#me checking whether there were any updates while at the beach

[angstigone]

I, for once, think that denji should be allowed to go berserk

[suitelifeofzackandmody]

update / where the hell have you been?? (sep 13)

i can't believe my last post was eight months ago. i mean, i can believe it. i do have a history of abandoning blogs and other social media projects, usually for no apparent reason. this time, though, i kind of know why.

i had my first appointment with my new pcp in february. she was lovely, but when i went to get bloodwork done and do the follow-up appointment, my insurance had a meltdown and refused to cover it for reasons i couldn't seem to get to the bottom of. supposedly, this medical group and practice was in-network, and i am lucky enought that i can choose my pcp, but they still denied coverage for the follow-up after they had covered my previous visit with her with no issue. whatever. it took me two months to get it sorted, and by that time i was drowning in exams and homework and i was not in the mood to take care of it. i said i would make an appointment over the summer, but i didn't. i'm a big numbers person, and so seeing the results of recent labwork, whether it be good or bad, is a big motivator for me to eat healthy and exercise. Without having that, and with no doctor's appointment in sight to act as an accountability check-in, i just did whatever i wanted, which was almost always the exact opposite of what i'm supposed to be doing.

i also had a family incident back in march that left me reeling and demoralized. i will not go into any detail as it is private, but it turned what was supposed to be a joyous occasion into something that haunted me mentally and emotionally for months. my mental health in march-june was at the lowest point it has been for a very long time, and i had absolutely no one i could talk to about it. it was scary. i coped by secretly bingeing food (especially sweets, which as a type 2 diabetic is obviously a huge no-no) and ignoring my responsibilities in favor of any distraction that would keep me from having a thought(tm). unsurprisingly, my grades slipped, my physical health went to shit, i hated myself and my body, and i was ten times more miserable than before. i've never really had friends on campus, but i had people from my classes i was cool with that i talked to, but even those relationships crumbled for reasons i didn't understand. my social anxiety shot through the roof, and the more i was pushed away by these people the more i tried to contort myself into someone they liked, to no avail. i was constantly having issues at work, and i was on campus for so many hours per day four days per week around people that no longer liked me, it was all just completely unsustainable. mercifully, the semester did end, but by the time it did i was left with no friends, no job, a substantially lower gpa than i was okay with, and a brain that wanted to off itself. i had orignally planned on taking online classes during the summer session, but it was clear that i was burned out and would need to spend the summer finding a new job and just trying to patch my life up as best i could.

thankfully, there were also some good moments, too. i was able to take a trip over the summer and see some beautiful nature and visit one of my favorite places. it was a whirlwind that was a ton of fun and exactly what i needed, but it was also an exhausting week. i came back with some concerning symptoms that i probably should have investigated further, but i am still alive and they pretty much went away, so idk. i went to the beach for the day a few times, which has always been really good for my mental health. i started a casual creative writing project that i just work on whenever and don't worry too much about writing well that makes me happy. the fall semester has begun, and i decided to take all online classes, and things are going really well. i am healing, and while there are things i am still grappling with like proper diet and exercise or loneliness, i am a lot better than i was just a couple of months ago.

i hope to get back on track healthwise in the next few weeks. i let my gym membership expire because it was expensive and i wasn't using it, but i think it's time to go back. i am getting back into meal prepping, but it is more difficult than usual because right now i am experiencing aversions to the texture and/or taste of most vegetables and fruits (among other healthy foods), so i am trying to find ways to hide them. i am working on a smoothie recipe that is so far going pretty well, but it is still naturally higher in sugar than i want and i'm not sure how to deal with that.

the goal of this blog has always been to document my journey, keep myself accountable, and to have a place to share some of my thoughts on food, physical and mental health/wellness, and what it's like being a young person with type 2 diabetes existing in a fat body. this has not changed in the last few months, but it was just not something i had the capacity to think about or write about lately. now that i am in a better place, however, that is exactly what i'll be doing. i plan on posting something at least once per week, whether it's an update on how i'm doing, a recipe i've created or a review of one i've tried, a story i want to share, or other thoughts i have on these topics. if that sounds like something you want to see, please stick around!

<3 thanks for reading <3

-suitelifeofzackandmody

[unsolvableproblems]

Back in February when we were at the beach, I was staying up late one night going through all the hundreds of open tabs on my phone's web browser and spotted that my ex-husband's blog had been updated for the first time in a few years. His blog is poetry but it's often autobiographical, and I was interested to see that he still has dreams about me (despite his last scorched-earth text messages about how he was erasing all traces of me from his life).

Only the vision of me in the dream he describes happens to be an exact match of one of the only photos of me that he took while we were married. Hard to say if that's a real memory of his, or whether he's just been looking at old photos.

The scene from his "dream" is identical to this photo he took on our honeymoon, so I went and looked at his instagram photos from the honeymoon to check my memory. I think the one of me is gone (can't remember, don't feel like checking again) but what struck me was the presence of some absolute *thirst traps* he took while cycling around the honeymoon island on his own. Wild!! Embarrassing for me, I guess, that only days into our marriage he's acting coy and aloof while trying to show off muscles or whatever, to all his dozens of followers.

I know I noticed at the time, but I can't remember what I thought about it. But then that was also the honeymoon where he yelled at me until I cried. So I was already getting a taste for what that marriage was going to be like. And, after all the fuss and drama of pulling off a giant wedding event, I'm sure I was eager to smooth over any rough edges at that point.

[joheunsaram]

To Make A Power Couple - 02 (knj)

Chapter 2 - Pizza and Life Chats

THIS IS A REPOST SINCE I LOST ACCESS TO MY OLD ACCOUNT. PLEASE FOLLOW THIS BLOG FOR UPDATES ON THIS SERIES.

previous | masterlist | next

Summary- Namjoon and Y/N go on their first date, and Namjoon is whipped.

word count- 5k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- pg13 for now

genre- series, fluff, eventual smut, strangers2lovers

warnings- mentions of hangovers and panic attacks, tooth-rottingly fluffy

a.n- okay here’s the second part! I wrote this up fairly quickly (don’t expect this to be the norm!). This part I wanted to kind of address the stress of overworking as a young adult (GUILTY 🙋🏻‍♀️) so sorry if it gets a little serious at parts. I also wanted to switch it up so it’s from Namjoon’s perspective. I hope you enjoy it. SOFT JOON BEING A BIG OLD SOFTY.

Feedback much appreciated! 💕

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach​, @sassyuniversitytacopeanut

-

Namjoon woke up startled as his phone alarm rang. He was groggy and his splitting headache made him nauseous. “I’m never going to drink again”, he mumbled. He groaned as he got off the couch he had crashed on the night before, trying not to trip over Taehyung who seemed to be dozing happily on the floor as he made his way to his room. He hadn’t stayed at the dorms in a while, preferring the quiet solitary of his own apartment nowadays, and with his hangover in full swing he felt like he was walking through a stranger’s house.

Last month was hell. He had procrastinated on his songs and none of the vocal guides were even halfway done before the due date. Every time he tried to finish a song a new one would pop up in his head and he would start on that, leading to a hard drive full of files labelled “finish soon” and “draft”, and a notebook full of scratched out scribbles. It was like his brain had decided to abandon him, deciding it had had enough of his perpetual melancholy. He had felt drained and burnt out, a husk with no creative juices left. Luckily, Yoongi and a few of the producers had taken pity on his stressed out state and lent a hand so he had been able to finish the bare minimum three days ago - before the label pressured him further. He was never more grateful for a small break.

In all honesty, he needed a way to jumpstart his brain, and get out of the routine of home, practice, meetings, studio, home. Sometimes, he almost wished he didn’t have the success he had so he could go out and let loose a little - a club, a party, anything. But the last time he went somewhere like that he got swarmed and the police had to be involved. He couldn’t risk that, not after the trouble Big Hit went to threaten media outlets a year and a half ago, when he was caught with what they called a hickey, but was actually a stress rash.

As he brushed his teeth today, however, he smiled at the mirror. Last month may have been terrible, but last night was one of the best he’d had in the past year.

When he had heard Bang PD’s team talk about how they were attending the charity gala as he met them for notes on his songs, he was intrigued. He had read about this non-profit in the paper before. They seemed to be helping bridge the gap between people through communication and that spoke to him. So much so that he had scrolled through their website multiple times, reading testimonials and almost memorizing the mission statement. They wanted to help kids learn English for free so they could communicate globally. He really liked the idea. It was hard for him to learn the language as a kid and he knew that the only reason he became as fluent as he is from the tutors his parents paid for and his obsession with American television and music. Although he didn’t need the tutoring anymore, he did enjoy talking to the in-house tutor at the company, John, from time to time and improving his skills. The fact that this company wanted to add a John to every school in Korea starting from the rural areas, made Namjoon want to meet the man behind the movement. Little did he know, he’d be meeting the girl who’d shift his idea of the ideal.

He had never been more glad to have convinced his company to let him and the boys attend an event. He had initially suggested it as a way to break the mundane before their comeback practices started and network while supporting a cause he liked. Two days ago, he wouldn’t have guessed it would have been an actual fun night leading to him nursing a headache.

He spent the next hour reliving last night as he showered and caught up on the news. He also read the messages he sent last night over a hundred times and had butterflies each time. Wasn’t he too old for butterflies? He wanted to message you again but every time he tried, he ended up overthinking it. Everything sounded forced or cheesy, and it was worse than any writer’s block. He threw his phone on the bed in frustration watching it bounce and land on the floor, before he grabbed it and pocketed it. Hopping around to get rid of his nerves, he decided to take a break from rereading the thread he already had memorized and check in with everyone. If his hangover was this bad he couldn’t imagine theirs.

Making his way back to the living room he found Taehyung now sitting on the floor, sleep still very evident on his features as he yawned and groaned. On the couch next to him sat Yoongi, holding an iced americano and staring into space. The rest were missing but he could hear a blender annoyingly whizzing in the kitchen.

“How’re you guys feeling this morning?” He asked as he sat across from Yoongi.

“This is why I don’t drink. Why did no one stop me?” Taehyung whined as he rose from the floor to leave, massaging his head.

“We tried. You were very excited to try all the disgustingly sweet drinks the hot bartender was making for you.” Yoongi replied with a sigh. “How was your date, Namjoon? You glad I forced you to go to the bar to talk to her?” he snickered, sipping his coffee before exhaling loudly in contentment.

“Honestly, I owe you big time. She was… amazing. I don’t think I’ve talked to someone that comfortably in a while” Namjoon sighed wistfully.

“I’ll add cupid to my resume,” he deadpanned. “Is she tolerating you for another date?”

“Yeah. We’re getting dinner on Tuesday, but I want to message her now. Argh!” He ran his hands over his face in frustration. “What do I even say? ‘Hi I’m the guy who was too scared to kiss you all night so you had to do it for him, what’s your favourite colour?’” Namjoon was annoyed at himself. It’s bad enough that he was having writer’s block in his music, did he have to have it for something as simple as texting too? This was ridiculous!

“Or you could just ask her how’s her hangover today. Jeez! Do I have to draft each of your messages? Stop being a dumbass and text the person you like.” Yoongi scoffed, clearly over Namjoon’s sudden and uncharacteristic insecurities.

Namjoon gave a resigned sigh as he reached for his phone and wrote out exactly what Yoongi suggested. Hey, he was his hyung for a reason - he had a full 6 months of life experience on him.

Namjoon: Hey! Hope your hangover is not too bad today.

As soon as the message was sent, he started getting nervous. Tapping his foot incessantly while he stared at his phone, willing it to buzz, annoying Yoongi enough to leave him alone on the couch in the process.

Y/N: Hi to you too! I actually don’t get hangovers so I’m doing great lol. What about you?

Namjoon: What do you mean you don’t get hangovers?

Y/N: I don’t know. Can’t get dehydrated if you’re always dehydrated!

Namjoon: That… makes no sense. Do I need to start reminding you to drink water?

Y/N: Only if you’re better than this app on my phone…

Namjoon: I can guarantee you I’m better than any app on this planet.

Y/N: Wow. Big claims! We’ll have to put it to the test I suppose.

Y/N: You never told me how you’re feeling. Oh and how’s Taehyung? Is he okay?

Namjoon: He’s doing fine. Made a pact to never drink again and if i’m being honest, I’m going to join him. I am shocked that your head is not exploding as well.

The messages continued easily after that, filled with updates of each other’s activities, playful flirting and even photos of dinner. By the time Monday rolled around, you had been messaging each other constantly, with no end to the conversation in sight and the only long pauses being when you were both asleep or working. It seemed like you would never run out things to talk about. Namjoon hadn’t messaged someone this frequently since he got out of his last relationship. It felt nice to relay his mundane day to day events to someone and he found himself excited to hear about your mundane, like how you decided to mix two different types of bad coffee blends to make a shockingly worse one. He was surprised again at how fast he felt comfortable around you. It was even starting to scare him a little - he only knew you for three days and it felt like he had known you forever! What was this weird spell you had on him?

The conversation Monday, however, was fairly sparse, and Namjoon was eager to set up plans for the next day, so that night he decided to call you.

After the first three rings, he was overthinking his decision. Maybe it was too soon to call? Maybe you didn’t like talking on the phone? What if it went to voicemail? Would he have to leave a message? What would he say? His inner monologue was quickly halted at the sound of your voice.

“Hello, this is Y/N” you sounded distant, almost too formal. He felt nervous.

“Hi… uh… this is Namjoon. Is this a bad time?”

“Oh Namjoon! Sorry I didn’t check who called when I picked up!” Relief washed over him at the change of your tone. “Sorry one sec can you hold on.” he heard you say as your voice got mumbled. He waited while he heard you talk to someone about proposals and deadlines. Were you still at work? He checked his watch - it was 10 pm. He didn’t know whether to be impressed by your work ethic or worried that you were overworking.

“Hi sorry about that! How are you?” He relaxed at your airy tone and smiled.

“I’m good. Are you still at work?”

“Yeah it’s only like 7 so it’s no big deal. I usually leave around 8” Were you serious?

“Y/N… It’s 10:04…” He was shocked at how nonchalant you sounded, and suddenly he had his answer - he was worried, not impressed. He had known you for three days and already you were setting his caretaker alarm off. He wanted to scold you for being careless and overworking, like he’s used to doing for the boys, but he knew it was too soon. He doesn’t even know why he’s feeling that way all of a sudden and tried to suppress his protective instincts.

“No it’s not! It’s…” He could hear your voice going further away as he imagined you moving the phone in front of you to check the time. “Oh shit you’re right. What the hell? Okay sorry I’m gonna put you on hold again.” Before he could say anything he heard your voice again, distant again but loud. “Oh my god. Guys, it’s 10pm. Go home! Why did nobody tell me? No it doesn’t matter we can do that tomorrow. Please go home. Pack up now! You too Siwon, don’t worry I’ll go home after I get off the phone. See you!” He smiled at the sternness of your tone - it reminded him of a teacher dismissing class.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t realize I overworked my team. Had to send the troops home” you laughed and Namjoon felt his heart flutter.

“I don’t wanna keep you from going home. I can call you back once you get there,” he offered. He felt bad that you were staying in an empty office on his account.

“Oh don’t worry about it. It was a lie to get Siwon off my back. I’m probably gonna be here till like 1 or something. I still have to get this done” you said matter-of-factly, like it was the most normal thing in the world. He knew that tone fairly well, having used it multiple times himself when he locked himself in his studio, running on nothing but coffee and energy bars.

“Okay I know we’ve only just met and we have our first date tomorrow, but do you want some company?” He asked before he could stop himself. The line was silent for a bit, and he felt self conscious, scared that he had overstepped and driven you away. Before he could check his phone to see if you had hung up you spoke.

“It’d be pretty boring for you to watch me just type away. Are you sure? It’s pretty late.” He was sure his cheeks would hurt from how wide he smiled.

“It’s not a problem at all. I was going to work tonight too.” He wasn’t. “We can just work together. I’ll bring food. Did you eat yet?” his words tumbled over each other.

“How very college of you.” He could hear you giggling on the line. “Now that I think about it - I’m starving.”

“Okay text me the address, I’ll be there soon.”

He had never been this excited to pretend to work.

He spotted you as he walked through the doors of the 13th floor, pepperoni pizza in hand. You were sitting at a long desk near the middle of the room. He was surprised as he expected you in an office, but he found you typing away at your desktop. Your hair was tied up in a bun and you were dressed in an oversized beige t-shirt, eyebrows furrowed head bopping to the hip hop track playing through the speakers. You seemed to be in your own little world. He felt like he was spying on you as he leaned against the door watching but he also liked seeing how you acted when you thought no one was watching. He was about to announce his presence when the track changed to a Childish Gambino one and you whooped and started to rap along.

You were now fully head banging and rapping the verse at the top of your lungs. He would be impressed by your fairly good amateur skills if he didn’t find the entire scene so endearing. His heart was doing somersaults as he watched you now fully engrossed in the song, typing forgotten as you got up and started to pretend you were on stage, an imaginary mic in your hand asking haters if they “eatin’ though”. You looked so adorable that he couldn’t help but squeal a little “cute!”

That’s when you saw him, eyes wide. He felt a little bad when he saw how embarrassed you looked, immediately stopping and slapping a hand to your mouth before bursting out in nervous laughter. He could write a whole album with that laugh. Oh he was so whipped, he thought to himself as he made his way to you.

“You know you’re not half bad!” He exclaimed as he set the pizza on the table, pulling a chair next to yours and settling down.

“Do you think your fake compliments will save you from the fact that you were spying on me?” you asked, crossing your hands across your chest, pretending to scowl but failing to do so.

“First, real compliment. Second, would pizza save me?” He opened the box and proudly smiled, loving the way your eyes lit up as you reached for a slice.

“Yes it will!” you exclaimed as you took your first bite, lightly moaning at the taste. “But erase that memory from your brain please.”

“Nope. Never. It was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen and I’m going to save it forever” he said as he also started on his slice. You pouted up at him, cheeks puffed and it took all the self-control he had to not kiss it off your face. He hadn’t felt this way in so long, it was like you were his first crush. Trying to control his pulse, he asked “What are you working on so late?”

“Oh I have a proposal due for a meeting tomorrow at noon and I’m only halfway through it,” you frowned wistfully at the screen as if willing it to type on its own.

“Can I help?” He asked, knowing fully well that he couldn’t. He just had an overwhelming urge to make that frown disappear.

“You being here is help enough,” you smiled sincerely as you looked at him and he felt his heart explode, a blush creeping on his cheeks as he smiled bashfully. “What are you working on?”

“I have a few songs I have to finish the lyrics for. Been procrastinating” he rubbed the back of his neck as he pulled out the notebook from his back pocket.

“Can I help?” you echoed his question to which he echoed your response grinning. He wasn’t lying though. Even though he had planned to not really work, as the night progressed he found the change from his usual writing spot inspiring. Sitting next to you, the sound of the keyboard clicking was soothing leading to words pouring out of him. He filled pages as he stole glances at you concentrating on your proposal, tongue peeking from between your lips, still bobbing to the music which was now playing from your airpods instead of the speakers. He smiled at the sight, before focusing on his notebook.

After about an hour or so of hard work, he finished three songs that he had allotted himself the whole week to do. This was the most productive hour he had all month. Antsy for a break, he looked over at you and found you staring at him, a hand under your chin. As he met your gaze you smiled.

“You’re really hot when you concentrate. Has anyone ever told you that?” you commented. He was taken aback by your remark, heart fluttering at your smirking face. Not missing his chance and spurred on by the comment, he scooted closer in one sweep till your knees touched and you were face to face.

“You’re one to talk. I couldn’t stop looking at you this past hour.” Gazing into your eyes, he was amused to see your smirk disappear as it was now your turn to be shocked. He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind your ear letting his hand linger, enjoying the way you sighed as he did. “Can I make good on my promise now?” He whispered, his face centimeters away, looking at your lips. The way you bit your lower lip made him want to take you there and then. The desk looked big enough. Hell, even if it wasn’t he could make it work.

“Promise?” you whispered as he watched your eyes flutter to his lips.

“To kiss you first…” Too impatient to wait for your answer, he brought his lips to yours, relishing how soft they felt under his own. He was thrilled at you returning the kiss, deepening it as you grabbed the collar of his shirt to bring him closer just like you did after the party. He was beginning to think this was your signature move, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t immensely turn him on. He moved his hand cupping your face to rest on your neck and he could feel your heartbeat mimicking his. He put his other hand around your waist pulling you closer, wanting to be as close to you as he could get. He traced his tongue over your lips, his head cloudy with endorphins as you opened your mouth inviting him in. He had never tasted something so euphoric, his tongue exploring yours in a rush.

He could feel you pushing forward as he leaned back and allowed you to straddle his lap, your legs on either side of the chair. As soon as you were on his lap, he pulled you closer, both arms around on your hips, your chest flushed with his. He kissed the side of your mouth as he made his way down your jaw to your neck. You smelt like vanilla mixed with a fresh flower garden, and he was sure this smell was better than any drug in the world. He could hear your breathy moans as he sucked where your neck met your collarbone, licking to soothe it before moving further. He wanted to taste all of you. Your hands were in his hair and each tug made him groan into you, making him harder. He could kiss you like this forever. He wanted to save this moment so he could come back to it and relive it. He traced his hands up and down your sides, moving under your shirt but remaining on your waist, enjoying the feel of your soft skin.

“Namjoon… Namjoon… slow down” he heard you say breathlessly as he felt a slight push. He looked up at you, your eyes half lidded and lusty as you grabbed his face and brought it to yours. You were sending him mixed signals, but he didn’t care as long as he could keep kissing you.

“We have to slow down or I’m going to want to fuck you right here.” You whined as you both came back up for air, but you kissed him again nevertheless. Hearing you say that made him want to do anything in his power to make that happen.

“I don’t mind, baby,” he said against your lips, kissing you with urgency, biting your lower lip and pulling it gently to elicit another moan from you. To his disappointment, you seemed to have better self-control than him as you pushed him back, both of you panting as you struggled to catch your breath. He moved his hand back to your hips tracing little circles, feeling comforted by you smoothing his hair you had pulled earlier.

“There are cameras here. I’d rather not make a sex tape on our first date.” You giggled as you pointed to the black sphere in the corner of the room. He had never hated the obsession buildings had for security more, but the crudeness of your comment made him laugh. He had almost forgotten this was your first date, it felt like he had kissed you a thousand times before. You tasted like the relief of an awning in the middle of a summer downpour.

