve taken care of business. We’ll be left alone now. No one will come between us.”

“WHAT DID YOU DO?” Joshua roared.

Placing her hand on Joshua’s face, Nomia smirks, “Don’t worry about it pet. Mere mortals shouldn’t come between superior beings like us. I’ve taken care of it. Now, just be a good little pet and obey me, hmm?”

Joshua slapped Nomia’s hand away, “don’t touch me. I’ll only ask you once more. What. Did. You. Do.”

Nomia’s eyes darkened, she smiled sinisterly, “They laid eyes on what’s mine. In return, I simply made sure your beloved would never see you again. They were oh so obedient as well, agreeing to my terms as long as I agreed not to hurt you.”

Joshua stilled at her revelation. What did you agree to? He wasn’t worth whatever sacrifice you made…

Letting out a gut-wrenching scream, Joshua lunged at Nomia, sending a powerful wave of water towards her. Deflecting the water with a small flick of her wrists, Nomia grabbed Joshua by his neck. Applying just enough pressure so he would feel her strength, but not enough to cut off his airways, Nomia sneered, “You’re certainly more powerful than before. But still not strong enough. I guess you already know that by now since you weren’t able to save your mortal. You should have heeded my advice not to engage with others. Really, it’s your own fault that your mortal is in such a state. Allow me to enlighten you on what transpired. Your mortal was on the floor, writhing in pain when I was through with them.”

Joshua scowls at her, trying to pull himself away from her, only to feel her grip tighten slightly. Nomia clicked her tongue, “I really wish you would all stop struggling. It’s beginning to bore me. Listen closely pet. Know your place. You’re my pet. I own you. You’re just a play thing to me, something I can use to gain more power and notoriety. Nothing more and nothing less. Still, you are somewhat useful so your safety is secured. Your mortal on the other hand… I wonder how much pain they can withstand?”

Squinting at Joshua, Nomia continues, “It’s your turn to make a choice. Stay by my side obediently, and I will leave your mortal alone. Refuse me and your mortal shall suffer a pain worse than death.”

Joshua glared at Nomia, clawing at her hands until she let him go. Gasping for breath, Joshua growls, “I will never love you.”

Nomia looked at Joshua with disdain, “I’m not demanding your love. That’s worthless to me. I’m demanding your submission and obedience.”

Joshua clenched his fist. He was exhausted from being pushed around by Nomia. Sadly, his hands were tied, he had no choice. Nomia played you both. She used you both as blackmail for the other. But why was it that only you seemed to be suffering? He cursed himself. He really was cursed. Instead of bringing you the love and life you deserved, all he brought you was pain.

Shaking in anger, Joshua countered, “How would I know that you won’t harm them? I can’t take your word for it. I would need hard proof.”

“You’re in no position to demand anything. But if it will appease you so you do not keep struggling against me, I’ll allow you to visit your mortal every full moon just to see for yourself that they remain unharmed until the day they pass. Mortals live such short lives… Of course, that is on the condition that you’re a good, obedient pet. You will take a guard with you, and you’ll agree not to interact with your mortal.”

Her conditions were more generous than Joshua expected. While he would never be able to interact with you or feel the comfort and love of your embraces ever again, at least he would be able to see you. As long as he had the knowledge that you were safe, he would grit his teeth and live through whatever Nomia demanded of him.

Musing over Nomia’s terms, Joshua relented, “Fine. However, should there be a moment where you break your promise, our agreement is off.”

Nomia nodded, “Fine.”

Thinking back to the state she left you in, Nomia grinned, “Actually, as a gesture of good faith, I shall allow you to interact with your mortal one last time. You may visit them right now. No guard, no strings attached. You just have to report to my palace tomorrow morning. I have an important meeting with the other Oreads and I require an escort.”

Joshua perked up at that. Her offer seemed too good to be true, but he wasn’t going to turn down the last chance he would ever have to talk to you, to listen to your melodic voice. He just wanted to hold you in his arms one last time. He also wanted nothing more than to break down and apologise to you for his inability to protect you. He hurriedly took the slip of paper containing your address from Nomia and took off in the direction of your house.

Watching Joshua run off, Nomia licked her lips sadistically, muttering to herself, “Of course, you will come to realise that both of my offers are a double edged sword once you lay eyes on your beloved mortal. Let this serve as both a threat and a reminder of what might happen should you break our agreement.”

𓇼 ༄ ᨒ .𖥔 ݁

Coming to a stop in front of your door, Joshua raised a hand to knock, only to find himself unable to. It was as if an invisible force was stopping him. Joshua brought his fist down, leaning his head against your door. He could hear voices inside. You were obviously home, and you had company over.

