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moonjxsung · 6 months

Text

Seasons

Pairing: Lee Felix x fem reader

W/c: 24.1k

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of a hospital, alcohol, smoking, erotic photography, use of pet names, clitoral stimulation, breast/nipple play, unprotected sex, creampie, dry humping, sex in a semi-public place (no one is around), oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, cum eating

Synopsis: Seasons come and go like your love for Felix once did- but when he reappears in your life several years later, things are much different.

[this work was based off a request from @crookedt44th - thank you for requesting!]

18+. Mdni!

•

Small town at the edge of the world. 11:30am. A Tuesday in Autumn.

If you told the average person to shut their eyes and think of their favorite city, they’d probably conjure up a lengthy description about the booming skyscrapers, the bumper-to-bumper traffic, the fancy restaurants and the well-kept people. Point it out on a map, you’d tell them, and their finger would land in the heart of the amorphous blob of whatever state they’ve chosen.

Now move your finger to the right- keep going, and going, and don’t stop until you’re almost off the map entirely. There will be no major indicators, no colorful dots on this area of the map. You might miss it, in fact, if you shoot too far.

That’s the town of Ember.

A town so insignificant, the only name they could think to give it was based on the fire that plagued it almost 50 years ago, which begged the question to those in neighboring cities- who even lives there?

Famous for absolutely nothing of importance, population who-knows-these-days, nothing to do and nowhere to go.

And the place you call home.

“Pieces of a Dream. 1970’s.”

“Yellow,” your manager responds, and you unravel a bulky roll of discount stickers, thumbing one off the adhesive and placing it gently in the corner of the plastic-wrapped vinyl.

“The rest of those should be discounted,” he says, quickly shuffling through the stack and giving them a little slap with the palm of his hand.

He slides the stack over to you, taking his spot on the wooden stool by the register again and flipping through a stack of pages on his clipboard.

Chris, your manager, has been the owner of Ember Records for the better part of a decade now. He succeeds his father’s role as store owner, who succeeded his father’s role, back when the record shop wasn’t mostly lost to the fire. Since its relocation, it’s much smaller, so you’ve heard, only about half the shelf space available to house the generous collection of records his great grandfather used to collect and sell.

This is one of just a handful of shops around here, located in the heart of the tourist attraction that is the town’s square. Thus, you’re well-acquainted with the baristas from the coffee shop across the street, the waiters at the diner, the librarians and even the car mechanics. You’re all familiar with the businesses you run to keep this town on its feet, many of you having chosen to stay here for a simpler life.

“I dig the grays,” you tell Chris, crossing your arms as you lean against the counter and slide him the finished stack of tagged vinyl.

He sighs, cocking his head and uncapping his pen between his teeth. “They creep up on you when you least expect it. You know this shit costs like, hundreds to get dyed?”

“Leave it,” you say to him, giving a small nod as you speak. “It makes you look more mature. I mean, what does Yena think of it?”

“She loves it,” he says, catching a glimpse of his reflection in one of the glass cases and running his hands through his hair. “But she’d also love if I shaved my eyebrows off. She’ll compliment anything.”

“Then shave your eyebrows,” you say, chuckling, as you stuff your phone in the back pocket of your jeans. “You’re lucky to have a wife who’s so supportive of your decisions. I’m taking my lunch!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Chris says, laughing as he shakes his head. “Oh, and Yena left you some pie in the back room.”

“Tell her thank you!” You call over your shoulder as you make your way to the back.

The back room is just a glorified storage closet, one dingy table pushed up against the wall, one wooden chair and shelves of records that need to be pushed out to the sales floor, or should’ve just been burned in the fire. You have to duck your head to not hit it on the hanging pendant lamp, its bulb buzzing concerningly loud as you take your seat and pry open the Tupperware container Yena left for you in the fridge- cherry pie, your favorite, from the diner down the street where she works.

As you take generous bites of your first meal of the day, you shuffle through a stack of records neglected on the table from last week’s donation. There are a myriad of genres- old jazz bands, electronic records, synth pop and even a few ambient pieces. As you flip over one of the covers, Chris calls to you from the front, his voice echoing around the dingy little storage closet.

“Y/n! I need you to come help out!”

And you sigh, promptly shutting the Tupperware closed again and making your way out to the front.

That’s the thing about this job- it’s small, but it’s busy, the hundreds of records demanding your very precise attention at any given moment of the day. You live to serve the people here, suggesting records to those seeking new sounds or curiously peering at genres unknown to them. And tourists are drawn to the place, often leaving with armfuls of old vinyl to add to their collections. It’s not a town they’ll likely ever visit again, you’re well aware, but the shop allows people to take a little piece of Ember with them wherever they go. And though the lack of grandiosity might not bring them back, your attentiveness to detail and passion for music sometimes do.

“Coffee?” Yena asks you, as you slide into the familiar spot of your favorite booth, next to the window in her diner. She saunters over with the pot anyway, setting a little white mug down in front of you and filling the cup halfway.

“Thanks,” you reply, already tearing open packs of creamer.

At half past 8, the record shop closes in only an hour, Chris taking on the role of closing procedures in your absence. It’s a routine life you lead, tending to the record shop by day and basking in the town’s simple pleasures by nighttime. And with all the people you love in it, you have no reason to leave, no rush to migrate elsewhere.

“How’s work?” Yena asks, sliding into the booth across from you and pulling a notepad out from her apron. She flips through the pages, stopping on a blank one and adding up her tips for the evening.

“Fine,” you say to her, taking a generous sip of coffee. “Just mostly repeat customers for today. But we did have a pretty hefty donation, so that’s a plus.”

“Anything good?” She questions, without looking up from her notepad.

“Negative. A lot of older stuff I used to listen to in high school.”

Yena finishes tallying up her tips, shutting her notepad and finally meeting your gaze.

“Hey, if that’s old, then I’m ancient.”

You both laugh, and she keeps her gaze on you for a moment before speaking again.

“Gosh, I still remember when you moved here. You were so… wide-eyed. And quiet.”

“I was so lost,” you say with a small chuckle. “I don’t even think I knew how to work a record player.”

“And now look at you,” she emphasizes, gesturing to your face. “You just seem… happy these days.”

She smiles for a moment, before gathering the empty cups of creamer off the table and sliding out of the booth.

“I hope you’ll stay here, if it means you’re always going to be this happy.”

You smile to yourself as she begins back toward the kitchen, humming to herself.

“Wasn’t planning on leaving!” You call out, and without turning around, she gives you a thumbs up before disappearing into the kitchen again.

Some days, your shifts feel like 5 minutes. Other days, they feel like 5 days. Today is the latter, the clock on the wall above the register ticking away by the second, and yet seemingly no closer to the end of your day. You’re on closing procedures this evening, Chris and Yena having taken the day off to have a much overdue date night. And it’s empty, like it usually is on Wednesday evenings, not a soul in sight as the town tends to their own duties, the tourists all working busy jobs in the city.

You slouch your shoulders over the wooden stool, dusting off a pile of folk records and shuffling through them, admiring the intricate paintings on the covers. It’s one of your favorite things about working here- locating the beautiful paintings and photographs that graze the covers of records, all of them vastly different from one another, but equally as evocative. You trace your fingertips over what appears to be a Polish record, a couple dressed in fancy colorful fabrics as he dips her into a bow. You can’t help but wonder what the atmosphere would be like if they were here in front of you, the whole room teeming with the choral ensemble as they’d tap their fancy shoes along the tile flooring and invite you to dance, too. The thought circles your mind with a smile, and you barely hear the next customer enter when they do.

The little gold bell hanging on the door chimes just once when they enter, indicating the arrival of a man, who promptly rushes to the back shelf without so much as a hello. Welcome, I guess, you want to say, dismissing their curtness with a shake of your head as you go back to organizing records.

You shuffle to the next record, admiring the black and white photo of a man with his guitar, a panama hat atop his curly head of hair as he sings into a microphone. It reminds you of the ones your dad used to collect before he passed.

“Excuse me?” A voice interrupts, and you practically jump, startled at the way he navigates the shop without a sound. He’s right in front of the register now, holding a CD in his hands and setting it down in front of you.

“I’d like to pay,” he continues, his baritone voice sounding painfully uninviting.

Without looking up at him, you take the CD from the counter, flipping it over to scan the barcode on the front. Four Decades of Jazz, the cover simply displaying the title in funky purple block text.

“This one’s actually on clearance,” you say, sliding the CD into a small paper bag. “Just 5.”

He pulls out a brown leather wallet, flipping through crisp bills as he searches for exact change. As he does, you take notice of the collection of silver rings that decorate his shorter fingers, a few of them painted with chipping black nail polish. Your gaze fixates on a thicker silver band, carved with black fleur de lis patterns that circle the band all the way around. You cock your head slightly, mapping out the pattern in your head as his hands move, the ring glistening under a beam of light that shines through the window and sets it aglow.

“It was a gift,” the man says when he notices you staring, and he holds out his index finger, rotating his finger to give you the full view.

You say nothing, your lips parting slightly as he does, transfixed by the way the silver hugs his finger and frames his veiny hands. The man stays silent, his gaze on the ring, too, as he pulls it off with a gentle tug and holds it up for you to see.

“Do you want to see it?” He asks, pinching the band between the pads of his fingers as he rotates it under the same beam of sunlight.

“No, thank you,” you reply, your mind still in a trance. “It just… reminds me of…” and your voice trails off, finally allowing your gaze to look up and meet the stranger’s.

His big brown eyes seem to widen when you finally lock eyes, his plump lips parting open as he scrambles to pull the ring back on.

“Something,” is all you can utter, folding the brown paper bag once in your hands and sliding it across the counter. “It reminds me of somebody I used to know.”

His breath hitches his throat as he finds the words to say, unable to string together a cohesive sentence as memories run rampant in his mind, everything coming back to him like a painful wound being reopened.

“Sorry,” is all he can say, clutching the brown bag in one hand as he gives you a small nod. “And thanks. For the CD. Or for ringing me up, rather. Thank you-”

“You’re welcome,” you reply briskly, pivoting on your heel to organize a stack of already-sorted records on the shelf behind you.

And you can still feel him there for a moment, his gaze boring into the back of your head like he wants to say something. But he doesn’t, instead observing the way your hair, a little shorter than he’d previously remembered it, sways gently in its ponytail as you go about your job.

You listen to the way the brown paper bag crumples in his grasp, before he finally retreats and exits, the little bell above the door indicating his departure.

And when you turn around again, there on the counter, his silver ring sits, glistening in the waning glint of the evening sun.

“The lattes are so expensive out there,” Yena says, as she takes a sip from her iced coffee. “I’d drink this gas station coffee any day over that stuff.”

You chuckle lightly, shaking your head as you wipe down the counter with a rag. Chris counts change in the register beside you, muttering counts to himself as he scribbles onto his clipboard and listens to your conversations.

“But hey, we still had a good time,” Yena continues, smiling over at Chris. “Sometimes leaving this town keeps you on your toes.”

“Yeah, well, I’m on my toes enough here as it is,” you respond, the three of you chuckling lightly amongst each other.

The bell atop the door chimes once, signifying the arrival of a new customer, and Chris gestures to the door as you look up.

“All you,” he says, going back to his work.

You fold the rag neatly, setting it on the counter and making your way over to the clearance aisle where the stranger stands. His back is turned toward you, his lanky frame towering over stacks of CDs as he thumbs through them casually.

“Can I help you find anything?” You chime in, your hands behind your back as you watch him. As you speak, he turns to face you, and you breathe a deep sigh of annoyance.

“Seriously?” You say, already retreating back to the counter again and turning away from him.

“Wait,” he calls, rushing after you and standing in front of the counter awkwardly. Chris looks up from his clipboard, furrowing his brows together as Yena shoots him an equally questioning look.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” you respond, unfolding the rag again and wiping down the register.

“Hey, hey,” Chris says, giving you a confused look.

“Don’t worry about it,” you say to Chris through gritted teeth, brushing off the interaction.

“I just wanted to-” the man begins, as he looms behind the counter, fiddling with his fingers nervously.

“Why would you come back?” You question, not looking at him still. “Wasn’t one time awkward enough?”

“I left my ring,” he finally says, dropping his hands at his sides.

Both your gazes fall to your hands, where the silver band rests comfortably on your index finger, almost like it’s always been yours.

“Yeah, whatever,” you reply, pulling it off and sliding it across the counter to him. “Here.”

He doesn’t say anything, not yet reaching for the ring, nor telling you to put it back on. A part of him is fascinated at the prospect you chose to wear it around at all.

The silence that falls over the shop is painfully awkward, Chris and Yena keeping their gazes locked between the two of you as you angrily scrub at a stain on the counter.

“Hey,” Chris says, finally pulling the rag from your grasp. “You’re scratching the wood, kiddo.”

“If no one wants that ring, give it here,” Yena says with a smile.

The ring is slowly lifted from the counter again, slid back onto the finger of its respective owner.

“We’ll give you guys a minute,” Chris says, motioning to the back room with the tilt of his head. And Yena follows him to the back, the till of the register balanced in his arms.

“What do you want?” You ask, finally meeting his gaze again. “I’m working right now.”

His face drops a little, giving you a small shrug before he speaks.

“I was just wondering how you were doing. And I thought-”

“Felix,” you say brazenly, your heartbeat quickening a little at the feeling of his name leaving your lips again after so long. “Cut the small talk. Just tell me why you’re here.”

He sighs as he fiddles with the band around his finger, the metal still warm from the contact against your skin.

“That’s it,” he explains. “I didn’t expect to see you here. And I wondered how you were doing.”

“So leaving your ring here wasn’t an elaborate plan to come back for it?”

“It… was,” he says sheepishly. “I needed an excuse to come see you again.”

“We sell records,” you emphasize. “That’s the only reason you should be here. And if it’s not, then leave.”

“Y/n,” Felix says frustratedly. His eyebrows arch up in an almost pleading manner, his lips quivering as he struggles to find the words to say.

It’s the first time you take notice of his changed appearance, completely opposite to the Felix you last spoke to. His once blonde locks are grown out, grazing over his bony shoulders, a robust shade of ebony that contrasts against his pale skin, tied up into a half ponytail. His plump lips glisten under a glossy coat of peach tint, and his freckles are almost unnoticeable from this distance. You furrow your brows to get a better look, trying to make out the beige constellations you remember so well. But you can’t locate them- not on his nose, or his cheeks or even around his eyes.

He dresses differently, too, a baggy white tank top under a black leather vest, almost too big for him as it swallows his lean figure. And he flaunts a hefty collection of silver jewelry- rings, rows of ear piercings, a chain link bracelet and layered necklaces. If you didn’t know his eyes like the back of your own hand, you might’ve not even recognized him to be Felix.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” You finally ask, your voice softening a little as he toys with the rings on his fingers.

“This is my favorite place for CDs,” he responds, his shoulders relaxing a little as he speaks. “I used to come here every weekend back in high school. I didn’t know you worked here now, I promise I’m not trying to make things weird.”

You sigh a little, shifting your eyes to the shelves and then back at him.

“Well what are you doing here now? Shouldn’t you be in school or something?”

Felix shrugs a little, his expression unchanging. “It’s complicated, I guess.” And then he furrows his brows at you, gesturing to the shop. “I could ask you the same question.”

“It’s complicated,” you reply, echoing his statement back at him. “And I’m not in the mood to indulge you with the story of my life.”

“I have time,” Felix says with a chuckle, and he’s met with your deafening silence.

“Sorry,” he follows, fiddling again with the rings on his fingers.

As you begin to ask him to leave, Chris and Yena enter from the back room again, carefully making their way toward you with hands shoved in their pockets.

“Hey,” Yena says, nudging you gently. “Everything okay, you guys?”

“Yes,” Felix is quick to chime in. “My apologies- I’m Felix,” he says with a beaming smile, holding out his hand to shake Yena and Chris’. They comply, exchanging warm smiles with him, still confused at why you seem so irate.

“I’m sorry to disrupt the peace,” Felix continues, giving them a little bow. “We’re just-”

“Old friends,” you interrupt, rolling your eyes at this act he puts on. “And he was just leaving.”

“Right,” Felix says, his lips pulling into a disheartened expression.

“Y/n doesn’t bring too many friends around here,” Chris chimes in. “What’s the rush to leave?” He chuckles as he finishes, and Yena hits him lightly as if signaling for him to stop.

“Actually,” Felix begins, and you sigh when you realize he’s not done talking yet. “I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner, or a coffee or something.”

“Felix, I really don’t think-”

“It’s on me if you wanna come to the diner tomorrow,” Yena chimes in. “We still have leftover pie.”

And you pinch the bridge of your nose, sighing deeply as Felix stares at you with a hopeful expression. His eyes are big, gauging your response curiously as you shift your gaze amongst the three of them. Chris watches Yena, who holds her breath as you think. And Felix’s lip seems to quiver when you open your mouth to speak.

“No dinner. Just coffee. And Chris covers my closing shift.”

Felix is at the diner much earlier than you are, comfortably reserving a spot for you on a table in the middle of the room and allowing Yena to fill your mugs with hot coffee. He adds three packs of sugar, two cups of creamer and a dollop of whipped cream he requests from Yena. And he waits for you patiently, stacking the spare cups of creamer into an organized pyramid, in between nervous glances out the window.

Yena wants to ask who he is exactly- why you’d seemed so off yesterday, and whether he’s here for a reason, or just to catch up as the old friends you claim to be. But she refrains, knowing to stay out of your business the way you so graciously stay out of hers.

“More coffee?” Yena asks as she approaches Felix, taking note of the near empty mug in front of him now.

“Sure,” Felix replies, shooting her a nervous smile. His hands tremble a little as he shoves the pyramid of creamers away from him, pretending to look occupied with his phone instead.

Yena fills his mug to the brim again, sliding him the mug across the table and giving him an empathetic look.

“I’m sure she’ll be here,” Yena says, nodding affirmatively. “She’s usually a little late getting off work.”

And Felix just nods, keeping his gaze on the giant glass windows. Outside, the sun has already set for the evening, darkened skies casting over the little square of Ember. The streets are sparse at this hour, just a few pedestrians who also flock here after their shifts, and the diner is fairly empty with the exception of a few young couples. Felix scans the atmosphere as he waits, observing the way everybody seems so acquainted with the place. Red vinyl booths line the large glass windows, dimly lit by hanging pendant lamps that give a yellow hue to the wooden tables below them. Each table is neatly paired with a silver napkin holder, salt and pepper shakers, hot sauce and a myriad of syrup flavors. And a bright neon red sign advertising fresh pies flickers over the kitchen, which is hidden behind silver swinging doors. It looks like something straight out of a movie, he thinks to himself, as a table nearby is served steaming plates of omelets and fries. And as Felix turns his attention back toward the glass windows, he finally sees you approaching, earbuds in and a nonchalant expression on your face. Your hair is tucked loosely behind your ears, a simple ensemble of loose fitting jeans and a sweater complementing your worn down sneakers. The bell on the door chimes as you make your way inside, a smile on your face as you talk briefly with Yena upon entering. And she gestures back to Felix, who gives a little wave from where he’s sitting, in time for his third coffee refill of the evening.

“This isn’t my table,” you say to Felix when you approach, gathering your mug of coffee and gesturing to your favorite booth against the window. Felix’s eyes flicker to the booth, a confused expression on his face as you wait for him to relocate.

“Well? Are you coming, or what?”

“Yeah, um, sorry,” Felix responds, clutching his mug in one hand and carefully bringing it across the room to the booth.

You furrow your eyes when you look back at the table, a tall pyramid of creamer cups placed where Felix was sitting.

Felix slides in the booth across from you, gesturing to your mug and meeting your gaze.

“Do you take cream? Or sugar?”

“Just two,” you say, picking your cups from the little bowl at the end of the table and tearing them open.

He nods, stirring his coffee around with a spoon as you prepare yours.

“Let me guess,” you say with a knowing smile. “8 packs sugar, 4 things of creamer and an entire can of whipped cream.”

He chuckles lightly, angling you the contents of his cup, which now contains a mixture of frothy melted cream and coffee the color of chocolate milk.

“You always did have a sweet tooth,” you respond, laughing and shaking your head. “Might as well just have a sundae while you’re at it.”

When you’re finished, you hold your mug in both hands, taking a generous sip of the steamy beverage and setting it back down with a gentle thud. Felix watches you intently, like he’s waiting for you to initiate the conversation, but you don’t, raising your eyebrows at him as you wait for him to speak.

“I’m just visiting for a bit,” Felix finally says, twiddling his thumbs on the table in front of him. “I’m doing my classes remotely this semester.”

You nod, saying nothing, as he searches for more words to say.

“Are your classes remote, too?” He continues.

“There are no classes,” you interrupt quickly, before he can press you for more information about school. “I dropped out of college.”

“You did?” Felix retorts, his eyes widening a little at how easily you admit to it. Not an ounce of shame, like it was planned from the start.

“Why?” He follows, tracing mindless patterns into the wood of the table below him.

“Because I hated it. Anything else you want to know?”

“Why are you all the way out here?”

“Because I love it here.”

“And how are your parents?”

“My dad died. Last spring. Are we done now?”

Felix swallows nervously, averting your gaze as he taps his knee nervously under the table.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

You just nod at him, pursing your lips a little and toying with the handle on your mug.

“Are you going to tell me about yourself, or do I need to play 20 questions, too?” You ask him, rolling your eyes as a smile grows on his face.

Felix chuckles lightly, relieved that you’ve already forgiven his clear overstepping here.

“I’m still in college. I’m just… undecided. I took a semester off a little while ago because I don’t know what I want to do. I haven’t actually been to class physically in… a good while.”

You nod empathetically at his words, the reality of them contradictory to the Felix you once knew. He was a straight A student when you knew him last, quick to join campus clubs and gain popularity wherever he went. People often commented on how different both of you were from each other- Felix, a bright young student who could light up a room with his smile, always so eager to ask questions and familiarize himself with the world around him. And you, a bit more reserved, your world often tainted by the reality of the hardships you’d faced, and the knowledge that life, when not lived for yourself, is often arduous.

“So you’re doing a bit of soul-searching,” you say to Felix, no stranger to the concept of tourists stopping through here to ‘start life anew’ at the sight of run-down coffee shops and bookstores. And when they find what they’re looking for, they’re gone again, like a soul could never thrive here in the town of Ember, even if it’s where it materialized.

“You could say that,” he responds, swirling the remainder of whipped cream around his cup with a spoon. “Things just haven’t been… great.”

You nod in response, averting his gaze as you study the wooden table below him.

“Well good luck,” you finally say, taking a generous gulp of your coffee and scanning the room for Yena before the conversation can go any further than the base-level declarations of your new separate lives.

“Do you remember that night we snuck out of your house?” Felix asks suddenly, just as you begin to get up.

“What?”

“It was raining. I think it was like 3 in the morning.”

You turn to face him again, narrowing your eyes as he speaks.