“I think we need to cool down,” you say as you climb off of his lap. “Let’s go.”

He followed you as you led him to the little kitchenette near the end of the room, unable to resist the urge to wrap his hands around your waist in a back hug. He knew he was being too clingy for a first date, but the way you giggled and put your hands over his gave him assurance.

“Lemonade, coke, or water,” you asked as you peered into the fridge.

“You.” He smirked kissing your neck, feeling bold off of the high from your makeout session.

“Joon!” you pretended to sound scandalized as you turned in his arms, smiling warmly. The nickname made his heart swell. It added a familiarity that he didn’t know he missed from you.

“You haven’t called me Joon before. I like it” he smiled as he pecked your lips.

“Hey! We are cooling down! No kissing! Now pick” you chided and Namjoon couldn’t help but wonder if you were this assertive in bed too, a million scenarios playing in his head. Okay, you were right, he needed to cool down.

“I’ll just have water, thanks,” he said as he grabbed the bottle you passed him, opening and gulping half of it. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was for something other than you. You both made your way to the tables, sitting across from each other.

“So did you finish your proposal?” He asked trying to cool himself but failing as he noticed you running the cold water bottle against your neck, the beads of condensation dripping on your shirt. He cleared his throat as he tried to focus his attention on your eyes, a mantra of stay focused playing in his head.

“Yes! Finally! It’s perfect.” you smiled proudly and somehow he felt a wave of pride too. “What about you? Made any progress?”

“Actually yes. I kind of finished my entire week’s writing in that one hour” he was still amazed by his own progress.

“Okay, Mr Overachiever” you joked and he chuckled.

“To be honest, I didn’t think I’d be able to write anything, but I don’t know your presence is kind of soothing. It helped me focus.” Watching your smile grow wide, he continued, “I’ve been having pretty severe burnout this past month and it has just been hard to put down my thoughts, even non-lyrical ones.” He fidgeted with the water bottle as he looked at it, avoiding eye contact.

He didn’t know why he was telling you this. He recalled when he told you about his struggles as a leader during your first conversation. Somehow being around you led him to vomit out his feelings. It was… unlike him. Namjoon was usually not this honest on dates, or relationships, as much as he would hate to admit it. That’s the reason he broke off his last one. He felt bad lying to her about a busy schedule when he just wanted to be alone. She would have understood, she was kind and thoughtful, but it just felt easier to lie and not put the effort in to explain his thoughts. Even when they broke up, he lied and told her that it was because he couldn’t handle being in a relationship at the moment, when in reality things had cooled off a while ago and he felt guilty as his feelings faded.

He felt your hand reach out and grab one of his, intertwining your fingers. He felt comforted by the gesture as you rubbed your thumb across him before you spoke two words that warmed his heart. “I understand.”

“You know it’s hard to work at full speed all the time. It’s okay to not be at a hundred all the time. The valleys feed the peaks” you continued. It was a simple remark, but it sounded surprisingly poetic to him. He hadn’t felt this understood outside of the boys for a long time. It was refreshing. It was terrifying. He resisted his natural urge to run and hide.

“Are you speaking from experience?” he asked, needing to divert the attention away from his own vulnerabilities.

“Yeah. I had it pretty tough a couple of years ago. Too much pressure from myself, too many expectations. Led to too many vices and panic attacks” you shrugged as you continued and he squeezed your hand to comfort you. “It creeps up from time to time but my therapist and I have it handled” He looked at you in awe. You hadn’t given him a throwaway answer or switched the limelight back at him. You wasted no time in being as vulnerable as him, if not more. He knew at that moment that regardless of where this thing went, he wanted you to know you better.

“Thank you for being honest.” He brought your hand to his lips and kissed it gently. It was an intimate gesture but he wanted you to know how much he appreciated your words - how much he appreciated you - in that moment. You both sat in comfortable silence for a little while, playing with each other’s hands that were still intertwined, till one of you yawned loudly causing the other to giggle. With the weight of the conversation lifting, you both fell back into playful banter as you decided to pack up and call it a night.

“Do you want me to walk you to your car?” Namjoon asked, wanting to drag the night on longer despite it already being almost 2 am.

“Don’t judge me but I actually don’t know how to drive. I was just going to cab back.” he saw you giggle bashfully as you pulled your backpack over your shoulders.

“Oh, no judgment here! Me neither” he laughed. Why does everyone think it is such a big deal to not drive? It’s better for the environment! “Do you want to take one together? I don’t really want you to ride alone this late.” He rubbed the back of his neck, hoping he didn’t come off as if he was trying to dictate what you did.

“I’d really like that,” you said as you walked towards the elevators. He held your hand as you both got on, liking the way you moved closer to him at that.

In the cab you both sat closer than necessary, his arm wrapped around you as you both made plans for your scheduled date later that day, trying not to doze off. When the cab stopped all too soon at your apartment, he kissed you gently as he told you how much he enjoyed your company.

That night laying in bed, his heart felt full as he read your goodnight message. He was sure of it now. He really wanted you in his life.

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[beewolfwrites]

The Oar in the Sand - Chapter Seven: The Second Day of Nostos

@cheshiya @tenseoyong @szallejhscorner @something-more-original-please @ofsunsetsandpoetries @nek0dzuken @allozaur @serenzippity @hiqhkey

Another update! This was supposed to be posted yesterday, but life just kept getting in the way. But thank heavens it’s here now :) 

I’ll stick the AO3 link here  for the ones that want it. Thanks for reading <3

------------------------------------

There were two things I had come to enjoy here in the Borderlands. The first was the freedom I had now that the old world and all of its problems were gone. The second was waking up beside Chishiya.

Usually I was the first to fall asleep and he was the first to wake up, so it was rare that he was still around when I opened my eyes. This morning was different. His face was angled away from me, and his hair was splayed across the pillow, almost obscuring his face from view. Almost, but not quite. Curling up at his side, I observed the way his sly smile had become slack, disappearing entirely as it made way for something far different. 

He probably hadn’t intended on sleeping in like this, but the exhaustion of the previous day was overwhelming. I remained there for a long time, peeking out at him from beneath the sheets until his breathing lightened and he started to stir. One eye cracked open, squinted, then slid over to mine. 

‘What are you doing?’ 

‘Just enjoying the fact that you’re not dead.’ 

He raised a brow. ‘Between the two of us, you’re more likely to get shot than I am.’ 

What should’ve been a snarky comment came across flat and uninterested. Now that he was awake, the shadows beneath his eyes were more pronounced, and I could see the dark roots of his hair had grown longer. It was strange to see him looking this weary, but even Chishiya was only human. He was no more immune to bullets than I was. 

‘What are you thinking about now?’ 

I could tell by his tone that he was trying to taunt me. But my thoughts were detached. I couldn’t stop thinking about the game. ‘Yesterday, it wasn’t just me who cleared it. An was there too, with two girls from the Beach. They said that the King of Spades attacked their camp right after the second stage started.’ 

He quietly considered it for a moment. ‘And we were close enough to hear the gunshots. He probably started with the camp before heading over to us.’ 

Heading over to us? 

‘You don’t mean…’

‘He knows the location of all the players,’ Chishiya said. 

That’s not… 

No, it was fair. Once a player knew about his game, it was easy to avoid him just by mapping out the location of his blimp and remaining as far from it as possible. Him knowing the players’ locations only evened out the playing field. 

‘An told me something else too. Apparently he moves all across Tokyo. Aside from the other game venues, the whole city is his arena.’

I thought this would’ve piqued Chishiya’s interest more, but as expected he was already a step ahead. ‘I realised the same thing when he chased you. It makes sense they would plan things this way. They’re trying to drive players into the game venues.’ He sat up a little, resting against the headboard and lacing his fingers together. ‘While you were in your game, another one was cleared. The King of Clubs.’ 

The hardest of the Clubs games. It made sense that those ones would be completed pretty quickly, given the chance of survival was the highest. ‘That was pretty quick.’ 

‘I suppose it was,’ Chishiya retorted. ‘But I have a feeling I know who cleared it.’ 

‘Hm?’ 

‘Arisu.’ 

Arisu? The last time I had seen him was when he was with… ‘Kuina was probably there too. An said when their camp split up, she got into a car with Arisu and Tatta. They must’ve gone to the game venue together.’ 

And if they cleared it, that meant they were still alive. They had to be. Knowing Arisu, he would’ve taken Usagi with him too. I almost felt like I could rest easy if the four of them were safe. Although they must’ve met the King of Clubs while they were there. 

‘The Queen of Diamonds died.’ I hated how thick my voice sounded. ‘But I wish she didn’t. Is that okay?’ I looked up, meeting Chishiya’s stony gaze. ‘I mean, is it okay for me to like her?’ 

‘I don’t see why it matters whether you do or don’t,’ he replied. ‘The outcome is the same.’  

I could still see her smile right before the wood gave way, a sort of peace mixed with relief. ‘I thought she was going to be evil or scary, kind of like Mira.’ The way she’d picked out the footage of mine and Arisu’s first games, the provocation was like a test. The Queen of Diamonds though, had been totally different. ‘She wasn’t like Mira at all. Right from the start, she wanted us to win.’ 

Chishiya was watching the dust motes glide in the sunlight, idly listening. ‘Did you find out anything?’ 

‘I’ve dedicated my whole life to the pursuit of knowledge, but I’ve learned to be satisfied with not knowing.’

‘She was a player,’ I told him. ‘She didn’t know about the Borderlands either.’ 

He mulled it over quietly. ‘I thought so.’ 

Chishiya knew they were players? 

I sat up in bed. ‘There’s no way you could’ve known that.’

‘It was just an idea,’ he replied. ‘I’ve been here longer than you. I’ve thought a lot about the possibilities.’ He paused for a minute, then smiled ironically. ‘It’s very possible we could all be dead.’ 

It was a horrible idea, the thought that all our efforts to survive were in vain. Or perhaps, it was one big test of character to determine our place in an afterlife. And if we died in a game, would it be a second death, or would it allow us to proceed to a further level of some kind? Was it a true death at all? 

‘I’d like to think we’re still alive,’ I admitted. ‘You probably don’t care, but I’d like to go back to the real world with you.’ 

‘Oh? And what makes you think there’s a way back at all?’ 

Hatter’s theory had been only half correct. But while the Queen had avoided telling us everything, she’d revealed even more than she perhaps intended. ‘The Queen of Diamonds said she went through the same thing we did, found all the cards, and then completed the face card games like we’re doing now. But then she called the others citizens. If we’re currently here on a visa-basis, maybe clearing all the games gives us the chance of a permanent citizenship—’

‘If that’s so, it’d only prove my point.’ 

‘No.’ I shook my head, thinking back to the game. ‘She also mentioned that she chose to stay here. If there’s a choice to stay, it means there’s a choice to leave.

I could see Chishiya’s mind working, taking it all in. It was as if he absorbed all the knowledge he encountered, storing it up and processing it for use later. He didn’t respond to my theory, but simply accepted it, and relaxed against the headboard, staring at the ceiling. As he tilted his head back, the dressing over his neck was exposed, and I suddenly became aware that we were still wearing our old, bloodied clothes. 

I really, really need a wash. And new clothes. And new bed sheets. 

Climbing out of the bed, I left Chishiya and made my way to the bathroom to clean up a little. However, when I passed the mirror above the sink and saw the face staring back at me, my mouth fell open. 

This can’t be me. 

My skin looked thinner and sallow, and without the Beach’s constant food supply, I’d lost weight, only not in a good way. The girl in the mirror was haggard and I barely even recognised her. While Chishiya had cleaned the dried blood from my forehead the night before, there were still flakes in my hairline and my face was dirtied. 

I reached for the bottle of water beside the sink, except the plastic crinkled, empty. Throwing it away, I then checked the bathroom cupboards for our extra supply, but they too were empty. 

You’re kidding me… 

A quick search of the store revealed that we’d run out of water entirely. If our little hideout were closer to the river, it wouldn’t be a problem. However the river was too far away to collect water on a daily basis, and with the King of Spades out there, it wasn’t worth the risk. There had to be some way of storing water for the long-run. 

Standing in the small kitchen, I could hear the muffled creaks of Chishiya moving about upstairs. And then the idea hit me. Walking out into the hallway, I called up the stairs, ‘I’m just going out to get something! I won’t be too long!’ 

There was no reply, but I knew he’d heard me as the noises quietened. He then appeared at the top of the stairs, leaning against the banister with an unimpressed smirk. 

‘Are you sure that’s a good idea? The last time you ran off on your own, you stole the Queen of Diamonds game.’ 

His words stung, even if they’d been said teasingly. I hadn’t intended to steal the Queen of Diamonds Game. I only ran inside the building because there were others sheltering in there. I desperately wanted to tell him this, but it wouldn’t have made a difference. Chishiya may not have directly blamed me for what happened, but there was clearly some resentment that he hadn’t been able to complete the game himself. In his eyes, it didn’t matter. 

And that hurt. It really, really hurt.  

‘I’ll stay away from the King of Spades,’ I called out before leaving the furniture store. 

It was warm out here in Tokyo, but not a pleasant warm. The air was dull and sticky, as if the city was thirsty for rain. 

There must be a storm coming.

I took my time wandering through the silent streets and deeper into the city centre. Even here, the only sound was that of the birds building homes in vacant office blocks, and aside from a deer grazing on the grass in an empty lot, there was nobody around. 

Luckily, I had explored this side of Tokyo enough that I’d formed my own mental map of the area, and I easily found the camping store where Kuina had picked up our current stove. Inside, the place was scavenged, and I had to step over several boxes until I found the section I was looking for. There were several water containers, but none of them were quite what I had in mind.

I ambled further down the streets until the road opened up into a car park. It was lined by several walkways leading into large, white interconnected buildings. Two tall clocks stood above a disused bus station and taxi rank. And as I walked further down the road, there were ambulances lined up outside. 

I followed a series of steps led up to the main entrance, but once I was inside, the sunlight cut off. While an abandoned Tokyo was eerie, a dark, dusty hospital was a thing of nightmares. Just inside the entrance was an international poster stuck to the wall, with the same phrase written in different word-art fonts and various languages. 

‘Welcome to Nihon University Itabashi Hospital!’ 

I walked further inside, passing a reception desk and a waiting area. It was evident that other players had been inside here, as there was litter on the ground, and some of the store rooms lay open, their contents emptied out.

Strolling along the corridors, I explored the theatre facilities. There were drawers upon drawers of syringes and sterile metal trays of surgical tools, and aside from a thin layer of dust, the hospital beds were all intact. If it weren’t for the King of Spades and the danger of other players, the hospital would make a decent camp for a group of survivors. But on second thought, I wasn’t prepared to give up the warmth and comfort of waking up next to Chishiya. Retreating back out of the wards, it was in a main corridor where I finally found what I was searching for. 

A water dispenser. 

Unlike the others, this didn’t open from a cap in the top, but rather the container had a tap at the bottom. It was perfect for Chishiya and I. Rather than having bottles of water lying around, we could simply fill it up and keep it as a main water source. It was balanced on top of a platform, unattached. But the container was filled with water already, and barely budged when I tried to lift it. Wrapping my arms around the body, I lugged it forward, right as a loud clap resounded through the hall. 

The echo of a drawer slamming. 

Someone’s here?! 

Holding my breath, my arms slid away from the water container. I could hear it clearer now, the rustles of someone rooting through drawers of supplies. It was coming from the ward opposite me. Every instinct told me to leave quietly the way I came. My thudding heart screamed at me to get out now. 

I should’ve listened. 

Inching forward on tiptoe, I peered around the doorway into what looked like a recovery ward. On the right, the door to a stock room had been kicked open, the rustling growing louder as I approached. A tall man with dark fabric wrapped around his head was hunched over a desk. He muttered something, and my heart stilled. 

‘What the hell’s this shit? Ah, forget it.’ 

No. 

He was dead… wasn’t he? 

‘Where the fuck do they keep the morphine anyway?’ 

He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive. 

My eyes gaped, unblinking, at the stock room door. I didn’t want to look but I couldn’t bring myself to look away either. The memory of his eyes burned through my mind. The sheer, unrestrained rage, and the desire to kill, I’d seen it all through the tatters of his singed shirt as he looked up at me from down below in the hotel lobby and pulled the trigger. I needed to leave. I needed to leave now. 

I took a step back. 

Clink. 

The tiny, hollow clatter of a syringe rolling across the vinyl had never felt louder. It rolled across the width of the hall, before tapping against a doorframe. The rustling inside the store room suddenly stopped, and at that moment, we both knew. 

[nugnthopkns]

don’t say you miss me

word count: 5.5k

warnings: explicit!fem reader, references to sex but nothing explicit, cursing, recreational drug use (marijuana), alcohol consumption, there is no happy ending

recommended listening: overnight | maggie rogers

series masterpost: here

a/n: second installment of hiiapl! little overnight inspired ditty that i’m actually pretty proud of. i’m having so much fun with this it’s insane

You had never meant to get attached.

It was a lot easier said than done – especially with Kevin. He was loud and obnoxious, sure, but it was part of his charm. When you first met him, outside a club in downtown Winnipeg, you were blown away by his duality. He had been so loud with his group but quietly brought you a bottle of water after you puked on the sidewalk. After insisting you take his number so you could let him know you got home safely, Kevin convinced you to go to dinner with him. One meal turned into several and before you knew it you were engaged in a casual fling with the Winnipeg Jets’ newest centre. It was mostly sex, with the ocasional interaction outside of the bedroom, but something about Kevin made it feel like more than just a hookup. Over the few months you slept together your feelings shifted, and you began to harbour a rather large crush.

Just when you were going to take the leap and talk to Kevin about getting serious fate reared its ugly head. After only being in Winnipeg for six months, electing to not return to Massechusettes right away after the Jets playoff run finished, Kevin was traded out of the city. The news split your heart in two – there was no way the two of you could become a couple. Though long distance could have been an option, you weren’t going to ask him to commit to that. Being a professional athlete is tough as is, and having a girlfriend a six hour flight away was extra stress you refused to put on Kevin. 

The last night you spent with Kevin was emotional. Lots of tears were shed, mostly from you. You knew he was compartmentalizing it all and trying to not let you know how much the trade was affecting him. Whenever the two of you had talked about hockey, Kevin was always quick to mention how much he loved Winnipeg and how much he wanted to stay. Neither of you talked much, too focussed on wallowing in sadness and committing each other’s bodies to memory. He left the next morning, and there was a silent agreement that whatever the two of you had was over. It was fun while it lasted but now you both have to be adults and get on with life. 

☼☼☼☼

Nearly six months later you consider yourself to be getting on with life just fine. You’ve got a better paying job, a new apartment, and enthusiastically throw yourself into any project that’s presented. To others, however, you’re barely hanging on. Any time you get a text notification, you hold your breath until a name flashes that isn’t Kevin’s. A notification from Instagram saying he viewed your story makes your heart beat three times as fast. You constantly check for updates on how he’s playing, and watch as many Flyers games media blackouts will allow just to catch a glimpse of his face. No matter how hard you try, you just can’t shake Kevin Hayes. 

“They’ll be in town this weekend,” your best friend Rachel says. “Are you gonna reach out to him?”

You nearly drop the carton of chinese food you’re eating on the floor. “I didn’t know that,” you stammer, trying to make your surprise believable. Kevin will be back in Winnipeg for the first time since being traded. You knew this already, of course, because you have the Flyers scheduled imprinted in your memory.

She narrows her eyes at you. “Don’t fucking lie to me. You knew they were coming to town. The NHL app stays open on your phone at all times.”

Caught in your lie, you can do nothing but duck your head. You’ve thought a lot about what you’re going to do. Should you send him a text, let him know you’re available after the game? Or should you ignore him completely and make it seem as though you’re doing much better than you are?

“I don’t know Rach. I’ve never had a sort of ex come back to the city he left me in.”

“He didn’t necessarily want to leave you,” Rachel points out. “He got traded. If you want my two cents, I don’t think you should give him a call. You need to move on, not stay stuck in the past.”

Your friend is right, and you know that’s what you should do. Moving on from Kevin would be easier if you didn’t try to contact him. He hasn’t reached out to you so you assume you’re the only one in the relationship still struggling to come to terms with his departure. You struggle with the decision until puck drop, but ultimately decide against texting him. It simply wouldn’t be beneficial for your fragile heart. 

A small group of friends has gathered at Rachel’s to watch the game. You’re lucky, or unlucky, to run with a crowd of die-hard Jets fans who get together any time they play, whether it’s at someone’s house or a sports bar around the corner from the arena. Though you tried your best to get out of it tonight, making up any excuse you can think of to stay at home and sob quietly into a pillow, Rachel knows better than to let you be alone and forces you to be in attendance. 

It’s a pretty quiet game with the Jets dominating the first two periods. The Flyers are sluggish, not connecting passes and taking far too many penalties. You’re pretty sure Winnipeg has it in the bag when the puck drops for the final twenty minutes of play, so you turn your attention away from the television, picking up a conversation with Christina, the girl your friend Tyler brought along. 

Some choice words must have been said to the Flyers in the intermission because they come out swinging. Before you can comprehend what’s happening, they’ve tied the game. The period is full of contact, with multiple players from each team spending time in the penalty box. Your attention is once again returned to the large screen for the final few minutes, and your jaw drops as you watch Kevin dangle through the Jets defence to sink the puck into the back of the net. It turns out to be the game winning goal, and you sit in silence as your friends pay up the money they lost in bets and check their updated fantasy pool standings. Maybe you should text him. 

“Don’t fucking do it,” you hear Rachel whisper in your ear. Your other friends know of your past with Kevin, they were around and spent some time with him, but they don’t know how much you were still holding on. Everyone besides Rachel assumes you’re alright – that Kevin is just a blip in your past. 

You roll your eyes and sigh, but tuck your phone back into the pocket of your jeans. It stays there – out of sight, out of mind – until it buzzes some time later. Expecting it to be your mother hounding you for not calling in a while, you pull it out. A message from Kevin flashes and you go whiter than a ghost. 

Taking the boys out celebrating the big win. You in? 

The words, so casual, feel like a punch to the stomach. Why the months of radio silence just to ask to see him like you’re friends? Making sure that no one is paying attention to you, you quickly type out a reply. 

That’s not a good idea and you know it Kevin. 

You send the message and immediately turn off your phone. This way you won’t have to deal with the aftermath until much later. You allow other things to hold your attention and don’t head home until you’re so tired that it will be impossible for you to think about Kevin’s text. 