Then it dawned on him. He was terrified and ashamed at the prospect of facing you. He had run all the way here because he wanted to see you, but never stopped to think about whether you wanted to see him. He had put you through so much, and he didn’t even know what Nomia did to you. He failed to protect you. He failed you. Perhaps this was not a good idea after all. Joshua began to pace around your front door, fretting over what your reaction would be to seeing him.

Meanwhile, inside your house, Minghao was taking frequent, sneaky glances at the door. He felt the presence of a naiad outside, concluding that it was probably Joshua. Honestly, Minghao wanted to storm out and give Joshua a piece of his mind. But he didn’t want to alarm you. You were still recuperating from your encounter with Nomia the other day. He had brought Seungcheol to see if the spell could be undone. Alas, it was as Nomia said, if Seungcheol tried to reverse time on you, the spell would only come back and harm you more.

Minghao was furious at this turn of events. He hated that you had to experience this much pain. He was furious with Joshua for being the reason why you were suffering, Nomia for being the cause of your suffering, Seungcheol for not being able to help. Most of all, he was furious with himself. He was the one who encouraged you to take the opportunity to go to the creek in the first place. If he never did that, if he never continued to encourage you to make amends with Joshua, none of this would have happened. Filled with regret, Minghao swore that he would protect you, and that he would nurse you back to health.

Minghao breathed in deeply, there was no point in losing his temper now. He should be focusing on you. Turning his attention back to the tea he was brewing, Minghao concentrated on stirring the tea leaves in the teapot.

“Joshua’s here isn’t he?”

Your voice startled Minghao, causing him to drop the spoon he was holding. It fell against the tea pot, the sound resonating through your house. There was a pregnant pause before Minghao sighed, “Yes. He’s outside.” There was no point in lying to you or sheltering you from that knowledge now.

“Hao please…” You pleaded, hesitant to continue with your request. Even if it was only for a moment, you needed to speak to Joshua.

Minghao walked over to you, squeezing your shoulder reassuringly, “Yea. I’ll get him. I’ll be outside keeping watch. Take as long as you need.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding appreciatively at Minghao.

Minghao threw the door open, catching Joshua off guard. Joshua stared at Minghao in shock. Minghao walked out, leaving the door open behind him.

Minghao spoke softly, “I take it you’re Joshua. Y/n has spoken about you a lot. Look. I don’t know how much you know, probably almost everything, judging from your reaction. Whatever it is, just know that they have been through a lot because of you.”

Glancing in the direction of the living room to indicate where you were, Minghao ushered Joshua inside before shutting the door and standing in front of it protectively.

Gulping, Joshua took a few steps into your house, pausing in front of the entry to your living room. He saw you sitting on your couch, leaning against the headboards with your eyes closed. Your breathing was steady, as if you were sleeping. He took in your appearance, the dark circles under your eyes, the bandage around your wrist, and the bruises that littered your body. He felt himself shaking again. Nomia really hurt you.

He gingerly approached you. He called softly, “Darling? It’s me…” only to gasp and recoil in horror at what he saw when you opened your eyes.

Joshua had tried to brace himself for what he might see. He thought your tender, love filled gaze would be replaced by one that was burning in hatred for him. But nothing, nothing, could prepare him for this.

Your bright eyes, the ones that he loved gazing into for hours, the ones that captured his attention all those months ago, the ones that twinkled under the sunlight, sparkled under the reflection of the water from the creek’s surface, the ones that always looked at him like he created the entire universe. Your eyes he loved so much, they were gone, replaced by dull, lifeless, cloudy irises. He recognised the thin dark green shimmer around your irises. There was no doubt that you were under a permanent curse by Nomia.

Reality started to sink in, and Joshua cradled his head in his hands helplessly, his heart shattering.

You had been blinded. You were now blind. And it was because you were trying to protect him.

Joshua dove to your side, crumbling onto the ground in a heap in front of you. He wailed into your lap, repeating the words, “I’M SORRY” over and over. His body shook as sobs racked his body. Tears fell down his cheeks uncontrollably, soaking your clothes. Completely distraught and on the verge of hyperventilating, Joshua grasped at your clothes desperately, as if fearful that you were about to disappear and slip through his fingers.

Feeling around, you rested your hand on top of Joshua’s head, running your fingers through his hair to soothe him. His hair was getting long. If he wanted to keep his undercut, he would need to get a haircut soon. It was odd. Despite the room being filled with the sounds of Joshua’s sobs and your clothes being soaked with his tears, you felt oddly empty. Perhaps it was because you had no more tears left to cry, having spent the last few days in Minghao’s embrace as you cried from the traumatic experience.

Finally, Joshua’s sobs died down, though his body was still trembling. Tracing the outline of Joshua’s face until you could cup his face in your hands, you tilted his head upwards so he was now looking at you from his position on the floor. Softly, you began, “Shua…”

Cutting you off, Joshua blubbered, “Darling... I’m sorry. I failed to protect you… I failed you…”

Gently, you wiped the stray tears that rolled down his face, “Shua… it’s okay. As long as you’re safe, I… I’m at peace with my decision.”