“I didn’t have a car at the time,” Felix continues. “So you rode on the handles of my bike in the pouring rain. We went to watch the sunrise, only we didn’t realize that of course because we were in the middle of a storm, there was-”

“No visible sunrise,” you interrupt quietly. “We just watched the clouds turn a lighter shade of gray.”

Felix grins a little as you finish, nodding his head.

“Exactly. And when we got home at 5am, your dad was already awake. And he’d never met me before- we swore he’d have it out for me. But he didn’t- he brought us blankets, and he made us tea and laughed his ass off at our stupidity.”

“There’s no sunrise in a fucking storm!” You exclaim, echoing your dad’s lighthearted lecture from so long ago.

Felix laughs with you, the warm memory circling your minds, both of you equally as endeared by the tale you so vividly remember. As your laughter dies down, Felix keeps his gaze on yours, shooting you a half smile as he speaks again.

“Your dad really loved you. And… it’s one of my favorite memories, even today.”

You hold his gaze too, clutching the handle of your mug again and giving him a small nod, your lip quivering a little at the mention of your father.

“Thanks, Felix,” you say in a melancholy tone, taking a deep breath in an attempt to hold back your tears.

When the feeling’s passed, Felix spoons another dollop of whipped cream into his cup and brings it up to his lips.

“Your hair’s shorter,” he says with a chuckle.

“Yours is longer,” you retort. “And black.”

“I’m trying something new.”

“I can tell,” you say, laughing lightly. “And what’s with all the screws and washers in your ears?”

“My piercings?” He replies. “They’re a fashion statement!”

“They look painful.”

“This one was,” Felix says, toying with the silver helix piercing in his lobe.

“And this one,” his fingers trail down to another silver stud, just below the first. “And maybe this one.”

“At what point is this just inflicting pain on yourself for fun?”

“I’m not finished!” Felix says, as you both share amused laughter. He thumbs over another row of silver studs, thinking intently as he speaks. “This one hurt, this one definitely hurt…”

“How was your dinner thing last night?” Chris asks in the morning, shooting you a knowing smile as he breaks a new roll of quarters in the till.

“Coffee,” you emphasize.

“Coffee,” he echoes. “How was coffee, with your old friend?”

“It was okay,” you respond, organizing a stack of records on the shelf across the counter. “Just catching up, mostly.”

“Yena said you guys were there for hours.”

“Maybe we were.”

“Hours?” Chris repeats, shaking his head. “What could you have possibly talked about that lasted hours?”

“Friend stuff,” you reply to him. “Maybe if you had some, you’d know.”

“Ouch, kiddo,” he says, clutching his chest in a joking manner as you both laugh.

As you turn to grab another stack of records, the bell over the door chimes, and your heads snap in the direction of the noise. And like you’d accidentally spoken him into existence again, Felix saunters in, a shy smile on his face. He looks a little more casual this time, in just jeans and a black t-shirt, but still different than you remembered him nonetheless.

“Speak of the angel,” Chris mutters, nudging you with his elbow as he waves at Felix.

“Hi,” Felix says cheerfully. “It’s nice and warm in here. Outside’s really cold.”

“Felix, what are you doing here?” You sigh, averting Chris’ shit-eating grin.

“What? I’m buying some CDs.”

“We have a good amount on clearance,” Chris says from where he’s standing. “Back shelf.”

“Thanks!” Felix replies, and you pinch the bridge of your nose in annoyance.

“Chris, would you give us a minute?”

And he nods, shooting Felix a thumbs up, before disappearing to the back room with a stack of papers.

“Look,” you begin, turning to Felix. “Last night was fun and all, but I’m still working a job. This doesn’t just make amends or something. It was great catching up, but respectfully, I really don’t want to see you again.”

Felix nods a little, and then he hoists something over his arm. It’s the first time you take notice of it- a black crossbody satchel, draped over one arm, his hand resting casually on the zipper.

“Then I suppose getting help for my project is a no?”

You narrow your eyes at him, gesturing to the bag with a tilt of your head. “What’s in the bag?”

“You don’t get to know if you don’t help me.”

“Just tell me.”

“Promise you’ll help me.”

“Felix-”

He holds the bag a little further away from his body, effectively shielding it from your view and shaking his head. “And it was such a good surprise, too.”

“Just tell me what’s in the stupid bag!”

Felix finally holds the bag out in front of him, unzipping it and carefully pulling out its contents. He reveals a digital camera to you, slinging the strap over his neck and holding it up to squint into the lens. “Smile!”

“What- that’s it?” You question, shielding your face from his view. “How does this pertain to me?”

“I’m photographing the town,” he replies, fidgeting with the lens in his hands. “I need some help.”

“Why would you need my help with that? I’m not a photographer.”

“Yeah but you know this town, and all of its little quirks.”

“There’s a maps app on your phone for a reason, Felix.”

Felix gets quiet again as he fidgets with the lens on his camera, doing nothing particularly useful as he prays you’ll change your answer. And he’s not lying- he does need to photograph this town, and all of its hidden gems for his creative project this semester. But he would be lying if he said having you keep him company wasn’t all he thought about when he went to bed last night, and woke up this morning and inevitably found himself back at your record shop.

“You used to be the best model,” Felix says just above a whisper, letting his camera hang loosely at his waist now. “I still have all my film photos of you.”

The room gets a little quiet as you meet his gaze, not missing the way his eyes seem to soften into a somber expression. He’s always had this way of begging- pleading for what he wants, and you’ve very seldom been able to say no to him. Seeing him stand in front of you now, heavy camera in his small hands and a dream circling his mind, you know the fact still stands true.

“If I do this for you, this is the last favor I run you.”

His lips pull into a toothy smile, his eyes forming little crescents as he nods eagerly.

“I promise. I won’t ask you for anything else.”

When Chris reenters the room, he shoots you a questioning look, which you wave off with a casual roll of your eyes.

“What time are you off today?” Felix asks, and Chris purposely nudges you as he passes by.

“Later. Just come by at closing or something.”

“Yeah, I can do that. Do you want me to bring a coffee or anything-”

“See you at closing, Felix,” you respond with a smile, and you gesture back to the door.

He nods, seeing himself out, camera firmly grasped in his two hands as he waves again through the window.

Felix drives the same shitty car he did when you last knew him. Its chipped navy blue exterior clashes horribly with the beige leather seats, the inside tainted by the permanent odor of cigarettes from its previous owner, Felix making futile efforts to mask the smell with pine tree air fresheners. The seatbelts are frayed, the legroom is nearly nonexistent and the live radio is completely busted, with the exception of the CD player.

“All jazz?” You question, shuffling through a neat book of Felix’s CD collection.

“Yeah,” Felix replies, two hands gripping the steering wheel as he adjusts in his seat. “They’re mostly just whatever’s cheapest.”

“I can tell,” you say with a chuckle, reaching the last page, where Four Decades of Jazz now occupies a sleeve of its own. You pop the CD into the player, turning the volume up a few notches and sitting back comfortably as the melodic tune of a saxophone fills the space around you.

“What’s this next place again?” Felix asks, as you shut your eyes and listen to the jazzy beat.

You’ve stopped at three locations already, all spots in Ember you’re particularly fond of. The old bridge that runs over train tracks, a narrow pathway into another world in late evenings. It’s always surrounded by starlings, which flock when the trains pass through and chirp songs that mirror the train’s cacophonous whistle.

The cathedral just north of your record shop, which you don’t attend regularly like the other town-goers do, but always greets you graciously with its towering stained glass windows and crested walls.

And a now abandoned grocery store just a few blocks away, the walls on the back now housing impressive graffiti murals and doodles.

“This last one is a more scenic spot,” you finally respond, opening your eyes as his car passes over a speed bump. “It’s my favorite one.”

Felix just nods as he continues driving, the road narrowing into a one-way route, the area surrounded by wet grassland and barely visible amidst the thick fog.

“What’s the whole premise of this project?” You ask him, realizing you haven’t quite figured out what part you play in this, anyway.

Felix is silent for a moment, his hands rotating over the wheel as he turns into another narrow road.

“It’s just a photography project. About observing your surroundings.”

“Why does it have to be here?”

And he smiles, chuckling lightly to himself, as he reaches a hand out and sprawls his palm over your mouth.

“You ask so many questions! You haven’t changed at all.”

You respond in muffled laughter, prying his hand off your mouth with two hands and shoving it back toward the steering wheel.

“I’m just curious!”

Your shared giddy laughter fills the car for several minutes, exchanging amused glances as he pulls into an open parking lot and circles around to look for a spot. And you let your fingertips graze along your cheek, briefly, remembering the sensation of his hand on you very well.

The fourth spot is a spacious grassland just past the hills, not necessarily a hidden gem by the town’s standards, but a place you discovered shortly after you moved out here. It requires hopping a fence to access, jogging down a steep dirt path and then marching back up a grassy hill to make it to your “sweet spot”- or a little dip in the top of the hill, perfect for setting up a picnic blanket and sitting upon for hours.

And of course the best part about it- the view. The whole town is visible from up here, the little buildings and shops you know so intimately an entirely different perspective from this height. Sometimes you imagine what you look like from this view- just a tiny speck of a human in a town not much bigger, crossing back and forth between your apartment, the diner and the record shop.

“You got it?” You ask Felix as he hoists himself up the last stretch of grass, balancing his camera in his hands and dusting off his jeans.

“Yeah,” he replies, coming around to occupy the spot next to you on the grass. You sit back on your hands, your legs crossed at the ankles as you take in the view you know so well. Felix sits cross-legged, toying with the lens of his camera as he prepares to snap a few photos.

“It’s nice up here,” he comments, filling the silence with the clicking noises of his camera.

“Yeah,” you respond shortly, your gaze fixed on the record shop. “It’s a pretty special place.”

He turns the lens, bringing his camera up and snapping a series of photos as you watch him out of your peripheral vision.

“How’d you find it?” Felix asks, scanning the photos and going to take another set.

“I get around,” you reply with a smile, keeping your answer short.

He takes one last set of photos, angling his camera at different sides, and when he’s done, he carefully places the camera in his carrier bag and leans back on his hands, too.

“You really have things figured out here,” Felix says a little quietly, turning to look at you while you keep your gaze straight ahead.

“I didn’t have a choice. It was up to me to keep things going.”

“And… how’s your mom?” He replies quietly.

You shake your head, adjusting your position so that you’re sitting cross-legged, too.

“I don’t know. Last I heard she was out west. New boyfriend or something.”

Felix nods reluctantly, not wanting to press the issue further.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he chimes in suddenly. “I hope you didn’t leave thinking that.”

“It’s fine,” you reply, brushing him off.

“No, listen to me,” Felix continues, turning to face you. “I know you hate talking about it. And I won’t bring it up again. But none of this was your fault. And that summer I wanted so badly to fix everything and take away your pain, and I just… I couldn’t. And I’m sorry.”

You don’t say anything to him, fidgeting with a blade of grass on the ground below you and reminding yourself to keep it together. Don’t cry. Don’t feel.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Felix says bluntly, like he can read your thoughts.

“What thing-”

“That thing. Where you don’t let yourself feel.”

“I feel a lot of things, Felix.”

“Then why haven’t we talked about it yet?”

“Talked about about what?”

“Why you left,” he finally finishes, huffing frustratedly. “Why are we not addressing it? Am I supposed to just act like it didn’t happen?”

“Felix, I really think-”

“You said you would stay and fight for what was ahead of us. And then you disappeared on me. You know how hard it was to go on with my life like you weren’t a missing person for all I knew? You didn’t even call.”

“I changed my number,” you say quietly.

“Yeah, I figured that much after three years.”

Felix gets quiet again, shaking his head as he turns his gaze back to the view. You don’t say anything for a moment, his words swirling in your mind as your heart beats erratically. There’s so much to say- so much you want to explain to him. But the words are caught in the back of your throat, dissipating with every passing second you fail to vocalize them. He glances at you again, hoping you’ll come around- but you don’t, your gaze now transfixed on the blade of grass that rolls between the pads of your fingers.

“I understand if you don’t want to talk about it,” Felix finally says. “And… I’m sorry.”

A copper sunset falls over the buildings below you, casting shadows around you that dance along the blades of grass and disappear over the rolling hills. They shift from massive charcoal forms into smaller shapes that sway with the setting sun, quick to get away from you and disappear when they graze over your seated figures.

“You know there was a fire here, like, 50 years ago,” you say to Felix, still averting eye contact.

“There was?”

“Mhm. See there?” You question, pointing out a vast, empty field and gesturing to the buildings across from it.

“It started east, and it traveled west. And everything there burned, and a few people even died.”

“Wow,” Felix responds. “I didn’t know that. That’s terrible.”

“A lot of the neighboring cities didn’t know this place existed. But when they heard about the fire, many of them came out here, just to donate and help build things back up. Even the record shop burned. The one we have now is a lot smaller.”

He nods as he listens to your story, glancing back at the town as he pictures the blazing flames that ate away most of its structure back then.

“I always think about it,” you continue. “Everyday I imagine how hard it must’ve been to pick up and build things from the ground up again. Chris’ grandfather did it, with the record shop. And the diner did it. And they’re still doing it, keeping things running the way they are.”

Felix nods again, turning to look at you as you watch the town.

“No one could’ve prevented the fire. They could pick up and move on, but things still burned before they did, and people still died.”

Felix begins to say something, his lips parting, but his breath hitches in the back of his throat, and he settles in silence as you finish.

“I’m somewhere there,” you say to him after a silent pause. “I’m somewhere between the fire and the mending.”

And he doesn’t have to say anything else, understanding that this is your way of explaining things.

As darkness begins to fall over you both, you think back to the last time you sat with him like this, on the old hill in your hometown, waiting for a sunrise that never came around. You had passed the time kissing and touching each other so desperately, speaking visions of a new life into existence and making hushed promises to embrace the end together. An end that came to fruition without him, one you ran from before could look it in its face and brave it with Felix by your side.

But here on the familiarity of your hill, looking over a town that burned like the flames inside of you do now, you know there’s good, there are people who will make the journey to help you rebuild no matter what their reservations previously were. But it also takes time, and patience, and the strength to admit things have turned to ash in the first place.

And sometimes, like this town, things and people turn to Ember, a dim glowing reminder of what happened always present still.

Soul-searching capital of the world. 6:00pm. On the cusp of winter.

“Think you’re ready?” You query at Felix, pulling the straw out from your vanilla milkshake to lick the other end.

“I think so,” he responds, sorting through a stack of photos on the table.

“Felix, your whipped cream,” Yena says as she turns the corner and sets a small bowl down in front of him.

“Thank you,” Felix replies with a small smile, already spooning a generous amount into his coffee.

The last two weeks have been cordial between the two of you, a sense of normalcy finally present during your time together as Felix wrapped up his photography shots and developed them at the convenience store in town. The pictures are beautiful, little precious neutral-toned glimpses into your everyday life and the town you love so much. It feels like Felix finally understands you, neither pressing you for answers anymore, nor trying to initiate anything more between the two of you like you’d feared. And although the photography sessions have spanned a little more time than you’d originally anticipated they would, you’re well aware this will all be over soon, and then you can get back to the normal, simple life you lead, without having to look introspectively at the state of things. You’re fine, and Felix doesn’t force you to think about it anymore.

“I just have to submit these, and then I’ll be done for the semester,” Felix explains.

“Are you staying in town for the holidays?” You ask suddenly, realizing you’ve never even inquired what his plans are for after this photography project is finished.

“I don’t know,” Felix responds, glancing at the stack of photos. “I don’t really have any solid plans.”

You don’t miss the way he fidgets with the ring on his finger, averting your gaze and swallowing nervously. It’s another habit Felix possesses, getting you to drag him along practically anywhere, but it’s hard to say no when he makes every effort to be so polite and forgiving.

You sigh deeply, praying you won’t regret the words before they leave your mouth.

“Look, a couple friends I have throw a party every year around the holidays. We just get together to smoke and talk. You can come, if you want.”

Felix’s expression brightens almost instantly, meeting your gaze again with big hopeful eyes and a beaming smile.

“Really?”

“Don’t make it weird,” you say, chuckling softly. “It’s just a small thing to unwind.”

“I’ll be there,” Felix responds with a nod. “And I won’t make it weird, I promise.”

“So…” Yena teases, sliding into the booth across from you and raising her eyebrows. “What’s… going on between you two?”

“Who?” You question, cocking your head slightly.

“Oh come on,” she emphasizes. “You guys are attached at the hip. We barely get girl time together anymore. He can’t just be an old friend.”

“He is,” you voice back. “We just go way back, that’s all.”

“He’s cute,” she says, glancing out the window at Felix’s lanky figure making his way back to his car. You both watch as he struggles to get his car open, yanking on the door handle a little hard and stumbling back.

“Well he’s single,” you retort with a soft chuckle. “So if you ever get tired of Chris, he’s your guy.”

“I see the way he looks at you,” Yena explains, as she pulls out her notepad and adds her tips for the evening. “Like he has stars in his eyes or something. I remember when Chris and I met, he was a lot like that.”

“Yena, we’re really not-”

“I know,” she says, shaking her head with a smile. “Feelings, feelings. Yuck. I’m just saying.”

You turn your gaze toward the window again, watching as Felix starts his car and backs out of the parking lot, strands of his ebony hair falling into his eyes as he checks behind him.

And Yena smiles, taking notice out of her peripheral vision at the stars in your eyes, too.

Seungmin’s annual holiday party is a tradition you joined in on the first year you moved out here. Working at the record shop your first year, you had no friends, no family and you were completely isolated from the town when you weren’t picking up shifts. He was a regular customer with a knack for old rock records, and he pitied the shifts you worked while the rest of the town mingled at their annual holiday events you’d hear so much about. An invitation to his holiday party was a big feat for you, not only because it was one of the first events you attended here, but because it allowed you to spend the holidays alongside people again, something you hadn’t done since your father’s passing. And thus, Seungmin invites you back every year, never missing a chance to talk records with you and challenge you to eggnog shots.

“I just want to pop these in the trunk really quick,” you say as you open the car door on the passenger side and gesture for the key from Felix. “I usually lend Seungmin a few spare records we have-”

Felix hasn’t registered a word you’ve said, completely entranced by the way your short skirt hugs your hips, a black leather coat thrown over your shoulders and a different pair of sneakers than he’s used to seeing. It’s much different than how he’s normally seen you, dressed down in sweaters and baggy jeans.

And Felix looks particularly dashing, too, his ebony hair tied up again to display his impressive collection of ear piercings, a fitted leather jacket hugging his slim figure and black jeans that elongate his legs. You give him a once-over as he cranes his neck from the driver’s seat and tosses you the keys, unable to verbalize his regard for your outfit. But as you make your way around the car to the trunk, popping it open and placing Seungmin’s stack of records inside, he can’t help but stare in the interior view mirror at the way your skirt rides up when you bend over, exposing a little more of your thighs and leaving little to the imagination.

The drive to Seungmin’s is only a few blocks down from Ember Records, one which Felix completes while stealing very obvious glances at you and making every attempt to calm his erratically beating heart. You pretend the glances go unnoticed, keeping your gaze on the darkened road ahead and making small talk about the party. But you don’t miss the way Felix’s voice hitches in the back of his throat when he speaks, his trembling hands turning the wheel as he pulls into the cul-de-sac and puts the car in park.

And he wants nothing more than to stay here, with you, to sit in his dingy little car and talk with you about everything that happened, to assure you that you’re not alone in your process of mending- he’ll love you through it, regardless. But as Seungmin makes his way out the front door with a red solo cup in hand, calling loudly for you, Felix knows that’s not a possibility.

“Y/n!” Seungmin exclaims, a big toothy grin plastered on his face at the sight of you. He’s a bit taller than Felix is, long legs that frame his slim torso, and a chiseled jawline that makes Felix a little jealous. His voluminous chocolate tresses fall into his eyes as he speaks, and he uses a slender hand to push them away again, shooting you another flashy smile as he chuckles lightly.

“What’d you bring me this time?” He asks, balancing the presumed cup of alcohol in one hand as he watches you retreat to the trunk of the car.

“Couple rock, some alternative and that one artist you liked last time?”

“Hell yeah,” Seungmin replies, as he takes the records from your grasp and shuffles through them eagerly.

Felix clears his throat as he stands beside you, his hands shoved awkwardly in the pockets of his leather jacket as he waits for an introduction.

“Sorry,” you voice, stepping aside and gesturing to Felix.

“This is Felix. He’s an old friend of mine.”

Seungmin hardly looks up from his stack of records, just briefly glancing at Felix and giving him a small nod.

“Hey man. Cool to meet you.”

And Felix’s lips pull into a thin-lipped smile, averting his gaze, too, as he nods.

“Yeah. Same.”

Your eyes dart between Seungmin and Felix, both of them painfully awkward as they stand beside you, avoiding eye contact like some unspoken challenge and looming over you like you’re meant to be the host.

“Should we get inside?” You finally ask, wrapping your arms around yourself and gesturing to the house with a tilt of your head.

“Yeah, sorry,” Seungmin says with a soft chuckle, still averting Felix’s gaze and pivoting on his heel to begin toward the house. Felix gestures for you to follow, trailing behind you and doing his best to steady his nerves as the three of you finally make your way inside.

The house is already crowded for the evening, people standing just about everywhere, red cups in hand and joints pinched between their fingers. They exhale white clouds of smoke as they converse amongst themselves, their eyes all tainted red, as they let all the weed and alcohol consume their consciousness and instill a calm demeanor in themselves. Felix finds himself standing a little closer to you as you approach the sofa everyone’s sitting around, their bodies lazily slung over one another as they chat and drink.

“Y/n’s here,” Seungmin says, as he passes the sofa and heads into what Felix presumes to be his bedroom, with the stack of records in hand.

“Hey!” They call in misarticulated voices. You make your rounds, greeting each of them and exchanging brief anecdotes with them, while Felix remains standing with his hands in his pockets, his eyes fixed on the way you smile cheerfully and acquaint yourself with everyone in the room.

You look so relaxed, so well-adjusted to your new life in this little town. As stories are thrown back and forth between yourself and the guests, Felix wonders how long you’ve known them to be able to converse with them to such an intimate extent. They share stories of your shifts at work, stories of previous parties, tales of past lovers they’ve had and late nights all of you spent up in this exact household. Felix can’t help but wonder what he was doing during those moments- probably studying for a test at university, or hooking up with someone he didn’t exactly care for. And by nighttime, he was likely up thinking of you- pondering where you’d gone, what you were up to. If you thought about him just as much as he thought about you.

Part of him wants to be angry, listening in on your stories like this- you’re laughing about parties, exchanging tales of difficult customers- moments that occurred while he was up waiting for you, hoping one day you’d change your mind about everything and return. Felix swore every sunset began to look the same without you there to watch them alongside him, every sunrise much bleaker than the last- even the stars he’d gaze at through his window seemed to lose their meaning.