When you power your phone back up in the morning, you’re shocked to find that Kevin never responded. He obviously didn’t care too much about your absence, and part of you wonders if he was just being polite. It doesn’t make sense, but instead of letting your brain overthink the lack of response you throw yourself headfirst into cleaning your apartment. Hours later it’s spotless, and you slump onto the couch in a pile of exhaustion. You check your social media notifications, a few mentions from your friends about the shenanigans you all got up to the night before and your sister tagging you in a post letting you know she’d like to visit a specific beach the next time she comes to visit. Kevin’s profile photo sits at the top of your instagram feed, and before you can stop yourself you click to view his story. 

It’s a snapshot of his teammates with bright smiles on their faces. Each of them is holding a can of beer, and a few look as though they shared a joint before entering the establishment. The photo is captioned ‘glad to be back in winterpeg’ and is accompanied by a couple of snowflake emojis. Your heart clenches inside your chest – it hurts more than you thought it would to see him enjoying himself as though he has no bittersweet feelings about being back. It would be beneficial to unfollow Kevin, but you can’t force yourself to pull the metaphorical trigger and completely cut him from your life. 

Kevin leaves the next day for Vancouver. You know this because you watch his story yet again, and curse yourself for grasping at straws. Why must he have such a strong hold on you after so long? A call to Rachel has her driving to your place in minutes, ready to hold you while you cry and distract you from the pain that still lingers from his first departure.

☼☼☼☼

It’s easier to forget Kevin without him being in the city – you do your best, and eventually it sort of sticks.

He no longer crosses your mind every few days. You go weeks, sometimes a month or two, without thinking about him. It’s nice to no longer get sad when you enter a bar you frequented with him or wince when someone mentions how he’s playing. It also helps that he never returns to Winnipeg. 

There’s no reason for him to. The Flyers don’t play another away game against the Jets the rest of season, and as far as you know he doesn’t frequently talk to his old teammates. Your life fades into a quiet routine you come to love dearly. The world feels balanced for the first time since Kevin left and you’re nothing but thankful. 

Life moves on, and you find yourself succeeding in your career – so much so that you’re quickly offered a promotion. The change increases your workload and doesn’t leave you much of a life outside of work, but it doesn’t matter much to you. It’s a welcome distraction and keeps thoughts of Kevin out of your mind. No one comments on your genuine improvement, but you know they can see it. Rachel is proud, and she’s told you exactly once. It’s all you’ll get out of her so you take it and roll with it. The rest of the regular season passes without you so much as knowing, or caring, and before you know it there’s a notification for an article saying the Flyers were eliminated in the second round. For the first time you find it really hard to care.

☼☼☼☼

Summers in Winnipeg are your favourite. The city is warm for the first time all year and the flowers look beautiful in full bloom. With the promotion you’re afforded more vacation time, which you plan to take full advantage. There’s nothing you love more than hanging with friends in the sun, soaking up the rays, and casually drinking. 

The days bleed into one another in the way that all good summers should, and before you realize it it’s your last day at work for a week. It will be nice to be free from workplace constraints for a while, and your friends have the time off as well. The group of you are heading to a cabin on Falcon Lake where you’re sure lots of partying will take place. You suggested getting farther away, but settled on the area in case Tyler’s sister goes into labour. He’s a very family oriented person and offered to watch his nephew when the time comes. 

Four o’clock comes faster than you ever could have imagined, and you cheerfully wave goodbye to your co-workers. Some complain of your ability to leave during the busiest season of the year, but most of them wish you well. You put an immense amount of work into your job regardless of the quarter and know you deserve the break. If you don’t stop at the grocery store on your way you’ll be in trouble since you’re in charge of all the breakfasts and you currently only have a half-eaten loaf of bread that could go stale any day. 

You’re in the cereal aisle, deciding whether or not you really need Honey Nut Cheerios for the trip, when you hear his unforgettable voice. It’s loud and booming and brings back so many feelings that you’ve learned to repress that you turn on your heel and head to the nearest self checkout despite only gathering half the items on your list.

Back in your car, you dial Rachel’s number and try to regulate your breathing. 

“Hello?”

You don’t bother with any formalities. “Kevin is here.”

“In Winnipeg?” she asks, more than a tad confused. “Why would he be in Winnipeg?”

The interior of the Ford Escape you drive feels too small, so you crack a window and peel out of the parking space. Rachel’s voice reverberates throughout the car thanks to the bluetooth system. “I don’t fucking know, but he’s here.”

“I don’t think that’s possible Y/N,” Rachel says, always the realist. “He lives in Boston. What would he be doing in Winnipeg in the middle of July?”

You aren’t sure, and make sure to tell her so. “But it was him,” you swear. “He was in the grocery store.” You stop at a red light, placing your blinker on and checking both ways before turning right. A few more minutes and you’d be safely tucked away in your apartment, away from the world and the possibility of running into Kevin.

“There’s like a hundred tall gingers in the city babe, you didn’t see him.”

“You’re right, I didn’t see him,” you agree. “I heard him. How many tall gingers are there in Winnipeg with Boston accents?”

“Oh fuck. I’m coming over.” With that, Rachel hangs up, and you pull into the parking garage. You sit in silence for a minute or two before deciding your shaking legs can hold you upright. Perhaps you weren’t as over Kevin as you thought. 

Rachel spends the rest of the afternoon and evening with you, ensuring you don’t do anything stupid and letting you spew all your feelings, both good and bad. More than one bottle of wine is consumed, but you have more than enough time to nurse a hangover. If you play your cards right through the week this won’t be the only time you do it either. 

You wake up on top of your pristine sheets, Rachel grumbling beside you – she’s never been as good at holding her alcohol.

“What time is it?”

The alarm clock on your bedside table flashes a few numbers and you have to stare at them for a minute before you comprehend them. “Just after eight,” you say, sitting up. Surprisingly, you feel fine. Maybe the crippling weight of your feelings for Kevin cancels out the hangover you most definitely should be feeling. 

“We need to get going. Gotta pack the car and hit the road. I’m the one who needs to get the keys so we have to be there before everyone else,” she sighs, grumbling something else under her breath as her feet hit the floor. 

You just laugh at her and head into the kitchen. While Rachel showers you make coffee and pack the food into the ancient cooler your father gave you when you moved out many moons ago. It has served its purpose on several trips like this – you’ll be sad to see it go eventually. You switch places with Rachel, and once you’re feeling refreshed the two of you stuff your trunk and hit the road. 

The drive is rather uneventful, with the both of you sitting in silence, and it doesn’t take you long to approach your destination. Rachel is a poor navigator so you’re tasked with figuring out where you’re going and making sure you get there, but it could be worse. You have a general sense of where you’re going. Getting the keys is painless and you get to work unpacking your overloaded SUV.

“Do you think there will be other people around we can party with?” Rachel asks as you close the trunk for the last time. 

You shrug. “Don’t know Rach. It doesn’t look like it.”

She drops it, agreeing with you, and you separate to unpack your personal belongings. The cabin is large enough that no one has to share a room, which you’re grateful for. Though you love your friends dearly, they don’t always know what personal space is. At some point in the afternoon the rest of the group trickles in, and by dinner you’ve all settled and are ready to party. 

Tyler figures out how to use the ancient barbeque and sets to work cooking the burgers. Everyone else gets side dishes ready or sets the table, with Christine starting a bonfire. You don’t know her well, only having met her a few times, but your friend seems to be infatuated with her. She fits in great with the group so you aren’t worried about any awkward tension. Dinner passes in a fit of giggles and shouts, and once the dishes are done you can relax fully. 

The beer you grab from the fridge on your way out the door makes your insides fuzzy in the best way possible. By the fire, surrounded by those who care about you the most, you feel at peace. You’re yet to think about the sudden reappearance of Kevin in Winnipeg, and you’d like to keep it that way. Someone grabs the beat up acoustic guitar you found in the living room and thrusts it in your direction. You’d taught yourself to play in college, and it comes in handy for times like this. 

“I refuse to play Wonderwall,” you laugh, shooting pointed looks at each and every person sitting around you. 

“Come on Y/N,” Rachel groans. “Just once?”

“Fuck off.”

You don’t mean it, of course, and strum the opening chords with a grimace on your face. Tyler counts everyone in and they sing for you, which is appreciated. You might be decent at playing, but your singing voice is one that shouldn’t see the light of day if it can be helped. It’s more fun than you imagined it could be so one song turns into three, and before you know it your makeshift jamboree attracts the attention of the neighbours you didn’t know existed. 

Applause erupts from behind you, and you flush enough that your cheeks warm significantly. “You guys are so good I hate to disrupt the rhythm,” a deep voice says, “But do you mind if a buddy and I join you? We’re a little lonely by ourselves next door.”

Tyler’s out of his seat in a heartbeat, jumping up to pat the man on the back. “Of course man, come on over! I’m Tyler, and that’s Rachel, Christine, Marshall, and Y/N.”

You all wave politely, and the mystery guest introduces himself. “Nice you meet you guys. I’m Nolan.”

It’s then you get a good look at who you’re speaking to. He seems to be a few years younger than you, maybe early twenties, and he has a face you just can’t place. Maybe you’ve seen him around Winnipeg – the city is small enough that you can often spot the same faces in a crowd. “I’ll just yell at him to come over and we can get the party started,” Nolan explains, “Kev, bud, come on over! And bring a couple beers.”

All the blood rushes from your fingers at the name. You shake them intensely, willing your circulatory system to function properly again. If you had to hazard a guess there’s probably a million people in Manitoba named Kevin. There’s no reason for it to be Kevin Hayes. You’re most certainly still spooked from your near encounter with him yesterday. 

“Fuck Patty, you couldn’t come back and grab your own?” the emerging figure grumbles in the vocal stylings you’ll have imprinted on your heart until your dying day. Kevin is here, and if you don’t leave in the next few seconds you’ll be face to face with him for the first time in over a year. 

You stand abruptly, not stopping to explain your hasty exit to anyone, and practically run into the house. The door slams behind you and you do your best to make your heart rate return to normal. Tyler shouts something you can’t quite comprehend, but you know it’s probably some sort of reconnection greeting. He’d met Kevin a couple of times while the two of you were together and had gotten along with him well. 

“Hey,” Rachel whispers, “You good?”

You hadn’t heard her come in. “Not really,” you admit. “I mean like I knew he was in town but never in a million years did I think he’d crash my fucking vacation.”

She nods in agreement. “What do you want to do?”

“Stay in here forever?” An eye roll is sent your way but you choose to ignore it. “I’m serious Rach, I can’t go back out there, at least not tonight. Every time I think I’m over him he finds a way to make me realize I’m just faking.”

“I know,” Rachel says simply. She really does – as your best friend she’s privy to your every thought on the matter. After making sure that you'll be okay she heads back outside, armed with an excuse for your early departure. 

You spend the rest of the night tucked under the covers, listening to the laughter of your friends outside, no doubt in your mind that Kevin is the source for most of it. He’s always been good at commanding an audience. Thoughts swim freely in your brain, most of them occupied by Kevin in some capacity. Was tonight just a one off? Will you have to eventually face him? What will you say? Eventually sleep comes, though it’s fitful and fleeting. 

☼☼☼☼

You do your best to avoid Kevin, and it works for a day or two. Tyler has stricken up a friendship with the athlete, and spends more time with him and Nolan than your group. You don’t mind all that much because they typically are out on Nolan’s boat or lounging in their cabin, but every night the group reconvenes at your firepit. The excuses are starting to run out – there’s only so many times you can say you have heat exhaustion before someone stops believing you.

“Y/N, Kevin hasn’t even mentioned you,” Tyler whines one night after dinner. “It won’t be awkward. We only have a few days left, please spend time with us?”

“I’m spending plenty of time with you,” you grumble. “You promise he won’t say anything?”

Tyler shoots you a smile that lets you know he knows that he’s broken down your resolve. “Why would he? If he was going to do it he would have already.”

You aren’t sure if that makes you feel better or worse. You’re glad he’s faring better than you, but on the other hand you wish he’d at least make an effort to inquire into your well-being. Maybe it was simply proof that you were still holding onto something that didn’t mean much of anything. Eventually you’d have to face the music, whether it be with Kevin or someone in the future, so you make the decision to try and at least get used to seeing former flames in social settings. 

“You’re rolling my joints tonight asshole,” you grumble, shoving your sock clad feet into a pair of worn out sandals. 

There’s a small commotion, mostly in excitement at your begrudging agreement, and you roll your eyes as you grab what is destined to be your first of many beers from the fridge. Rachel slides up beside you on the way out the door and squeezes your hand, letting you know she’s ready to support you no matter what happens. It’s comforting, and the nerves in your stomach settle a small amount. 

Marshall is already outside, helping Nolan start the fire. They seem to be extremely similar and you’re glad they can seek each other out when the rest of the group gets too rambunctious. The rest of your party filters out of the house and takes up residence in the adirondack chairs. Kevin doesn’t appear to be around, so you allow yourself to speak freely, loud and unabashed. 

“No I’m telling you,” you insist, trying to convince Nolan your stance on Jack Antonoff is correct. “Jack is literally responsible for reinventing pop production.”

He laughs at how into the conversation you are. “Why the fuck should I care?”

“Because you fucking listen to Lorde!” 

Someone else is laughing along with you and it nearly stops you in your tracks. At some point Kevin had joined the party, but you hadn’t noticed. Knowing that he was listening makes you suddenly self conscious, and you wrap your sweater tighter around your shoulders. Nolan can tell you’re uncomfortable and does his best to relieve the tension. 

“Kev, do you wanna run back and grab the weed?” he asks. 

The auburn haired man pulls a baggie out of his hoodie pocket. “Got it right here baby cat,” he grins. “And it’s ready to go. You got a light?”

Nolan tosses him the lighter and Kevin expertly puts the joint between his parted lips. He lets the smoke fill his lungs before exhaling, and you watch him more intently than you should. You’re thrown back to the memories of Kevin’s apartment downtown, where you’d smoke in content silence after a night of passionate sex. The scenes flash in your mind and you’re overcome with melancholia. You had been so happy in the moment, and now you’re in a similar situation but feel nothing. Other than sharing in your laughter, Kevin is yet to say anything to you. 

You must have been lost in your thoughts, because Kevin is staring at you with a quizzical expression. “Y/N? Do you want a hit?”

It takes you a second to snap out of your daze, but to cautiously take the lit joint from his hand. “Thank you Kevin,” you say, voice timid. It’s the first time you’ve spoken to him since he left Winnipeg for the first time. 

He shoots you a dazzling smile and your insides threaten to turn to mush. No matter how hard you’ve tried to convince yourself you over him, that you’ve moved on from Kevin, you know you’re wrong. Kevin Hayes will have some sort of hold on you until you die. To distract yourself from the overwhelming amount of emotion you inhale deeply, hoping that the buzz smoking will bring can clear your mind. You really don’t want to think about what you lost when he’s right in front of you. 

The three of you sit in silence, passing the joint in a circle, and listen to the conversation your friends are engaged in. Marshall ropes Nolan into a game of cornhole and he goes begrudgingly. As he stands he sends you a sympathetic look, and you know that he’s familiar with your history with Kevin. It doesn’t surprise you – Kevin isn’t exactly one to keep secrets. 

“So,” Kevin says once it’s just the two of you, “How have you been?”

You do your best to swallow the lump in your throat. “I’ve been good. Work has been crazy lately, so this break has been really nice.”

He presses, and you indulge him in a conversation about your new job, though it can barely be considered that now. Everything is surface level – you’re afraid of letting Kevin in too much. Though your fling may have been brief, it didn’t make his departure or the lack of contact any easier. He tells you about his life in Philadelphia and how much he loves it there. Before you can stop yourself, you ask him a loaded question. 

“Do you like it more than Winnipeg?”

Kevin falters. It takes both of you a moment to process what you said. Not one to lie, he answers truthfully. “Yeah.” It comes out in a sort of deflated sigh. “But I miss –”

“Don’t say it,” you rush, trying hard to keep your voice down. “You don’t mean it.”

An embittered huff comes from him, and you watch carefully as he peels the worn ball cap off his head and tugs on his curls. “I do,” he insists. “I absolutely miss you.”

You no longer care who can hear you. “If you missed me, you would have texted. Called. Anything,” you say cooly. Everyone else has clued in to the fact that something is going on between you and Kevin, and have migrated inside in an attempt to give you privacy.

“I did. You’re the one who said it wasn’t a good idea to see each other again.”

“Because it had been over half a year!” you shriek. “And it had been radio silence before then. You left Kevin, and I’m not blaming you. I know it’s your job. But you left and it was so fucking hard, and it stung because you didn’t even try. So when you hit me up after that game I knew I had to say no. Because no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise, I’m still so in love with you that if you asked I’d uproot my life and follow you to Philly. I don’t want to be that girl.”

The outburst leaves you gasping for breath. Never before had you spilled heartache so fast – with a sort of reckless abandon. Anytime you’ve had these types of conversations you’ve been calm and collected. You’re currently the farthest thing from it. 

Kevin’s expression softens, and a sadness fills his eyes. “I was scared,” he begins, “Because for the first time in my life I was with someone I could see spending the rest of my life with. Sure, we weren’t serious, but I was going to take it there. Then I got traded and the plans I had went to shit and I was too scared to do anything about it. So I let you slip away.”

Silence fills the space between you. You don’t know what to say, so you focus on unraveling the loose thread from the hem of your cardigan. Kevin shuffles in his seat awkwardly. “Where do we, uh, go from here?”

The question shocks you. To the best of your understanding, you had made it perfectly clear where your relationship was headed. “Nowhere,” you breathe. “You head back to Philly, meet another girl, and fall in love. I stay here, do my job, and learn to be content with myself.”

“There’s no room for us in your little plan?”

“We’ve run our course Kev. As much as I still love you, will always love you, we’re too fundamentally different for us both to really be happy in a relationship. You have to know that.”

He nods. “I do.” With that, Kevin rises from the chair, gives you a sad smile, and leaves. You assume he’s calling it a night, and you wish to do the same. Finally having that conversation was exhausting and all you want to do is sleep for the next twelve hours. 

☼☼☼☼

The rest of the trip passes without you seeing Kevin again. He and Nolan left early the morning after your conversation, and you do your best to enjoy yourself. Part of your brain makes you believe you’re the reason they left, though Tyler tells you otherwise. No one asks about what happened between you two, not even Rachel, and you return to the city determined to start anew. Eventually you break the cycle of obsessing over Kevin’s stats, and take it upon yourself to unfollow him on social media. Life goes on. 

Things never really get easier. You still find yourself grieving the loss of Kevin, late at night when you can’t sleep, but are confident in your decision to say goodbye for good. Time heals everything, and eventually you’ll be okay. 

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @jamiedrysdales​ @kiedhara​ @tortito​ @boqvistsbabe​ @iwantahockeyhimbo​ if you want to be added just shoot me an ask :)

[poliel]

Adopted Egg

Yo, I wrote a thing based off the Adopted Egg AU!

~

While Boiling Bay wasn’t as bad as Sizzling Sands or Frosted Peak it was still pretty bad. All the lava made it too hot to be comfortable and the various aggressive and angry bugsnax made it a pain to traverse. But hey at least getting headbutted by a giant angry popsicle or hit point blank by a big scoop of seemingly frozen solid ice cream cooled Buddy off fairly well. And the ocean water was nice lapping around their feet as they wondered back down the beach.

Thankfully though their pack was full of bugsnax though, at long last they’d caught everything single one that could be found here now. Meaning they could finally head back to Snaxburg. … After a quick nap though because they’d been out and about for far too long. And dawn was still a few hours away so almost no would be out and about when they returned to town anyway. So they turned and started for the wreck Floofty had taken shelter in before they’d been convinced to return to town.

As they neared it, they slowed because… was that a skeleton? Shaking off the initial shock, Buddy picked up the pace, jogging the rest of the way over. Yep, it was a skeleton all right, nestled up deep in the shade and protection offered the wreck’s overhang. Its bones were a clean white, indicating it was fresh. The sand underneath it was a dark maroon, probably blood. But most intriguing of all was the egg it was curled around, lying on a little blanket, the edge closer to the skeleton marred with more dried blood.

Far too big to be an eggler even if this was an area they showed up in, the splotches of dark green and magenta on it made it pretty clear that it was a grumpus egg andthat it couldn’t have come from anyone in Snaxburg. Not that there’d been any real question about the latter given the skeleton curled around it. But… none of this really added up.

It wasn’t too terribly long ago that Buddy had been down this way and in this wreck, their sense of time was very off these days but it couldn’t have been much longer than a week or two. While it was perfectly possible a grumpus had washed up here on a raft or something, crawled their way up here and then died, presumably via injuries judging based off the blood, it wasn’t possible for their body to have rotted all the way to bones yet. And even if there was something around that could eat a corpse, the bones looked undisturbed and unchewed on in general. So… where had it come from?

They lifted their camera to take some pictures, being sure to get some from as many different angles as possible just in case they needed to look over the undisturbed scene again later. Then, careful of the weight of their full backpack, Buddy crouched down to get a better look. First, they poked skeleton and then leaned in to sniff it, learning nothing. Next, they pinched up some of the red sand and lifted it to their mouth. Gagging they turned their head to spit because while they’d definitely confirmed it was blood it tasted foul, whether that was because it was several days old or something else, they didn’t know enough to say, either way they regretted decided to taste it.

After shaking off their disgust, they turned back to look at the skeleton and its egg. They needed to investigate more but also… they couldn’t leave the egg out here unattended. It was possible it had already been left out too long and thus it was too late for it but they had no way to know that for sure right now so… with a sigh, Buddy picked it up before straightening. Holding it to their chest with one paw, they pulled Sprout’s buggy ball out of their pouch and then pushed the egg in there instead. While it was about the same size, the oblong shape making it a bit bigger, it was notably heavier, making its presence uncomfortably hard to not be aware of but they’d live.

They pulled their backpack off to shove Sprout inside for now. There was barely enough room for him and he didn’t sound happy as they zipped it up but he’d just have to deal with it for a little while because they had some more investigating to do.

~

Any evidence about the skeleton or how it had come to be there had long since been obliterated by the wind and sea, leaving the mystery disappointingly unsolvable. Buddy searched high and low all over Boiling Bay and then Shimmering Springs too for good measure and found a whole lot of nothing, not even any shed fur anywhere or more dried blood. There was a notable lack of snakpods that weren’t high up though, indicating it was likely the mysterious grumpus had found and eaten them before succumbing to their wounds and somehow rotting away to nothing but a skeleton.