“It’s not fair! Why did you do it? WHY? I could have… I would take any punishment if it meant you were safe,” Joshua whimpered.

“That’s exactly why I did it. I love you. I couldn’t let you get hurt. You have so much more of your life to live. You shouldn’t have to be burdened with this curse. It’s okay love.”

“NO! It’s not. It should have been me,” Joshua cried.

You sighed, there was no way you could console him now. Joshua was too consumed by grief and regret. Shifting yourself so you were on the floor next to him, you wrapped your arms around him. However, your actions only made him begin to sob again.

Your heart cried out, aching at the sounds of his sobs. With tears beginning to prick your eyes, you tried hushing him gently, “Shhh… It’s okay… Shua…”

“I couldn’t save you,” Joshua whispers brokenly.

You swallowed a sob, your voice breaking at how broken and exhausted he sounded, “But you already did. You’re my Joshua. My Shua. You’ve lived up to your name. You’ve provided me with so much salvation and solace during whatever time we spent together. I was really, really happy when I was with you and I’ll treasure those memories forever.”

“It’s not fair. The world is too cruel…” Joshua managed to choke out.

You fought back your tears. You had to remain strong for him, to ease his guilt and pain. You replied, “The world is indeed cruel, but I’m so glad that even in this cruel world, I managed to meet you. I love you. I always have and I always will.”

Joshua shook in your arms, “I love you too. Only you. You have my heart and soul, now and forevermore.”

Sniffling, Joshua pulled away from you, affirming resolutely, “I’ll still visit you. I promise.”

“And I’ll know when you do.”

“How?” Joshua asks, wiping his tears to stare at you wide eyed.

You chew the insides of your cheek for a moment. You point at your nose, “You smell like petrichor, the smell of the earth after it rains. It’s always stronger whenever you’re near.”

Smiling reassuringly at Joshua, the corners of your eyes still crinkling as you teased, “I might have lost my sight, but my other senses are stronger than ever now.”

Through his tears, Joshua smiles back at you adoringly, “I think it’s a little too soon for that joke darling…”

With that, Joshua’s lips quivered once more, “I love you.”

Whispering in response, you replied, “I love you too.”

Guiding your hands up to his shoulders, you brought him into your embrace again. This time, you both squeezed each other tightly, afraid of letting go. Feeling the sobs wreck through Joshua’s body, your resolve broke. You allowed your tears to fall down your cheeks freely. You both knew this would be the last time you would ever be able to embrace each other like this. So, you both held each other as you wept on the floor of your living room, mourning for the loss of your sight and for the loss of each other.

At some point, you and Joshua fell asleep in each other’s embrace, completely exhausted and out of tears. When you woke again early the next morning, you shivered, not feeling Joshua’s warmth next to you. The only thing your senses could identify was the strong, lingering scent of petrichor and a familiar leather bound book on the floor right next to your bandaged hand. You touched the engraving on the cover, recognising it as the book of quotes you had lent Joshua all those weeks ago. As you continued to run your fingers over the cover, you felt something pillowy and soft. You recognised the flower immediately. How could you not? This flower grew by the Iremia creek, and you spent plenty of time making flower crowns out of this with Joshua.

You gripped the flower gently, clutching it to your heart. You hunched over, covering your mouth to muffle your wails. Joshua had left you with a forget me not flower.

𓇼 ༄ ᨒ .𖥔 ݁

And so, your relationship with Joshua came to a close. But for years to come after, until the end of your days, Joshua took advantage of his agreement with Nomia and made good on his promise. Every full moon, he would visit you, watching you lovingly from a distance. It soothed his heart a little to know that you had eventually recovered and that you were safe, though nothing could ever fix the jagged hole in his heart and soul made by the choice he was forced to make, the one which forced him to walk away from the person he loved more than anything in the world.

On your end, you tried to return to live your life as normally as you could. However, you knew whenever Joshua visited you. The strong scent of petrichor that wafted and lingered through the air was indicative of that. Inhaling the scent was comforting. You were comforted with the knowledge that Joshua was still watching over you, and that he still loved you. Yet, the scent of petrichor also made your heart ache. It served as a painful reminder of your time with Joshua, and how your love was real, but how life’s circumstances tore you both apart, forbidding you from being together.

𓇼 ༄ ᨒ .𖥔 ݁

ᨒ Petrichor (noun): the scent of the earth after rain. Some would describe the scent as distinctively earthy, pleasant, and sweet. But to you and Joshua, the scent would remain as a constant reminder of where your hearts were, where your home and family was, where you could take refuge, who you could take refuge with, the love that you had shared, and the love that could not be.

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