But watching you like this, a smile that hasn’t left your face once since entering the house and the familiar sound of your harmonious laughter, he knows maybe you did the right thing, after all. Maybe Felix wasn’t a part of this plan life had for you- and perhaps, it’s time to come to terms with the fact that he never will be.

“Felix?” You question, effectively snapping him out of the trance he’s fallen into just by watching you.

“Huh?” He responds, aware that the row of guests on the couch appear to be waiting for him to say something.

“How long are you here for?” One of them repeats, his stare a little cold as he raises his eyebrows and prompts an answer out of Felix.

“Oh, uh… I’m not sure yet. Just for the holidays, I guess.”

They nod in collective unison, no one saying a word as they gauge how nervous he seems to be. And you shoot them an apologetic smile, also clocking Felix’s awkward demeanor as he remains silent and avoids carrying on with the conversation.

“Anyone got a light?” You finally break the silence, and everyone chimes in to answer, offering you joints from between their fingers and fishing colorful lighters out from their pockets. You take a seat on the rug, patting the space next to you, and Felix follows your lead, crossing his legs in the spot beside you and taking a hit from the joint you offer him.

Felix feels himself calm a little as the mellow sensation begins to wash over him, his worries dissipating as he listens to you begin to share another story with the group of people. And his mind wanders back to the past, contemplating your actions and mirroring them with the current state of things.

Three hours into the party, you’re both a little buzzed, feeling much more mellow than you had upon entering, despite taking only one hit from a joint. The room is heavy with thick clouds of smoke, the pungent smell of weed and alcohol present at every corner of the room. Just sitting here and talking gets you high, and you find yourself enjoying the company alongside Felix.

It reminds you of back then, when you and Felix used to attend parties together and run off to random bedrooms for a quick fuck. You’d often find yourself leaving early to spend time just between the two of you, hitting all your signature spots to catch sunrises or binge greasy food. And Felix feels much more relaxed around you now, making small talk with the guests and observing the way you try your hardest to include him in the conversations. As Seungmin takes another hit from his joint, he slouches back in the concave leather of the couch, his gaze darting over the two of you as Felix eyes you curiously.

“So what’s the deal between you two?” He asks, narrowing his eyes as he awaits a response.

“We’re just old friends-” Felix begins to say, but you interrupt him before Seungmin can catch the answer.

“He’s my best friend.”

Felix’s head snaps in your direction, unsure if maybe he heard you incorrectly, or if you’re genuinely claiming that Felix, whose guts you’ve hated for the better part of three years now, is your best friend.

“Best friends?” Seungmin repeats in slurred speech, and you give him a nod.

“Yeah,” you say again confidently. “He’s my best friend.”

And Felix’s lips pull into an involuntary smile, the tips of his ears turning a bright shade of red as he reaffirms your words.

When you turn to smile at him, he pats the space in front of him, extending his legs so that he’s created a spot for you to settle in. And in your buzzed, mellowed out state, you comply, scooting back and slotting yourself between his long legs, letting yourself lean back against his chest and shutting your eyes briefly. Felix reluctantly brings two hands around you, holding you a little closer to him, but you don’t protest the action, the familiar sensation of his arms around you feeling comfortable and safe like it always used to.

“I’d think you guys were fucking if I didn’t know any better,” Seungmin voices, joining a chorus of laughter as he brings the joint up to his lips again.

“So what if we were?” You retort casually, feeling the way Felix’s embrace gets a little tighter around you.

“Nothing wrong with it. It’s just easy to see through you guys. Especially the way this Danny from Grease wannabe looks at you.”

And Felix’s eyes furrow at the statement, well aware of the fact that Seungmin’s begun to get a little aggressive, but not wanting to incite anything that might jeopardize your friendships.

“I should probably go,” Felix says just above a whisper, his mouth hovering just over your shoulder so that you can hear him over all the noise.

“What? No,” you reply, turning your head to meet his gaze. His eyes are wide, his lip trembling a little as he speaks. Felix isn’t confrontational- a fact you’re very aware of.

“I don’t want to start anything-” he begins to say, and you place a hand on his forearm comfortingly.

“Then let’s both get out of here. I’m kinda bored, anyway.”

He’s surprised at the offer- and undoubtedly moved by the prospect that you’ve chosen to stick with him instead of stay here at the party with all your friends. And because he wants to spend the time with you, he doesn’t protest when you turn to voice your decisions to the crowd.

“Well Danny from Grease and I are getting out of here. So you can let your imaginations run wild since you’re so obsessed with us.”

Seungmin chuckles lightly, too stoned to ask you to stay, and candidly, to care about any of it.

“My old records are on the kitchen table,” Seungmin says, as he shuts his eyes and exhales a generous cloud of smoke. “Catch you guys later.”

“Where are we going?” Felix asks, as he puts the car into park and watches you unbuckle your seatbelt.

“I have to put the records I lent to Seungmin back in the shop. It’ll only take like two minutes.”

He nods in response, his gaze fixed on the darkened record shop, not used to seeing it at this hour.

“You coming?” You ask him, gesturing to the door, and Felix snaps out of his tranced state, unbuckling his seatbelt, too.

As you twist your keys and push the door open, Felix feels a bit unsettled seeing the shop at this hour. The shelves are pitch dark at the hour, the usually colorful vinyl all looking indistinguishable as they sit in stacks against each other and gather dust. The neon sign above the CD wall is shut off, not even the gentle hum of the bulb present amongst the silence. And the doorway to the back room looks like something out of a horror movie, seeming as though someone- or something, could pop out at any given moment. It feels wrong being here- and he knows he probably shouldn’t be, but he’s not in the place to leave your side just yet.

“Don’t turn on the lights,” you say to Felix when you enter, him following closely behind you. “I don’t want anyone to know we’re here.”

You begin toward the back room, glancing over your shoulder to ensure Felix is following. And he is, albeit reluctantly.

The back room is much smaller than Felix had originally anticipated it to be. It smells of paint, looking far more run-down than the rest of the store, and he’s not sure how anyone can take a lunch break back here considering the lack of table space and seating options.

“This is the break room?” Felix asks, squinting his eyes when you pull the chain beside the medallion lamp and illuminate the room with a dim, orange glow.

“Yeah,” you reply, now shuffling through Seungmin’s old records and putting them in their respective genres. “This is where I eat my sandwiches.”

He chuckles softly, running his hands over the series of music posters pinned to the cork walls, taking in the view you see everyday at noon.

“There’s a record player in here!” Felix exclaims, bending down to examine the 6200 marantz wood turntable on a little cart, just to the left of the dining table.

“Well this is a record shop, you reply with a chuckle, slotting the last few of Seungmin’s vinyl into the shelf. “It wouldn’t make sense if we didn’t have one.”

“Does it work?” Felix asks, tracing the silicone grooves of the platter with his fingers.

“Of course,” you respond, finally turning around to meet his gaze. “Pick something.”

Felix scans the shelves at the neat rows of vinyl, all packed together and indistinguishable from their thin colorful spines alone. He pulls one out, examining illustrations of flowers on the cover, and then slots it back into its respective home. Another flaunts an abstract pattern of cool-toned hues, which Felix observes briefly, and places it back where it belongs, too.

“I can’t decide,” he voices plainly, his eyes scanning over the rows that span the entire length of the room, some of them visibly much older than the rest.

Your fingers graze the spines, too; letting the cracked ridges serve as indication of their age, and then you pinch one between the pads of your fingers, pulling it out to examine the cover. It’s painted sky blue, with images of autumnal trees that stand tall and contrast the gentle hues nicely. In bold red cursive text, the title is scrawled at the top, followed by a brief list of credits and arrangements.

“The Seasons, by Tchaikovsky,” you read aloud.

You recall putting this one on the shelf after a donation a few weeks prior, never having listened to it yourself.

“Will you play it?” Felix asks, and you nod your head in response, already pulling out the black disc and placing it neatly on the record platter. You flip it on, and then bring the tonearm to a random spot, letting the cue lever lower it into place and begin playing. After a few seconds of fidgeting with the volume, the soft sounds of piano begin to fill the room, a somber arrangement that slows into gentler, discoordinate notes.

“This one’s probably winter,” you say to Felix, hoisting yourself up on the table and sitting on your hands. “It sounds sad.”

“Yeah,” he responds, his eyes fixated on the slow turn of the disc, a soft crackling noise emitting as the tonearm runs over the grooves.

Felix suddenly reaches for the bag slung over his shoulder, unzipping the pouch and pulling out his camera.

“What are you doing?” You ask with a soft chuckle, amused at the way he so quickly rushes to adjust the settings.

“I want to take a picture. It’s a nice record player.”

And with the rhythmic click of the lens, he snaps a series of photos, angling himself a bit higher to capture every moving part of the old thing. When he’s finished, he examines the photos himself, a small smile tugging at his lips as he looks over the moment in time captured so perfectly on the little screen of his device. Without warning you, Felix then holds the camera up once more, snapping a quick photo of you and chuckling softly to himself.

“Stop!” You say through laughter, holding a hand up to shield your face as he snaps a few more. “Felix, I’m serious!”

“It’s just for me!” Felix exclaims, bringing his camera down again and scrolling through the candid photos.

As he examines them, you notice how close he is to you now, standing in between your legs that hang lazily off the edge of the table, his frame towering over yours.

He meets your gaze again after a moment, taking notice of the proximity, too, and swallowing nervously.

“You used to let me take pictures of you,” Felix says after a moment of silence.

“That was so long ago,” you reply with a smile. “Things are different now.”

His eyes dart over your bare face, your eyes a little hooded from exhaustion and the mellowed state that overtake your body. It’s a sight familiar to him, still, the way you keep your words short when you’re not asking him questions, nothing except a small knowing smile on your face. But it’s one he’s thought about for so long, painting pictures of you in his head and scanning old photos, like your physical state would somehow come to fruition the more he studied it.

“Please let me take a few more,” Felix says, his voice dropping an octave as his eyes flicker between your lips and your gaze. He knows you’re going to say no, go away, or some other version of it.

But this time, you don’t, taking careful note of the way he so politely asks for what he wants. Memories of him have plagued your mind all night, the feeling of his hands around you still lingering on your body, recalling the way he used to ask so politely to fuck you in the bathroom of house parties like you wouldn’t say yes every single time.

And in the absence of your words, you slide your coat off, discarding it on the table behind you and keeping your gaze locked on his, in just a tight-fitting t-shirt and skirt.

Felix brings his camera up immediately, lest you change your mind like he knows you probably will, and adjusts his lens again, before snapping a single photo of you, sitting so innocently on the table in the back room of the record shop. Your expression remains unchallenged, your eyes softening a little as he pulls away to look at you again. And this time, you let two hands cross over your torso, pulling up the corners of your shirt and letting it ride up until it’s nearly off of you. Felix doesn’t waste any time, bringing his camera to eye-level again and snapping a photo eagerly, his eyes wide as he observes the sight of your hardened nipples through the lens.

The discoordinate piano music still plays from behind him, its tempo increasing gradually as you let one hand position itself over the mound of your breast, kneading gently as Felix positions his camera to zoom in. He snaps another set of photos, bringing his camera even closer to capture you at every erotic angle, and then he pauses briefly, as your hands move to your skirt.

You tug gently, not yet pulling it off, and his photos capture the moment you finally undo the small zipper on the side, revealing the hem of your lace panties to him and looping a finger through them. He feels his breath hitch in his throat, wanting to clarify that he’s not forcing you to do any of this, but too mesmerized to ask you to stop.

And then before he can verbalize his thoughts, you’re tugging the skirt down, too, pulling it off over your sneakers to discard it on the floor below you. Felix can’t look away from the sight, your body hugged so delicately in lace lingerie, your legs parted a little for his photos and practically begging him to come touch you. And yet you say nothing, amused at the sight of Felix gasping over your sitting figure, letting him take the reins and do whatever it is he pleases, even if the implications are clouded by your past.

Felix’s slender hands snap a few more photos, focusing meticulously on your clothed core and your hardened nipples for his own personal use. And then he sets his camera down at his waist again, pulling the camera strap off his body and shoving it back into his satchel. When he turns to say something, he can’t, still entranced by the familiar feeling in his stomach at the body he’s bore witness to so many times.

“Felix,” you say softly, coaxing him to come a little closer.

He obliges, lips parted nervously, as he takes another step forward and allows your legs to rest casually on his.

“I meant to ask you,” you say, cocking your head slightly, bringing one hand up to caress his cheek with your thumb.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice just barely above a whisper. “Anything.”

“Where have all your freckles gone?” You finally ask, observing the way his skin still runs completely clear around his cheeks and eyes, not a hint of a galaxy visible to you, even at this proximity to him.

“Makeup,” Felix responds with a soft chuckle. “They didn’t match my new look.”

And you bring your other hand to his other cheek, grazing your thumbs over his soft skin, before pressing down a little harder and wiping the foundation off of him. He’s right- the beige stars you’d remembered so well begin to appear once again, scattered generously across his button nose and his big eyes. He lets you rub it off of him, not taking his eyes off of yours as you rid him clean of the stuff and then graze your thumbs over him again, in much gentler motions.

“That’s better,” you reply, your eyes darting between his now visible freckles and his plump, parted lips. “They’re my favorite part about you.”

And Felix doesn’t respond, his mind running rampant with thoughts and intentions, as he brings his lips a little closer to yours and finally kisses you, like he’s been dreaming of doing all winter.

You reciprocate instantly, your hands cupping the back of his neck as his lips work against yours, desperately leaning into you and letting his hands snake down the sides of your waist. His kisses are familiar, so reminiscent of years past when he’d kiss you exactly like this, in the proximity of whatever house party bathroom you could run off to and let him have his way with you. And Felix remembers the sensation all too well, this mutual pining of silently yearning for each other in the presence of other strangers until he could confess his love to you through whispered love making sessions when you were finally alone. Felix whimpers softly between kisses, as your hands snake up his t-shirt and graze along the toned flesh of his abdomen. You hum in response, letting your hands tangle in his hair now as he presses further into you and works gentle kisses down your neck. Both your hands find his silky ponytail, pulling off his hair tie in one swift motion and tossing it aside so that his long tresses hang loosely in front of his face, and you tangle your fingers in his ebony roots, tugging slightly as you pull him into your embrace and feel him trail back up to your lips. He pulls away momentarily to gauge your expression, worried you might ask him to stop, but your eyes are wide with anticipation, your breaths labored as you pull him into you again and arch your back into him. You can feel Felix smile into the kiss, satisfied with the turn of events from tonight's party- he’d been so certain you would leave with Seungmin, or shut him out again. But here in the dimly lit room of the record shop, your lips on his as your hands trail lower to unbuckle his belt, there’s no denying you want this just as badly as he does.

And Felix can’t help but wonder how long have things been this way- had something changed at the party? Something that would’ve led you to call him a “best friend” rather than an old one, leave the party with him and even drag him to the record shop after hours, knowing very well you could’ve come alone? Something that instilled an equal sense of desperation in you, to want his lips on yours as badly as he does right now, your bodies yearning for each other like you once did, as you undo his belt buckle and snake it out from his belt loops to discard it on the floor?

He’s not entirely sure- but he also can’t think straight when your hands are tugging at the hem of his jeans, begging him to take them off and mirror the same level of undress you are now. What he can think about are your lips working against his, the gasps that escape you when he grazes his fingers down your sides between kisses and the forte echo of Tchaicovsky’s piano record filling the room with sultry harmonies.

As Felix unbuttons his jeans, you help him tug them down so that they’re pooled around his ankles, the two of you now equal parts undressed and grabbing desperately at the now exposed flesh. You let your hand find Felix’s, wrapping your fingers around his slender wrist, and then bringing it to your panties, where you rest his hand against your clothed core and allow him to graze over your growing wetness.

“Jesus,” Felix exhales, pressing his middle and ring finger down against your core and rubbing in slow, back and forth motions. “I forgot how horny you get when you smoke.”

And you chuckle lightly, not breaking eye contact as he continues to rub you over your lace panties, the wetness against your thin fabric increasing with every gentle movement of his fingers.

“Will you do something about it?” You ask sweetly, one hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.

Felix cocks his head slightly, a smug expression pulling on his lips as he works you a little faster now.

“What do you want me to do about it?”

You chuckle in response, growing impatient as he teases your aching clit over the fabric of your panties and keeps his gaze on yours. He’s calculated with his movements, rubbing in gentle motions, pressing down firmly with every other stroke to watch the way your legs squirm desperately around him and ache for more.

“Don’t make me ask,” you say shyly, your hips rutting toward him to chase the friction of his fingers.

Felix’s gaze drops to your core, his lips parted with curiosity at the sight of you now rocking gently toward him, letting your movements do the pleasing as he almost entirely stops rubbing you.

“What if I wanted you to ask for it?” Felix says briskly, a serious expression on his face as he pulls his hand away from you momentarily.

“Felix, you already know what I-”

“Ask for it,” Felix interrupts, keeping his gaze locked on yours now. His eyes are hooded with lust, his eyebrows slanted in a challenging expression as he waits for you to say something. And he knows he’s never been one to make you ask for it- in fact, he was usually the one doing all the begging, whining when you’d take too long to touch him or begging you to let him finish. But coupled with the recent development of his new look, you can’t help but wonder if it’s not the only thing that’s changed about him.

“Ask for it,” Felix states again. “Or I’ll get dressed again.”

And you can’t bring yourself to, still riddled with questions at the peculiar phenomenon of Felix making you ask for sex, desperate to ask if this is a one-time occurrence, or if he’s intent on getting you to beg for his cock from here on out. Does he make all his hookups beg for it like this? Do they oblige without question, or are they just as taken aback with it as you are?

When Felix takes note of your silence, he doesn’t waste another second, pulling up his jeans again and beginning to work the buttons once more. And you feel your heartbeat quicken at the sight, disheartened at the action and still desperate for him to touch you, to fuck you, like your body’s been craving the past hour you’ve been back here.

In a desperate attempt to stop him, your hands reach out, grasping his wrists in yours and watching the way his cock remains tented under the denim fabric of his jeans.

“Please,” you say shortly, a sheepish pout on your face.

“Please what?” He responds, cocking his head to gauge your reaction.

“Please would you fuck me?” You finally say, exhaling frustratedly and flickering your gaze away from him, almost embarrassed to be asking him like this. But Felix’s lips pull into a toothy grin, leaning back into you for a kiss and beginning to work his jeans off of him again.

“Was that so hard?” He mumbles against your lips teasingly.

“Mhm,” you murmur back against him, hearing his jeans pool around his ankles once again as his hands cup around the small of your back.

“It was?” Felix queries, one hand looping through the hem of your panties and grazing along the elastic. “If I remember correctly, we used to play this little game all the time.”

You gasp a little as he pulls the elastic between the pads of his fingers, letting it snap against your delicate skin again and rest against your reddened skin momentarily. Felix observes the way you say nothing, waiting for him to undress you, touch you- anything, without so much as a plea for him to do so. And he’s undeniably roused seeing you this desperate for him, adjusting your position on the table to calm your pulsating core, your hands searching for him and your lips trying so hard to keep purchase on his. Felix feels his cock swell at the confirmation that perhaps you have been thinking of this just as much as he has, and that maybe leaving was the hardest thing you ever did, the way he always hoped it was.

“Are you sure about this?” Felix asks before he can ponder the words.

And in painfully slow movements, you find the hem of your elastic waistband yourself, tugging it down and breaking away from the kiss to snake it off your ankles and discard it onto the floor. The sight alone is confirmation enough for him- your pussy is glistening with wetness, your folds coated generously in your own arousal and your aching clit a robust shade of pink as you wait for him to finish his little game of neglect. Felix can’t even respond at the sight of your cunt on display for him, too engrossed in the familiarity of what it looked like all those past years, exactly like this, begging for him and only him. On the counters of bathroom sinks, in empty fields, in the back of your car and even when his fingers were shoved in it under blankets in a room full of people. Always taking him so wholly and effortlessly, like your cunt was made to have him fill it, squirming around him with hushed moans and whimpers, your bodies intertwining into one tangled mess of pleasure and pure, unadulterated love for one another.

“Felix, please fuck me,” You repeat, a small smirk on your face as you watch Felix stumble over his words, his cock fully erect in the fabric of his boxers.

And Felix can’t answer you, already attaching his lips to yours again and letting his hands come around your back to unclasp your bra. His motions are much quicker now, no lingering intention to make you ask for it or confirm your stance- but every intention to fuck you, fill you, like he knows you deserve.

When your bra is unfastened, he tosses it aside, letting his hands find the mounds of your breasts and kneading them with steady motions. You moan into his mouth as he works you, your legs wrapping around his hips to press his clothed cock into your wetness and grind softly against you. Felix winces at the sensation, doing his best to stave off a premature orgasm while you rut your hips gently against him and let your head fall back in pleasure. And mirroring the pleasurable sensation of his thumbs rubbing circular motions over your nipples, he brings his mouth down to your chest, taking a breast in his mouth and sucking with little whimpers. Your head comes forward to meet his gaze again, his big, innocent eyes locked on yours as he takes the flesh between his lips and swirls his tongue around your nipple. His plump lips remain locked around your mound, alternating between gentle kisses and then back to sucking on your nipple, like he might coax fluids out of it if he tries enough. And he looks so guiltless, so incorrupt as he lets his eyelids flutter shut and your nipple graze his teeth. His actions almost don’t match this darkened, grunge appearance he now sports- and you swear you can still see the blonde locks that once framed his wide eyes and his bright appearance.

As Felix moves to your other nipple, you wrap your legs tighter around him, swaying your hips in gentle rocking motions to stimulate his clothed erection against your wetness and provide some relief to both of you. And he arches his eyebrows up in pleasure, stifled moans escaping his lips as he finally releases your breast from his mouth, a string of saliva connecting you still, as his gaze drops to his boxers.

Hard- he’s unbearably hard underneath his boxers, the tip of his cock kissing the constraining fabric of his boxers that ruts against your exposed clit and sends waves of pleasure through both your listless bodies. And Felix knows if he doesn’t fuck you now, he might finish at the sight of you alone, your cheeks flushed a dark shade of pink and your cunt arching desperately into him as you wait for him to undress. So he does- one hand finds the elastic waistband of his black boxers, pulling them over his cock and wincing as it grazes against the precum dribbling down his tip. You run your hands over his toned abs, letting your eyes meet his cock as it protrudes so eagerly for you, and it looks almost painful how hard he is for you, reddening at the tip and dripping with beads of his preemptive arousal.

Felix leans in to kiss you again, and as he does, the bare flesh of his cock finally grazes your clit, running smoothly over your arousal and making you clench around nothing. You gasp at the sensation, scooting closer to him as your clit finally gets some attention from him, and Felix smiles as he trails his kisses down to your neck. While he sucks little bruises along the flesh there, he brings a slender hand around the base of his cock, guiding his tip back to your clit and rubbing his length along your flesh with more pressure now, a fervent moan escaping your lips as he does. He glides so effortlessly along you, your arousal allowing him to move so freely against you, still eager for him to fill you up. And when his lips move back up to yours, his hand guides his tip back and forth again, now rubbing against your clit in steady motions. He mimics the way his fingers stimulate you, only it’s better like this, your cunt contracting as you prepare to take his length.