It was nearing midday by the time Buddy decided to give up and drag themself back to Snaxburg. While they weren’t squeamish about skeletons or dead bodies in general, they’d rather not take a nap next to one if they didn’t have to. Besides they still had the egg and what to do with it to worry about.

The first thing they did upon reaching town was drop their backpack off in Lizbert’s hut. Almost everyone would be expecting food but they’d all have to wait a little bit longer. Next, they went to the research tent.

“There’s a skeleton out in Boiling Bay,” they said as they sidled up to Floofty at their work table. “It’s in the wreck you used to live in. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Floofty looked up from the lollive they were dissecting with a sigh. “No. Even if I had any use for a skeleton, why would I leave it out there? And if you’re implying I killed someone, you’d also be incorrect. You can check around town to confirm everyone’s still alive if you don’t believe me.”

“Nah, I didn’t think you had anything do with it. I was just making sure since it’s in your old shelter and not many of the others ever go out to there.” Also if anyone in Snaxburg was responsible for it in one way or another they were near if not right at the top of list of likely candidates.

“Good. Now leave, I’m busy.” They lifted a paw to make a shooing gesture at them before looking back down at their work.

Buddy would’ve gladly left to go take a nap somewhere but they still had the egg sitting heavy in their pouch. Floofty wasn’t a doctor but they clearly knew some stuff and thus might be able to determine if the grumpling inside was still alive or not, thus saving Buddy another long trek up to Frosted Peak to ask Eggabell. So they pulled it out, placing it gently on the table. “I found this next to it. I figure you might be able to figure out if it’s been left out too long or whatever.”

Floofty paused for a moment before putting their tools down and shifting their attention solely to the egg. They carefully picked it up to hold up and turn in their paws, examining it from all angles. “Hmm…” The looked at Buddy again. “You found it next to the skeleton?”

“Yep. It’s really weird. Clearly, they died recently but… only their skeleton and a bit of dried blood are left behind. I looked everywhere for more but… there was nothing.”

“That is odd. Very well, I shall examine the egg. Later I would like to look over the skeleton as well.”

“Awesome. I’m going to go take a nap.”

They were awoken by the sound of raised voices. Their own fault for choosing to sleep in Lizbert’s hut with not only the door ajar but the window open as well. It was still annoying though. They could move and sleep elsewhere or close everything or heck, even just roll over and pull a pillow over their head to cover their ear holes but… what was everyone fighting about?

“…totally can take care of it by myself,” Gramble was saying, his voice two steps away from having a protective growl in it.

“Yeah, right.” Cromdo scoffed. “You’re half-starved and go wondering around and often outof town almost every night, no way you could take proper care of it and the grumpling when it hatches.”

Ah, they were fighting about the egg. Not surprising honestly but… why was it so hard for everyone to get along?

“So I should be the one to have it,” Cromdo continued.

“Hell no,” Beffica came in next. “You just want it for one your schemes.”

“She’s right.” Wambus, the only one not yelling so his voice was hard to make up from in here. “Ain’t no way anyone here would trust you with it.”

“Gramble and I are clearly the best suited to take care of it.” Wiggle. “Having a little grumpling might be the exact thing I need to spark my muse.”

“Uh, no offense Wiggle,” Beffica again, her tone making it clear offense was meant, “but taking responsibility for raising a kid is kind of a huge deal. Doing it because you want to ‘spark your muse’ is the wrong reason. And you know I hate to admit it but Cromdo’s actually right about something for once, Gramble’s barely keeping himself alive. Adding on taking care of an egg and then eventually a grumpling is a bit much.”

“Exactly!” Cromdo again. “Wait what do you…”

Gramble interrupted with a growl. “I can handle it. An egg is exactly what I’ve always wanted and now I finally got a chance and I ain’t letting any of ya’ll take it away from me.”

Wambus’ voice came in next. “Assuming you can somehow keep it alive long enough on your own, you’re going to teach it not to eat bugsnax and then it’s going to starve to death then.”

“Buddy already said after they finish publishing their story they’ll come back with food supplies for me so it’ll be fine.”

“Can I hold it?” Chandlo surprisingly cut in next. “Just for a bit.”

“Sure,” Triffany said, indicating she’d been the one holding it before.

The argument resumed after that but Buddy stopped paying attention as they rolled over and pulled the pillow over their head, muffling the voices to be near inaudible. They were curious about how it was going to play out but not enough to stay awake any longer for now. They’d ask for an update on it whenever they woke up properly.

They woke feeling not well rested – such was never the case these days and thus not worth trying for anymore – but good enough to go about their day and pretend they were fine. After forcing themself out of bed, they weren’t around town, doling out the fruits of their earlier hunting and donating everything left over to Gramble’s barn. They then returned to Filbo who was doing his rounds around town.

“What happened with the egg?” they asked as they fell into step with him.

“Oh uh… Floofty examined it and said it’s okay. And then as soon as word spread about it everyone fought about who should take care of it. No one wanted to trust anyone else with it for one reason or another. Eventually Chandlo suggested everyone could just take turns with it. Which no one was happy about at first but then we talked about it some more and that’s the best way to do it for now since everyone was fighting about who was going to adopt it.”

“Interesting solution. Who’s all taking turns with it?”

“Gramble, Wiggle, Beffica, Triffany, Cromdo, and Chandlo. I wanted a turn too but… Beffica pointed that I tend to be a bit uh… clumsy so maybe I shouldn’t have a turn since I’d probably break it or lose it or… something.” He let out a heavy sigh, sagging a little before perking back up. “She’s right though so… I don’t mind.” He’d never told a more obvious lie. “I can keep updated on it through just doing my normal stuff around town.”

“Hmm… it was great talking to you. I have something I need to go take care of though.”

“Uh… okay. See you later,” he said after them.

Beffica was in Filbo’s hut again, snooping. She jumped and even squeaked a little, as Buddy tapped her on the shoulder. “Oh, hey Bestie,” she said as she turned to face them. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

Buddy normally would’ve apologized but they weren’t very happy with her right now so they went straight to business instead. “You need to let Filbo have turns watching the egg too.”

“Uh… why?”

“Because he wants to.”

“But… he’s Filbo.” She gestured with her paws as if her point were the most obvious thing the world.

Crossing their arms as they stared at her, Buddy didn’t respond.

It took her a few seconds but finally she sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine. If you think he can be trusted with it, I’ll talk to the others about him getting a turn too.”

“Good. Thanks bestie.” They lifted a paw to fist bump her turning to leave. They had tasks and stuff they needed to get back to.

-

Not even a full two weeks later and everyone in town had been scheduled into have a turn pouching the egg. Even Floofty and Snorpy, the two Buddy would’ve thought the least likely to want anything to do with it. And a few weeks later when they finally convinced Shelda to return to town it wasn’t long before she’d basically taken on a grandma role to the egg, having her own occasional turn with it.

Buddy was the only one who didn’t have a turn taking care of it. They were too busy running around doing stuff and working on their story. They’d hopefully be free of this cursed island soon anyway so there was no need for them to get involved with it much.

But seeing everyone start to get along around the egg was nice. There was still fighting and disagreements but overall everyone was trending towards being nicer to each other. It was more than Buddy could’ve asked or hoped for, hopefully it would continue into raising the grumpling once the egg hatched.

~

I'm ending it here because a lot of the other ideas proposed for the AU are pretty scattered timewise which would make it hard to cover them in this fic quickly and coherently. But know, post game everyone ends up living in one big house to take care of the egg and there's polyamory stuff and more eggs going on in the group.

[sohotthateveryonedied]

I’ve Never Felt So Helpless

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

“Tim.”

“In fact, I think we’ve both earned a quiet night in with food and shitty movies and snuggles and—”

“Tim!”

“What?”

“You’re bleeding.”

Tim looks down where she points at a spot on his neck, and—was that stinging sensation always there? He touches the part of his cowl that covers his neck. His glove comes away covered in blood. “Oh.” Now that he’s aware of it, he can feel the blood rushing from the wound at a speed that he’s fairly certain wounds aren’t supposed to bleed at. “That’s not good.”

Tim is a simple man, no matter what anyone else says. Does he fight crime in tights? Yes, and proudly. Does he guiltily watch the occasional Riverdale episode because he had a crush on Cole Sprouse growing up and owes this to his prepubescent self? Obviously. Would he like to enjoy a relaxing night every once in a while, devoid of supervillains and near-death experiences? One hundred percent. Tim has stated this precise case upwards of a dozen times tonight, yet here he is, exhausted and covered in plant matter from a fight with Poison Ivy. All because Steph wanted to handle Ivy’s escape from Arkham themselves despite the fact that she and Tim specifically asked for tonight off so they could have some alone time for the first time in weeks. Tim bought sparkling cider, dammit. “You are way too hung up on this,” Stephanie says, wringing out her hair from when Ivy chucked her into a pond. They stand together on a rooftop, watching the final squad car pull away from the scene. It is not nearly as satisfying as it should be. “I wanted one night. One.” “There will be other nights, Tim. Besides, we caught Ivy before she could do any major damage. I call that a job well done.” “At the cost of our date night!” “Oh, like you’ve never canceled plans to fight crime. You’ve blown me off for supervillains plenty of times. So have I. But this time, we got to do it together, which I think counts as a date night.” “It doesn’t, actually. Normal people do things like going out to dinner, catching a movie, taking romantic walks on the beach. I want to be like that.” Steph turns to face him. She plants her hands on her hips. “Tim.” “And, you know, I can’t remember the last time we got to have a date night that didn’t involve punching someone. Do you know how insane that is?” “Tim.” “In fact, I think we’ve both earned a quiet night in with food and shitty movies and snuggles and—” “Tim!” “What?” “You’re bleeding.”

Tim looks down where she points at a spot on his neck, and—was that stinging sensation always there? He touches the part of his cowl that covers his neck. His glove comes away covered in blood. “Oh.” Now that he’s aware of it, he can feel the blood rushing from the wound at a speed that he’s fairly certain wounds aren’t supposed to bleed at. “That’s not good.” Steph is in front of him in an instant, one hand pressed against his neck and making him hiss. “How does the world’s greatest detective not realize he’s got a giant gash in his neck?” Should Tim be feeling this woozy already? It must be the adrenaline rushing out, leaving him a puppet without strings. “There was a razor vine, but I thought it missed me.” His legs shake, dangerously close to giving out. Steph takes notice and helps lower him to the ground so they’re on their knees, facing each other. “Clearly, it didn’t. Take your cowl down, let me see.” Tim obeys. Steph has to let go of the wound for a moment so he can loosen the cape from around his neck. It’s only a second, but Tim already feels warm blood seeping down his collar, soaking into the fabric of his uniform. “Shit,” Steph hisses when she gets a good look. Her hands fly back to press against the wound. “How bad is it?” “Bad.” She fumbles in her belt for a pad of gauze. She pins it to his throat, trying to keep the blood inside of him where it belongs. “It didn’t hit an artery, did it?” That would...well, it would be pretty damn bad. Life-threatening, if it isn’t already. “I don’t think so. The gash is too low.” She presses harder when blood leaks from a gap in her fingers. “It shouldn’t be bleeding this much, should it? The wound isn’t even that big. I don’t think your blood is clotting like it should.” Tim goes even paler than he already is. “Oh.” “Oh?” “Ivy. She sprayed me with something.” He winces as the wound throbs. “During the fight.” “Are you kidding me? You couldn’t have mentioned that earlier?” “I was busy! And I felt fine, so I figured I would run a blood test when we got back to the cave. I didn’t think she would do something to my blood.” “Damn it. Okay.” Steph closes her eyes, thinking. “Can you reach your communicator?” “Yeah, I think so.” Tim reaches for his utility belt, tilting his head to see better. That small motion causes Steph’s hand to slip, allowing another gush of blood to spurt from his neck. “Shit, shit, shit.” She repositions, gets a better grip on the wound. “Don’t move your head.” Tim swallows nervously. “We good now?” “I think so. Just...be careful, okay? Small movements. You’ve already lost too much blood, so I want to keep you as plugged up as possible.” “Kinky.” “Shut up.” Tim manages to locate the communicator and turn it on. Just in time, too. It’s getting harder and harder to focus, the blood drying on his neck and sticking to his skin. If he wasn’t anemic before, he certainly is now. The communicator crackles. “You’ve got Oracle. I thought you and Batgirl were off duty tonight.” “We are,” Steph says. “Listen, can you patch me through to whoever can hypothetically get me and Red Robin to the cave as fast as humanly possible?” “What happened?” “We had a run-in with Ivy. She’s taken care of, but she did something to Red. Something to keep his blood from clotting. He’s got a laceration on his throat and I’m trying to stop the bleeding, but I don’t know how much longer we have.” “Sending an ambulance to your location.” “Negative. His face is uncovered, so a regular hospital is off the table. It needs to be the Batcave.” “Got it, I’ll transfer you to Batman. He can take you in the Batmobile. I’ll call Leslie Thompkins and have her meet you guys there.” “Tell her to hurry.” Steph’s voice wavers, anxious. Tim wants to reassure her that he’ll be fine, but it’s getting more and more difficult to concentrate, like he’s a radio trying to tune to the right station. He tips forward and presses his forehead against Steph’s shoulder, his body sagging. She keeps him upright, careful not to loosen her grip on the gauze. Finally, the communicator beeps. “Batman here. What is it?” Steph runs through their situation again, leaving Tim free to drift as he pleases. Steph is warm against him, like a fresh latte. There’s blood in her hair. Tim runs his fingers through the bloody patches, trying to separate the clumps. Something prods his shoulder. “Hm?” “I asked how you’re doing.” Bruce doesn’t sound nervous—he never does. But Tim knows him better than most. He can tell when he’s worried. “I’m hanging in,” Tim manages. “How long ‘til you get here?” “I’m ten minutes out. You think you can hold on until then?” “Mm-hm.” Honestly, Tim isn’t sure if he can. But at least Bruce won’t worry as much if he thinks Tim is going to be okay. “Batgirl, do either of you have an Ivy antidote on you?” “I have a couple for her general toxins, but I don’t know how they’d do with this one. Should I give it a shot anyway?” “No, it might make things worse. Keep me updated on his condition. I’ll be there as fast as I can. Batman, out.” A click. Tim tosses aside the communicator, uncaring of whether he turned it off properly or not. The ground rocks beneath him, like the rooftop is floating on a roiling ocean. Steph’s free hand runs through his hair, soothing on his scalp. “Sweetie, are you still with me?” “Mm.” “Stay awake, okay? Just for a little longer.” Tim nods against her shoulder. Steph releases a breath. “Good. Now, do you think you can reach into my belt and get some more gauze? This one is soaked through.” Already? That’s a bad sign. Tim doesn’t move his head from her shoulder. “Which pocket?” “Uh...second one on the left of my right hip, I think? I usually go by muscle memory.” Tim checks the pocket and finds no gauze, but there is a stick of gum and a few rubber bands. “Next to that one, maybe?” Still nothing. “Steph, do you actually know what you’re doing?” “Look, it’s easier when I can see it, okay? Here, bunch up your cape. I can use that for now until Bruce gets here.” It takes some careful maneuvering for Tim to reach his cape without moving his head or neck, but he manages to fold it the best he can. He hands it to Steph, so brings it close to the wound. “Okay,” she says. “I’m going to switch off now. Ready?” Tim nods. “Do it.” She’s quick about it. She yanks away the soiled gauze and replaces it with the cape in seconds, but blood eagerly spills out as soon as it’s free. Tim’s vision goes blotchy, the darkness behind his eyelids sprinkled with stars. He hisses when Steph crams the fabric against the wound hard enough to make him want to jerk away. He doesn’t, though, just digs his fingers into her shoulder and takes deep breaths through his teeth. “Sorry, sorry,” she murmurs. “It’ll stop hurting in a bit.” She presses a kiss to his hair. “I’ve got the bleeding under control, I think.” “You think or you know?” “I think.” That’s not at all reassuring. Even so, Tim finds that he doesn’t mind as long as it’s Steph with him. He would gladly put his life in her hands, and now that he’s here, he’s content. He trusts her. “Tim?” “Hm?” “I changed my mind.” “On what?” “We should have done a date night instead.” Tim snorts, but it’s weak. More a huff than anything. “This isn't so bad. ‘Least we’re together.” “Yeah, covered in blood on a freezing rooftop. Very romantic.” Tim hums, presses his nose to her neck and closes his eyes. She smells like lavender. “You’re pretty.” “Stop that.” “Stop what?” “Stop talking like you’re dying.” “‘m just making an observation. You’re pretty.” There is blood covering both of their uniforms, smeared across the bat symbol on Steph’s chest. Her face glistens with sweat from the fight, and there’s a bruise on the side of her jaw. She’s still gorgeous. “You’re a dork.” Tim hums. His stomach rolls and his heart picks up until he can feel it throbbing in his skin, like his pulse is racing to get out. He closes his eyes. “I don’t feel good.” “Bruce is going to be here in a few minutes. Hang in there, alright?” How much blood has he lost by now? Two pints? Three? How much longer does he have before the point of no return? Even as Steph keeps pressure against the wound, he can feel rivulets running down his neck. She can’t keep the bleeding at bay forever. “I love you...y’know that?” “Don’t say that. I’m not kidding.” “Someone should...should feed m’cat. Ruby’s tiny, but she eats a lot.” “Bruce is on his way, Tim. You’re gonna be fine. Don’t fall asleep yet.” “I’m losing blood,” he mumbles against her shoulder. “Humans...need blood to survive. ‘m gonna go into hypovolemic shock soon, and then it’s over.” He can barely lift his head now. There are weights attached to his eyelids. “Stay awake, Tim. You hear me?” Steph’s voice trembles, and Tim feels awful for putting her through this. She deserves better. “You’re not dying. I won’t let that happen.” Tim wants to reassure her, to tell her she’s right, if only to keep her from making those shaky crying noises. There are tears dripping on his shoulder. He wants to stick around, keep Stephanie from feeling the hurt that’s about to come, but his pulse is racing too quickly to keep up with blood it can’t circulate. He hears Steph’s voice somewhere above, calling his name, but she’s too far away. Tim lets himself sink into the darkness.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Steph hasn’t changed out of her uniform yet. She knows she should. She’s sticky, covered in blood that dries on her suit in rusty red flakes. The blood is thick in her hair, on her hands, soaked into the fabric over her knees. Tim’s blood.

She can still feel it—feel Tim’s fluttering pulse under her fingertips, growing weaker and weaker with every passing second. The weight of him against her shoulder, slumped as if he was already dead. And then the agonizing moment where she felt him let go, sagging against her like a corpse. She wants to forget it. To forget this entire night, wipe it clean from her memory. Pretend that everything is still okay, even when it isn’t. “How are you doing?” Steph looks up at Bruce. She didn’t even hear him come in. He hands her a cup of coffee, which she takes in cold hands. “I’m fine.” Her voice suggests otherwise. “He’s going to be okay.” Steph looks back at Tim asleep on the medical cot, his skin as pale as a cadaver's. A bag of O-negative hands beside the bed, pumping blood into his body through an IV. Another IV pricks his other arm, delivering the antitoxin. He looks dead. He was unconscious for a full three minutes before Bruce arrived on that rooftop, lifeless in Steph’s arms. It was the most terrifying three minutes of her life. “Stephanie.” Bruce’s face is stern but sympathetic, his eyes gazing into her own. “You did good tonight.” “He nearly died.” “But he didn’t. You saved his life. And for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you.” Steph can count on one hand the number of times Bruce has said that to her. He puts a hand on her shoulder. “Alfred prepared a room for you upstairs. You look like you could use some sleep.” Steph shakes her head. “I think I’ll stay here for a while. Just until he wakes up.” Bruce nods and leaves, his footsteps echoing off the cave walls. Steph reaches out and grasps one of Tim’s cold hands in her own. His fingertips were pale before, almost blue, but they are slowly returning to their rightful shade. She sighs. Fuck it. She leaves the coffee on her chair and climbs into the bed beside Tim, pulling herself close and resting her head on his chest. She can hear his heartbeat under her ear, steady and unfaltering. She closes her eyes. “Don’t do that again, okay?” she whispers. “Or I’ll resurrect you just to kill you myself.”

[bookswitchcraftandcats]

Rainy Days (Part 4 of 4)

Link to AO3 -----  Part 1  Part 2  Part 3

Summary: Emma and Julian are in charge of the London Institute for a week and find a box that once belonged to Cordelia Carstairs and contains poems written to her by James Herondale. The story switches between Emma and Julian and oneshots about things that happened in Jordelia's life to inspire the poems.

Sorry if the formatting for the poems is messed up, I tried.

Thank you all so much for reading this story, I really enjoyed writing it <3

---------------------------------------------------------------------

“Daisies must have been her favorite flower or something” Emma says as they look around the room. Looking now that was a very obvious statement. Even some of the blankets neatly folded on the end of the bed had daisies embroidered on them. The wall paper was lined with a daisy print and on the box itself was intricately carved flowers. There are also some very old flowers that were carefully pressed and put in the box next to the poems. They were afraid to touch them for fear that they would fall apart. 

“Yeah, maybe I will do a painting of her when we go home,” Julian says thoughtfully, “I should include some daisies if I do.” 

“I’m sure it will be great,” Emma says thinking of his other paintings. He has done so many great pieces that if he was a mundane she was sure his work would be in an art gallery. The institute itself had turned into a sort of gallery these days, some people visited just to see the murals Julian painted on the walls.

They both were laying back on the bed and Jules had his arm around Emma. This was a nice day off after the busy day they had yesterday, they had run into some demons by the river and were outnumbered. Luckily, Emma is the best shadowhunter of their generation. Her wielding Cortana was definitely a scene he wanted to paint when he got home. The grace of her movements when she was fighting was like a dance, he could never quite capture the movement with a set of acrylics. 

He checked his watch, they had plenty of time before Jem and Tessa would get here. 

“We should read another poem,” he suggested. “They are kind of interesting to see what they said to each other 100 years ago.”

“Ok, I will,” she says, reaching into the box again for another poem. There was one titled Rainy Days.

“That seems fitting for today,” Julian says, glancing out the window. Emma reads the poem aloud.

Rainy Days

Outside the sky is dark and gray, The rain falls in puddles on the ground, We are in the library by the fireplace, Listening as it down pours all afternoon.