“Felix,” you whine, as his cock rubs back and forth over your wettened entrance.

“What is it?” He coos gently, smiling into you as saliva dribbles between your hungry mouths.

“Put it in,” you order plainly, parting your legs a little further to signify what it is you want so badly. And Felix already knows, pressing his tip into you just a mere centimeter to gauge your reaction, satisfied at the way you whimper and push yourself against him even further.

“Is this what you want?” Felix muses, holding his base to keep from sliding into you involuntarily.

“Yes,” you whine again, tangling your hands in his hair. “Just fuck me like you used to.”

And Felix feels his heartbeat quicken as the filthy memories grace his mind again, images of you exactly like this.

He says nothing, opting to end his teasing streak, as he finally steadies his hands on the sides of your waist and pushes into you, your sopping pussy taking him with complete ease. You let out a fervent moan at the feeling, your cunt clenching desperately around him as he works to bottom out inside of you and find his footing. His girth takes little to adjust to, but he’s long, taking a good minute or two until the base of his cock is disappearing inside of you and being coated in your arousal. Before even moving, his tip is grazing your cervix, the familiar feeling making your stomach turn with anticipation as you remember what it feels like.

Felix’s lips part in pleasure, his eyebrows arched up as he pulls out again and then thrusts just once, relishing in the way your pussy contracts around him again and takes him so perfectly. Your hands find purchase in his hair again, tangling in his ebony roots, as he pulls out a little, and then begins to move. His cock fills every inch of you so well, grazing every corner of your dripping cunt with such fullness, as his wet kisses work against your lips and coat your mouth in his needy saliva. Felix has always been a particularly vocal lover, you remember, as the room fills with his deep grunts and moans at every thrust. His fingers dig into your flesh, holding onto you with strength as your legs wrap around him to steady yourself and push him into you fully. Your bodies one again, your limbs tangled until it's discernible who is who atop the table like this. But when he slows his movements and kisses you tenderly, you don’t care about the implications, about the past or what this will mean for your future. All you care about is Felix inside of you like he used to be for most of your relationship, making up for all this wasted time as he fucks you and breathes heavy grunts into the shell of your ear.

“God, I missed this,” Felix breathes, his voice shaky as he continues to pump into you.

“Me too,” you moan back, lining his jaw with kisses as he moves a little faster.

“You used to let me take pictures of you,” Felix repeats for the second time this evening. “You remember? Used to touch yourself while I’d snap photos of you. God, the way your fingers would disappear into your tight little pussy. Had me begging to fuck you at the end of every session, baby.”

“I remember,” you voice back in labored breaths. “You’d fuck me so well. All you had to do was adjust that stupid lens and you had me dripping for you.”

“Fuck, baby,” Felix groans, shutting his eyes as he thrusts a little harder. “Gonna make me cum for you.”

“Yeah?” You echo, wrapping your legs a little tighter around him and crossing them at the ankles. “Will you fill me up like you used to?”

Felix nods as his eyes remain squeezed shut, the room teeming with the squelching sounds of his cock thrusting in and out of your cunt.

“Come on, baby,” you plead, one hand angling his face toward you to press repeated, chaste kisses to his lips. “Fill me up. I know you want to.”

“I do want to-”

“Cum for me,” you order, grazing your free hand over his abdomen and tracing little circles over his v-line.

And Felix’s cock twitches inside of you twice, signaling his nearing finish as he quickens his pace again, now fucking you with even more force and hitting your sensitive cervix with every thrust.

“I’ll let you take whatever pictures you want,” you say to him as you pull him close and nibble the lobe of his ear. “As long as you fuck me like this every time you’re finished.”

And the promise is all it takes for Felix to reach his orgasm, his cock twitching inside you once more before he spurts ropes of his warm cum inside of you, filling your cunt with copious amounts of his arousal for you and fucking every last drop back into you. Your pussy contracts at the sensation of his warm cum grazing your insides, reaching your finish, too, as he brings a hand to rub your clit through your release. The table below you is sticky with your juices as you steady your breathing, Felix bringing a hand around the base of his cock to pull out of you and rest limply against your pulsing, sore entrance.

The room around you is quiet again, the gentle buzz of the pendant lamp replacing your moans as you let your hands wrap around him and hold him in your embrace. Felix presses a series of tender kisses to your forehead as you remain, his slender hands moving strands of sweaty hair out of your forehead to replace them with his loving kisses.

And the record has run through all its seasons now, having ended several minutes ago, as the needle runs over the last groove in repetitive clicking sounds, an indication to flip it over.

A precious town once set ablaze. 4:00pm. Spring on the horizon.

“To have hysteria or mania. 7 letters.”

Felix thinks for a moment, his eyes darting up to the ceiling and then back to where Yena is sat across from him.

“Madness?”

She glances over the crossword puzzle once, counting empty little boxes, and then begins to pen in his answer.

“How are you so good at this?” Yena asks, shaking her head. “You could be on a crossword puzzle reality show. If that exists.”

He chuckles lightly, observing as Yena checks her watch, and then shuts the book in front of her.

“My break is almost done,” she says as you chew on a French fry. “I’m gonna catch the bathroom really quick. You guys need anything?”

“I’m good,” you chime in, and Felix shakes his head from across you.

“Thank you,” he says politely, shooting her a little smile as she slides out of the booth and back toward the kitchen.

Felix’s gaze turns back to you now, a smile on his face as you nibble the remainder of the french fry, cocking your head at his curious gaze. He doesn’t say anything, but you feel his sneaker glide gently up your ankle, grazing your bare skin with the sole of his shoe and shooting you a knowing smile.

“Felix, not here,” you say, pushing him away gently with your own shoe and letting your soles rest atop his laces.

“That’s not what you said this morning,” Felix says, swirling half-melted cubes of ice around in his glass of water.

“Harder Felix, harder!” He mimics quietly in a high-pitched voice, as he brings his glass up to his lips and takes a generous sip.

You stomp on his laces as he chuckles between sips of water, dribbling a stream from his lips when you kick him lightly in his ankles.

Don’t fuck your exes.

Advice that anyone with half a brain would give you- and advice you really should’ve taken to heart. But you can’t help it, finding yourself between the sheets with Felix nearly every night for the past two weeks, his lips all over yours and pleasuring you better than you’d ever remembered it. You tell yourself you’re just making up for lost time, both of you still young and naive, all of this over once he actually leaves for college again. He stayed for Christmas, gifting you a new pair of canvas sneakers and fucking you while reruns of Christmas rom-coms played in the background of your apartment. He was your New Year’s kiss at Seungmin’s party, where you swore again that the two of you weren’t dating, forcing you to press your lips to his only when you were sure the others weren’t paying attention at the drop of the ball. And when you’re not picking up shifts at the record shop, you’re with him every waking second of the day, keeping Yena company during her shifts as you feign your giddy attraction to him while she’s not looking.

We’re not dating, you’ve emphasized to Felix several times, and he doesn’t fight it, giving you a knowing nod as he utters a repetitive yeah, yeah. But it’s mostly because he knows you can’t say no to him, not when he’s bringing you slices of pie at work and burning CDs with all his favorite songs for you, slipping them into your bag without you even noticing until you’re home again. Of course there’s the physical factor, too- Felix is undoubtedly your best sexual partner, and he always has been. He’s quick to recognize when you’re aroused, slipping away with you in the backseat of his car to pleasure you, without any protest from you. He’s also understanding of all your intimate moments together, not fighting it when you remind him this is just temporary, all while he’s thrusting into you on the back room table of the record shop at late hours of the night. He just smiles against your bruised skin, reminding you that you have yet to push him away yet. And when he’s holding you in the gentle embrace of your afterglow, pressing kisses to your skin and reminding you how beautiful he’s always thought you are, he’s right- you don’t push him away from any of it. Maybe it’s the physical factor, maybe it’s little acts of service he performs to win you over. And perhaps it’s also because you don’t feel so lonely for once- the last time he was beside you like this, you still had a family, one that loved Felix like their own and encouraged this shared life with him. You still had dreams of being something bigger, aspirations while you were in school and visions of a life with Felix, because back then, he was always a part of your plan. And though things are different now, his beaming smile and lighthearted jokes serve as a reminder of a simpler time, and it feels right. So you don’t push him away- it’s a secret kept between the two of you, but he’s here with you, regardless.

“Will you let me take some photos of you today? ” Felix inquires, flipping through the book of crossword puzzles left on the table by Yena. You watch as he adjusts the familiar fleur de lis ring on his finger before uncapping a pen and filling in one of the words.

“I have an early shift tomorrow,” you reply, toying with the crumpled straw wrapper in front of you.

“I won’t be long,” Felix retorts.

“I know, Felix, but I have to get up really early tomorrow and I-”

“Let me take you out,” Felix says, not looking up from the crossword puzzle in front of him. “Just tell me where.”

You sigh, scanning the empty tables around the diner. There are only a handful of guests at this hour, most of them elderly folk chatting quietly amongst themselves. A slow jazz tune plays overhead, and sunlight beams through the large window beside you as Felix finishes penning in an answer, shutting the book again and folding his hands in front of him to meet your gaze.

“I have something for you,” Felix adds.

“You don’t have to buy me gifts, Felix.”

“I’m aware. But this one’s special for me, too.”

“What is it?”’you ask, a growing curiosity at his words.

“I don’t have it with me. You’ll have to let me give it to you later today.”

You sigh, crossing your arms in front of you and rolling your eyes sarcastically. He’s always known how to get exactly what he wants.

“Just this one time,” you reply, knowing you sound like a broken record at how many times you’ve sworn it to be just one more time.

“Just this one time,” Felix echoes, toying again with the ring on his finger.

And you nod reluctantly, agreeing to whatever he’s planned, for the purpose of pleasing him and because you’re unable to decline.

As he flips open the book again, he uncaps the pen once more, picking up where he left off and reading the question aloud to you.

“A discussion aimed at reaching an agreement,” he voices, nibbling the cap of his pen again.

“Negotiation,” you say, observing the way a smile grows on his face as he pens in your answer.

“That’s it,” he says, gripping the pen enthusiastically as he crosses out the question.

And the sole of his shoe grazes your ankle again, trailing up your flesh teasingly as he moves onto the next.

“Where’s she going?” Felix queries, reaching into the bowl of popcorn in his lap to grab another mouthful.

“I don’t know,” you respond, chuckling at the way he shoves a generous portion into his mouth and chews loudly.

“Is she leaving him?” He says, pausing his chewing as the main lead in the movie makes a dramatic exit on screen.

“Felix, I’ve never seen this movie either,” you state, chuckling as he finally resumes his chewing and brushes stray kernels off his shirt.

He reaches into the bucket again, gathering a generous handful of popcorn, and then he sprawls his hand over your mouth, pushing the popcorn into your still-laughing mouth as he moves a little closer to you.

“You argue too much!” He says between giggles, throwing his head back as he watches you try to down the handful, failing as loose kernels find purchase on your shirt, too.

You reach out to shove him playfully, and Felix intertwines his hands with yours, pulling you onto his lap as the bucket of popcorn is promptly set aside and neglected.

He doesn’t even give you time to finish chewing before his lips are on yours, kissing you with such tenderness and warmth. It’s moments like these you find yourself glad he’s here with you, grateful for his unwavering persistence to account for lost time and make amends. Of course you also know he’ll be gone soon, back to university to proceed with his education while you tend to the record shop. And you’re undoubtedly a little sad about it- but you also know it’s the way things have panned out to be. Felix has blossomed into the bright young soul you always knew he was, filling the shoes of a generation of good-natured people that came before him. He’s generous, and unselfish in his ways, and a part of you knows that leaving him was the best thing that could’ve happened to both of you.

Was sleeping with him a mistake after all this time? You would’ve answered yes in a heartbeat, at the first instance it happened, feeling you might accidentally led Felix on and ruined things between the two of you. But the more it happened, the more it affirmed the beautiful notion that he’s just a fleeting part in this process of mending- your souls intertwining to relive memories of simpler times, connecting like they had when you once belonged together. He gives himself to you as a way of saying I’m still here, if you need me. And you give yourself to him to respond I know, and I’m still healing.

“You want your gift?” Felix asks as he pulls away, his hands grazing the small of your back.

“Depends,” you say with a small smile. “If it’s anything like your gift this morning, then yes.”

He chuckles softly, caressing the dimples in your lower back as he sits up and nods in the direction of the kitchen counter.

“I’ll go get it. Be right back.”

And you slide off of him, crossing your hands between your thighs as he exits the room, the soft-spoken dialogue of the movie still playing as he shuffles about in your apartment kitchen. When he returns, his hands are behind his back, a smile plastered on his face and his eyes forming little crescents as he approaches you.

“You have to close your eyes,” he says, kneeling down and sitting cross-legged in front of you. “And put out your hands.”

You oblige with an equally endeared smile, closing your eyes and cupping your hands in front of you. Felix seems to get something situated in front of you, and then you feel him place something small in the palm of your hand. It’s cold to the touch, no bigger than an inch, and he positions it so that it’s centered perfectly in your hand.

“Now open,” Felix finally says, pulling his hands back and folding them in his lap.

You do as you’re told, your eyes fluttering open again and your gaze falling into the palm of your hand. And your heart melts instantly at the sight-

It’s a ring- his ring, the silver fleur de lis one he always catches you staring at.

“I can’t take your ring,” you say, your wide eyes meeting the crescents of his eyes that remain as he grins.

He holds his hand up, flashing you his own fleur de lis, and wiggles his fingers to show it off.

“It’s not mine,” Felix says. “I got you your own.”

And you feel tears prick the corners of your eyes, doing your very best to pull back and avoid crying in front of him. But Felix takes notice at the way your face contorts sadly, scooting closer to you and taking your hands in his.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, his face full of concern as you examine the ring.

“Nothing,” you’re quick to respond, sniffling and rotating it between the pads of your fingers. “I just…”

Felix waits for you to answer, giving your hand a little squeeze as you struggle to find your words. He knows that verbalizing your feelings isn’t exactly your forte, giving you time to think over the action and speak when it feels right to you.

“Your ring,” you say with a soft chuckle. “It was a gift from my dad.”

His expression turns serious, holding up his index finger to rotate it around in front of you. “This one?” He inquires.

“Yeah,” you respond with a smile. “The one I gave you before we broke up. I know I’m not the best with my words, but I never got to say thank you. You stayed up with me the night they told us he was nearing the end. And again when my mom left. And somehow you found me in this shitty little town, and I like to think it’s so that I can properly thank you for everything. That’s why I wanted you to have the ring.”

Felix can’t properly reciprocate with a kiss while he’s sat below you like this, but he brings his lips forward to kiss your knee tenderly, staring up at you through innocent eyes and humming against your flesh.

“You were not alone,” he says, pressing another kiss. “You’re never alone. I would do it all over again.”

And you smile down at him, as he takes the ring from the palm of your hand and slides it onto your ring finger, an unspoken promise that he’s always going to be here to help build you up again, regardless of your reservations or your conditions. That just like this town lost itself so many years ago, there’s always a way to build things back up again, you just have to hold onto the hope that it’s possible.

“I love it,” you say, examining the way it sits around your fingers just like his does. And Felix doesn’t answer, pressing more kisses on the pads of your knees and using a hand to part your knees slightly. You take note of the way he keeps his eyes shut as he trails kisses, relishing in the way you give into his actions, laying back to part your knees and observing his eager state.

“Can I take a picture of you?” Felix asks shyly, his eyes darting over your visible crotch as your skirt rides up. You shoot him a little nod in response, gesturing for him to go get his camera, which he wastes no time doing, pulling it out of his black carrier bag and slinging it over his neck. Felix sits cross-legged in front of you again, watching intently as you flip your skirt up and let your fingers graze over your soaking panties. Your new ring glints in the dim glow of the overhead lamp, glistening as you rub your clit over the thin fabric of your underwear and stare into the lens of his camera.

Felix clicks a set of photos, his breath hitching in the back of his throat at the sight of you tugging on your panties and spreading even further for him. You make a big show of staring innocently into his lens, your eyebrows arched in curiosity as you toy with your waistband and tug it down a little further, your hips swaying a little as you struggle to pull it off entirely. And Felix takes note of your struggle, snapping one more photo of your desperate state and slinging the camera back off.

“Let me help you,” he says with an amused smile, placing the camera on the bag beside him and scooting closer to you. His hands loop themselves in the hem of your panties, keeping his gaze locked on your core as he pulls them down, being met instantly with the sweet aroma of your arousal and your glistening folds.

“Fuck,” Felix breathes, swallowing in anticipation at you spread for him.

You let yourself slouch back into the dip of the couch cushion, propping a leg up to give him a better view, and your hands graze over your breasts as you watch him struggle to comprehend the sight.

“Go on,” you order simply, biting your lip as his eyes widen when you knead your breast gently.

And Felix doesn’t spare another second, his hands finding purchase on your inner thighs, as he brings his face forward and licks a long stripe up your folds. His tongue is instantly coated in your arousal when he does, moaning at the taste of you as you writhe in pleasure below him and clamp your knees around his pretty face. He holds them open again, letting his tongue graze over your pulsing clit, before licking another stripe and then latching his lips around your bundle of nerves, pressing a chaste kiss before sucking harshly.

The room fills with your high-pitched moans, gasping for air and clutching desperately onto the fabric of the couch as he works you, alternating between sucking your clit between his teeth and grazing his tongue over your entrance. He darts his tongue into your sopping entrance to gather more of your arousal, spitting harshly onto your cunt and grazing it around your folds using his tongue. And the more you writhe desperately below him, the more his movements become ravenous, working you like a starved animal as he eats you out and pries your legs open.

“Felix,” you groan, reaching a hand out to push his face further into you. “Feels so fucking good.”

He smiles against you, responding with little kisses peppered on your inner thighs, before moving back to your clit and licking in harsh back and forth motions. Your cunt clenches around nothing, desperate for him to fill you, but not wanting him to halt the motion of pleasuring you with his tongue. And as his fingers graze along your thigh to pry you open again, you gasp when he brings the same hand to your clit and rubs vigorously.

Your body is shaking now, trembling with anticipation as you approach your orgasm. But Felix doesn’t stop to gauge your reactions at all- in fact, if you were to cum right now, he’d keep going at this pace regardless. He’s too fixated on the taste of your arousal in his mouth, the melodious moans you let out for him and the way you reach for nothing tangible as he works you.

As your head throws back in pure ecstasy, you feel his fingers move lower, and lower, until he’s grazing your entrance with his knuckles in a teasing motion. And before you can ask him to fuck you with them, he’s already inserting two fingers, increasing the pace of his tongue as he begins to thrust in and out of you. Your cunt contracts eagerly around his fingers, desperate for release now as he matches the rhythm of his tongue with his fingers, the room teeming with the sounds of your squelching pussy. As he pushes deeper into you, you feel his ring- the cold, stiff metal of your now matching rings, graze your entrance, sending a wave of pleasure over your trembling body. His fingers work in and out of you, the cold metal pressing itself on your clit as he bottoms out inside of you and moves his fingertips in quick come hither motions to stimulate you. Your abdomen contracts harshly with every thrust now, your clit throbbing as he traces it with his tongue and peppers it in hot, wet kisses.

“Felix, fuck, I’m- gonna cum for you,” you warn, your voice shaky as he moves even faster, showing no mercy with his movements as he groans against your exposed flush.

“Let go for me,” he commands plainly, his deep voice vibrating against your clit as he holds his tongue there. “Always give me such a fucking show, baby. Make a mess for me.” He speaks between kisses on your glistening folds, alternating between pouting his lips to make out with your cunt and let his tongue wag over your sensitive core.

As you feel his fingers thrust into you one last time, the cold metal of his ring gliding over your folds in its coat of arousal, your abdomen contracts over him, your cunt clenching in syncopation with your fervent moans as you finally let go and dribble your juices all over his freckled face. He wastes no time cleaning you up, lapping at your core to swallow your release and pepper your dampened flesh with tender kisses.

“Stay there,” Felix orders, reaching beside him as your eyes flutter shut in overstimulation. You lie completely listless, your limbs languid and heartbeat pulsing at a now slowing rate throughout your body.

Felix brings his camera up to you again, sitting up on his knees and snapping a photo of your wearied state, his eyes wide with lust as he admires the way your legs hang loosely at your sides. His lens adjusts to capture your parted lips and flushed cheeks, your hands tugging your skirt down again and the smile on your breathless lips when you open your eyes again.

Felix stands up now, approaching you with the camera and letting his slender fingers graze your lips.

“Suck,” he orders, inserting the same two fingers down your throat as his other hand positions the lens in front of you. And you oblige eagerly, your lips wrapping around his digits to suck your own arousal off of him, your tongue swirling around the salty metal of his ring to rid him of your juices.

His photos capture exactly that- your lips wrapped around his knuckles, the kisses you trail down his fingers and the way your tongue licks the perimeter of your matching jewelry clean.

When you’re finished, you release him with a gentle pop, Felix letting his camera hang loosely at his waist again and using his now free hand to tilt your head up to meet his gaze.

“So beautiful,” he says resolutely, bringing you up for a gentle kiss. “You were always such a good model for me.”

When you work an early shift, you make it a point to kick Felix out of your apartment no later than 9, or sometimes 10. You’re not staying the night, you’d explained as a non-negotiable condition, wanting to avoid the awkward antics that come with sleeping alongside each other and waking up in his arms. But tonight, you can’t seem to let go of him, letting his arms wrap you in their warm embrace as he presses kisses to your forehead and tells you stories of college that you weren’t around for.

“It was the worst group I ever had for a project,” Felix says in a chuckle. “I don’t know how I passed that course.”

“You should’ve requested a different group,” you say in a sleepy voice, smiling as you play the humorous tale in your head.

“I did!” He exclaims. “I don’t think the professor liked me enough to let me switch so late in the semester.”

“Well, you got through it,” you reply, letting your hand intertwine with his as your rings rub tenderly against each other. “I can’t say the same.”

Felix chuckles lightly, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand and letting your hands rest against each other. He thinks for a moment, and then rubs his thumb along your hand lovingly as he begins to speak again.

“I want to take so many photos of you in the spring. There’s this new lens I want to try.”

You pause briefly, opening your eyes to look at him, and then you cock your head slightly before responding.

“You won’t be here for the spring, Felix. You’ll be back at school.”

He swallows nervously, pondering your words, and then he exhales deeply before continuing.

“I don’t think college is for me, either.”

The words hit you like a truck the second they escape his lips- you sit up in bed to look at him, releasing his hand from yours and furrowing your brows together.

“What?”

“I’ve been meaning to tell you, I just wasn’t sure how to bring it up. I want to stay here, with you.”

“No, you don’t,” you’re quick to say, shaking your head.

“I do,” Felix admits sheepishly. “Everything makes sense here. Being with you, the town, the people- I think I’m meant to be here, too.”

“No, you’re not,” you say, pulling away from him even further as he sits up now, too. “Felix- this isn’t your life. You need to go back to school, and pick a major and live your life.”

“I don’t want those things,” Felix responds frustratedly. “I want you. I want this town. I don’t care if you don’t want to date, I’ll stay by your side regardless. I can’t just leave you.”

“You can, and you will.”

Felix narrows his eyes, anger quickly overtaking him as his face flushes a dark shade of red.

“So you’re allowed to and I’m just not? Who are you to dictate what I do with my life?”

“This is the life I made for myself,” you reply, exasperated. “It’s not some soul-searching pit stop like it is for you.”

“Maybe it’s not for me, either.”

You’re entirely off the bed now, your hands making angry gestures as you try to verbalize your feelings toward him, Felix’s voice growing increasingly irate as you attempt to.

“You know why I left you in the first place?” You question. “Because I was dragging you down. You had everything- a family, a future and a girlfriend who didn’t quite have things made the way you do. No one even understood why we were together, Felix. I’m not gonna drag you down a second time just because we had sex a couple times.”

“Is that all this is to you?” Felix inquires angrily. “Just sex? It doesn’t seem that way when you’re all over me at Seungmin’s parties calling me your ‘best friend’. That doesn’t sound like just sex to me-”

“You are my best friend,” you interrupt frustratedly, tears falling from your eyes now as you try to make him listen.

“You are my best friend, and I don’t want this life for you. The night I left you, my dad was moved to hospice, and my mom decided she wanted nothing to do with it. I knew you’d be wasting the best years of your life taking care of me, staying by my side like the good person you are, but that it would get in the way of college and your life. It wasn’t easy for me to do, Felix, breaking up with you and getting as far away from you as possible before I could change my mind. But you have a life outside of me, and I need you to go be that person still.”

Felix says nothing in response for several minutes, his eyes welling with tears, too, as you wipe your eyes with your inner wrists and avert his gaze. You hate when Felix sees you cry- it’s embarrassing, and it feels shameful. It feels the way it did when Felix skipped classes to be with you, neglected studying for his exams to hold you as you cried, rain checked his own family to be with yours and dragged you to every house party, so that he could fuck your sadness away in an environment that wasn’t a hospital bathroom or your childhood room.

“How dare you imply the time I spent with you was wasted,” he scoffs, his lip quivering as he wipes his own eyes. “You were my life, outside of all of this. And you still are, and you’re so stubborn in doing that thing where you don’t let yourself feel.”

You watch as Felix gathers his camera, stuffing it back into his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

“You said you’re somewhere between the fire and the mending. But you don’t talk about the fire. You just shut it out like you do with everything else.”

He pivots on his heel, making his way toward the door and walking with loud, purposeful strides. You begin to say something, quickly swallowing your words again as he reaches for the doorknob and turns it slowly. Felix pauses momentarily, hoping you’ll ask him to stay, apologize, forgive- anything, any sort of indication that this is what you want, too. But as the door opens, your silence is answer enough for him.

“No one could have prevented the fire,” Felix says before leaving, echoing the words you told him so long ago. “You can pick up, and move on, but it still happened. And just because things burned, doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to thrive again.”

Without another word from you, he’s disappearing out your front door, his camera bag swaying on his side as he marches out the building and back to his car.

And you feel yourself begin to cry, your heart contracting painfully in your chest, a pit forming in your stomach as you witness him walk out of your life again. The flames burn inside of you all over again, turning organ to ash as you wipe your never-ending tears and slam the door behind him. It’s akin to when your mother left, when your dad passed and when you left Felix the first time. It’s overwhelming, it consumes you whole, your entire figure trembling as you fail to extinguish the flames. The phenomenon begs the question- had the fire ever really stopped? Were you ever in the process of mending if not wailing like this, your vulnerability on display for the world to see as your walls are finally let down? Is this what it means to feel?

There are few people in this world who have seen you cry. Your mom, one of them, when you begged her to stay. Your dad, another, when you held his hand through his last breath. Felix, the third, several times throughout your relationship with him.

And the folks in this town- never. Not once have they witnessed you wail the way Felix has, tears brimming your eyes as you fail to keep your emotions at bay, mucus trickling down to your lips in an inelegant manner as you cry, and cry and cry.

“You want some coffee?” Chris asks awkwardly, scratching the back of his head as he watches you bury your face in the sleeves of your sweatshirt.

“No.”

“Yena should be here any minute,” he adds, his voice softening as he watches you lift your head to give him a nod.

“Hang in there, kiddo,” Chris finishes, rubbing your back in small circles and giving you a gentle pat.

As you rest your chin in your hands, a pounding headache overtaking your whole being, a knock at the front door catches your attention. It’s Yena, a hood thrown over her head as she balances a tupperware container in her hands and peers through the window. Chris gives her a knowing look, making his way to the door and unlocking it for her.

“Hey,” Yena says softly as she enters, setting down a slice of pie in front of you and taking a seat on the stool beside you. “You okay?”

You sniffle once, shaking your head sorrowfully as she awaits your explanation. But nothing is verbalized yet, and for a good few minutes, all you can do is cry.

Yena wraps you in her loving embrace, letting your tears stain the shoulder of her hoodie, as Chris shrugs from behind you and delivers reassuring pats to your back. They’re just as confused as each other, awaiting a reason or some story, but you can’t bring yourself to vocalize your thoughts, especially when you’re a crying mess like this. Chris finally ushers Yena to say something, and she does, albeit reluctantly.

“You know, just between us, I think he’s a little dorky, anyway. It’s his loss if he can’t see what he’s missing.”

And to their surprise, you chuckle lightly, still wiping tears with the corners of your sweatshirt.

“What?” You question, a soft hiccup escaping your lips as you speak. Yena furrows her brows, together shooting a questioning look to Chris, who shrugs in response.

“Is this… not about Felix?” She queries hesitantly.

“It is,” you emphasize, another giggle escaping your lips. “But it’s not that he’s not interested. We used to date, Yena.”

At this, Yena reaches around to swat Chris’ shoulder, pursing her lips together as she speaks again. “I knew something was up,” she voices, swatting Chris again. “Christopher over here was convinced he was too into you.”

“You guys talked about it?” You add, giggling softly into the sleeve of your sweater.

“It was hard not to,” Yena responded, giving you an empathetic look. “The way you guys light up a room when you’re together, it’s like winter turns to spring or something. I was so certain he was the one.”

At this, more tears escape the corners of your eyes, falling onto the counter below you as you nod slowly in regards to her words.

“I love him,” you finally say, and the room goes silent when you do.

“I love him, and he deserves better than me. Than this,” you finish, gesturing around you to the town. “He wants to drop out of college and stay here. Like that’s a good idea for anyone except me.”

Yena and Chris give each other staggered looks, unsure of what to reply to first. They’ve never heard you speak of your emotions like this, never seen you cry and never would’ve guessed that you would let down your guard to this degree around them. It’s a little frightening, at first, to watch you tear down your own walls so much, like watching a different person than the one they’ve known for all these years. But it’s also reassuring to see that you are capable of letting yourself open up for the right people. It takes a weight off their shoulders to bear witness to the confirmation that they’re the people you can go to when you need help, the same way they don’t hesitate to lean on you. And it especially gives solace to know that you feel so deeply at all, a trait Yena and Chris have always pushed you to familiarize yourself with.

“Well what’s stopping you?” Yena asks, threading her fingers in your hair and combing it back like your mother used to.

“Exactly that,” you respond. “I don’t want to confine him to this life of mine.”

“Let me ask you something,” Yena states, taking your hands in hers and bringing your gaze up to meet hers. “Are you happy?”

And the question throws you off guard, requiring a moment to think before you can say anything in response. It’s a fair question, too- one you should’ve asked yourself when you agreed to move here years ago. But it’s not a difficult one to crack, either, when you take in your surroundings. The diner across the street is packed with patrons, happily sipping away at milkshakes and glass bottles of soda. This old record shop, with its dingy back room and rows of genres you make an effort to learn about whenever you get a chance. The starlings that flock when the train travels through, the holiday parties you find a home in and your favorite spot on the hill, overlooking all of Ember. They’re all working parts of one larger phenomenon- that of happiness.

“Yeah,” you reply, nodding to affirm your answer. “I love it here. And I love you guys, and I’m still healing most days, but I wouldn’t want to be doing it anywhere else.”

A smile grows on Yena’s face as she glances back between you and Chris, and he shoots her a little nod.

“Then do something about it,” she finally says, giving your hands a little squeeze. “The first step is letting yourself feel. The rest is up to you to run with.”

And when you meet her gaze, and Chris’ gaze, their loving expressions looking down at you like you’re one of their own, you can’t help but pull them into a hug, letting yourself cry a little harder at the prospect of your found family, these tears ones of happiness.

“I love you guys,” you voice confidently. “And I’m sorry if I’ve never said it out loud.”

Chris’ hand pats your back, Yena’s combing through your hair tenderly, as they hug you with equal enthusiasm and allow you to cry as long as you need.

“We love you, kid,” Chris answers.

And when you pull away again, the three of you laugh, your tears staining your reddened faces as you bask in this unconditional appreciation for one another.

“Eat your pie,” Yena says, shoving a fork toward you. “And Chris, play some music, will you?”

Chris salutes her, pulling a random record off the shelf and scanning its contents.

“Polish folk?” He questions, and you glance at the familiar cover of the record, the same couple dipping into a bow as they dance in their colorful fabrics.

“This one’s really good,” you chime in, taking a bite of cherry pie as you nod toward the record player. “We should dance to this one.”

And as Chris starts the upbeat music, pulling Yena in for a comedic waltz, you can’t help but laugh through your tears, at the home this town’s given you in all your mending.

Felix hasn’t been at the record shop since your fight. He hasn’t been at your apartment, nor the diner, or even Seungmin’s place (and yes, you did ask). There’s only one place you know Felix would flock to after a night like the one you shared, and if you’re lucky, you should still be able to catch him on his supposed last night here.

The grassy hill is a little slippery at this hour, caked mud enwreathing your sneakers as you trudge your way up the hill and into the familiar dip of the land. And as the horizon becomes visible to you, spanning the length of the town and showcasing all the bright lights the nighttime flaunts, so does Felix, sitting with his back to you in a plain white t-shirt and jeans. He looks more casual tonight, less dressed with the intention to look a specific way, and you can’t help but smile at the sight of his slim frame taking in the view you led him to. He leans back on his hands, eyes scanning the sight of the town, before picking up his camera and snapping a series of photos.

When you occupy the spot next to him, he glances over at you briefly, before turning his attention back to the camera and waiting for you to speak.

“It’s prettier at night, isn’t it?,” you finally say, breaking the silence, and Felix fixes his gaze on the blurry lights of the record shop.

“Yeah,” he responds curtly, swallowing nervously as he ponders what to say.

And you know if you let him facilitate this conversation, it’d be over much sooner rather than later, but you also know that it’s up to you to make amends now.

“Your photography is still so beautiful,” you state, gesturing to the camera in his hands. “It’s always been so artistic.”

Felix remains quiet, toying with the strap on his camera as you speak.

“You’re artistic,” you continue. “And that’s why I want you to finish college. Don’t throw all this away for me.”

He turns his face to meet your gaze, his eyes trembling a little as you give him an empathetic look and shrug.

“I don’t want to go where you won’t follow,” Felix says, his voice coming out a little shaky.

“But I’ll always be here,” you retort, tears beginning to prick the corners of your eyes again. “Don’t put your life on hold for something that already lives in your past. You are an incredible person, Felix, and I’m not gonna drag you down a second time.”

Felix thinks for a moment, swallowing a lump in his throat as he thinks over your words. And he knows that there’s a possibility this isn’t what he wants, either- to stay in this little town with your friends he’s not even sure like him very much. But he does know he wants you, and that staying here would mean sacrificing his old life.

“I want you to know it wasn’t your fault,” Felix says after a brief pause of silence. “Nobody who walked out deserved you. And your dad loved you- a lot. I think about that moment watching the sunrise with you every day. He’s there too, part of that memory tucked away in my mind. I’m sorry it happened so suddenly and disrupted things. I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy, Felix,” you tell him, chuckling lightly as you respond. “I have a whole family here. I don’t spend my holidays alone, I meet new people working at the shop everyday. There’s so many people I haven’t introduced you to. There are coffee shops, and parades on weekends, and I’m happy. I’m still healing, but I’ve also realized that being healed doesn’t equate my happiness. I can be one without the other, and still get by just fine.”

Felix’s gaze is fixed on yours for a moment, not saying anything as he lets your words circle his mind. And there’s so much he wants to say in response, so many questions about what the future means for you both, but he also knows very well that the rest is up to him to figure out, just the way you did when you moved out here. Maybe you’re still healing- and maybe Felix is still figuring out the rest for himself, too. And though the past may be clouded by a story much more complex than either of you can even begin to comprehend, the happiness you seek is attainable, whether or not you’re together to see it through to the end. That although sometimes things may burn and decay like this town once did, there are people who will make the journey to help in the process of rebuilding, and you can thrive again. You can always thrive again.

“You’re right,” Felix says, as he looks over the horizon again. “It is prettier at night.”

The dim glow of the streetlights contrasts the flashy signs of the diner and the record shop, painting the blackened town with vivid color and bringing life to the small town of Ember.

And with a half smile, Felix pulls you in for a tender kiss, the two of you letting your apologies flow through each other in the gentle embrace of your lips and your hands intertwining atop the grassy hill.

Felix pulls you close, letting your head rest comfortably against his chest, as he caresses your hand softly in the grasp of his. And his index finger rubs lovingly against your ring finger, your matching rings grazing against each other as if to say I’ve always loved you.

Small town at the edge of the world. No particular time of day. A blossoming summer.

That’s the small town of Ember. A town Felix holds very close to his heart. And one you call home.

The cicadas buzz with high-pitched melodies of summer as you slip your sneakers on, the piercing blue sky around you almost too bright to look directly in its face. The clouds seem to shift with the summer breeze, drifting along the canvas sky like a painting in motion as you take in the sight around you

“Let’s go!” Yena calls, honking her horn twice to signify her arrival.

“I’m coming!” You call back, making your way down the stairs of her porch, balancing trays of food in hand as you account for everything you’ve agreed to bring. Drinks, plates, pie, napkins- your signature arrangement for the town’s summer festival you attend alongside Chris and Yena every year.

“Slow down, kiddo,” Chris says with a chuckle, as you rush to place everything in the backseat. “Oh, and there’s a letter for you on the porch table,” he adds, shooting you a small wink.

“I’ll be right back!” you call to Yena, jogging back up the stairs to collect the little beige envelope that rests atop the wooden surface.

It’s addressed to you, the handwriting in neat swirly black cursive letters, the envelope feeling sturdy between your fingers. You tear it open with no real aim, a giant gash working down the envelope as you rush you pull out the contents and examine them.

It’s a stack of photos, you quickly realize, sorting through them to make out the glossy digital prints.

There’s a photo of you in the back of the record shop, your hands brought up to your face and your legs hanging lazily off the table. Another showcases you in the familiar beige interior of the passenger’s seat, laughing cheerfully and staring out the window. There are photos of the town’s horizon, photos of the record player at your work, Yena’s famous pie, Seungmin’s holiday party and even the matching rings, intertwined hands that rest on the car console. As you shuffle to the last photo, you recognize it to be much more recent than the others, even the quality looking clearer, perhaps a new camera or a different roll of film.

It’s a still photo of Felix, from the waist up, holding a peace sign up to the lens with a small smile. He’s dressed brightly in a white vest and layered jewelry, the background showcasing a blue harbor with rows of boats, the location indistinguishable to you. He’s blonde again, his now shorter golden tresses framing the myriad of freckles that scatter his face once more. And he looks happy, much like himself again.

You wonder briefly who took the photo of him, the angle being of very close proximity. And you can’t make out which hand usually houses the ring you both wear, the only hand visible to you covering his ring finger, regardless. You scan the photo for a moment, running your fingertips over his figure, before turning it over and reading the neatly scribbled text on the back:

Sydney, last fall. I think I’m the only photography major who doesn’t drink my coffee without sugar. And you were right, the freckles do suit me better.

All my love,

Felix.

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Reputation, Or Whatever That Is

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 12 - Jang Wonyoung

IVE's Jang Wonyoung x Male Reader Smut

7,063 words

Categories | daddy kink, brat!Wonyoung, squirting, blowjob, please appreciate Wonyoung's power bottom capabilities

Sorry, Yena is coming out sometime but I wanted to finally write something timely. JANG WONYOUNG WHAT THE FUCKKKKK.

Please bear with the religious metaphors, I have Catholic guilt and Wonyoung reignites it. I'm not sorry for all the other fucked up shit here I'm just ooga boogaing because what the FUCK

It’s a little brighter today than usual. The sun surely knows what's about to happen upon its rising. It has no plans of telling you beforehand, so you’re forced to find out yourself.

You open Instagram, which is insane because you never bother to look at pictures—much less edited, filtered ones made for meaningless impressions. Your blissful ignorance of online concepts is what would make your fans hate you if they had space in their deluded hearts to. Or maybe that’s your age talking.

But today, clicking on that app is what you do, and that already should have been a sign that something’s not right. The usual run of your universe has gone off course. Who could have made that so?

Coffee. The black stillness that’s pure of sweetness and sugar. That’s supposed to keep everything normal. You sip on it as you scroll through clickbait, fan accounts, edits—

Then you wish you never took that hot gulp at all.

Wonyoung.

It’s all because of her.

She stands there from behind your screen, silky hair tangled in those lithe long fingers. She’s looking at the camera like she wants whoever took the time to click on her profile to come over and fuck her right now. Man or woman, poor or rich—it doesn’t matter. What ought to matter though is the fact that she doesn’t have someone’s hands slipped around her waist and pulling her close.

You shouldn’t even be thinking about it.

Usually, she’s dressed in knitted pink coats and miniskirts; looking fashionable but modest, modest but unplain. That’s what everyone loves about Jang Wonyoung: she’s prim, sweet, and the daughter of the nation.

Now, she’s the ideal girl to take right home and have your wicked way with. Yes, you’d feel guilty since she’s so young, just the little age of nineteen. Still, that doesn’t mean you’d have any regrets. She’s the kind of girl you can’t get away from. You’ll always come back for more.

You’d hate to be so upfront, but there’s no other way to interpret it.

There’s that fucking denim bra hugging her tiny chest, stitched up so high that her abs are on full display. That little pinch of a waist curves so perfectly right up to her wide hips that invite and invite and invite—

Remember to exhale.

So, yeah. That’s how Wonyoung ruined your day, and you barely had your morning coffee.

A text message from your boss appears. You nearly miss it because of how you’re staring all ogle-eyed at the tempting girl on your screen. Before you even click it, you already know what you ought to do.

hey, it reads, you need to—

—go to Wonyoung, and for such a scandalous photo, she’s chosen a remote but classy hotel only the biggest stars know of to shoot it.

There’s no going back when you drive like you’re running from the law when you’ll break one if you pull the wrong stunt with her. Your throat’s coiled with an unreleased breath that won’t go away unless you see her. It’s like traveling with the promise of meeting a goddess, and although you’re not religious anymore, you wear very, very close to rediscovering faith.

The hotel is grand—clear marble floors and shining chandeliers—and it’s no surprise. Wonyoung wouldn’t have things any other way. You know that when she’s come to your office to complain about her outfits and brands.

You go up to the desk with prepared evidence for what you’re going to say. “I’m an associate of your client miss Jang Wonyoung,” you say to the lady tapping away behind her computer, “and I’ve come to visit her.”

Associate? It’s more like mentor. You’re a veteran idol whose efforts inspire the rookies, therefore getting you the responsibility of looking out for Wonyoung. So, father figure, maybe? You wince at that.

She makes a polite sad look, still not removing her eyes from the screen. “I’m sorry, miss Jang doesn’t have—”

Slide your ID card on the counter.

She glances at it, stiffens, then looks up at you. There’s only one of you in the entire South Korea, and although the 1x1 traces back to when you were a bit more youthful, it’s not hard to put two and two together.

She apologizes quickly and offers you an elevator ride exclusive for VVIPs. Smile. It’s been a while since your last return to music, but everyone knows you here. Everyone knows your power.

Wonyoung’s place is the first room on the twelfth floor, a flinching irony.

Knock. You rap your knuckles three times for good luck and charm, because you’ll need it with her. Jang Wonyoung is everything save an easy girl. You remember the many times she refused to give up a debate on how she’s managed, how she’s styled, how she’s treated. She wants things to go her way only.

“Wonyoung,” you call out. Fidget with the handle of the door that refuses to budge. “It’s me.”

Knock a little more. There’s no eye behind the peekhole or a soft “come in.” You receive only the unlocking of the furnished knob and a welcome that makes you wish this could go the way your morals would want it to go.

The door opens you to a gorgeous suite that’s the supreme of all room tiers. This is the kind that only the richest of the rich are able to attain. Big as a house with a soft carpeted ground, there’s a queen-sized bed before a wide window of the city. Picture frames commissioned by the wealthy hang from the painted walls. All for the fucking aesthetic.

Even you, a star who paved the way for the Korean entertainment industry itself, aren’t used to this type of wealth.

Find her sitting on the ledge of the window frame. Wonyoung has her hands resting on the sides of the window frame. She doesn’t try at least a stance at nonchalance—no admiring stare at the beautiful view, no worried gaze at her clean fingernails. Her interest is you standing before her like you’re afraid to touch her. She might be right, but it’s not like you’d ever have it in you to admit that.

Even you, a man lusted over by girls and women all over the world, aren’t used to this kind of woman—the kind that eats away at you.

“Wonyoung.” Inside, you feel like the weakest man in the world.

She has this smarmy, confident smile on her perfect lips that tells you that it’s no surprise that you’ve come all the way here for her. No surprise at all. She expected it. Anticipated it, if you will.

Don’t mistake the coquettish float of her lashes for theatrics. No, Jang Wonyoung’s just naturally someone you’d want to fuck, no matter the politics of it. “Yes?”

Her voice is also just that pretty. That’s a large part of why it’s so hard to act professional in front of her when she’s your mentee. Even more so by the fact you’re someone she’s looked up to for the majority of her trainee years, which is already something that would make people’s brows lift.

“Wonyoung.” You let your shoulders rest. “Why are you still dressed like that?”

You know all the dialogue that passes around the general public. Oh, Jang Wonyoung’s so gorgeous! Jang Wonyoung’s even more beautiful in real life! You hate to say you can’t disagree. She’s deadlier in person; her body’s there before the glass like she’s waiting for someone to give in to temptation. That coy simper can ruin careers. It can ruin yours.

To think it all could be gone because of a nineteen-year-old celebrity with a tiny waist and legs you’d love to have around your head.