The heat of the flames warms the room, You by my side warms my heart. Even on the darkest of dreary days, You light up everything by being there.

Now you are asleep next to me, While I write about our day. I'm starting to think that I quite like, These warm and rainy days.

It was another rainy spring day in London, the snow had just melted and it was still very cold out. You could hear the wind blowing all around outside, it was quite the stormy day. None of the merry thieves or their family members would be venturing out today, they too were curled up by a fire, just like Cordelia and James. 

James now looked at the sleeping Cordelia on his lap, she looked so at peace. Her soft red hair was undone and free from it’s unusual style, he combed his fingers gently through it. He thought about the day they had had. Today was very good weather for writing. With a notebook in his hand he began to come up with ideas. 

------

“Good morning,” Cordelia says, sitting next to James at the kitchen table. She poured a cup of tea and looked out the window, it was raining very hard and forming puddles in the street. 

“Good morning” James responds, reaching for some breakfast, “Looks like any plans for today are cancelled”

“I think it is far too cold to go adventuring in London,” Cordelia says with a shiver, it was almost spring but they still had many cold days ahead of them. 

They finished their breakfast talking about rain and what crazy things their friends have been up to lately. Christopher had been working on a new invention, Mathew caused some trouble at the Hell Ruelle, nothing much different than usual. They then decided to head upstairs to the study where they could sit by the warm fire and play a game of chess. 

“Shâm-Mât” Cordelia says, winning her 12th consecutive game in a row. James just laughs as they reset the board for another game. There isn’t much to do and he is still holding on to hope that he can win at least one round.

“You're too good at this,” James says with a smirk. She has always been brilliant at battle strategy, she could outsmart any opponent she faced. He looked at her with a smile as she planned her next move, her face was full of concentration. He could feel her plotting his demise. 

They played chess until it was time for lunch, the sky was still gray with rain clouds. They then decided to venture to the library to look for a book to read on this cold and rainy day. James walked over to put more wood on the fire while Cordelia went to look for a book. They settled on the couch by the fire, Cordelia leaning her head against James’s shoulder while he read from an old volume of The Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens. There were a lot of Dickens novels in the library mostly from James’s parents' fascination with the author. Will and Tessa were both staying in Wales for a week and were not at the institute, it was just James and Cordelia. 

She began to fall asleep and he smiled as he see the book on the night stand. He grabbed his notebook and began to write. 

---------

So now James was still sitting on the couch trying to write a poem about the letter but he realized the poem wasn’t what he should be writing about, he spent the whole day with Cordelia and she was more fierce and interesting than any storm. 

______________________________

“That was very fitting for today,” Emma says, putting the poems back in the box. She looks at the time quickly, Jem and Tessa would be there soon. 

“It must rain here a lot,” Julian says, “I miss the beach” They laugh, they would be back in LA soon enough to deal with the chaos that ensues there. 

They had just renovated the institute more and had been busy painting more murals on the walls. They also updated their computer and Jules got a laptop which made some things easier and more organized. 

They hear footsteps coming down the hall and Tessa looks into the room. 

“I see you found James and Cordelia’s room,” she says with a smile. 

“I haven’t been here in years,” Jem says looking around the room. Tessa was looking at the box in Emma’s hands. 

“I see you found Cordelia’s jewelry box,” Tessa smiles as though she is remembering her, “She is an ancestor of yours, she was a Carstairs before she married my son.” 

“James, right? Did he write poetry?” Emma asks. Tessa looked a bit confused.

“Yes, he did. But I thought I had all his notebooks saved at my house, did you find one?” 

“We didn’t find a whole notebook but we did find a few poems he wrote to Cordelia.” Jules says. Emma opens the box and pulls out the pieces of paper. 

“I always wondered where the ripped out pages went, I always assumed they were just rough drafts that got tossed away.” She paused for a moment, “did you two happen to find a book called The Beautiful Cordelia. I have been looking for it for a while now and I know Cordelia had it.”

Emma pointed over to the shelf they had originally found the box on. Tessa pulled out the leather bound book that had The Beautiful Cordelia across the top in fancy calligraphy and a small “by Lucie Herondale” on the bottom. 

“Thank you,” Tessa said, holding the book. Jem was looking at something across the room. 

“Hey, did some of our stuff get moved up here too,” he asked, picking up a stele. 

“I think so, did you find something?” Tessa asks. 

“This was Will’s stele,” He says, handing it to her and looking slightly incredulous. “How much of our stuff is still here?” Tessa laughs.

“Leave some for the other generations, we don’t want to fill our house with 100 years worth of clutter.” 

They all turn to leave and go get something to eat. They would never forget the poems they found, the remnants of someone else's rainy day, of another time period far away yet so near to them. While the day was dreary, dark, and wet, never let the weather depict whether there is a storm cloud raining on your day off.

_____________________________

Cordelia looks at the poems one more time with a smile before placing them in her new jewelry box. It had been an anniversary gift from James. It is wooden with her name and intricate little daisies carved onto it. The box truly is beautiful. It had been raining so she took the opportunity to organize a bit but now the sun was peeking out from behind the clouds. 

James walked over and kissed her on the cheek while she latched the box shut. 

“ We were invited to a picnic in the park, just the usual group. Do you want to go?” He asks, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 

“That sounds lovely,” she says, standing up from the bed and carrying the box over to the shelf. She puts it between The Beautiful Cordelia and a book of persian mythology her mother had given her. She slipped on her shoes and took James’s hand. They walked off happy as can be, standing in the sun for a change instead of being stuck inside on those rainy days.

Tag list: @fortheloveofthecarstairs  @thehotfaeriethreesome  @shadowrunner2000  @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @surrounded-by-exquisite-clutter @gabtapia  @niathesanctuary-bolastair-kanej

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list :)

[starrynite7114]

everything is you: four

A/N: My lovelies! Happy weekend! So, I got carried away and wrote over 8000 words for this update. You all had me so inspired with just the feedback you’ve given this story. I am truly honored by all your comments, reactions, likes and everything. I hope you all will continue to support and like the story! This is just the beginning and it’s going to get better from here! 

All of your reaction to Angel was absolutely amazing! Hope he wins you some of you back on this update!

I hope to post some other content by the end of the weekend! Whether its snapshots or a request, I will try my best to post something!

Requests are open if you lovely peeps would like to make a request!

Love you all! <3

everything is you

one : two : three

Word count: 8466

Masterlist

Request list

tagged list: @justahopelessssromantic : @ifoundmyhappythought : @carlaangel86 : @marvelmaree : @woahitslucyylu : @encounterthepast : @enamoured-x : @whyisgmora : @briana-mishell24 : @bribri-82 : @briannab1234 : @chibsytelford : @agirllovespasta : @twistnet : @everyhowlmarksthedead : @trulysuccubus : @jadert15 : @sammskellington : @cind-in-real-life : @mheart27 : @claytoncardenasbabymama : @sadeyesgf : @thickemadame : @summertimesadnesswithadashofsass : @gemini0410 : @elcococruz : @samcrobae : @sesamepancakes : @iambabyharry : @blackmissfrizzle : @soamayansfangirl : @1-800-imagines : @phoenixhalliwell : @lady-pswrld : @dazzledamazon  : @getyourcrayoncas : @nich0lasmatthews : @lukealvxz : @scuzmunkie : @nakusaych9 : @danie1432 : @cocotheclown : @soaronmywings : @my-rosegold-soul : @buttercup812 : @itskiranbitch : @angelreyesgirl : @sheeshgivemeabreak : @vicmackeybullshxt : @bigcreatorwombatdreamer : @khyharah : @strawberrywritings : @cherry-icetea : @fuzzy-jellyfish : @losolvidad0s : @brownsugarcoffy​ : @courtrae89 

If you would like to be added to the tag list, please leave a comment or shoot me with a message! My memory can be awful at times, please don’t be shy to remind me! 

CREDIT TO THE ORIGINAL GIF CREATOR

Angel watched as Cruz walked in front of him, trying to not be annoyed with Alena. It was her so called friendly date last night and she didn’t answer her phone and she didn’t come home. Now, Angel wanted to be reasonable that she fell asleep or drank too much after her date, but his irrational side was winning. Did Alena sleep with him? Did he take advantage of his sweet innocent Alena? 

Cruz stopped in front of the door, waiting for his father to open it. Angel unlocked the door letting Cruz run inside. He closed the door and he almost fucking lost it.

Victor was chuckling walking out of Alena’s bedroom, with her following after him, messy hair and giggling. 

“The fuck is this?” Angel let out before he could stop himself.

“Mommy! You had a sleepover without me?” Cruz pouted, running to Alena’s arms. She picked him up, trying not to look at Angel. She knew how bad this looked, but they were binge watching Umbrella Academy and fell asleep.

Completely innocent.

Completely platonic.

But she knew Angel wouldn’t give a fuck.

This was so confusing for her. He was acting like a jealous husband, but he had stated multiple times he wasn’t interested.

“Hey, man, sorry about that. I know your routine but we fell asleep binge watching Umbrella Academy.” Victor explained but he could tell nothing was even registering. “I’m gonna go, I’ll talk to you later sweetheart.” He kisses her cheeks before fist bumping Cruz. He nodded his head at Angel, but his eyes were just on Alena. 

When Victor was gone, Angel just shook his head. “Where’s your phone? Do you not know how to charge your phone?” He was trying to hide his annoyance but he couldn’t.

“I, it was on silent, sorry.” Alena rarely put her phone on silent, just in case Cruz has an emergency. But last night, she really wanted to enjoy her night out with Victor, a pure adult outing that she didn’t know she needed. Carla was right, she gave so much to Angel and Cruz, mommy needs a break too.

“How was your date?” Angel moved past her and into her bedroom. He had to check, make sure there was no fucking condoms. 

Fuck, what if she let him go bare. 

No fuck that.

“We didn’t do anything Angel. We really just watched Netflix.” Alena knew what Angel was doing and she wanted to smack him for even thinking she would sleep with Victor. Their situation was different, which was why she slept with Angel, but not anymore, she had to be strong. No more crossing boundaries. Kisses were acceptable, but sex, absolutely not. 

“I know, I saw Umbrella Academy pop up on my tv.” Angel turned to her, hands on his hips. “This is ridiculous Alena, you can’t just silence your phone. What if there was an emergency?” He was being unreasonable, he knew, but this was bothering him. How could she even go on this dinner with Victor? She was basically entertaining the idea of giving him a chance. 

“Why is daddy mad?” Cruz wrapped his arms around Alena’s neck, whispering it into her ear. 

“Daddy isn’t mad, he’s just frustrated cause Mommy’s phone was off again.” Alena kissed Cruz’s cheek. “You’re not mad, right daddy?” 

Angel wanted to scream. How can she call him daddy with Cruz right there? He knew her meaning right now was obviously different, but she was driving him crazy. He tried to initiate sex with her four times and each and every time, Alena rejected him. She’ll let him kiss her, but as soon as he even tried to take it to the next level? Fucking forget about it. Now, he was sexually frustrated and everything going on with the club, he could just take so much.

“No Cruzito, daddy isn’t mad.” Angel narrowed his eyes at Alena who had a knowing smirk on her face. “But aren’t you mad at mommy? She promised you that she would come home when we called her yesterday and she didn’t come home. She had a sleepover without you.”

It was now Alena’s turn to narrow her eyes at Angel. How dare he try to use Cruz against her. 

“Cruzie, you’re mad at mama?” Alena pouted and Angel groaned inwardly knowing Cruz’s answer.

“I can never be mad at you mama.” Cruz kissed Alena, hugging her, his cheek against hers.

Alena smirked at Angel who rolled his eyes. 

“Cruzito, you’re gonna throw papi under the bus like that?” 

“Mommy’s my favorite.” Cruz continued to hold Alena.

“Cruz, what about all the times you and I spend together? When mommy comes, daddy is thrown away?” Angel crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head. “Ooh, you two just wait, when we have a little girl cielo, me and her are going to have tea parties and you’re not invited.”

“A little girl? We’re having more kids?” Alena wasn’t aware of this plan. Cruz always asked them for a playmate, to ask the stork for a playmate, but Alena and Angel were always able to weasel their way out of it. At times, Alena was wondering when Angel was going to have another kid. And if he did have another kid, what happened then? Though, Angel always seemed devoted to her and Cruz, but they technically weren’t together regardless of the rings on their fingers. Angel had discussed having another kid with her and he would tell her unless she was the mom, he didn’t want another kid. If she was being honest, with the amount of time her and Angel had sex without a condom on, she was surprised she wasn’t pregnant. She took a plan B a few times and she was currently on birth control. The only time Angel ever used a condom with her was when they first had sex otherwise, he was always bare. 

Which brought them back to Angel’s confusing words. He could be a thesis class in college. One day he was seemingly in love with her then the next day, it was like nothing happened. She was done with it and she was putting her foot down. The more distance she put between them, the better it would be at the end of them. It would be easier to break free.

That was a joke, but Alena had her hopes. 

“Oh, don’t play now cielo, we’re definitely having more kids. Right Cruzito? You want a playmate?”

“Yes!” Cruz cheered. “Halmeoni (grandma) is waiting for us.” 

“Oh, right, let me get ready.” Alena handed Cruz to Angel. 

Before she could step away, Angel pulled her back and he kissed her, making Cruz giggle. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she bit her lip, running to her bathroom and locking the door behind her. 

Angel Reyes was going to be the death of her. 

=============

Angel parked his truck in front of Michelle’s home, making note of Bryan’s car. Alena hated the drive to her mother’s.  Angel gave her the fucking silent treatment after Victor came back to the apartment to drop off her phone. Her skirt didn’t have any pockets and they ended up walking around the beach after their dinner. He held her phone for her and she just forgot about it. She honestly lost herself in her conversation with Victor and that answer didn’t go well with Angel. 

“You’re really not going to talk to me?” She questioned as she unbuckled herself.

“Alena, let’s just get through dinner and we’ll talk later.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so angry, I didn’t do anything wrong. We had a friendly dinner, fell asleep while watching Umbrella Academy. You act like I committed some crime.”

“I told you not to go right? What would people think when they see a married woman out with a man alone?”

“This is the 21st century and it's normal.” She paused, a small smile appearing on her lips. “Are you jealous Angel Ignacio Reyes?” Angel was usually not unreasonable. He was a good guy with a big heart and tough guy exterior. But when it came to her, Alena, and his family, he was a sweetheart. This Angel was new, she’s never seen it before. Well, she has, whenever a guy was too close to her, but nowadays, that was rare.

These confusing feelings were getting a bit ridiculous.

“Yes, yes I am jealous.” Angel huffed and puffed. “You happy to hear that? I’m fucking jealous Alena so quit fucking around and stop seeing him.” 

“Why are you jealous? You said you don’t have feelings for me.”

Angel looked at Alena. He doesn’t, but she was the mother of his child. He just didn’t trust Victor, he didn’t feel comfortable. He fucking hated it that Alena’s attention was being taken by him. So many things were aggravating him, he didn’t even fucking know anymore. Did he have feelings for Alena? He was attracted to Alena, that much he knew, but something deeper than that. 

Fuck. 

No, he wasn’t going to let his jealousy and Victor’s obnoxious presence dictate his feelings.

He didn’t even fucking know anymore.

“Cielo, I haven’t been with another woman besides you for the last five years. I want you to sit on that.” Angel tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I think it’s cute you keep saying no to me, but you have needs too baby, and I’m sure your fingers could never satisfy you like how my fingers can.” 

Alena hated the effect Angel had on her. She wasn’t sure if it was that bad boy aura he had, the swag or whatever the fuck charm he had, but it was so hard with him at times. 

Alena pulled away, exiting the car. She opened the back door and unbuckled Cruz who was asleep. Thankfully their son was a heavy sleeper, he did not need to hear all of Angel’s words. 

She took him and almost gasped when she saw Angel right next to her. He closed the door and shot her a smirk as he took out a cigarette stick. She made her way up her mother’s driveway, the front door opening before she could even knock.

Her mother opened her mouth to greet her, but she saw the sleeping Cruz and quickly shut her mouth. 

“Umma(mother), how are you?” Alena greeted her mother, kissing her on the cheek. 

“I should beat you for avoiding me for four months, but I want to hear about this man you're dating so I will excuse you.” She teased, hugging her daughter. “I’ll take him.” Michelle took Cruz, placing him on the couch, a pillow next to him so he didn’t roll over and off the couch.

“You owe me.” She heard her older brother, Bryan beside her. 

She looked at him and narrowed her eyes. “Compared to the amount of times I’ve covered for you?”

“I’m kidding.” He pulled her into a hug, kissing the side of her head. “Where’s your shadow?”

“Right here.” Angel announced his presence, before giving Bryan a hug. “How are you?”

“Waiting for you two to have another damn kid so my mother can get off my back.” Bryan replies making both Angel and Alena laugh.

“We gave her Cruz, your turn.” Alena walked over to Mina, her brother’s girlfriend of nine years, giving her a hug. “You still haven’t gotten rid of him?”

“I’ve been trying, he always comes back.” Mina laughed. “How have you avoided your umma for that long?”

“I live in San Diego, it makes it much easier.” Alena giggled.

“My favorite son-in-law!” Michelle has such a soft spot for Angel. She remembered him when he was that punk ass fourteen year old who followed around her daughter. And look where they all were now. Still just friends with rings on their fingers. She never tried to understand their situation, it worked, that’s what mattered. And Cruz was so cute. Though she wasn’t on board at first, Alena was giving up her twenties for Angel and a woman’s son who had harmed Alena before. But she couldn’t tell her daughter anything when it came to Angel.

He’s always been her weakness, which has been her downfall.

Now, she’s almost thirty and doesn’t have a potential husband after this whole thing falls apart.

“Hey mom,” Angel greeted Michelle, chuckling at her enthusiasm. He hugged her tightly and kissed her cheek. “You always keep getting younger whenever I see you.”

“It’s called living alone.”

They all laughed. Michelle ushered them to the dining table where she prepared braised ribs, Tteokbokki, fried pork belly, and assorted side dishes. Angel loved coming to Michelle’s home. She always made such amazing food.

Michelle sat at the head of the table with Angel on one side and Bryan on the other. Alena looked over at Cruz who was still asleep. This didn’t bode well for later since that meant he would be wide awake.

“So, you’re dating someone? They got passed my son-in-law?” She pinched Angel’s cheeks. “Or did you wake up and realized you’re in love with my daughter?” She turned to her son. “Is this not odd to you? They’re married but he sleeps around and she’s dating someone? You kids. Aish, giving me heart palpitations.” Pointing at Bryan. “Cruz needs a playmate, you’ve been with Mina for nine years, time to pop one out.”

“Umma, we literally just sat down, can we eat first then you can pester us about our lives?” Bryan whined. He loves his mother, he really did, but he didn’t need to be constantly reminded he needed to have kids. It’s not like they weren’t trying.

“Yah, are you talking back to your Umma?”

Bryan looked at his sister. “Can you just tell her who you’re dating?” He wanted the spotlight off of him.

Alena laughed. She opened her mouth, but Angel beat her to it.

“She’s dating me.”

Everyone at the table gave Angel an incredulous look, in disbelief by his statement. Bryan knew Angel had a soft spot for his sister and one could pretend to be married for so long and not feel something. He never tried to understand their relationship and he still wasn’t.

“You’re what?” Michelle looked at Angel and Alena, unsure of what to make of the situation.

“We didn’t want to say anything until it was serious, but we’re dating.” Alena wanted to slap Angel. How can he tell her mother that? Does he not know her mother? She stepped on his foot, he turned to her and smirked, not even flinching that she stepped on his foot. He gave her a kiss as some type of resounding proof.

“This is amazing! I always knew you two would end up together.” Mina broke the silence between all of them.

“Not say anything until it was serious? You two are married, how much more serious do you two have to get?” Michelle rolled her eyes. “No matter, this is good! I’m glad you finally got your head out of your ass Ignacio.” She picked up the braised ribs, putting some on Angel’s plate. “Now, we gotta strengthen you up, mom wants at least three more grandkids.”

“Umma!” Alena was honestly too flabbergasted to answer her mother. Angel was going to hear it from her. He shouldn’t give her mother false hope like that.

“So no more matchmaking?” Angel was a devious little shit, but he didn’t give a fuck.  

“That’s what pushed you? Should have done it long ago.” Michelle kept placing food on Angel’s plate, making Bryan pout.

“Umma what about me?”

“Ssh, he can get me grandkids, you? That’s a debate. Mina, leave him.”

“Umma!”

Dinner went on without a hitch. Cruz ended up waking up and sat in between Alena and Angel. He eventually moved to see on his grandmother’s lap, loving the spoiling he was getting from her. 

“I’m glad you finally took a chance Angel.” Michelle and Angel were smoking outside on her porch while Alena and Mina cleaned up the kitchen for Michelle.

“Yeah? Sorry for taking so long, you know us men, take a while to realize we have a good thing.” Angel let out a puff. He enjoyed his time with Michelle. Not once did she make him feel like he wasn’t one of them. He was always included. 

“You always knew of your feelings for Alena, but you just didn’t think you deserve her.” Michelle has watched this dance between them. Angel only had serious girlfriends when Alena had a serious boyfriend. But Angel didn’t pull away from Alena, he always made his presence known and strong. He made sure that Alena’s boyfriend knew he was number one and there was nothing he could do to change that. Michelle had to admit, Angel’s lack of movement made her angry, but he also knew how Angel was. At least she knew that her daughter would always be protected but what worried her was, who protected Alena from Angel.

She knew Angel would never physically harm Alena, but emotionally? It was a different thing. Angel didn’t mean it, it was his defense mechanism. Which was why this whole situation worked out well for them. He had something to fall on because they’re married and he knew Alena would remain faithful while he got his head out of his ass.

So she was glad he finally did.

Angel let Michelle’s words sink in. Always had feelings for Alena? Again, he always found her attractive and he was drawn to her, but it was mostly attraction. 

“Naw, I just realized it recently.” Angel reasoned, blowing out smoke from his lips.

“Angel, why’d you date Valeria?”

“She was hot.” He smirked, earning a smack up the head from Michelle. “Okay, fuck. I don’t know, she was there and Alena was occupied by Dante. I couldn’t be single while Alena had someone.” The sadness that overtook him every time he watched Alena with another man was unbearable.

“What kind of reasoning is that? You should want to be with someone because you like them.”

“I did like Valeria, sort of.” Angel didn’t remember much of his relationship with Valeria. He saw her a few times a week. He knew she was married prior to their relationship because she still had their wedding picture on her nightstand. From what he understood, Victor and Valeria were already in the process of divorce but she was making it difficult for him. She was a warm body and entertained him enough when he would become irate with Alena for putting Dante before him.

Angel closed his eyes then, the realization hitting him.

“I dated Valeria because Alena was with Dante.” Angel’s foot began to move up and down then, throwing his cigarette butt and slipping another stick in between his lips. “I was going to ask out Alena and she brought Dante to the clubhouse.”

He decided that night to bury his feelings for Alena. 

It would never be their time he reasoned.

They weren’t meant to be.

So he turned to Valeria. Alena’s friend who hung onto his every fucking word.

“Angel, you are worthy of Alena. You’re the only person that makes my daughter as happy as she is. I’m glad you’ve realized that you’re in love with her too. And I’m glad she realized it too. You two have always drifted to one another and depended on one another.” Michelle threw her cigarette butt. “You’ve always been Alena’s hero, protecting her from the monsters of the real world, just fitting for you two to end up together. You deserve love too Angel, even though you like to sabotage your own relationships, I don’t think you’d survive without my daughter. Good job getting your head out of your ass.” She patted his shoulder. “Remember, grandkid, as soon as possible.”

She left Angel to ponder in his own thoughts.

Fuck.

Angel couldn’t do this. He shouldn’t have told Michelle that.

What does Michelle know anyway? Why would she even say that to him? 

“Fuck. I gotta get laid or something.”

=============

Angel parked his motorcycle under the shaded area, taking off his helmet and hanging it on the bar. He walked over to EZ, Gilly and Coco who were sitting down at the picnic table. Michelle’s words weighed heavy on him. The feelings he had for Alena were always so complicated. Angel had a savior complex, he had to admit that and he always ran whenever Alena called for him. He was this girl who needed his protection, someone he took care of, and they became adults. Alena turned into this beautiful young woman who was too kind for her own good. Someone who didn’t ask questions. She was always there for him and he knew he could count on her. She looked at him like he held the fucking world for her and at first, he thought that’s why he was attracted to her. For once, someone didn’t even look twice at EZ and just stayed on him.

But as the years passed, he quickly realized that wasn’t it. 

Sure, he liked being number one to her, but he fell for Alena because of Alena. He wanted to be the one she ran to always when she had troubles. He wanted to be the one she told all her deepest and darkest secrets to. He wanted to hold her at night and make sure she was safe. He wanted to see her pregnant with his child. He wanted so many things with her. They may have done things unconventionally, but he wanted something with her. 

To be with her forever.

Fuck.

He couldn’t be selfish with Alena, not like this. She wouldn’t be safe with him. She would prosper with him.

But did he really care? He couldn’t push Alena away even if he wanted to do so. 

Cruz loves her so much.

And fuck.

He loves her too, so fucking much that it was fucking suffocating at times. It was easier to be cold towards her because then he didn’t have to acknowledge the ache in his heart whenever she was away from him. He didn’t have to acknowledge the loneliness that seeped in when she wasn’t in his arms. 

This was fucking ridiculous. 

EZ and Coco looked at one another, trying their best to hide the laughter that wanted to come out. They’ve been called Angel for the past five minutes and he was just standing on his own, smoking. 

Fuck it.

Angel deserved some annoyance in his life.

“Angel, you in deep thoughts hermano, guess Alena’s date went well.” Coco teased.

“Did he get it in?” EZ couldn’t help it. If Angel couldn’t realized his feelings, they could push it out of him.

The two men laughed as Angel rolled his eyes at them. 

"Haha, glad you're both having fun. But jokes on you cause I'm fucking happy for her." Angel grinned. "Fucking delighted."

"Oh, absolutely, we can tell." EZ couldn't resist teasing his brother. "So are you gonna be this tense during their wedding or are you gonna blow up before that happens?"

Coco snickered. "Blow up? That would mean he actually recognized he had feelings for Lenny. But he doesn't, right hermano?"

“Fuck you.” Angel lit up another cigarette, sitting down at the picnic table. “He’s not even her type.”

“What is Alena’s type? You?” Gilly joined in the ribbing on Angel. 

“I don’t fucking need this shit right now.” Angel stood up and was just gonna go for a ride out at the desert, just to clear his thoughts. He always buried his feelings for Alena, but as of late, with her reminding him it’s been five years and their agreement was technically to divorce, he couldn’t do it. How could he let Alena go now?

“Hey, settle down there hot head.” Coco blocked his way, gesturing for him to sit down. “So what happened?” Coco was over last night when Angel was having a mini meltdown when Alena wouldn’t answer her phone. He ended up staying over the night to make sure Angel didn’t ride over to her apartment. 

He was looking out for Alena. If Angel wasn’t going to get his head out of his ass then Alena should put herself out there. He was loyal to Angel, but after all the kindness Alena has shown him, the club, how could he not look out for her?

“Nothing, her mother and I talked earlier.” The rest of the night was fine. Angel dropped off Alena and Cruz at home and went to the clubhouse. He was gonna go to Vicky’s but decided against it.

“Did you bring leftovers?” EZ perked up. He loved Michelle’s cooking. 

“Yeah, it’s at home and no, you’re not going to the house. Alena and Cruz are most likely asleep.”

“Why aren’t you with your family?” Coco knew Angel spent the weekends with them since Alena was home on the weekends. He was surprised the Angel decided to come to the clubhouse.

“Can’t hang out with you guys?” Angel leaned back, resting his arms on the table.

“You can, but this time is sacred for Alena, we all fucking know that.” Gilly chuckled. “You two fighting?”

“No, not exactly.” Angel muttered. “I just realized something is all.” He was hesitant to tell his brothers, but he could trust them, he trusted them with his life. “I’m in love with Alena.”

“What?!” They all exaggeratedly replied. 

“No fucking way.” Coco shook his head, feigning his absolute shock. “Can you believe this Boy Scout?”

“Yeah, fucking shocking.” EZ chuckled.

“So what brought this epiphany? Victor?” Gilly wondered.

“No, Michelle.”

“That’s right! Pay up!” Coco clapped his hands at Gilly and EZ. 

“What the fuck?” Angel looked at the three. Gilly and EZ grumbled handing Coco twenty dollars each.

“I told Boy Scout and Gilly that Michelle was going to get to you.” Coco pocketed his money. “Alright, so what happened? Did she smack you with that stick she has?”

“No,” Angel shook his head. “What the fuck did you two bet?”

“I thought Victor would push you over the edge.” EZ answered.

Angel turned to Gilly.

“I just said you’d get your head out of your ass, which I should have known better, but I always thought Alena was a good influence on you.” Gilly shrugged.

“Fuck you guys.”

The three men chuckled.

“We’re not trying to be assholes, but we always knew you were into her. Just about fucking time for you to realize.” Coco shrugged. “Told you hermano, prime real estate. You can keep men at bay here, but in San Diego, who knows what she does there.”

“Alena literally goes to work and back home.”

“Doesn’t Victor live at her building?” EZ knew he was poking the bear, but he could take on Angel. 

Angel just tuned them out, just shaking his head. The fact that everyone seemed to know everything he was trying to hide, it was ridiculous. Though he was awful at hiding his emotions, but just finding out he was in love with you, letting feelings he buried so long ago resurface, it was painful.

Not in a bad way.

He loves Alena, he knew that much.

But the fact he let all of this time just pass, it was ridiculous.

=============

Alena yawned, the light hitting her eyes from the cracks in between the blinds. Looking behind her, Angel was nowhere to be found so she was almost certain that the club had a late night, which was fine. After these last few days and how hot and cold Angel had been, she didn’t mind not having him around. 

A day with just her and Cruz was what she needed.

She checked her phone and she had a text message from Angel.

Angel

Hey, I had to do a run. I’ll be back tonight. 

She quickly replied.

Be safe. 

Short and simple.

She opened another message, this time from Victor.

Hey sweetheart, up for another marathon?

I’m in Santo Padre, sorry. :( 

I’m ten minutes away from your house.

Alena sat up then, looking at the clock. It was noon, which wasn’t awful since it was a Sunday. But at the same time, she debated if she should text Angel and let him know about Victor’s visit.

She paused.

“I own this house, I don’t have to ask permission. I don’t know who he brings home here while I’m not here.” Alena stood up and checked on Cruz who was wide awake, playing with his toys in his room.

Cruz and Alena always thought of how blessed they were since Cruz didn’t do anything mischievous when they weren’t around. He could stay in his room, play with his toys until he needed his parents. 

“Baby, how long have you been awake?” Alena questioned.

“Um, eleven?” Alena tried her best to teach Cruz things. She taught him his ABC’s, how to count and how to read. Cruz was an easy learner so it was a fun thing to do between them. 

“Why didn’t you wake up mommy?” Alena sat beside him.

“You were snoring.” Cruz giggled. “Daddy always says to let you sleep in cause you don’t sleep much.”

“Did you see Daddy?”

“Yes, he told me he has work.” Cruz walked over to Alena, sitting on her lap. “I’m hungry.”

“Uncle Victor is coming, when he gets here we can go and get something to eat?” Alena offered.

“Uncle Victor is coming?” Cruz stood up excitedly. “I’ve always wanted to show Uncle Victor my toys here.”

Alena smiled watching Cruz as he excitedly gathered his toys. She heard the doorbell ring and left Cruz to pick his toys. She opened the door and found Victor holding two bags of what she presumed was take-out. 

“Hey,” he greeted her as he stepped inside her home.

“I can’t believe you drove all the way here.” Alena cleaned out the dining table which had some folders from the research she was doing for Mr. Johnson. Victor chuckled watching her. He placed the takeout on the table. 

“Uncle Victor!” Cruz ran into the dining room, greeting Victor enthusiastically. “You came to our house this time, is mommy going somewhere?”

“No little man, we’re all hanging out today, how does that sound?” Victor picked him up.

“Cool, I can't wait to show you my toys.”

“Victor you didn’t have to bring all of this.” Alena unpacked the bags and her stomach grumbled, she didn’t even realize how hungry she was.

They sat around the table, enjoying the lunch Victor brought. Once they were done, Alena, Cruz and Victor sat on the couch and watched Umbrella Academy. In hindsight, it may not have been a good show for a five year old, but Cruz was on his iPad the whole time. 

As they were starting the last episode, there was a knock on the door. Victor offered to answer it and Alena heard Coco’s voice.

“Who the fuck are you?” Coco narrowed his eyes at the man who opened the door. 

Alena looked over at Cruz who was sleeping. She stood up and walked over to the door. 

“Hey Coco, this is my friend Victor.” Alena introduced them.

“My bad bro, just weird to have another man open my hermano’s door.” Coco made it a point to remind Victor who the man of the house was. 

“None taken,” Victor waved him off. “I should get going Alena, I have dinner plans with my family.”

“Yeah, not a problem, thank you for coming.” She gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Victor chuckled and waved goodbye to Coco before walking out of the house. They both watched as Victor got in his car and pulled out of the driveway. Once he was out of sight, Coco turned to Alena and shook his head. 

“No wonder Angel is rattled.” He laughed. “I just need to grab something at the shed in the back, is that cool?”

“Sure, I thought you guys had a run?” Alena questioned as she closed the door. 

“We did, Angel is still out with EZ. Asked me to grab something at the shed.” Coco had to get Angel’s stack of guns in case he and EZ needed it. “Does Angel know you had a visitor?”

“This is my house too Coco, I don’t have to ask permission.” 

Coco nodded his head. “Damn right sister. Have you heard anything about my daughter?”

“Letty? No, I asked Victor for help, he knows a few trucking companies so he’s going to check with them. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.” 

Coco gave her an appreciative smile before going to the back to grab Angel’s duffle bag. He gave Alena a hug before leaving. Alena locked the door behind Coco and started the last episode of Umbrella Academy. She had this feeling of dread at the bottom of her stomach, she couldn’t shake it. She hoped Angel was okay, with whatever he was doing.

=============

Angel walked into the house fuming. 

He didn’t mean to be, but with everything that happened earlier, Coco informing him that Victor was at his home was just the fucking icing on the cake. How could Alena let this man into the home they share? She wanted to let him come to her apartment, that’s her, but not at their home, not their family home. 

Angel found Cruz giggling in Alena’s arms as she tickled him. That scene made his anger slightly fade, but it was still there, brimming.

“Cruz, go to your room, daddy has to talk to mommy.” Angel didn’t leave any arguments to his request and Cruz looked up at Alena. 

“It’s okay baby, go get ready for bed, mommy will come tuck you in.”

“Okay, hi daddy, I missed you today.” Cruz stopped in front of Angel, hugging his leg.

“I miss you too Cruzito.” He ruffled his hair, feeling a bit of weight off his shoulder. He actually thought he may not see his son anymore, that he wouldn’t see Alena and it changed things for him. He didn’t mind helping the rebels, but there had to be an end soon, he didn’t know how much more he could risk. 

“You okay? Coco came earlier and he left in a hurry.” Alena stood up, making her way over to Angel. 

He held his hand up, shaking his head. She froze, not walking any further.

“You really had that motherfucker in our house?” Angel’s anger came back and he really didn’t mean for it to come, but he couldn’t help it.

Alena sighed. “Angel, it’s my house too.” She was not in a mood for his poor attitude. 

“I don’t give a fuck. Alena, this motherfucker doesn’t care if we’re married, he’s disrespecting me and you invite him to our home?” It frustrated him that Alena couldn’t see why he was angry. She wouldn’t want him bringing a woman over here. “You wouldn’t want me to bring some woman here, I’m sure that would piss you off.”

“Angel, I don’t care if you sleep with someone, you’re more than welcome to do so.” Alena turned away from him, walking down the hall to her room so she could change and sleep with Cruz. She didn’t want to be anywhere near Angel. 

She went inside the closet and changed, finding Angel standing at his side of the bed waiting for her. 

“I’m not done talking to you.”

“Well, I’m done talking to you.”

“How can you not see why I’m upset here? You’re my fucking wife, act like it!” Angel didn’t mean that, but she had him so riled up. 

“What the fuck have I been doing for the past 5 years? Fuck you Angel. I don’t get why you’re so upset when you sleep that everything that walks.” Alena felt herself getting worked up, her hands closed into a tight fist at her sides. 

“Oh, I’m good Querida because I have you. I haven’t touched any other pussy besides yours.” Angel smugly informed her. 

“What?” Alena took a step back by that revelation.

“I don’t sleep with anyone. I told you last night, before going inside your mother’s house, you’re the only woman I’ve touched in the last five years.”

“I think you should expand your horizons then.”

“Why would I? I have you.”

“You cheated on Valeria all the time!”

“Yes, well, you’re my fucking wife. And I actually care about you. Fuck Valeria, we both use one another as a means.”

“Are you two fighting?” Cruz was by the door, clutching his bunny, looking at Alena and Angel.

“No, we’re not baby. Mommy and daddy are just talking.”

“Can I sleep on your bed?” Cruz asked.

“No Cruz, be a big boy and sleep on your own bed.” Angel didn’t want Cruz in the bed tonight. He was done and he wanted to hash it out with Alena. With Cruz being there, they wouldn’t be able to talk. 

“But I wanna sleep with you and mommy.” He pouted. “And I wanted to show you my drawing, that I made for you with the crayons mommy got.”

“Cruz, stop it. It’s bedtime!” He didn’t mean to raise his voice, but he had a hard day and too much was going on.

Alena frowned, seeing how Cruz’s face scrunched up. She picked him up and he immediately hung onto her.

“Yeah, good job, teach him it’s okay to throw a fit when he doesn’t get what he wants.” Angel rolled his eyes, taking off his kutte and placing it on the armchair he and Alena had in their room. 

“Stop it, you’re being a real jerk right now. Cruz has been waiting for you all night to show you his drawing.” Alena snapped. She had enough of this poor attitude from Angel. If he wanted to be a dick towards her, that’s fine, but he was not going to take it out on their son. “We’ll be at pops.” 

Alena grabbed her purse and walked out the door, slamming it behind her. 

“Fuck.” Angel yelled out before following her.

Alena just finished buckling Cruz and getting in the driver’s side when Angel prevented her from closing the door.

“Alena, please, I’m sorry. Don’t leave.” Angel pleaded, holding the door. 

“Let go of the door Angel.” She tried to pull the door, but he wasn’t budging. 

“Come on, I just,” Angel sighed. “There’s just so much going on with the rebels, the club, I may have bit off more than I can chew.”

“I don’t care. When you walk through that door, it’s about us, our family. You can’t let out your frustrations out on us. We’re here for you, but you will not yell at Cruz for being excited to show you something he did specifically for you. And if he wants to sleep on our fucking bed then he is allowed to do so.” Alena was starting to breathe hard, obviously becoming worked up. Angel frowned, watching as she gripped the steering wheel to try and help her breathing.

“Baby, hey, breathe.” He knew Alena has been feeling under the weather lately. The change of season was always hard on her and her asthma would act up. Top that off with emotional stress and congestion, well, that’s a trigger. 

Alena clutched her chest, rubbing it hoping it would help. She grabbed her purse as her chest was tightening, she was slightly shaking, unable to open it. Angel took her purse from her and took out her inhaler, handing it to her. 

“Mommy!” Cruz began to cry, seeing the obvious distress on Alena’s body. 

“It’s okay Cruz, daddy has mommy.” Angel turned her towards him, cupping her face with one hand and placing a hand on her inhaler. “One more baby, just calm down.”

Alena took one more puff, the tightness slowly going away. She had tears streaming down her eyes, closing her eyes to try and calm her breathing. Cruz unbuckled himself, crawling through the middle console. He maneuvered so he can sit on Alena’s lap, hugging his mother.

“Mommy,” Cruz cried out. 

“Sssh,” Alena managed to say, her chest expanding better. She laid her cheek on top of Cruz’s head. She felt like her heart was hammering, struggling to open and close to let the blood flow. She started crying too and Angel felt his heartbreak.

Seeing the two of them cry, especially when it could have been prevented, was far too much for him.

“Baby,” Angel opened his mouth but Cruz turned towards him shaking his head.

“Bad daddy!” He narrowed his eyes at his father. “You made mommy cry and she got her attacks.” Cruz called his and Alena’s asthmatic episodes as attacks. He turned back to Alena, rubbing her chest to try and help his mommy.

Angel was dumbfounded as Cruz had never scolded him before, but he always knew that Cruz was team Alena. She was his mother and damn anyone who thought otherwise.

“Mi cielo, lo siento.” Angel’s voice was low, but Alena still looked up at him. She held her hand out, making Angel sigh in relief. She intertwined their fingers, pulling him closer. Alena wasn’t hyperventilating any longer, her heart no longer felt like it was hammering.

“Baby, daddy didn’t mean it okay? Mommy isn’t upset with daddy, can you forgive daddy and give him a hug?” Alena told Cruz once she was able to breathe better.

Cruz turned to face Angel. “You can’t hurt mommy, we’re supposed to protect her and make her happy, right daddy?”

Angel’s tears streamed down then, nodding his head. He enveloped Cruz in his arm, one hand still holding Alena’s. He pulled her towards him, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

“Cruzito, daddy is sorry. You’re right, we’re supposed to keep mommy happy.” Angel kissed his forehead. “Come on, let’s go back inside.”

The trio went back inside, Alena immediately going to her and Angel’s room with Angel and Cruz following behind her. She was already in her pajamas and slid in at her side of the bed. Her chest still felt slightly heavy, and all she wanted to do was lay in bed and relax.

“Don’t, you’re gonna trigger it again.” Angel placed Cruz on the bed before he helped Alena sit up. He got her nebulizer, handing her the mask. Her asthma has been awful recently due to the winds, but he was certain the fight they had didn’t help either. 

Angel turned it on, Alena putting the mask on her face so that she could start the treatment. Cruz sat beside her, watching her. Angel quickly changed out of his clothes and slid at his side of the bed. Cruz turned to look at him, still upset at his father. He snuggled closer to Alena, wrapping his small arm around her middle.

He didn’t want to try and force his son to talk to him. Cruz was just like him and was very overprotective about mommy. Angel was the same way with his mother. But he felt fucking terrible, the last thing he wanted to do was upset his girl and Cruz. Him and Alena have been at this in between ever since he realized his feelings for her. He hasn’t exactly told her, but he figured Alena would figure it out. She was a smart girl and Angel has only been attached to her.

When Cruz was only a year old, he did try to sleep with other women since in all technicality, he was fucking single. But the one time he did sleep with a girl from Vicky’s he said Alena’s name. After that, he somehow convinced Alena to sleep with him every now and then, which kept his desires at bay. He was a bastard, but he couldn’t help it. The first time he ever slept with Alena, she was twenty years old and shit just happened. He felt like an asshole for taking her virginity, but fuck did he feel like a fucking champion too. 

You know when people say that whoever your first time was you would always be obsessed with them due to that shared intimacy?

Well it was the fucking opposite.

Angel became fucking obsessed with Alena. Seeing her in the midst of ecstasy. The way she would bite her lips to try to muffle her cries. The way she would reach out to him, just wanting to touch him. The way she would gasp for air, the little noises she would make when he was hitting her deep, fuck he was addicted.

It wasn’t even just sex.

He found himself looking for Alena always. She calmed him down like no one else. If she was in the vicinity, he felt a certain sense of calm just envelop him. 

He was going to do better for his family. Alena was right, whatever happened in his day shouldn’t be taken out on them. 

They were his lifeline. 

Looking over at Alena, he saw how her eyes were closing, Cruz still watching her.

“Cruzito, daddy is sorry for shouting at you.” Angel was never good with apologies, but for his son and Alena, that was nothing.

“It’s okay daddy.” Cruz turned to Angel. “You’re just tired.”

“But that doesn’t make it okay to yell at you.” Angel frowned. The last thing he wanted was for his son to think it was okay to be yelled at. “Daddy loves you Cruz and don’t ever forget that.”

Cruz nodded his head. “I love you too daddy.” He crawled over to Angel, giving him a hug. Angel felt so relieved to gain his son’s forgiveness. Cruz pulled away and went back to Alena, checking on her. She turned to him and smiled. “Mommy, are you feeling better?”

Alena nodded her head and looked over at Angel. He was watching her, waiting for her treatment to finish. She reached out her hand to him which he gladly took, kissing the back of her hand. Angel couldn’t even describe their family dynamics, but he would never trade it for the world.