“Why are you still dressed like someone from the eighties?” Wonyoung taps her chin, then grins. She’s figured it all out. “Oh wait, you are.”

You’re not taking insults from someone who’s below you in experienced years and power. Unluckily, she’s not taking advice from someone above her or below her.

The step you take towards her, towards the little star seated comfortably waiting for you, feels like a sin.

“You’re incredibly unprofessional for a girl who’s worked her way up here,” you note. Cross your arms and give her a reprimanding look.

Wonyoung’s immune to nasty looks, too. She’s been doing this since she was a child. If someone gave her a glare that read all too well of a career assassination, she’d wink the bullet away sweetly. “Hm,” she says contemplatively, “I don’t think you get to say that, honestly.”

Your laugh is blunt and sarcastic. Unbelievable. Wonyoung’s the kindest girl according to the people who work for her, so why is she a rebel in your hands? It doesn’t make sense.

“Look here, we—”

You take three steps closer to her. You’ll keep your little rituals and superstitions to keep yourself grounded. Without them, you’d go insane.

Then without her having to do anything, she comes nearer, like a doomsday foretold by a ticking clock. Who knows? That clock could be a bomb, and that bomb would set off if you dare to touch her with a trembling fingertip. You’d leave the scene injured. And eventually, you’d die the moment they try to help you, because the deed’s been done.

“Oh, I’m looking, alright,” she chirps. She’s doing what you’ve held yourself back from doing: letting her eyes wander. “And I really, really like what I see.”

You’re someone several awards her senior, and you’re still quite intimidated by her at this moment. She’s so sweet yet so honest—she won’t make up a lie to make you feel better and she won’t hide the truth to make you comfortable. Refuse the truth her eyes locked on your crotch tell. You won’t accept it. It’s not right.

“I’m serious.” Approaching her makes you want to go on your knees and beg the lord for a little saving. Do it anyway. No one will rescue you. That’s what the industry taught you. “You’ve made it all the way up here. All by yourself. There’s gotta be something. What are you throwing it all away for?”

She laughs. Funniest thing she’s ever heard. “I’m not. How am I throwing it all away?”

“Those posts,” you hiss. Doesn’t she get it?

Before she could ask you what you’re talking about, you whip out your phone. Click on the app icon. It instantly shows you the opened tab containing Wonyoung’s recent Instagram posts. Look at her, wrapped in nothing, not even those curtains—giving the camera bedroom eyes when girls her age shouldn’t be shooting them at anyone or be aware of how to.

It’s already massed a million likes in under an hour. But you know what people who turn on anyone easily will say, and what they say could blot Wonyoung’s bright future by a lot. A million people around the world have caught sight of the abs she’s worked hard for, her toned back, and just about everything. A loud minority with frisky influences can sabotage her whole reputation.

“These posts,” you continue, shoving the screen into the poor girl’s face, “can take away everything you’ve worked for. All that fame, all that money, you can’t brag about them after this.”

Wonyoung looks on innocently. She stares at the screen with uninterested eyes, then switches them back on you. She looks like such a good girl in that second, with her hands seated beside her and that face so full of sparkling perfection.

Deception can’t lead you away.

“So, what’s it gonna be, Wonyoung?”

Long silence that builds up your frustration. Finally, she clicks her tongue. Gives you a shrug of her thin shoulders.

“You liked it.”

“What?”

She points to your phone. “You liked my post,” she repeats. “It says so right there.”

What the hell is she talking about?

You look at the device you’re brandishing. For a while, you can’t find out what she’s referring to. You can never take a liking to her posts, although if they switch on something you didn’t know you can feel. You’d die before—

The heart.

Wait.

The heart button below her set of pictures is filled with red.

Your heart pumps faster, a button pushed and played.

Fuck.

You turn to her and open your mouth. No sensible words come out. You swear you didn’t tap twice on her update or take it to a private setting. How did it happen? Worse, even if you say that to her, she’d take it as a pathetic lie.

Wonyoung giggles. It’s a tinkly sound that’s adorable, but you’ve long realized that being cute is not all there is to her. She rises slowly, sets her palms over your blazer-clad arms, and gives you an empathetic face. It’s so condescending that you want to dissolve.

“I know what men like you are all about,” she tells you. She speaks with a sultriness that makes you feel warm and has bumps appearing in masses across your skin.

She smiles. Her eyes disappear into crescent moons and the dimple appears on her cheek. You’re done for.

“Come on,” Wonyoung continues, squeezing your forearms. “Here you are, a big old man known for being a good singer or whatever. You’re so popular that the first thing that pops up on Naver is your face. Everything goes right for you, doesn’t it?”

You have no idea where she’s going with this. You’re afraid to even ask. Your teeth grit as her massages grow stronger, harder.

Something else is, too.

“Then, of course, you see me.”

Her hand. It’s curling around your wrist and bringing your fingers right around that flawless waist. She closes them there tightly.

It’s so bad that it’s good. You want to keep touching her, maybe slip your gliding fingers down her jeans. Oh, you shouldn’t. You can’t.

“You see me, and you get all hot and bothered. And what’s so funny is I’m not even doing anything. I’m just being myself, you know. Being young and rich… a beautiful girl…” Wonyoung is unbuttoning your shirt and you don’t realize it. “You can’t understand how I’m allowed to be this hot when you can’t even fuck me with a normal conscience.”

It’s all so wrong. You want to shake her by the shoulders and tell her to shut up. But if Medusa has her eyes, Wonyoung has her lips to turn you to stone. They keep opening elegantly to speak the filthiest, most fucked up shit, and you can’t deny anything.

Her eyes are creased with knowing pride. Her youth doesn’t rescue her from being so messed in the head already. Those thoughts don’t go along with such a pretty face.

“That’s why you like to get rough with me. You tell me to watch how I speak, watch how I act. You tell me to stop talking to you like you’re no one. You tell me that I’m such a little brat. But you only do that so you can get to control me. That’s your most fucked up dream, right?”

Her mouth is the tiniest space away from your chin.

You’re another word away from saving yourself a spot in damnation.

Her finger that scratches a flaw on your blazer beckons you to the fire. “You’re not breaking the law or anything,” says Wonyoung, “so why not break me instead, daddy?”

That’s a deal sealed with a rough kiss.

You grab her cruelly and cover her lips with yours. They’re more amazing than you imagined, soft and competent with how she pushes in deeper, depriving herself of the air she needs the most just to get what she needs just a bit more:

You.

Your tongues collide and clash, striving to get the most taste. She pulls your blazer off (because fuck professionalism, right?) while she kisses you with a hunger that’s equally mental and physical. It’s not like she’d bruise up if you didn’t get your hands on her yet it’s close to that.

And, in your case, it’s not like you’re breaking any law. She’s nineteen, not anywhere under the limits you’d kill others and yourself for touching. Nonetheless, you’re much older—by age, she could be your daughter; by career, she’s your junior; by power, you’re much stronger.

So, it’s still so wrong.

Can’t be when Wonyoung’s fist, firm around your cock, feels so right.

Can’t be when she lands on the edge of the bed with her lips parted in delight as she watches your dick stiffen under her service.

“There you go, daddy,” she coos, smirking. “Just get all hard for me, then you can stuff that big thing up in my pussy.”

Her thumb toys with your cockhead. You purse your lips to hold back a groan. Let go of it anyway when her smooth, closed palm rubs your sensitive flesh. She cups your balls lovingly before gliding her teasing fingertips under your length, right up to your tip. The girl knows how to do this; she’s good at more things other than MCing and performing.

Wonyoung hones this skill with firmer pumps, giving you the handjob of a lifetime. Her long fingers are just made to handle dick. Each stroke is perfection that holds and pulls and slides. You’re leaking so much already.

So you turn into the driver of the hate train, the press that loves getting her bad angles and the articles that slash up her name:

Blame it all on her.

Because you have here a girl, young and pretty and confident, so of course you have to scrape off your sins and nail them all on her, like a quivering hand to wood.

“You think you’re getting it that easily?” you say. Your moan is squeezed in your throat. “Baby, you’re not even close to it.”

Wonyoung smirks. It’s that self-assured, elegant smile that tells you that won’t work on her. She might be a rookie, but she knows how to play the game.

She tightens her grip painfully. That’s what you get for trying to one her up. Do that to anyone, just not Jang Wonyoung. Your cry goes unheard as she yanks you rather than jerks you off. Spits on your head for good measure. Wonyoung’s eyes make a connection with your soul and says, Yep, that’s what I’d do if you weren’t my senior. In fact, I’d do it regardless. I’d choke and spit and leave you to die, because a pretty Samaritan is better than a good one.

“You’re really out of touch, daddy.”

With Wonyoung slathering her drool all over you, you’re forced to teeter on the line between heaven and hell. It burns yet the offer of pleasure leaves you sated.

“You think I’m like the pretty girls out there? Other girls might have broken down and begged you to come back.”

Your rod is subjected to a brief torrid kiss, then a smile as the wicked girl looks up at you.

She laughs, gives you this smile full of haught and womanly power. “Too bad I’m Jang Wonyoung,” she says, her last words before taking you in.

Yes, it’s too bad she’s Jang Wonyoung. It’s too bad she’s not the other girls who’d kneel for a burning touch of stars like you. She wouldn’t be holding control over you with the power of her lips if she had sanity in that pretty head.

Her plump tiers wrap around you and seize everything, encasing it in softness and wetness. Her tongue, the one she uses as a killer expression for her selfies and Instagram updates, kills you all the same with how it swirls around your skin and tastes you. Trying to pretend the girl wasn’t a pro at this like she is with everything else is useless. She’ll keep proving you wrong and overpowering you.

The whole of your shaft is sucked in, then, when her cute nose is pressed directly to your stomach, she lets out a hummed laugh. You shudder—as much as it makes you feel good, fear grips your muscles and makes them limp. She’s loving how wrong everything is, and you’re not sure if you like it.

Her jaw slacks, and then Wonyoung’s swallowing you like you’re water. Can’t be water when you’re this solid in her throat. You let out a shivering groan. You can picture the bulge in Wonyoung’s neck and it’s the last thing you’d count on turning you on, but they did tell you to expect the unexpected.

Her saliva becomes excessive, resulting in some dribbles down her chin that help her work her mouth on you. Wonyoung’s drool sheens you entirely and she keeps adding more. On the occasion she pushes her face into your stomach, your cock gets wetter. She does, too.

“Fuck.” Cussing won’t help deter the onslaught of pleasure. You’re unsalvageable. Say it anyway. You babble meaningless, slurred words and not one gets to Wonyoung. All she can hear is the sound of your quivering moans and her mouth taking you all in.

She becomes less of an idol, less of the elegant princess for the cameras, and instead a fleshlight. However, she reminds you that it isn’t that way with a fierce sneer that stays on at all times. She’s not your girl—she’s Jang Wonyoung, and you’re already incredibly lucky that she chose to go down on you.

All that beautiful hair isn’t of any purpose if you don’t get to touch it, to gather it in a ponytail, to pull on it. Your fingers creep into her brown locks not only to give it a little meaning but also for sanity.

That isn’t a thing in Wonyoung’s world. She pulls your hand off and slaps it on your side. “No,” she says with a shake of her head. “Daddy can’t touch me, not when he’s pretending that he’s hot shit.”

Her nails bury themselves in your hips. Oh, the manicured talons of a gorgeous monster. Oh, the pain that runs through your sides. Should you run before she devours you? Too late for that.

“Wonyoung,” you breathe, and then ask, genuinely: “What the hell is wrong with you?”

She’s so proper and serene on her shows that not even her most desperate fan would think she’s a terror. They don’t know she’s a girl who likes older, weaker men who’d ruin her if she hasn’t the pretty face and attractively black heart to do them the favor instead.

“What’s wrong with you?”

You’d respond if you knew the answer.

Wonyoung rubs her thumb under your dick, sending little sparks aflying. “Why’d you kiss me earlier?” Her lipstick decorates it as a kinder girl would to your face. “Why didn’t you grab my hair and tell me to be a good girl? Why didn’t you leave? It’s not my fault you want to fuck me.”

All these words of destruction and your cock remains standing. It’s a staunch reminder to her that you can say whatever you want and the hard evidence remains. You want to fuck Wonyoung. You want to do it to a rookie who’d turn the story around on you if it ever came out. You want to fuck her so bad it’s borderline pitiable.

“I’m just giving you what you want, daddy.” Her fingers caress your sides. “Trust me, I could be a very good girl if I wanted to.”

You almost didn’t believe that until Wonyoung started to suck you off again.

Her lips stroke you effortlessly as if this were her pastime. That’s your most accurate guess, because this seamless performance—the one of her mouth working on you with the impression that this whole thing is nothing to her—can’t be a natural gift. The combination of dripping saliva and her soft lips is lethal.

It’s unbelievable how she manages to find all your tender spots. She preys on them, licking and licking until you’re very sure you were going to blow all over her. But you can’t give her that satisfaction.

You’re very close to doing so though. She’s perfectly sloppy and rough. You glare at her when she lightly teases her teeth on your girth. She winks at you in response. She leaves you breathless in so many ways.

“Wonyoung, Wonyoung, god—” you whine. It’s so hard to adapt to the girl sitting there with that innocent face and wild mouth that doesn’t dare give up on you.

Her expressions on camera are always poised. Off camera, there’s this one she flashes you as she shoves her face into your stomach that looks downright evil. Although she’s already fucking you with her throat, Wonyoung partners it with strong suction that’s sure to drain you.

“Yes, daddy?” She doesn’t pant when she goes up for air, replacing her sucking with her long fingers.

“I’m really close,” you admit. It’s obvious from your shaking legs.

Sounds of returned wet suction start to increase. Criticism and compliments prod Wonyoung on. How else would she improve in her idol life? In blowing you? In devouring you?

You realize you’re fitting the cliché. There’s you, an idol whose name is uttered on the daily by both young and old fans, igniting a scandal in the making by fucking a girl beneath you in everything. There’s this expensive suite where stars go for a little precious privacy to do what they want. There’s the two of you doing exactly what you desire: fucking each other. There’s the classic maneater trope with how it’s more like Wonyoung fucking you—she fucks you with her face, fucks you in the head, fucks with your righteousness. Well, fuck.

Wonyoung drools so much that you’re invited to a sea the moment your head pushes past her tongue again. It’s slicker, sloppier, and so much sexier because she’s so completely devoted to your cock. Her hypnotizing eyes trap you and so does her body, tight and tiny—that tummy is flatter than a board and only thin panties hide what her long legs lead to from the bottom.

The only time she stops sucking you is when she darts her tongue side to side with an unhinged pace on your sensitive tip. “Good. Cum in my throat.”

“Shit, god, I can’t—”

Wonyoung attacks you again, and there, in her warm orifice, your plentiful orgasm spends itself. Her throat welcomes you tightly every time. Her hot restricted breaths fan your groin and evokes more semen that spills with no care.

Your hands ball into fists. Although you’re hot and shaking, you can’t touch her. Why are you following her rules when it should be the other way around? It’s a reversal of roles, a Stockholm’s Syndrome of some sorts whose victim is your cock never wanting to leave from the predatory embrace of Wonyoung’s puckered kiss.

Of course, after she gathers all of your cum in the pool of her mouth, she swallows.

She really could be a good girl.

“Awh.” Wonyoung pouts mockingly. “Daddy, are you crying?”

Touch your face. To your horror, she’s right. The electricity and shock of her continuous blowjob results in a few tears on your cheeks. You haven’t done that in years. Wonyoung is the first one to make you cry like this.

You flush. What more to hide your weakness than anger? “Wonyoung,” you start, then you realize you don’t know what to say, “I—you—”

She smiles. You aren’t going anywhere.

She shoves you to the bed. You’ve reached rock bottom in spite of the softness of the quality pillows. You’ll scrape your way out if not for Wonyoung finishing the job by keeping you there assisted by her legs. They close around you with not even a courtesy false promise of an escape. No negotiation, no coaxes.

Wonyoung is sitting on your crotch but not on your dick, which is a problem. Which is a solution. Her hands are pinned to your chest while you try not to meet her eyes. It’s a losing game when your runaway glances are met by her grinding hips, silky thighs, and the hard, flexing abs of a perfection of a midriff.

Her fingers tug on the waistband of her panties before slowly slipping them off. Her pink pussy clear of blemish or hair comes in contact with your length. Up and down she goes, her dancing hips always seeking for more friction. You understand their need because you share the same—Wonyoung’s splayed lips on your member feel heavenly. It’s kind of disappointing that she might as well have climbed her way out of hell.

If she did, she’s the prettiest little devil you’ve ever seen.

“Ohhh, don’t you get it?” Wonyoung asks. She moves so smoothly, you nearly forget she’s humping you rather than dancing. Her soft moan brings you back. It’s the first time you’ve heard it, and you’re melting; it sounds so seductive and innocent in the same breath.

You know her. She knows you. So it’s clear: Jang Wonyoung can be anything—supermodel, actress, dancer—but she cannot ever be innocent.

Her gorgeous voice is silky when it twists into moans and gasps. Looking down at your crotches meeting and swaying is a better show than end-of-the-year performances. The blowjob and commanding you around must have turned her on by a lot—her flesh is hot and wanton with juices as it slides up and down you.

“You’re not going anywhere, daddy!” Wonyoung giggles. She kisses your nose, then your chest until her lipstick marks you. You burn up with feverish lust after each peck. “Daddy is only Wonyoung’s. And I knew your perfect cock would be mine when I posted those pics. I know men like daddy would do anything for me.”

“Wonyoung.” Breathe again, because you’ll need to after this, so why not do it now? “Why are you doing this?”

You thought her flirtatiousness in your office was just her coyness coming out to play. She’d rest her chin on your desk, suck a red lollipop on some days, maybe run her fingertips over your knuckles. Day in and out, she plays the same game. You didn’t know it would reach this level.

“Because I want to mess you up, daddy,” Wonyoung says. Her tongue swipes at the cavern of your mouth right until she nibbles at your lower lip. Her lipstick peppers your face. “I want to fuck my daddy up so bad he’ll never go a day without thinking of me.”

Swallow. The friction of your sexes is driving you crazy and close to the edge. All the same, you don’t want to make a fool of yourself cumming early for Wonyoung.

What happened to your dynamics? Your relationship? There wasn’t a romantic one, but it was always you holding the reins professionally and her just being an insistent passenger. Now she’s wrapping that rein around your neck and claiming you for her own. Looks like you have control everywhere excluding the bed.

“That’s it?” you ask. Shut your eyes—just seeing her grind on you with her utterly wet cunt can make you bust. “Your career doesn’t matter to you?”

“I could say the same thing to you.” Wonyoung lifts herself up and flashes that wicked smile again. “But I want to feel this in me before you wimp out.”

You and Wonyoung fall down a bottomless hole of consequence and wrongs but Wonyoung makes sure to bottom out the first time she sits on your dick. She engulfs you whole and traps you there with her soaked, grippy walls that slide all the way down.

You’d say her pussy has a vise grip, holding onto you like all goes wrong if it didn’t, except you think it has the grip of a vice. Need for her juices that coat you replaces the need for alcohol. Even if you get out of this suite alive, (which is a low possibility), you can see yourself always coming back for more. You could be addicted to anything—smoking, eating, cheating—but it just so happened your vice is Wonyoung.

“Daddy!” she yelps, and from there you can’t count the times she slams her cute butt down your thighs. “Oh my god, daddy!”

Her dainty, cute yells make you throb inside her. Perhaps it’s the kittenish quality of it that turns you on so much. She sounds so appealing, so fucking ruinable that it’s surprising to see that she’s doing the ruining here. Her expression in bed is more animated than the ones she makes onstage—her nearly closed eyes look upwards while her mouth falls open.

The squeeze of her tight, wet cunt renders your knees weak. It’s a good thing you’re lying down. Wonyoung makes sure you stay that way by penetrating herself with you over and over again. Her being barely a weight on you doesn’t stop you from lying there uselessly. You know better by now not to challenge her, not when each time you enter her vagina is better than the last. Her pussy is slippery and tight, proving to be the smallest and the best fit for your shaft simultaneously. Her hole is too tight and too good.

“Is this all for me, daddy? Huh?” Wonyoung circles her hips, making you moan, then continues her up-and-down movements. “You’re so hard, you naughty daddy. I know you got a b-boner when you looked at my posts. Now I’m giving you another one.”

You always thought of Wonyoung as justifiably confident yet arrogant. She told you once at your desk that she doesn’t deserve a stylist who only has a four-star rating. She lamented about the lack of competence of her staff preparing her comeback stage. All those you turned down to give the topics of her complaints the benefit of the doubt, but you know she’s right. She doesn’t deserve less when she’s better than the best. She doesn’t deserve less when she knows her place: a royal throne. So you can’t deny that she’s too hot to handle, undiscriminating to you whose connections always have impossibly beautiful women somewhere in there.

She’s so hot that her small breasts bouncing from behind that denim bra and tube top looks appealing. She’s so hot that the heat between her legs grows wetter. She’s so hot that when her soft ass crashes down on you again, you don’t find it a repetitive bore.

She’s so hot that you’d let the slim, tall girl use you until dusk turns to dawn, even if the curtains behind her are drawn apart and the secret cameras get to snap a photo.

“Shit, Wonyoung,” you say, your core squeezing. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“I bet you’ve thought about this, daddy. You thought that one night, I’ll be so bad that you could book us a whole hotel and fuck me in all the rooms, just like this one. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Yes, fuck yes.”

“You wanted to open my legs and use my little pussy all day long, huh? Until I’m yours to throw around and do whatever?”

“Y-yes.” Nod. Your face twists—she shouldn’t speak when she’s fucking you because all the filth she says makes you want to blow inside her already. It’s the kind of truth that arouses rather than hurts.

Wonyoung’s riding switches to a rapid intensity that makes you yell. She lets you in so deep to the point that her butt cheeks touch your heavy balls. She’ll drain them for sure; the pace she sets is terrifyingly quick. It seems that she becomes tighter after each bounce, and it’s not helping you hold out at all.

Watch the wildness in Wonyoung’s eyes become animalistic. It makes you all the more certain now of one solid fact: there is something seriously wrong with Jang Wonyoung.

She smirks. “Well, you got it wrong. I’m not all yours, daddy.” She leans down, resting her palms on your shoulders. “You are all mine.”

Her hands might as well be a chained collar waiting to close around your neck. Her devilish simper is supposed to scare you, not turn you on. Somehow, it does both.

She flicks back her hair as she sits up again. Through it all, her riding doesn’t stop. “This cock?” she asks before slamming her pussy down it with a different kind of ferociousness. Cry out but she shuts you up with a furious kiss. “It’s gonna be my dirty secret. I’ll always go to daddy after my schedules so I can make him cum—over and over again.”

To think that a young girl like her has you at her beck and call is laughable, but there’s no laughing now. As you stare at Wonyoung’s fluid body and her hair bouncing beautifully, you realize she actually can have you for herself. It only took one Instagram post to lure you to her. She sees you’re falling deeper and deeper for her.

She didn’t exactly tell you how to escape.

“You gonna cum, daddy? Is my perfect pussy milking you?”

You can do nothing except nod.

“Of course, I can feel you throbbing, i-it’s making me lose it,” gasps Wonyoung. Her whines are making you lose it yourself. “Let’s cum together, okay? You can only cum when you feel Wonyoung squirt all over your massive cock.”

She squeezes tighter on top of you when she reaches down to rub her clit. She’s in search of any kind of stimulation: the slap of her ass on your thighs, the upward shoves of your erection, the pulse of her clit. Her moans increase in their whiny girlishness. Their tender vulnerability makes you think she should be the one underneath your body though you’re aware that’s never going to happen. Wonyoung belongs on top, just the same with her name in first place in the list of brand reputation rankings, browser searches, followers.

Once upon a time, you took charge over her. You managed her lessons, her videos, her behind-the-scenes duties. Funny how it’s the opposite now, wherein she jounces on you freely with the domineering message of caution: don’t cum until she does.

And god, is she making that hard. Everything about her is so attractive, from the bounce of her hair to her midriff showing your entering cock to her pretty pink pussy clutching you. What gets you, however, is her face—everyone loves looking at that face. Today, you’re under an aphrodisiac for it: you’re in love with the roll of her eyes as she rides you, the pink on her cheeks, the part of her lips.

“Fuck yes! Ugh, daddy, you feel so good inside me…” Wonyoung’s core clenches and slides your penis along its textured, sensitive walls. Her gasp is straight out of fantasies. “You’re balls deep, see? Look how your meat’s filling me. My pussy’s going to be so sore after this.” She chuckles. “Wait, who says we’re stopping?”

You shudder. You’re getting very close. Your earlier orgasm still has its effects on you. You’re afraid you’re going to do something you shouldn’t under her bedroom law. She’ll imprison you with her thighs and waterboard you with all the girl cum she promised until you confess that she’s the best fuck you ever had.

“Daddy’s going to cum so hard he’s probably going to breed me. Then I’ll, oh, I’ll feel it inside my tummy and it’s going to be a scandal. Wouldn’t you like that? Getting to knock up Jang Wonyoung? I can hear you moaning. I think you really like that. I think that’s why you’re thrusting up in me. You want to be a real daddy and make your baby girl a mommy. That’s so fucked up, you know that, right? You shouldn’t be having sex with me, let alone breeding me. But you’re a fucking weak old man, so of course you like that.”

You’re burning up. They’re the signs of what’s to come. If her confident words inspire her young fans, her monologues of lust make you feel like you’re the worst person in the world. Of course, the boner is part of the effect.

You groan. “Wonyoung, baby girl, please—”

“Oh god, daddy, I’m going to cum!” she squeals. Her emotions control her and tell her to go harder, bounce harder, squeeze harder. She’s pushing past her limits. “Agh, agh, you’re cumming, too, right? Cum for me. You’ll be—fuck, my daddy’s going to make me cum! I’m squirting all over his cock!”

She slams herself down roughly and repeatedly till your lower body’s flooded with her cum. You can’t take it anymore. It feels like dying because you swear you can see stars in the ceiling, stars of lust in her eyes. La petite mort. How poetic, since Wonyoung’s screaming still sounds as beautiful as her singing and speaking.

Her shouts are close to breaking the windows’ glass. Anyone can figure out what’s happening without the destruction of the pane—the curtains are wide open, letting the world see the youngest icon of the new generation pumping herself onto her co-worker.

You wonder if there’s actually poor watchers out there seeing you cream Wonyoung’s princess pussy, grab her ass to guide her, and kiss her when she leans down.

Wonyoung tastes the best when she’s squirting.

Consequences always catch up no matter what. You can hide under a cloak, in another country, underneath the earth in a secluded bunker and all that won’t help. You’ll be stuck dealing with the outcome, thorns from a rose you thought was too pretty to have some.

That’s the first thing you remember when you wake up, wrapped in the bed sheets and by Wonyoung’s arms. Someone’s calling you. Bad news: it’s your boss—the ringtone itself sounds angry, too.

“Hello?” you ask. You can’t help the grogginess of your morning voice, try as you may. If your boss didn’t know what happened, he can perfectly guess from the exhaustion riddling your greeting.

“You dumb little shit.” You can feel the spittle of your boss’ insult from miles away, cities away, screens away. “You’re lucky I’m friends with the fucking CEO.”

“What happened?”

“Don’t give me that. Some janitor saw you from the wing. I needed to hear it from you: did you fuck Jang Wonyoung?”

Unexpectedly, a veiny hand you remember holding something else grabs your phone. Wonyoung leans against your shoulder wearing nothing as she holds the phone to her ear.

“Why?” she quips, loud and clear. “Wouldn’t you?”

1K notes · View notes

fillinforlater · 1 month

Text

Eleven to One: Hotel Roommating

Male Reader x Ahn Yujin, Choi Yena, Kim Minju, Kim Chaewon

Length: 2014 words

Tags: Daddy kink, thigh kink, thigh fucking, pit licking, teasing, a slap, edging, cumming on skin, pet play, an offer you definitely should refuse but kinda can't, cum eating, missionary, fingering, orgy

TW: the usual, but I would consider this mostly tame... okay, maybe also not LOL

Inspiration: Yujin's outfit (check below (HOLY COW))

(A/N: Sex in the hotel continues... though it might not be the best or longest piece, I promise the ending will make it worth while ;) Have fun!)

“Room Service!"

For a second there, she got you. Fear runs down your back, ice cold, as you grab the door handle. No room service could ever be allowed to see or smell the absolute mess you made here. Especially Chaewon, who leaks down the phallic plastic onto the table, while watching a teary eyed Minju follow you to the door, your cock in her hand.

Fortunately, you do recognize the voice behind the door. It’s familiar, not some room service lady that could ruin your life and the reputation of at least one popular girl group. You turn the knob and reach for the woman behind the door in the blink of an eye.

“You scared me for a second, you fucking brat,” you yell at Yujin, but that was before you took a look at her outfit. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood right now.”

“Oh, I’m in a good mood too, Daddy,” Yujin teases and gets ready to kick off her shoes, open up her dress and offer herself to you (you know she is in heat; she has been for a while most likely), but you stop her.

“You keep that outfit on,” you order and spin her around. “My cock needs to be in between your thighs while you still look like a Goddess of fertility with that shiny, stupid fucking outfit.”

“Oh Daddy,” Yujin giggles and watches your tip glide in her tight gap. “Wasn’t Minju enough for you? And what happened to Chaewon-unnie?”

“Care to guess?”

“She is one of us now?”

You smirk and lean in to bite your girlfriend’s neck. “One hundred points.” You begin to slowly thrust in between the sweaty trunks that are Yujin’s legs, perfect sculptures of smooth marble, but a lot softer and infinitely more valuable. Yujin hums in pleasure and lifts her arms to reach around your neck while you continue to place marks on hers. There is no concert the next few days, so no one will notice the love bites you place on her.

“Minju, mind helping me out here?” you suddenly ask and Minju jumps in surprise. You know she is still needy, unsatisfied, but would never touch herself without your permission, so you want to give her a bit of a reward. “Lick our Daeng-Daeng’s pits clean. I promise you, she tastes wonderful.”

“O-okay, Daddy.”

You can see in her eyes that Minju has never done this before. It’s a waste though, so you pull at her strings (she is a good girl after all) and take into view how incredible she looks. Minju sticks out her tongue and drags it across the entire pit. Yujin trembles, her thighs gently swaying around your shaft. An incredible feeling, but what makes it exceptionally great is the lewd sounds the two produce. Tender moans, wet licks, soft bodies rubbing one another to the point where nothing could be more intimate.

“D-does it tickle, Yujinie?” Minju asks when she switches sides, her hands secretly placed on your own. You both have a hold on the young woman’s hips and Minju’s question goes unanswered when she goes straight to sucking on the opposite sensitive, hairless, sweaty spot.

Holding back would be offensive. There are the two best thighs wrapped around you, while Minju’s soft belly becomes a home for your tip. With every thrust you poke her and she seems to really enjoy it. Maybe she is—no, she definitely is—thinking that you are pointing at her fertile womb, ready to be filled and bred. That’s why her orbs sparkle the way they do, that’s why she pulls you two into a threeway hug where Yujin gets squeezed and overstimulated at spots she didn’t think could be this sensitive.

“D-Daddy, I thought you were teasing,” Yujin mumbles. “But I feel so good, so hot. Please, cum on me, paint my milky thighs, it would fit them so well.”

“I can feel you melting, baby girl.” You lean in to give her ear a love bite, with all your love and sufficient force to make her dizzy with pleasure. “Since you asked so nicely, I will cover you, claim you with my seed.”

“Thank you, Daddy.” A sudden make-out session ensues after Yujin lowers her arms, leaving Minju jobless and needy as ever. There is salty sweat around her lips and in her mouth while she watches you and Yujin trade sweat saliva in heated passion. Your cock is buried in her gap, then quickly peaks out again as you begin to rapidly fuck it. “I can’t believe you got Chaewon-unnie already. Was it really that easy?”

You both turn your head to the shivering, squeaking but not (yet) dildo-riding Chaewon, whose head might be in even more heat than Yujin. Her face is red like the ball gag in her mouth and the only thing cooling her off are a few tears from her unfocused eyes. You love that she looks so obedient and pathetic, far away from what she dreamed off. Yet you decide to be more than merciful.

“Minju, how about you put your hands on Chaewon’s hips? Maybe let some of Yujin’s sweat run down her cheeks? I think that should cool her off.”

“Okay, Daddy~”

With a sight like that—Minju behind Chaewon, who desperately looks up to the taller girl, hips in a firm, loving hold; then, Minju drools all over her face and you know that Chaewon is on cloud six, maybe seven, more pleasure yet to come—your orgasm is rapidly approaching. You bend Yujin over a bit, press her thighs back to you to meet your pistoning hips. The swollen cockhead peeks out a few more times before—

A knock at the door.

—you become an artist. Trapped in heavenly softness, you release all of your load on the inside of Yujin’s thighs. You use your throbbing cock like a brush to smear the white goo over more parts of her skin. It has to stick on her and not fall to the carpet floor. With a strained voice, you call out: “Minju, get our new pet in here. And don’t forget to close the door!”

“W-what? Pet?” Yujin tries to catch her breath, but her jaw drops the second she sees Yena run through the door and fall on her knees. “Yena-unnie, what, what is happening?”

“No need to call her Unnie, she is our new pet,” you announce and reach for Yena’s collar. “Isn’t she a beautiful kitten? Kitten, what did I say about clothes, hm?”

“Meow,” Yena responds, very apologetic. You kind of admire her for wearing just this thin, way too short crop top and hot pants that barely cover her small ass, but no kitten would wear those, so she quickly kicks them off, now just as nude as the other girls—most of the other girls.

“Ye-Yena, is this true, you are with Daddy too?” Minju asks, just as perplexed as Yujin is. Yena nods in excitement, while you get a leash for her beautiful pink collar. “But why a kitten?”

“Well, don’t we all like different things?” you ask Minju with a big grin. You secure Yena on the leash and walk her across the room for a couple of steps. “As long as Yena likes it, I think this would be a great addition to our… arrangement.”

“A family pet,” Yujin whispers, all eyes on her. Now it’s out there, this crazy idea. No sane person could say yes to it. Everyone at some point returns to their level-headed, not horny self. The mere suggestion of living together as a quasi-family where sex is boundless and the concept of patriarchy is pushed to ridiculous extremes should push them all away.

“When I’m the family cat,” Yena suddenly speaks into the tense silence, her voice filled with wonder. “I have to move in with you two. Would that be a problem?”

“No, we have enough space and money,” Yujin quickly responds. “In fact, I think we can cover all your expenses.”

“Sounds good, I’m in. Meow!”

Yena smirks and crawls towards Yujin who stares down at her with love and lust. Suddenly, Yena’s face dives in between Yujin’s thighs and she starts to lick off your cum like it’s ice cream on a hot August day. Yujin mewls, opens her legs a bit more so Yena can get every last drop.

“Well, I already live with Daddy and Yujin.” Minju looks at the floor, a little embarrassed. She scratches the back of her neck and then shares glances with you and Yujin. “If it’s okay, I will stay with your family, maybe as a sister?”

“That sounds great,” you tell Minju, as your eyes betray you. They are so fixated on Yena’s hunger for your cum, for Yujin’s scent, God, she is devouring your girlfriend. If it weren’t for the stage outfit, Yena surely would’ve pushed her tongue into Yujin’s cunt—who can blame her? IVE’s leader is irresistible. “Your presence is always welcome, Minju.”

“I think Chaewon c-can’t join,” Yujin murmurs, her hand in Yena’s pink strands, sweaty from all the hard cleaning she does to her thighs. Seriously, she starts to leave hickeys there now. You pull at the chain to signal her stop. “She has to stay at the LE SSERAFIM dorm.”

“Well, Chaewon is my best friend and best friend’s usually don’t live with another family,” Minju explains. You put Chaewon’s jaw into your hand and look at her begging eyes. Before you pull out the ballgag, you give her face a quick slap, one that stings for a bit.

“I bet you think we are all crazy, I get that, but—”

“Don’t defend yourself, Daddy,” Chaewon says, gasps, somehow she gets these words passed her pursed lips while the dildo is deep in her cunt. “As Minju’s friend, I sh-should come over every now a-and then…”

“I’ll make sure to reward you then, my little slut~”

“Thank you, Daddy.” You push the ball gag back into Chaewon’s mouth and give Minju a wink. It’s a sign she thankfully understands and suddenly, Minju makes Chaewon ride the dildo with all her power. A creaming pussy starts to cover the glass table, screams almost make it past the restriction in between her teeth and you can feel her bliss fill the air.

You step close to Yujin. She laughs weakly and shakes her head.

“You’re insane, a madman!”

“Oh yeah?” You reach for the back of her dress and a zip later, Yujin’s excellent body is free. Yena mewls at this first sight and if she had a tail (still on the list of items you have to get her) she would wag it like crazy. “You are probably right, I lost my sanity the first time I met you.”

Yujin giggles and removes the leather end of Yena’s chain from your hand. She puts it in her mouth and with doe, puppy eyes slowly kneels next to her kitten friend. Your cock twitches, obviously. Somewhere in this hotel room filled with the smell and sound of unbridled sex, your phone vibrates. You don’t care. They can leave a message. You have better things to do.

“Looks to me like you’re the insane one, the madwoman.”

You push her over, on her back. Yujin’s legs wrap around you like Yena’s pussy wraps around your fingers. You push your rehardened cock into that tight, tight little cunt of your girlfriend and fuck her into the carpet with no thoughts. There is nothing but blankness in your head and there will be for the next week or so. Just you and Yujin. And Yena, who sucks on Yujin’s tits and fucks herself on your hand. And Minju, who is thrilled about Chaewon riding that cock through multiple orgasms. Well, maybe Chaewon will be here too.

Text messages pop up on your phone. They are from Hyewon.

“Hey Daddy, my final day before maternity leave is next week. I need you here earlier though, because someone important wants to do an internship here.

“The one and only

“Jang Wonyoung.”

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader insert #izone smut #male reader smut #ive smut #minju smut #yujin smut #chaewon smut #yena smut #lesserafim smut #le sserafim smut

1K notes · View notes

gangplanksorenji · 4 months

Text

Kinknuary Day 17: Brat Taming

Pairing: Choi Yena x Male Reader

Word Count: 5,832

[Kinknuary Masterlist]

--------------------------------------

You can’t always get what she wants and she can’t always get what she needs—these two clauses never contradict as it's different in each way yet aimed towards the same intent: fulfillment.

Choi Yena is a girl you’d watch yourself into, as she’s the living definition of a brat, in your own words. Not really a specific brat, but she really tends to be selfish all of the time, and that isn’t really ideal considering how you’re always making her change but always ends up defeated and your advances deemed to be useless against her.

She has an iron wall that’s tough to break, but under specific circumstances, there’s always the Achilles’ heel to be used against it.

“Well, this sucks…” Yena chides boredom, sighing deeply as she’s deeply restive within the supposedly delicious food in front of the table and with her discontented countenance, you advance to confront her as you’re confused on why she’s acting like this.

“Don’t like the food, princess?”

“Nu-uh. It’s bland and soggy—look!” Yena grabs a minuscule sample of spaghetti with her fork, presenting how incredibly unacceptable it is on her own perspective as she voices out her frustration with it, and you, absolutely stunned with her complaints as you don’t see anything wrong with the food presented.

“Oh yeah, I forgot—should’ve treated you to eat some gold, huh?” You batted out a joke towards her, in which she took it a little seriously, punching your shoulder playfully as her pouts emanated such strong channels of chagrin, not satisfied with the meal she’s been supposedly enjoying.

“Yah! I’m not like that, but I’d like to eat something way better than this…”

Of course, she’ll be luring you into another set of her tricks, opting for you to fall down of her trap but with two years and a half of being with her, you knew exactly what she’s up to for you to fulfill her wants. You read her mind like a book but of course, you’ll choose to play along with her game to bait her and let her be the victim of her own medicine.

“Like what?” You feign such fake innocence, in which Yena takes as an opportunity to voice out her naughty desires and just like that, she stepped into your trap.

“Like daddy’s—” You tighten the grip of her wrists under the table, making her wince in pain as you stop her from her advances of such dirty talk in public.

“You know what Yena, just eat your goddamn food and we’ll get out of here, okay?” You grew impatient with her own antics, making her opt to the possible endgame before the anticipated climax soon.

“But I don’t like it! I don’t like it!” Yena whimpered as she didn't like the words that came out of your mouth and knowing that you’re setting her up to further make her miserable, she stepped up and voiced out her frustrations towards you and you’re not absolutely having it. “I won’t bother finishing these—”

“Alright then, Yena…” You averted your attention onto finishing the food on your plate as your demeanor became stern and commanding and Yena’s face suddenly feigned fear and anxiety, not wanting what may happen next. “It’s just fair to not reward my princess something if she didn’t finish her food.”

Yes, you read her like a goddamn book and guess what, it’s working more than well. Knowing how insatiable you are for her that can’t bear to not be rewarded with your load for a day says a lot, and she’s willing to do everything just to get that desired prize of hers that you would love to use as an advantage against her—Yena’s kryptonite that will flick a switch inside her, making her reevaluate her own selfish decisions.

“Okay then, daddy…”

Well, if she’s willing to provoke the sleeping beast inside you, then you’ll let her, because at the end of the day, you know that she’ll regret it and will absolutely be damned to be punished and used, like the slutty brat she always became, all for you.

---

Royalties and class, two things that exude Yena as every movement of hers is either sophisticated, intense disgust or her own primal needs taking over her. Limited choices yet it doesn’t matter, because it will revolved around that and it will never change—maybe when you’ve fucked something out of her, then maybe the stars will re-align but chances would be slim to none.

There’s no fucking chance in this planet she’ll be able to make others bear her bitchy, bratty attitude and you are the only worthy to handle her as you know exactly how to make her be yours and to tame that living beast inside her, even if it means to do the nastiest things to her.

Well, that won’t be the case for now but knowing how she’s luring you into a challenge, really makes everything inside you be in that state of fury as her words captivate you and turn you on, and it’s damn dangerous to be this riled while driving on a high-speed highway.

Guess the feelings are mutual between the both of you; she can pick the locks inside you as much as you can with hers, and it’s not even close to exert much effort.

“Yena, you know we can’t—not here, princess, alright?” You peacefully pointed out how risky and not suitable for you to really do this, let alone doing such a sinful act on a highway even though it’s just the both of you that will be blessed by the sight.

Not really surprised about her responsive actions of your denial, and you’d love to see that knowing how her frustration and the needy sounds she makes sends you into a state of delight. “Come on, daddy! You’re no fun!”

Yena pouts as she faces you, frustrated with your own selfish acts of your definition of fun as she crosses her arms right after, letting you know how she seriously wants this.

“If you want us to crash because of your selfish needs to blow my dick, then sure, Yena.” With your encouraging words with sarcasm laced on it, Yena faced you with a glare as you can see it evident on your peripherals. As much as you don’t want to, you might just give it a shot and to maybe even risk your life in terms of a pleasurable service and to literally just make Yena shut up with your own length inside her bratty mouth.

“You’re just playing with me, daddy—I know you—”

“Do you want to blow my dick or not? ‘Cause I’m getting pretty impatient, Yena.” You stated, your tone demanding and laced with subtle rage as you continue to drive, unfazed with her own presence that will soon draw onto your own treasured prize and given the green light, she acted up immediately and didn’t waste any of your time. Drawing her attention towards your clothed nether region, her hands then hastily finds its way onto the button of your pants while carefully not hitting anything, and with her subtle touch makes you lose a hint of focus yet you fight it as the last thing you would want to see is crashing on a highway. Carefully unbuttoning your pants and bringing them onto your knees, her eyes lit up in excitement as she can see your member getting erected and that’s all because of her.

“Ooh, getting turned on I see, hm, daddy?” Yena delightfully mocks you as steam comes out of your nose, a bit annoyed with her current antics as there’s no in any planet you would deny how it’s not her fault that you’re getting this hard.

“Then do something about it and don’t kill us, Yena.” She then resumes her advances of undressing your final clothed defense, finally freeing your throbbing length from its prison and she is met with your member, her eyes now lit in awe yet a click of your tongue makes her stop. “Five minutes only.”

Yena whimpers as she looks at you deeply with her signature duck pout, making you rethink your decision as she persuades you with all her might. “Please, can it be longer, daddy? Please, please?”

Even if she bats out her hundred of pleas you will just ignore it as a brat doesn't deserve such reward—she should be grateful instead of complaining but you know that girls like her will be rewarded truly if they earned it, and this is probably just one of the few tests you have in plan.

Guess, you’ll be just the judge while your mind’s focused on driving straight for the both of you to not crash and god, you’re really fighting for it.

Maybe you’ll be the one who’s going to be tested as it’s all deteriorating once she laid her soft lips onto the head of your shaft, as you give in the pleasure yet focus on the highway.

Five minutes—five goddamn minutes.

---

“Kneel down, princess.”

“Yes, daddy…” Yena immediately obliged your command as her face anticipates what you may have in store, her eyes glistening with need and lust that no one can define, maybe not even herself can.

Of course, she won’t be leaving your place without a load dumped inside her or painted on her because of how addicted she is to you and how she’s always a victim of indulging towards her primal desires the second you’re within the vicinity of her sight.

She’s crazy about you as much as you are towards her but Yena’s just on a whole new level—way above the charts of your expectations and it’s not really surprising at this point.

In most terms, she’s always been a pain in the ass the deal with, even with your entire length plunged inside her, she can’t seem to really change her bratty demeanor, like it’s glued onto her by default and it’s bittersweet—bitter in annoyance and sweet because you love taming her, getting the absolute value of each others’ needs.