Once the treatment was done, Angel put away her nebulizer. He came back to the room and Cruz was snuggled to Alena’s side. He finally fell asleep. Angel went back to his side after he turned the lights off, the television was on to provide some illumination since Alena needed background noise to sleep. His eyes was still on her, her back was still against the headboard, a few pillows behind her.

“Stop watching me, I’m fine.” She told him, her eyes closed. She felt Angel’s eyes on her and as much as it was endearing it also made her nervous. Angel always had such an intense stare and the butterflies in her stomach wouldn’t let up due to his stare.

“Nope, you know I can never take my eyes off you.”

Alena laughed, opening her eyes and looking right at Angel. “You shouldn’t have to worry about me. I’m fine.”

“Easier said than done querida, I always worry about you.” Angel was sitting just like Alena. He didn’t plan on sleeping. He wanted to make sure she was good the whole night. 

“Is everything okay? With the rebels and all that?” Alena’s voice was an octave lower as if someone was in their home listening in.

Angel held no secrets from Alena. He couldn’t. Not her. He could never keep one from her.

“Just starting to hit close to home. They kidnapped Emily’s kid.” Angel felt awful cause he couldn’t imagine what he would do if someone kidnapped Cruz.

“Angel,” Alena frowned.

“I didn’t know, okay? It’s not like I wanted this to happen.” Angel watched those two people burn a few days ago and then with the heroin Adelita took from Galindo burning in his mind, there was so much going on. He wanted to get the MC away from Galindo, to not do their bitch work, and to provide longevity to the MC. But sometimes he thought he was way over his head.

“I’m scared.”

“What?” Angel looked over at Alena confused by he words. 

“What if something happens to you? What about Cruz?” She wanted to add herself, but she didn’t matter, at least not in that way.

“He has you.” 

“Don’t say that.” Alena felt the tears well up at her eyes. “Cruz needs you Angel. I know the mission and what you want for the club, but your son needs you too. Just be careful.”

“You don’t need me?” He was a selfish bastard and he wanted to hear Alena say that she needed him, that she needed him alive for her too.

“I don’t matter, Cruz is who matters.” Alena rubbed circles on her chest, helping ease out the tension as she took deep breaths.

“You matter to me. I stay alive for both of you.” Angel hated it when Alena put herself down. She meant the world to him. Without her he would be nothing. Without her he wouldn’t have Cruz. And without her he wouldn’t know what love was, true unconditional love. A love so consuming that it overtook your mind. A love so powerful that it could be in the shadows and still make one act on impulse. He figured he’s always loved Alena but the realization as it hit him.

As he sat there watching Alena hold Cruz, her eyes closed as she hummed a lullaby that his mother used to hum to him and Ezekiel, he was far gone. The way Cruz always hung onto her whenever he was upset because mommy always gave the best hugs. The way she accepted every aspect of his life. The way she took care of not only him but his family including the MC and Vicky’s girls, hell even Chucky. 

He was so in love with her, it wasn’t even funny. 

At this moment he didn’t give a fuck about Victor. About the rebels. About the cartel. About the club.

All he cared about was his family, his little slice of heaven. He only ever wanted a family with Alena, no one else. Cruz wasn’t a mistake, he would never think of his son as such. He was just glad that he was raising Cruz with Alena.

Being with Alena made the pain of being the second thought after EZ go away. Being with Alena showed him that being selfless was not weak, but could be the strongest trait anyone could have.

He’ll be selfless when it came to Cruz and Alena, they came first. But he would always be selfish with Alena. He’s always had her and he intended on keeping it that way. 

He was going to fight for her. 

He’s wasted enough time. 

[joheun-saram]

To Make a Power Couple (knj) | 02

Chapter 2 - Pizza and Life Chats

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Summary- Namjoon and Y/N go on their first date, and Namjoon is whipped.

word count- 5k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- pg13 for now

genre- series, slow burn, fluff eventual smut, strangers2lovers

warnings- mentions of hangovers and panic attacks, tooth-rottingly fluffy

a.n- okay here’s the second part! I wrote this up fairly quickly (don’t expect this to be the norm!). This part I wanted to kind of address the stress of overworking as a young adult (GUILTY 🙋🏻‍♀️) so sorry if it gets a little serious at parts. I also wanted to switch it up so it’s from Namjoon’s perspective. I hope you enjoy it. SOFT JOON BEING A BIG OLD SOFTY.

Feedback much appreciated! 💕

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach​, @sassyuniversitytacopeanut 

-

Namjoon woke up startled as his phone alarm rang. He was groggy and his splitting headache made him nauseous. “I’m never going to drink again”, he mumbled. He groaned as he got off the couch he had crashed on the night before, trying not to trip over Taehyung who seemed to be dozing happily on the floor as he made his way to his room. He hadn’t stayed at the dorms in a while, preferring the quiet solitary of his own apartment nowadays, and with his hangover in full swing he felt like he was walking through a stranger's house. 

Last month was hell. He had procrastinated on his songs and none of the vocal guides were even halfway done before the due date. Everytime he tried to finish a song a new one would pop up in his head and he would start on that, leading to a hard drive full of files labelled “finish soon” and “draft”, and a notebook full of scratched out scribbles. It was like his brain had decided to abandon him, deciding it had had enough of his perpetual melancholy. He had felt drained and burnt out, a husk with no creative juices left. Luckily, Yoongi and a few of the producers had taken pity on his stressed out state and lent a hand so he had been able to finish the bare minimum three days ago - before the label pressured him further. He was never more grateful for a small break.

In all honesty, he needed a way to jumpstart his brain, and get out of the routine of home, practice, meetings, studio, home. Sometimes, he almost wished he didn’t have the success he had so he could go out and let loose a little - a club, a party, anything. But the last time he went somewhere like that he got swarmed and the police had to be involved. He couldn’t risk that, not after the trouble Big Hit went to threaten media outlets a year and a half ago, when he was caught with what they called a hickey, but was actually a stress rash. 

As he brushed his teeth today, he smiled at the mirror. Last month may have been terrible, but last night was one of the best he’d had in the past year. 

When he had heard Bang PD’s team talk about how they were attending the charity gala as he met them for notes on his songs, he was intrigued. He had read about this non-profit in the paper before. They seemed to be helping bridge the gap between people through communication and that spoke to him. So much so that he had scrolled through their website multiple times, reading testimonials and almost memorizing the mission statement. They wanted to help kids learn English for free so they could communicate globally. He really liked the idea. It was hard for him to learn the language as a kid and he knew that the only reason he became as fluent as he is from the tutors his parents paid for and his obsession with American television and music. Although he doesn’t need the tutoring anymore, he does enjoy talking to the in-house tutor at the company, John, from time to time and improving his skills. The fact that this company wanted to add a John to every school in Korea starting from the rural areas, made Namjoon want to meet the man behind the movement. Little did he know, he’d be meeting the girl who’d shift his idea of the ideal.

He had never been more glad to have convinced his company to let him and the boys attend an event. He had initially suggested it as a way to break the mundane before their comeback practices started and network while supporting a cause he liked. Two days ago, he wouldn’t have guessed it would be an actual fun night leading to him nursing a headache.

He spent the next hour reliving last night as he showered and caught up on the news. He also read the messages he sent last night over a hundred times and had butterflies each time. Wasn’t he too old for butterflies? He wanted to message you again but everytime he tried, he ended up overthinking it. Everything sounded forced or cheesy, and it was worse than any writer’s block. He threw his phone on the bed in frustration watching it bounce and land on the floor, before he grabbed it and pocketed it. Hopping around to get rid of his nerves, he decided to take a break from rereading the thread he already had memorized and check in with everyone. If his hangover was this bad he can’t imagine theirs.

Making his way back to the living room he found Taehyung now sitting on the floor, sleep still very evident on his features as he yawned and groaned. On the couch next to him sat Yoongi, holding an iced americano and staring into space. The rest were missing but he could hear a blender annoyingly whizzing in the kitchen.

“How’re you guys feeling this morning?” He asked as he sat across from Yoongi.

“This is why I don’t drink. Why did no one stop me?” Taehyung whined as he rose from the floor to leave, massaging his head. 

“We tried. You were very excited to try all the disgustingly sweet drinks the hot bartender was making for you.” Yoongi replied with a sigh. “How was your date, Namjoon? You glad I forced you to go to the bar to talk to her?” he snickered, sipping his coffee before exhaling loudly in contentment.

“Honestly, I owe you big time. She was… amazing. I don’t think I’ve talked to someone that comfortably in a while” Namjoon sighed wistfully.

“I’ll add cupid to my resume,” he deadpanned. “Is she tolerating you for another date?”

“Yeah. We’re getting dinner on Tuesday, but I want to message her now. Argh!” He ran his hands over his face in frustration. “What do I even say? ‘Hi I’m the guy who was too scared to kiss you all night so you had to do it for him, what’s your favourite colour?’” Namjoon was annoyed at himself. It’s bad enough that he was having writer’s block in his music, did he have to have it for something as simple as texting too? This was ridiculous.

“Or you could just ask her how’s her hangover today. Jeez. Do I have to draft each of your messages? Stop being a dumbass and text the person you like.” Yoongi scoffed, clearly over Namjoon’s sudden and uncharacteristic insecurities.

Namjoon gave a resigned sigh as he reached for his phone and wrote out exactly what Yoongi suggested. Hey, he was his hyung for a reason - he had a full 6 months of life experience on him.

Namjoon: Hey! Hope your hangover is not too bad today.

As soon as the message was sent, he started getting nervous. Tapping his foot incessantly while staring at his phone, willing it to buzz, annoying Yoongi enough to leave him alone on the couch in the process.

Y/N: Hi to you too! I actually don’t get hangovers so I’m doing great lol. What about you?

Namjoon: What do you mean you don’t get hangovers?

Y/N: I don’t know. Can’t get dehydrated if you’re always dehydrated!

Namjoon: That… makes no sense. Do I need to start reminding you to drink water?

Y/N: Only if you’re better than this app on my phone…

Namjoon: I can guarantee you I’m better than any app on this planet.

Y/N: Wow. Big claims! We’ll have to put it to the test I suppose.

Y/N: You never told me how you’re feeling. Oh and how’s Taehyung? Is he okay?

Namjoon: He’s doing fine. Made a pact to never drink again and if i’m being honest, I’m going to join him. I am shocked that your head is not exploding as well.

The messages continued easily after that, filled with updates of each other’s activities, playful flirting and even photos of dinner. By the time Monday rolled around, you had been messaging each other constantly, with no end to the conversation in sight and the only long pauses being when you were both asleep or working. It seemed like you would never run out things to talk about. Namjoon hadn’t messaged someone this frequently since he got out of his last relationship. It felt nice to relay his mundane day to day events to someone and he found himself excited to hear about your mundane, like how you decided to mix two different types of bad coffee blends to make a shockingly worse one. He was surprised again at how fast he felt comfortable around you. It was even starting to scare him a little - he only knew you for three days and it felt like he had known you forever! What was this weird spell you had on him?

The conversation Monday, however, was fairly sparse, and Namjoon was eager to set up plans for the next day, so that night he decided to call you.

After the first three rings, he was overthinking his decision. Maybe it was too soon to call? Maybe you didn’t like talking on the phone? What if it went to voicemail? Would he have to leave a message? What would he say? His inner monologue was quickly halted at the sound of your voice.

“Hello, this is Y/N” you sounded distant, almost too formal. He felt nervous.

“Hi… uh... this is Namjoon. Is this a bad time?”

“Oh Namjoon! Sorry I didn’t check who called when I picked up!” Relief washed over him at the change of your tone. “Sorry one sec can you hold on.” he heard you say as your voice got mumbled. He waited while he heard you talk to someone about proposals and deadlines. Were you still at work? He checked his watch - it was 10 pm. He didn’t know whether to be impressed by your work ethic or worried that you were overworking.

“Hi sorry about that! How are you?” He relaxed at your airy tone and smiled.

“I’m good. Are you still at work?”

“Yeah it’s only like 7 so it’s no big deal. I usually leave around 8” Were you serious?

“Y/N… It’s 10:04…” He was shocked at how nonchalant you sounded, and suddenly he had his answer - he was worried, not impressed. He had known you for three days and already you were setting his caretaker alarm off. He wanted to scold you for being careless and overworking, like he’s used to doing for the boys, but he knew it was too soon. He doesn’t even know why he’s feeling that way all of a sudden and tried to suppress his protective instincts.

“No it’s not! It’s…” He could hear your voice going further away as he imagined you moving the phone in front of you to check the time. “Oh shit you’re right. What the hell? Okay sorry I’m gonna put you on hold again.” Before he could say anything he heard your voice again, distant again but loud. “Oh my god. Guys, it’s 10pm. Go home! Why did nobody tell me? No it doesn’t matter we can do that tomorrow. Please go home. Pack up now! You too Siwon, don’t worry I’ll go home after I get off the phone. See you!” He smiled at the sternness of your tone - it reminded him of a teacher dismissing class.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t realize I overworked my team. Had to send the troops home” you laughed and Namjoon felt his heart flutter. 

“I don’t wanna keep you from going home. I can call you back once you get there” he offered. He felt bad that you were staying in an empty office on his account.

“Oh don’t worry about it. It was a lie to get Siwon off my back. I’m probably gonna be here till like 1 or something. I still have to get this done” you said matter-of-factly, like it was the most normal thing in the world. He knew that tone fairly well, having used it multiple times himself when he locked himself in his studio, running on nothing but coffee and energy bars.

“Okay I know we’ve only just met and we have our first date tomorrow, but do you want some company?” He asked before he could stop himself. The line was silent for a bit, and he felt self conscious, scared that he had overstepped and driven you away. Before he could check his phone to see if you had hung up you spoke.

“It’d be pretty boring for you to watch me just type away. Are you sure? It’s pretty late.” He was sure his cheeks would hurt from how wide he smiled.

“It’s not a problem at all. I was going to work tonight too.” He wasn’t. “We can just work together. I’ll bring food. Did you eat yet?” his words tumbled over each other.

“How very college of you.” He could hear you giggling on the line. “Now that I think about it - I’m starving.”

“Okay text me the address, I’ll be there soon.”

He had never been this excited to pretend to work.

  ____________________________

He spotted you as he walked through the doors of the 13th floor, pepperoni pizza in hand. You were sitting at a long desk near the middle of the room. He was surprised as he expected you in an office, but he found you typing away at your desktop. Your hair was tied up in a bun and you were dressed in an oversized beige t-shirt, eyebrows furrowed head bopping to the hip hop track playing through the speakers. You seemed to be in your own little world. He felt like he was spying on you as he leaned against the door watching but he also liked seeing how you acted when you thought no one was watching. He was about to announce his presence when the track changed to a Childish Gambino one and you whooped and started to rap along.

You were now fully head banging and rapping the verse at the top of your lungs. He would be impressed by your fairly good amateur skills if he didn’t find the entire scene so endearing. His heart was doing somersaults as he watched you now fully engrossed in the song, typing forgotten as you got up and started to pretend you were on stage, an imaginary mic in your hand asking haters if they “eatin’ though”. You looked so adorable that he couldn’t help but squeal a little “cute!”

That’s when you saw him, eyes wide. He felt a little bad when he saw how embarrassed you looked, immediately stopping and slapping a hand to your mouth before bursting out in nervous laughter. He could write a whole album with that laugh. Oh he was so whipped, he thought to himself as he made his way to you.

“You know you’re not half bad!” He exclaimed as he set the pizza on the table, pulling a chair next to yours and settling down.

“Do you think your fake compliments will save you from the fact that you were spying on me?” you asked, crossing your hands across your chest, pretending to scowl but failing to.

“First, real compliment. Second, would pizza save me?” He opened the box and proudly smiled, loving the way your eyes lit up as you reached for a slice.

“Yes it will!” you exclaimed as you took your first bite, lightly moaning at the taste. “But erase that memory from your brain please.”

“Nope. Never. It was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen and I’m going to save it forever” he said as he also started on his slice. You pouted up at him, cheeks puffed and it took all the self-control he had to not kiss it off your face. He hadn’t felt this way in so long, it was like you were his first crush. Trying to control his pulse, he asked “What are you working on so late?”

“Oh I have a proposal due for a meeting tomorrow at noon and I’m only halfway through it.” you frowned wistfully at the screen as if willing it to type on its own.

“Can I help?” He asked, knowing fully well that he couldn’t. He just had an overwhelming urge to make that frown disappear.

“You being here is help enough,” you smiled sincerely as you looked at him and he felt his heart explode, a blush creeping on his cheeks as he smiled bashfully. “What are you working on?”

“I have a few songs I have to finish the lyrics for. Been procrastinating” he rubbed the back of his neck as he pulled out the notebook from his back pocket.

“Can I help?” you echoed his question to which he echoed your response grinning. He wasn’t lying though. Even though he had planned to not really work, as the night progressed he found the change from his usual writing spot inspiring. Sitting next to you, the sound of the keyboard clicking was soothing leading to words pouring out of him. He filled pages as he stole glances at you concentrating on your proposal, tongue peeking from between your lips, still bobbing to the music which was now playing from your airpods instead of the speakers. He smiled at the sight, before focusing on his notebook.

After about an hour or so of hard work, he finished three songs that he had allotted himself the whole week to do. This was the most productive hour he had all month. Antsy for a break, he looked over at you and found you staring at him, a hand under your chin. As he met your gaze you smiled.

“You’re really hot when you concentrate. Has anyone ever told you that?” you commented. He was taken aback by your remark, heart fluttering at your smirking face. Not missing his chance and spurred on by the comment, he scooted closer in one sweep till your knees touched and you were face to face.

“You’re one to talk. I couldn’t stop looking at you this past hour.” Gazing into your eyes, he was amused to see your smirk disappear as it was now your turn to be shocked. He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind your ear letting his hand linger, enjoying the way you sighed as he did. “Can I make good on my promise now?” He whispered, his face centimeters away, looking at your lips. The way you bit your lower lip made him want to take you there and then. The desk looked big enough. Hell, even if it wasn’t he could make it work.

“Promise?” you whispered as he watched your eyes flutter to his lips.

“To kiss you first...” Too impatient to wait for your answer, he brought his lips to yours, relishing how soft they felt under his own. He was thrilled at you returning the kiss, deepening it as you grabbed the collar of his shirt to bring him closer just like you did after the party. He was beginning to think this was your signature move, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t immensely turn him on. He moved his hand cupping your face to rest on your neck and he could feel your heartbeat mimicking his. He put his other hand around your waist pulling you closer, wanting to be as close to you as he could get. He traced his tongue over your lips, his head cloudy with endorphins as you opened your mouth inviting him in. He had never tasted something so euphoric, his tongue exploring yours in a rush.

He could feel you pushing forward as he leaned back and allowed you to straddle his lap, your legs on either side of the chair. As soon as you were on his lap, he pulled you closer, both arms around on your hips, your chest flushed with his. He kissed the side of your mouth as he made his way down your jaw to your neck. You smelt like vanilla mixed with a fresh flower garden, and he was sure this smell was better than any drug in the world. He could hear your breathy moans as he sucked where your neck met your collarbone, licking to soothe it before moving further. He wanted to taste all of you. Your hands were in his hair and each tug made him groan into you, making him harder. He could kiss you like this forever. He wanted to save this moment so he could come back to it and relive it. He traced his hands up and down your sides, moving under your shirt but remaining on your waist, enjoying the feel of your soft skin.

“Namjoon… Namjoon... slow down” he heard you say breathlessly as he felt a slight push. He looked up at you, your eyes half lidded and lusty as you grabbed his face and brought it to yours. You were sending him mixed signals, but he didn’t care as long as he could keep kissing you.

“We have to slow down or I’m going to want to fuck you right here.” You whined as you both came back up for air, but you kissed him again nevertheless. Hearing you say that made him want to do anything in his power to make that happen.

“I don’t mind, baby,” he said against your lips, kissing you with urgency, biting your lower lip and pulling it gently to elicit another moan from you. To his disappointment, you seemed to have better self-control than him as you pushed him back, both of you panting as you struggled to catch your breath. He moved his hand back to your hips tracing little circles, feeling comforted by you smoothing his hair you had pulled earlier.

“There are cameras here. I’d rather not make a sex tape on our first date.” You giggled as you pointed to the black sphere in the corner of the room. He had never hated the obsession buildings had for security more, but the crudeness of your comment made him laugh. He had almost forgotten this was your first date, it felt like he had kissed you a thousand times before. You tasted like the relief of an awning in the middle of a summer downpour.

“I think we need to cool down,” you say as you climb off of his lap. “Let’s go.”

He followed you as you led him to the little kitchenette near the end of the room, unable to resist the urge to wrap his hands around your waist in a back hug. He knew he was being too clingy for a first date, but the way you giggled and put your hands over his gave him assurance.

“Lemonade, coke, or water,” you asked as you peered into the fridge.

“You.” He smirked kissing your neck, feeling bold off of the high from your makeout session. 

“Joon!” you pretended to sound scandalized as you turned in his arms, smiling warmly. The nickname made his heart swell. It added a familiarity that he didn’t know he missed from you.

“You haven’t called me Joon before. I like it” he smiled as he pecked your lips.

“Hey! We are cooling down! No kissing! Now pick” you chided and Namjoon couldn’t help but wonder if you were this assertive in bed too, a million scenarios playing in his head. Okay, you were right, he needed to cool down.

“I’ll just have water, thanks,” he said as he grabbed the bottle you passed him, opening and gulping half of it. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was for something other than you. You both made your way to the tables, sitting across from each other.

“So did you finish your proposal?” He asked trying to cool himself but failing as he noticed you running the cold water bottle against your neck, the beads of condensation dripping on your shirt. He cleared his throat as he tried to focus his attention on your eyes, a mantra of stay focused playing in his head.

“Yes! Finally! It’s perfect.” you smiled proudly and somehow he felt a wave of pride too. “What about you? Made any progress?”

“Actually yes. I kind of finished my entire week’s writing in that one hour” he was still amazed by his own progress.

“Okay, Mr Overachiever” you joked and he chuckled.

“To be honest, I didn’t think I’d be able to write anything, but I don’t know your presence is kind of soothing. It helped me focus.” Watching your smile grow wide, he continued, “I’ve been having pretty severe burnout this past month and it has just been hard to put down my thoughts, even non-lyrical ones.” He fidgeted with the water bottle as he looked at it, avoiding eye contact.