Even without serving her desired prize on her speedway blowjob earlier, her eyes are still refulgent with anticipation and eagerness—not to mention how she complains so much when her time is up and without a load deep down her throat, completely opposing her current needs for you.

“You better finish what you’ve started earlier alright, princess?” You relax onto the cold, marble wall as Yena nods eagerly, and then advance her way onto your fully-erect length as she eyes it like her favorite meal and with a mischievous smirk planted onto her mouth and her evil eyes, you know exactly how she’ll start this off. You moaned almost inaudibly once her soft, plump lips became in contact with your swollen head and right from the start, her masterclass is absolutely at its peak finest.

Her mouth is one of your treasure features of her, not just by the fact that you could embrace yourself to initiate such a torrid kiss with her but it’s just the fact on how soft they are that it’s just sculpted perfectly to service gratification to you, not even including her sinful gags and the vacuum-like suction that makes up the elements of a mind-boggling blowjob that she always excels at.

Speaking of oral talents, she has it all, and maybe even multiple.

“Keep doing that, princess… Keep t-that mouth all the way in.” Even if it spirals out of control, you’ll be cursed to encourage her ultimately as she takes your whole length slowly, ensuing a leisure bobbing that aims to build up the pleasure and your own libido.

She didn’t gag, not yet, as she continues to reach new depths, making herself accustomed to your whole length and the inevitable snaps, gagging prematurely as she tried to keep it in without pulling out but was not deemed successful, coughing a little right after her former struggles.

She wouldn’t let herself disappoint you as she grabbed your already saliva-sheathed cock as fast as she could and directed it inside her mouth, blowing you rapidly as her thrusts in quick succession never fails to set yourself on a blissful trance. Her hands find themselves onto the porcelain skin of your thighs, caressing it to voice out how comfortable she is and the other, fondling your sensitive balls in order for better stimulation and better quality of pleasure. Simultaneous gags, drool seeping out of her mouth, tears running down her cheek and her rapid pace lives up tot eh epitome of a blowjob—and she’s cursed to be great at this.cheek and the cherry on top, her rapid pace that adds up to the filthiness of a sinful image she’s been into and god, if you could just take a picture of this, let along record this as a video, you’ll absolutely do it but getting occupied by Yena’s soft lips and tight throat would be just better than anything that can bother you in this world, and you leave it as it is.

Her head frantically bobs like she’s set to hypnotize you as her techniques really live up to her title, every movement she does to stimulate you is making you feel way better than the previous, and it’s really working more than well. She constantly slurps as more drool seeps out of her hungry mouth, also a way to voice out her utter satisfaction with being rewarded with an insatiable candy that she can’t get enough of. Because of her great work between your legs, you dive into the inevitable bliss as your hands find their way to her vibrantly pink locks, grabbing a fistful of it to form a makeshift ponytail in order for you to have such strong leverage to guide her and fight for the utmost gratification.

Of course, she knows what you’ll end up into once she felt your hands on the back of her constantly bobbing head: she could only anticipate it as you hips will gradually thrust into her suffocatingly tight throat, craving for more to the point that you’ll give in and fuck her face rapidly.

She knows you and reads you like a book—again, feelings are mutual, as well as your needs towards each other.

There’s no point in not giving in to using her mouth like a fleshlight, because it’s literally what she’s built for: to take the entirety of your length to the point of no-return and absolutely giving everything you want—what your hips can muster.

“I might need to fuck that bratty mouth of yours princess, you wouldn’t mind it, won’t you?” Your sinister tone makes her apprehensive yet nonetheless, she trusts you with all her might—and you won’t dare to break that—as she nods eagerly, her eyes begging for the absence of your mercy in order to use her mouth with what might you can as she wants it badly.

“Oh, so you want it this badly, huh?” With her slow bobs, you groan with the pleasure she’s giving yet time wouldn’t be wasted as you grip her hair and make her look up at you, your tone now laced with the utter need of voicing out her primal desires. “Then say how badly you want this, princess”

With more greedy bobs onto your rock-hard shaft, she immediately pulls out as so, and let her lips release such wanton profanities that absolutely will arouse the living beast inside of you. “I w-want you to ram on m-my slutty throat, daddy—”

“How hard, princess?” It was a sudden response, aiming to mutter up an answer escaping her lips on her possible wants of your treatment towards hers.

“Want you t-to fuck my throat like h-how I deserve it…” She trembles between divisible of her own lustful words, the utter nervousness and adrenaline kicking in as she continues stating her needs. “Want t-to feel daddy’s c-cock ramming on my t-throat because of how m-much of a slut I am.”

Good thing she knows what she is and what she came to, at this moment. Given on how sincere she is in every word she says as her tone really pleads you to service her throat, states on how she badly desires her close-to-an-ultimate prize (punishment on you own perspective) and without wasting any second, you opted to give her what she wants and to full indulge to your own carnal desires.

“Okay, princess, hands behind your back—” You command her as you grow impatient with her lustful talks, wanting to make her struggle in the best way possible—also, you would not want to hurt her in the process—and to build up the rising climax of her anticipation. “—and your head up.” Of course, your hands aren’t idle enough to just appreciate the beauty of her waiting to be ruined, as you hands force its way onto the back of her head again yet this time, you grip onto her semi-disheveled pigtails, wanting to use them as handlebars and a leverage on what you're about to do to her—maybe she purposely tied her hair this way, knowing that she’ll maybe get her mouth fucked half open.

If this is what she wants, then she’ll get it but you should let her know why this all started: it’s all because of aiming to tame her properly and if your words can’t do it, then sure, maybe your cock will do the talking.

You don’t even need to command Yena to open her mouth as she does it involuntarily, begging you for more until it was all unable to beared and contained, letting everything but indulged within and you can just see your whole length being submerged into the depths of her mouth, taking more and fully encouraging you to even go deeper. The incredible suction of her cheeks never fails to bewilder you, let alone diving deeper as every inch of her walls results in marvelous groans of pleasure because of the warmth and the right tightness of it. You gave Yena’s mouth few thrusts to get herself used on your whole length again—in a better view, she doesn’t really need that since she’s sucking and getting her mouth used by you very often that it’s started to molded onto the shape of your cock—wanting her to feel every inch of it brushing down her throat as she gags when it hits the back of her throat. She fights it with all her might this time, and when you notice her gag reflex calming down, now’s the time to use the pliant princess’s heavenly throat like how she deserves it.

How does she deserve it? Well, it’s only a matter of time for her to find out.

With now a better feeling from both parties, your hips now ensued such a breakneck pace, catching her off-guard. Yena almost breaks herself free but knowing that if she does, she will be in big trouble and be prone to a worse punishment in which she wouldn’t want to. With that in mind, she fights herself onto your rapid usage of her whole throat as drool inevitably seeps out of her mouth, coating everything in its vicinity with her saliva that further adds to the lubrication with your ruthless advances. You tighten the grip on her hair, causing to add more mess to her already disheveled locks as you continuously rammed her throat like you want to prove something—you don’t need to prove anything but rather, prove herself worthy of your mercy.

“Is this what you fucking wanted, Yena? Your f-face to be fucked like a-an animal?” It’s a rhetorical question but an evident nod ensued right after, noticing it even with your rapid pace trying to open up Yena’s throat as you could find yourself getting harsher with one goal in mind: to tame her and possibly, fuck that brattiness out of her brat mouth.

You didn’t just mindfully thrust your hips like you’re in autopilot, but rather set series of forceful deepthroats, filling every inch of her slutty throat up to the brim, balls-deep and then resuming back onto thrusting—it repeats like a cycle, and that’s part of the plan: foreplay, to be build the suspense and then suddenly go berserk. You playfully tug her hair in order to force her down and then taking your entire length with thrusts ensued on a quick succession, each oscillation hits her saliva-sheathed chin with your own balls as the audible sounds of such skin clapping is arousing you even further.

“Fuck—this bratty throat feels good—can’t wait to even feel more of you, princess—fuck!” You continue to give her ruthless thrusts, breaking the velocity barrier your hips can muster as you pull out of her mouth and not surprisingly, she gasps for heavy breaths and multiple coughs because of your harshness down her throat.

“G-God, daddy—t-that was s-so good—hah, y-you’re going t-to make my throat sore…” Yena muttered between catching breaths and a broken voice, truly making you admire the masterclass you’ve done that she surely loved.

“Of course—need this fucking throat to teach a lesson.”

“A l-lesson? Am I the n-naughtiest student you’ve ever seen, d-daddy?” Yena seduces you with her vixen capabilities and her honey-laced words dripping with lust, and it forces you to sully her again, specifically her mouth.

“You know the answer to that, princess.” Yena looks up with you with a smirk, her mischievous plan starting to come together as she bites her lips and moaned uncontrollably, your hands finding its way on caressing her perky yet voluptuous mounds as you aimed to weaken her until she’s about to be fully submissive. With her hands still on her back, she can’t help herself to fight the pleasure as she can only just whimper and close her eyes, letting the serotonin course down her veins as every second that passes is fully treasured by the bratty princess in front of you.

“I would have used your throat more harshly but bad brats like you don’t deserve to swallow my cum—not even a single ounce of it.” Your hands then palmed her cheek as your fingers caressed it right after, admiring the sullied countenance of Yena’s face that deserves to be at the hall of fame on how it perfectly depicts the oxymoron, “the ruined goddess”.

“Brats need to be punished for being such a bitch and if my words can’t tame you—” Your suspenseful tone is intimidating her, sending chills down her spine as every word you say is laced with sincerity and full on lust. Her mouth shivers when she feels your hand teasing her cheek with your throbbing length, and it’s just becoming better for now considering how you’re building up such a stupendous anticipation that anyone can hook onto, even the both of you. “—then maybe my cock will.”

You slap your length onto her cheek, making her yelp a little as you command her to stand up, her immediately obliging to your imperative advances, even with a visible struggle because of her lack of balance.

“Sit here and wait for me, okay? I’ll get something and don’t you dare move away from this position.” You glared at her as she nodded slowly, her mouth curling up onto a smile as her eyes glistened with her own desires, only thinking further of what you may have in store for her.

---

“Wear it, Yena.”

“But don’t I look silly, daddy?”

“Just fucking wear it—it’ll be good on you…” You grow impatient with her complaints as she does what she’s requested to do, as she wears the belt-like leather collar around her neck, her hands trembling probably from her nervousness and there’s nothing to worry about it, knowing it’ll fade faster than the speed of light. With her collar now around her neck, you commanded her to go on all her fours on the bed and again, she quickly obliged, not wanting you to wait any further. Greed consumes over you, finding its way to succumb onto your lustful needs as you line your swollen head within the emanating heat of her lower lips as she moans in every tease you do, fueling up each others’ libido.

As much as you want to tease the living brat out of her, your aim is to fuck it out of her and you’ll do exactly what you need to.

Not wasting any second, the climax of the show starts as you penetrate her with your whole length and in response, she screams in delight because of how big you are inside her, feeling that you may destroy her guts. You easily fill her up to the hilt, burying your entire shaft inside her and then withdrawing to slam back in hard, making her cry for your mercy and to further fuck her like an animal.

The comeuppance starts, and you’re willing to teach her a lesson she wouldn’t forget—you may have done this to her a lot of times but this time, it would hit differently and you would end this session making her know who you really are to mess with.

Grateful to the helping aid of lubrication with her juices coursing down, and around your shaft, you start off with a relentless pace and don't give her time to get used to your length, wanting to make her feel your wrath and how she deserves to be treated. She further moans in every withdrawal you do as the collar helps for a better leverage onto ramming into her tight core repeatedly, and as the cherry on top, you like the muffled sounds of her chokes every time you pull the chain of the collar, you could hear her broken moans and probably, even asphyxiating her—one of her kinks is you choking her, and you’re glad to be innovative and creative on fulfilling that and knowing this, Yena appreciates this truly as she voices out to even ruin her further.

“D-Daddy—r-ruin my slu—slut pussy! I d-deserve t—to be treated l-like this—oh gosh—holy fuck!!”

You continuously do as so, and with her repeated pleas, you grew annoyed with her ebullient noises and stated your frustrations towards her. “Just s-shut the fuck up and take my cock well, princess!”

With your further attempts of silencing her with your ramming clashes against her tight pussy, you vent out your frustrations and channel everything onto your thrusts, causing her to repeatedly plead and moan because of your aggressive actions. She wanted this deserves this, so she just deserves to be fucked like a true animal. Her arms grew weaker, unable to support her upper frame due to the constant overloading of pleasure she’s been feeling and wanting to bury her head with her advances, you won’t let a single trick up her sleeve be deemed successful against you as you pulled the collar towards you, making her compose such broken melodies that reverberated around the room, and around your ears.

You can hear her cries in every thrust you do, as it’s all starting to come to the point where she’ll fully succumb to her needs and submissiveness, which is your goal before this steamy session ends. It wasn't long before you gave her round, bubble buttcheeks the hardest spanks it deserves as it became frequent all of a sudden, making her yelp and cry because of your harsh actions against her constantly-rammed backside. With now your hands fully occupied to treat her like the slut she is and like the brat she deserves, Yena can’t help but just think of your cock ravaging her tight, little cunt rapidly as it clouds her, same repeated, wanton moans are the response of your actions and knowing she wouldn’t last long at this time and with her cunt constantly clenching, you double the efforts on fucking her onto oblivion as the lustful drive in you takes over.

“You’re about to cum, right, Yena?”

She mutters a stuttered “yes” as she nods frantically before resuming her constant moans of pleasure. “But what if I don’t want my princess to cum? Will she not cum for her daddy or will she be punished for good? Because—” You let go of the tight grip on the chains of the leather collar as you inch closely onto her ear and whispered with venom, “—if you didn’t follow me, there will be serious consequences and you won’t like that, won’t you, Yena?”

Yena’s apologetic cries can be heard laced in her agreement, scared that she may provoke you that will make her needs be deprived. “I w-will do anything f-for you, daddy but p-please—-ahh!”

You kiss her nape, and then her neck, showing your affection towards her as you worship the musky scent of her body emanating sweat, perfume and sex as you respond, “Please what, princess?”

It took seconds for Yena to respond, the gratification becoming too much to handle as she composes herself, and pleads for you. “P-Please let me cum, daddy…”

A side of you is fainthearted: wanting to not make herself be lost and want her to engage on her high as much as possible but she needs to be punished, and your conclusion with that? To fully ruin her.

Thanks to the constant lapping of her juices, it didn’t became a struggle to lubricate her puckered hole as you insert your thumb in it, opting to stimulate her further as you continued to fuck her mercilessly. It wouldn’t take long before she reaches her high with of the kinky stuff and the most stimulating advances being done all in one session as she lets out whimpers, and knowing that her high is near and you know it’ll blast like a volcano, you wouldn’t put her to torture as lean in again to her ear and then whispering again, “Then cum on my cock, princess—let it all out.”

Giving her the final thrusts with her collar as a leverage onto a greater quality of such mindless abomination of fucking, she clenched tightly as you groan because of it and within a second, she’s in her own blissful trance, moaning out your name as she voices out her ecstasy.

“D-Don’t s-stop fucking me, d-daddy—oh fuck—I’m c-cumming so h-hard—fuck!!”

As requested by her, you continue ramming her pussy as she climaxes beautifully, voicing out series of ecstatic moans as she forms a rivulet around your shaft, dripping it all over her thighs, your balls and some even on the bed sheets which soon will be changed because of how filthy and messy it would be after the both of you are done. You continue oscillating at such an incredible pace that you didn’t mind making her recover on her high, making her yell in pleasure and utmost sensitivity. With a ruthless pace, of course, you didn’t ignore the chains as you pulled

“Are y-you close, daddy? Please c-cum inside m-me—fuck, p-please, daddy—ahh—mmfh-ahh!”

“Don’t tell me what to do, slut!” Of course, after her ephemeral orgasm, you resume onto your harshness, spanking and fondling her mounds as you draw circles down her taut buds, making her whimper because of the pleasure and sensitivity. You grew frustrated and enough of her bratty actions of eternal need as you choke her a little with the collar, further ramming into her tight cunt repeatedly as her thighs now quiver, her limbs growing weaker and letting herself succumb onto your own spell, hypnotizing her with the rapid sounds of bodies clashing together that adds up to the sea of sinful sounds that’s been kept inside this puny room right from the start.

Now chasing your own orgasm and to further commit onto fucking that living brat out of her body, you gave in to your primal desires, fucking each other like animals as within a few thrusts or seconds from now, it won’t be long until you meet yourself onto the promised land—in the possibly eternal state of bliss.

Now, having enough of the collar, you pull her hair as you draw yourself closer to your own orgasm, wanting to make sure that you’ll have one hell of a climax. You repeatedly spank her to further arouse yourself onto the hypnotizing jiggles of that porcelain flesh, making you indulge and draw yourself onto the red and soon enough, it wouldn’t be that long to meet it.

“I’m going to fucking c-cum in this tight, slutty, bratty pussy, alright, princess? Be sure to take it all because fuck—t-this pussy is literally the best!”

“Yes, da—daddy! Please c-cum in me��finally, p-please—ahh—mmfhh!” You continue your rapid thrusts as your fingers coursed its way onto her mouth, making her suck it as she wantonly savors your fingers like it’s your beloved shaft, sensually licking every inch clean as you buried your whole length in her, unable to pull back but just give in.

Series of thick shots flooded her velvety walls, causing her to moan on your fingers as she can feel the warmth of your semen coating each inch of her flesh white and god, she’s also in a state of bliss on how well she is filled by you. She continues sucking and you continue depositing, even thrusting slowly to extend your orgasm further and as it dies down, you leisurely pulled out—and of course, Yena whimpered because she feels empty without your whole length ravaging inside her—of the tightness of her core, a little exhausted because of your harsh work against her sopping wet cunt and what an incredible sight it bestowed you: her freshly-fucked folds full of your cum, some of it even leaking out of her due to the stupendous amount of volume deposited in it.

Guess her highfalutin came down on a sullied conclusion; it was an incredible display of a steamy session, much likely to be cherished as the once boisterous, sex-filled room has now toned down onto tranquil and silence—mostly just heavy breaths can be heard but it is close on silence.

Yena falls limp onto the bed, her back rests as her lips tremble within her voice, “Y-you c-came so much, daddy—i-it’s so thick a-and warm—hah…”

“Now, are you satisfied, princess?”

“More than t-that, daddy…” Yena voices out her utter satisfaction as her needs are now fulfilled by you and right after, she beams a bright smile onto you which makes you faintly grin in response due to her contagious happiness.

“Also, I’m s-sorry about acting like that earlier, daddy…” You know her apologies aren’t sincere but at the same time, they are—it’s not sincere in a way that she’ll act like a spoiled brat again someday, but now, you’re glad that you’ve fucked your way to teach her a lesson—living the new, ephemeral disposition of hers that’s down-to-earth. You would treasure this truly, but Yena, on the other hand, isn’t in the same shoes with you.

“I want some more, daddy—we can experiment on anything we want, tonight because—” Yena’s hands averted onto your jaw, making you face her as she continues, “—I’m all yours, daddy.”

Seems like she needed more than what you’ve given her and with that, you’re giving her anything to the point of no-return.

#kinknuary 2024 #choi yena smut #yena smut #choi yena x male reader #yena x male reader

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h00nerz · 1 year

Text

spots on!

pairing: choi yeonjun x fem!reader (+ second lead mark lee)

genre: comedy, fluff, superhero!au, non idol!au, college!au, some angst, ladybug!reader, chat noir!yeonjun

summary: by day, you’re a regular college student who’s just trying to get her assignments done on time and get your oblivious crush to wake up and finally notice you. but by night, you’re a superhero protecting the city from evil alongside your extremely annoying partner who is obviously infatuated with you. you were great at fighting crime, and always two steps ahead of your enemies. which is why you can’t believe you didn’t see your crush being the man underneath your partner’s mask coming.

characters: txt, stayc’s sieun, skz’s jeongin, nct’s mark, enhypen’s heeseung, choi yena, jo yuri and lots more.

status: complete

warnings: profanity, kys jokes,

* some links are broken, use 🐞.spotson tag to read!

profiles

01 — doughnut enthusiasts

02 — chat noir support group

03 — extra

table of contents

preview

01 — Baby Bread

02 — abuse deez nutz

03 — jypu education

04 — no it’s jungkook

05 — ladyflop

06 — friends already

07 — i’m gonna throw up on yeonjun

08 — hi yeonjun! (written 2.8k)

09 — *beomgyu left the gc*

10 — a chance

11 — /j… /hj

12 — all part of the process

13 — potato tomato

14 — i’m iceland

15 — stress

16 — kitkats

17 — exclusive relationship

18 — strawberries and honey (written 1.9k +smau)

19 — hey cutie

20 — it’s not CRAZY

21 — pretend babies

22 — heeseung empath era

23 — flowers (written 2.6k)

24 — captain of y/n defense

25 — losing the idgaf war

26 — you’re a clingy cat!

27 — that soobin guy is cute

28 — you’re dating chat noir!

29 — wooden shoe

30 — i know

31 — Kang Taehyun mr smart guy

32 — Choi Yena.

33 — exclusive dongshik drop off

34 — maybe okay will be our always

35 — i’m not lying (written 1.6k)

36 — girls only

37 — well yes!

38 — i should have known (written 4.5k + smau)

39 — respect the vote.

40 — can we talk?

41 — finally

42 — a little bit (written 1.9k + smau)

43 — just lost a follower!

44 — fever dream

45 — soft launching

epilogue

tag list (closed)

@therealhyunjingf @jakeshands @impureperhaps @mazeinthemoon @tyunlatte @loveliii @ningswings222 @exohclipse @17szn @txtbrainrot @bubblytaetae @qluvrv @serafilms @luvlyjay @iirene304 @snowfalltxt @choistick @lost-leopard-beanie @taekwondoes @captivq @aestheticsluut @surshica @suburbiataehyung @cecedrake2217 @omiomipepperoni @ttyunz @stellz581 @dearkamal @cher-bears @hochipochi @eggomi @rikismiel @vianna99 @certainyouthpeanut @cookiehaos @90sni-ki @http-gyu @iad0ru @viagumi @reverbtunes @fatoompie @ka143 @sserafimez @cathaerin @ahnneyong @cutiespaghetti @wonioml @emohazuzworld @taylvvrr @cowsmicwu

authors note: yeah we doing a miraculous ladybug au 😍 idk how silly it is it’s gonna be fun and that’s all that matters!

#🐞.spotson #yeonjun smau #choi yeonjun smau #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun #choi yeonjun #txt yeonjun #yeonjun imagine #choi yeonjun x reader #choi yeonjun imagine #txt smau #txt imagine #txt x reader #tomorrow x together #kpop imagine #kpop x reader #kpop smau

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welcometomyoasis · 3 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.

𓇼 ༄ ᨒ .𖥔 ݁

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?”

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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.

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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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