He didn’t know why he was telling you this. He recalled when he told you about his struggles as a leader during your first conversation. Somehow being around you led him to vomit out his feelings. It was… unlike him. Namjoon was usually not this honest on dates, or relationships, as much as he would hate to admit it. That’s the reason he broke off his last one. He felt bad lying to her about a busy schedule when he just wanted to be alone. She would have understood, she was kind and thoughtful, but it just felt easier to lie and not put the effort in to explain his thoughts. Even when they broke up, he lied and told her that it was because he couldn’t handle being in a relationship at the moment, when in reality things had cooled off a while ago and he felt guilty as his feelings faded.

He felt your hand reach out and grab one of his, intertwining your fingers. He felt comforted by the gesture as you rubbed your thumb across him before you spoke two words that warmed his heart. “I understand.”

“You know it’s hard to work at full speed all the time. It’s okay to not be at a hundred all the time. The valleys feed the peaks” you continued. It was a simple remark, but it sounded surprisingly poetic to him. He hadn’t felt this understood outside of the boys for a long time. It was refreshing. It was terrifying. He resisted his natural urge to run and hide.

“Are you speaking from experience?” he asked, needing to divert the attention away from his own vulnerabilities.

“Yeah. I had it pretty tough a couple of years ago. Too much pressure from myself, too many expectations. Led to too many vices and panic attacks” you shrugged as you continued and he squeezed your hand to comfort you. “It creeps up from time to time but my therapist and I have it handled” He looked at you in awe. You hadn’t given him a throwaway answer or switched the limelight back at him. You wasted no time in being as vulnerable as him, if not more. He knew at that moment that regardless of where this thing went, he wanted you to know you better.

“Thank you for being honest.” He brought your hand to his lips and kissed it gently. It was an intimate gesture but he wanted you to know how much he appreciated your words - how much he appreciated you - in that moment. You both sat in comfortable silence for a little while, playing with each other’s hands that were still intertwined, till one of you yawned loudly causing the other to giggle. With the weight of the conversation lifting, you both fell back into playful banter as you decided to pack up and call it a night.

“Do you want me to walk you to your car?” Namjoon asked, wanting to drag the night on longer despite it already being almost 2 am.

“Don’t judge me but I actually don’t know how to drive. I was just going to cab back.” he saw you giggle bashfully as you pulled your backpack over your shoulders.

“Oh, no judgment here! Me neither” he laughed. Why does everyone think it is such a big deal to not drive? It’s better for the environment! “Do you want to take one together? I don’t really want you to ride alone this late.” He rubbed the back of his neck, hoping he didn’t come off as if he was trying to dictate what you did.

“I’d really like that,” you said as you walked towards the elevators. He held your hand as you both got on, liking the way you moved closer to him at that. 

In the cab you both sat closer than necessary, his arm wrapped around you as you both made plans for your scheduled date later that day, trying not to doze off. When the cab stopped all too soon at your apartment, he kissed you gently as he told you how much he enjoyed your company.

That night laying in bed, his heart felt full as he read your goodnight message. He was sure of it now. He really wanted you in his life.

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[kaleidiope]

Novaturient

To heck with it, I'm going to give a in-a-nut-shell explanation of the stories I'm writing. I do have more in-depth versions in my story collection once I update it all and put it out again. But I have drawings I want to post and I kind of want to explain who the characters are before I do. So, I have a six part series I've been working on at random, on-and-off since some point in 2019. (Some of you will probably know, and remember, OUL fairly well.) The names have been questioned and moved about a few times but I think it's all finally been settled. The series has been dubbed, "Novaturient" Meaning: (All meanings copied from google, thanks google!) "Novaturient is desiring changes or alterations, usually in regards to one's life, behavior, or situation. The origin of novaturient comes from the Latin novāre (make new)" (Some of these will be familiar to many who were on MBM back in 2019 especially.) Also, there is mentions of black magic, and falling society below. In the actual stories there are many heavy-topics covered. I will not mention them here because it is a lot to tag. (And those aspects aren't even talked about here because it's just a rough, nut-shell explanation of the stories.)

So, without further-ado, I bring you to the first story. "Liberosis" meaning: "Liberosis is a longing for liberty, an ache to let things go. A recent addition, wytai, is an acronym for “When You Think About It,” and means the sudden realization of how absurd some aspect of modern life is." The story of a man has too much empathy to the point it brings him real physical pain seeing others unhappy. The idea that the world will always move on weather or not people are ready hurt him dearly. He wound up getting into black magic in an attempt to make his dreams come true. The dream of a "vacation" world where people could go to process the pain the world has forced them through. He summoned a "demon", who made the world he dreamed for. But, the man was so happy, he never checked the "terms and conditions." The world built on deceit, feeding off of pain, it was doomed to fall. And, any "OG's" way back from MBM (and even Quotev) will remember the early pitch that was "Klexos" Meaning: "There are ways of thinking about the past that aren't just nostalgia or regret. A kind of questioning that enriches an experience after the fact." The story of a very ill person exploring the house their parent forced them to live in with who was a practical stranger, years later. After getting a terminal diagnosis, and a mystery letter appearing on their hospital night-stand, with nothing but a key and address enclosed. Curiosity consumed them and they went to the house. Slowly exploring and slowly recalling their childhood, and finding out just how much they were cared for by someone they barely knew or remembered. All while also finding a way inside the empath-man's world. And then that brings us to the original story that made me want to make this a visual novel/kinetic novel series. "Monachopsis" Meaning: "The subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place, as maladapted to your surroundings as a seal on a beach—lumbering, clumsy, easily distracted, huddled in the company of other misfits, unable to recognize the ambient roar of your intended habitat, in which you’d be fluidly, brilliantly, effortlessly at home." Which is the story of a person grieving over the loss of someone close. And finding their way inside the empath-man's world as well. Getting the full experience, of slowed time, and easy life. Made perfect for the real would to melt away from one's mind. But, this person only has a rough estimate of two weeks to leave the world. As for, to enter the world, one must be in a coma. And without life support, one doesn't have long to wake up. They must recruit the help of one of the "non-human-demon-aliens" made specially to help others leave in order to go back home. Which brings us to the next, very-connected-to-Monachopsis, story. "Lachesism" Meaning: "The desire to be struck by disaster — to survive a plane crash, or to lose everything in a fire." Which in this story a person falls through a mirror within the house they recently moved into. Finding a "glitch entrance" to the empath-man's world. where they find the world slowly crumbling. The person then speaks with all they can find within the world, slowly understanding the problems it is facing. As well as why so many are now trapped there in a special-man-made-purgatory. And why they went into the world to begin with. Which brings us to the last story, "Exulansis" Meaning: "The tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it-whether through envy or pity or simple foreignness- which allows it to drift away from the rest of your life story." Which in this story, a person gets a letter telling them they were mentioned in a will, by someone they don't know. And that the deceased person left their house and whole estate to this person. Out of curiosity, they go to the house. Only to find many oddities, some which scare the person so bad into leaving and never coming back for long periods of time. But the hunger of confusion and wanting an answer always made the person return. The person soon finds missing

person notes, and many other alarming things. Showing them of "another world". After finding many more things, they come across a robot, who helps them break-through the glitched entrance of the empath-man's world. To find the world in a second-to-final stage before complete corruption and failure. Seeing the sky grow darker, and the inhabitance doing their best to prepare for the worst. Which then brings us to the final story, which actually wasn't meant to be connected at all to this series. OUL, or, "Out under the lights." Being it's code name, real name being, "Agathokakological" Meaning: "Composed of both good and evil." A story of a world trying to rebound from an eternal eclipse, all while having the life literally squeezed from it by a power-hungry corporation, who doesn't tolerate any form of competition. They found a way to make light from a water dwelling insect. A dearly needed bug for the ecosystem of the world. A young inventor builds a light that doesn't need a creature to work. She tries her best to leave the city where the corporations power is strongest in hopes to find others willing to support and help her with normalizing her creation, hoping to save what's left of the world the best she can. All while meeting others, all who have many problems, ideas, and beliefs of their own. Thank-you so, so much for reading!! And I hope you have a wonderful day!

[snowbellewells]

A Cottage by the Sea

Here we go!! My first @cssns entry of the summer. I hope that those who were expecting two simple one shots from me in the event this year, won’t be too upset that I ended up with a different fic than I intended to start out with - one that will probably have at least four more parts to it. My original idea just would not work, so I pulled out this headcanon that I’d been mulling over for some time...and it simply grew from there.  Here in the Prologue, it’s going to seem more straightforward Lieutenant Duckling, Enchanted Forest au, but the supernatural elements will come if you stick with me. My intention is to update every other Tuesday until this story is ended; meaning you should have Part One on June 23rd.

I hope you’ll enjoy - and I’d love to hear what you think of this first part...

***Immense thank yous to @searchingwardrobes for this cover art that I am absolutely in love with, and to @tornadoamy for looking this over and giving me early feedback as a beta. And to the @cssns event and mods for giving me the opportunity to flesh out this idea I’ve harbored for so long - and for so much fun and entertainment the previous two summers, and coming up in this one as well!***

Can also be found on AO3

Summary: Princess Emma has always been drawn to the shores of Misthaven, where the sea meets the shore near her parents’ castle. When an unknown boy washes up on the sand, with eyes as fathomless and blue as the waters that brought him to her, he soon becomes Emma’s best friend, her partner in crime, and her other half.  But the tides give and the tides take away, and as her blue-eyed boy sails in her father’s navy and risks all in defense of those who made him family, unexpected danger and challenge will try to tear them apart, and might well show him just where he came from that day he first appeared to her from the sea…”

by: @snowbellewells

~~~prologue~~~

The land around her parents’ castle had always called to Princess Emma. The open spaces and craggy cliffs she could see in the distance as they plummeted into the churning sea, were windswept and wild much like herself. Though she had always been cared for and beloved, the sole heir to the kingdom of Queen Snow White, Emma also felt the desire to run free, as if she were destined for more than curtsies, crown fittings, and learning to smile demurely. Naturally, she adored her happily devoted, perfectly paired father and mother - just more so when they were teaching her to ride or aim a bow than when they were reminding her once again that she must exude patience and diplomacy at even the most interminable state dinners. She valued her kingdom and its people, understood the honor of her role in it, but that knowledge and affection failed to negate the fact that she often wished just as strongly to rip the fancy curled updos and jeweled tiaras from her head and run streaking like a loosed cannon along the wet sand at the ocean shore she could see from her chamber window, hair streaming behind her and cool, salty air on her face. All the proper princess etiquette and worries left behind.

The easiest - and her most favored - cure for that feeling of wanderlust and burning energy within was for either her mother or her father, or both whenever possible, to take her walking along the water’s edge in the evening. Emma would almost swear the Queen and King enjoyed the calming getaways almost as much as she did, both as a moment to be free of so many fussing, crowding, obsequious attendants and hangers-on, as well as to feel the open air of the world outside their palace cleansing them. She knew - though from nothing more than history and bedtime stories - that her parents had once lived and thrived out of doors, falling in love on the run as rebels before her mother regained the kingdom she had been born to lead. Both her mother, once a legendary bandit, and her father, who had started life as a humble shepherd, seemed to appreciate the chance to escape the castle walls of stone and venture out on their own with their adored and wild-hearted little girl. It concerned neither of them that Emma was bold and adventurous, bucking the traditional prim and dainty image of feminine royalty; in fact, they might have treasured those traits in her even more for how they harkened to what each loved most in the other.

One such evening, however, Queen Snow had been kept well into the twilight hour in a council meeting over trade routes and revenue, along with Emma’s father, and even Red, her godmother. Waiting impatiently, Emma fretted that she wouldn’t get outdoors and down to the shore at all, as she sat in the wide, cozy window seat of her tower room, looking out over the waves crashing up on the sands. She took in the lights of ships in their harbor, the mist and waves, and she longed to be closer - to be part of it all. In fact, she was mischievously contemplating whether or not she could scale down the outer walls in her nightdress and robe, and get to her usual walking course alone without being detected, when the door to her room opened behind her.

Snow White entered in a pleasantly flushed bluster of activity. Charming followed her with an indulgent smile, happily sweeping his daughter up into his arms as she ran to him in an excited blonde blur. She might be nearly 10-years-old, but he could still swing her up in his arms and twirl her through the air and all around the room as easily as he did when she was but a babe. Giggling happily, Emma threw her arms around her Papa’s neck and revelled in the exuberant joy of his affection.

When he put her down again, she immediately hopped around him excitedly tugging on his hand. “Can we go out for our walk now, please? Down by the shore… can we? Can we, pleeease?”

The King shook his head with a rueful chuckle, having known this would be her request the moment they set foot in their daughter’s room. She was made for the out-of-doors, an enchanting sprite of waves and sky, and he found it nigh as impossible as ever to disappoint her if her wish was within his power. “You’ll have to ask your mother this time, Sweetheart. I have more meetings, stores to check for the winter, applicants for aid to hear, a few more hours of work this evening yet.”

Snow smiled at him over Emma’s tousled blond head, nodded her agreement to a short jaunt while there was still light, Emma squealed with glee and danced an excited little jig before scampering toward the door, pulling at her mother’s hand impatiently, determined to hurry her along, Queen or no.

“You and Granny had better have cocoa and biscuits waiting for us when we return, Charming,” the dark-haired monarch grumbled, appearing stern, but the playful spark in her eyes told her husband she wasn’t really that upset. He was assuring they had what was needed for charitable giving to those less fortunate throughout the kingdom once harvests were over for the season; it would take but a moment to let the head palace cook know his wife’s wishes before continuing with his tasks.

“Anything for you, Dear,” he playfully mock-bowed before happily accepting a sweet kiss on the cheek and following his wife and daughter from the room. He was off in one direction; Marco and Jiminy both waiting down the hall to help him judge numbers, ask questions, and take notes, while Emma and Snow went in the other, headed down the stairs to the first floor side entrance and quickest path to the shore Emma was so anxious to reach. Charming supposed that many might think it strange he was not more troubled by letting his beloved and his only child wander outside the grounds alone, but his Queen could more than take care of herself. And if he knew Snow’s trusted bodyguard at all, the Huntsman they had long ago freed from Snow’s stepmother’s control, he would not be far if they had need of him when David could not accompany them - whether he was in view or not.

~~***~~

They were hand in hand, Emma’s shoes in her mother’s grip, as she skipped with exuberant satisfaction at her side, toes squidging with the exquisite feel of the wet grains of sand as she did. It was all Emma had wanted all day, from the moment she’d gotten dressed and shared breakfast with her parents and godmother, informal as they had no visitors in the warm, cozy castle kitchens. Throughout her interminable etiquette lessons with the Blue Fairy, and studying with her tutors, she had wanted nothing more than to be carefree by the water like this, and she was beside herself with excitement to be there at last.

Ruffling her daughter’s hair, Snow let the worries and concerns of meetings, treaties, budgets, and protocols slide from her shoulders while the evening breeze caressed her face. Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes for a moment and laughed into the wind right along with her precious child. Perhaps she had needed the escape just as much.

Then, with a sharp jerk, Emma’s smaller hand tugged from hers with a cry of surprise. “Mama, look there!” she called, her fingers slipping from her mother’s grasp as she began to pelt across the sand in alarm. “A boy! A boy just came out of the water!  He’s hurt!”

Immediately, Snow White’s focus was sharp, snapping back into full awareness, scanning ahead of them to where she saw a dark, bedraggled shape, not much larger than Emma, lying on the lighter colored beach. Emma had run forward in such concern that she had already almost reached the small shape, and her mother quickly gathered up her skirts and jogged forward to catch her, not sure yet what to expect. “Emma! Wait! Be careful!” she warned, though she already knew the caution would fall on deaf ears. Emma was fearless for her own safety, and had a soft spot for any person or thing injured or in need; she wouldn’t be stopping if she thought she could help.

Nearing the indeed soaked, disheveled, and unconscious child, Emma had already fallen to her knees, trying to shake and urge the unknown person back to awareness. The queen’s concern for her daughter’s safety instantly melted into compassion for the waif who didn’t move, didn’t speak, and barely seemed to breathe. For a child of his seeming height, he was frighteningly thin, his clothing threadbare and torn, hair too long, nearly hiding his closed eyes as soaked to his skin as it was. The Queen’s maternal heart ached for him, wondering how he came to be in such a state, alone and washed up from the sea. Taking Emma’s hand to stop her jostling him, Queen Snow could only hope they weren’t too late to save this mere boy’s life. It was only just beginning.

She looked up, wondering how they could get him back to the castle and trying to gauge how far they had traveled from the gates. Just as she was vaguely considering whether or not she could call one of the birds she was able to use as messengers - a gift that had served her often throughout life - when a tall shadow materialized from the woods bordering the shore, before she even needed to call out. Her long time bodyguard, Graham, Snow realized with easy relief; she should have known he would not be far, and regardless of the necessity - or lack thereof - in this moment she was glad he was there. This child needed help, and they needed to get him to a physician as soon as possible.

The Huntsman scooped the still-motionless boy up easily and began to carry him back the way they had come. Snow and Emma hovered on either side in anxious worry. As soon as they got him home to safety, they would bring him around. They had to. They had to have found him for a reason.

~~***~~

Once the unknown boy had been carried back to the castle, his slight form hardly causing the Huntsman to strain himself, bundled down before the warm hearthfire of the kitchens, boneless still, but changed from his wet rags into a old castoff tunic of the King’s (long enough to be a nightshirt on the lanky youth) and covered in numerous blankets, it took little time for the youth to come back to himself. 

Emma hovered anxiously next to the little stranger she had found, feeling oddly protective of “her boy” as she was already thinking of him in her head. She only paused in her agitated fidgeting to briefly take a cup of cocoa for herself and return the supportive hand squeeze offered her by their friend Red, Granny’s actual granddaughter and Emma’s frequent babysitter and playmate as well as her godmother.

Of course, Doc, the castle’s rather unofficial physician, had been sent for upon their return, but as the child before them began to stir of his own accord, Emma let herself hope that it would prove a mere precaution and their charge would be just fine. Heavy-lidded eyes blinked open slowly, as if still weary and reluctant to revive. When finally the thick, dark lashes parted to reveal rather stunning, unbelievably sea-blue eyes, Emma gasped at the shock that ran through her. Even as the boy’s widened in equal surprise and alarm, his eyes fixed on her gaze for several endless moments before darting around his surroundings, clearly unsure where he was or what had happened.

“Shh…. sh… hush now…” Emma felt her own tense muscles loosen as her mother’s voice calmly bathed the scene in gentle comfort. The Queen, soft and careful, and looking for all the world in that moment just like any other mother hoping to reassure her frightened child, stooped down to eye level with the boy they had propped up in a heaping nest of pillows and quilts by the fire. She reached out to softly brush his dark hair off his forehead, but froze when the boy flinched back like a startled animal. Instead, she only added in the same low, sweet croon. “You’re safe here. No one is going to hurt you… It’s alright now.”

The youngster’s eyes continued to cast about him for several tense moments, but then he seemed to finally register the calm surrounding him and accept that he would be alright. The tentatively crooked smile he offered back to the Queen sparked a bit of hope in all who were gathered around him. And when a steaming cup of cocoa was pressed into his hands by Granny with a brusque but concerned admonishment to “drink up, it’ll warm your insides” before the cook bustled off again, he seemed to come back to himself even more at the scent which wafted up into his face of chocolate and their family’s customary hint of cinnamon.

Emma could practically see interest light up those expressive eyes, but the child hesitated rather than bringing the cup to his lips for a taste. Darting from Queen to Princess uncertainly, he seemed to be gauging whether or not it was truly acceptable for him to take a drink.

“Go ahead,” Emma urged, smiling in what she hoped was reassurance. She wasn’t known for her patience, and she couldn’t know that this youth had never experienced hot cocoa, nor many pleasant treats at all, in his young life. Hoping to encourage him, she lifted her own mug to drink and then smacked her lips at the delightful taste, making Ruby laugh and her mother shake her head at her dreadful table manners. The boy’s face, however, lit with a bit of humor and happiness that it had not yet held. “It’s good, I promise,” Emma added with a grin. “You’ll like it.”

Almost as if he could resist no longer, the boy tipped his cup and took a sip of the warm, rich beverage at last. Then, it seemed he discovered the powers of liquid chocolate that everyone else in the room well knew. His eyes widened in delight, and he tipped his head back to get every last drop as he quickly guzzled down the rest, making Emma giggle, and him startle guiltily as if he’d done something wrong.

“Don’t worry,” Emma assured, reaching out innocently to lay her hand on his, “You can have some more, right Mama?”

Queen Snow White’s eyes were a bit misty with unshed tears, having already met Granny’s gaze over Emma’s head and Ruby’s as well, the three women piecing together things Emma in her sheltered, loving world could not yet know about what this youngster must have gone through. His reactions and his guardedness spoke volumes, even in silence. Nodding simply, not sure at first that she could speak around the painful lump in her throat, Snow finally managed to agree, “Yes, for tonight at least, our new friend may have all the hot cocoa his heart desires.”

~~***~~

The boy’s name, it turned out, was Killian Jones. He did recall that much once he regained his bearings, as well as the fact that he had possessed a father, mother, and older brother in a happy little house before his mother had seemingly vanished from his young life, and they had sent sail on the boat he had been on before washing ashore. No matter how many questions they asked or how he tried to call more forth, he remembered little else of what happened to his mother or father. He knew he had been told she fell ill and died, but all he could bring forth in his mind’s eye was that one morning he had awakened and she had vanished from his life as if she never existed at all - just a pleasant dream. His elder brother Liam had been on the boat with him, and Killian had shed tears that broke all their hearts when he recalled the day his brother had been swept overboard and lost to him forever. But as to what had become of his father, and how he had been sentenced to the life of hard labor he had clearly endured afterward, there was nothing but a blank and questions.

 As days and weeks, then months, and finally years went by, he remained with them at Misthaven castle.  Though far from a young prince, Killian was raised as a member of the royal household, growing up side-by-side with Princess Emma. They appeared to be quite close in age, and joined by the fact that she had found him and seemed to take Killian on as her own, he and Emma were quite inseparable - the best of friends and as “thick as thieves” as Granny always lamented when they were underfoot or stealing berries meant for tarts and pies on the royal dinner table.

As they reached adolescence, the King and Queen began to wonder where Kilian would be happiest as he came of age. The young man they had come to adore almost as a son had several skills: he was invaluable in the stables, exuding a calming force over the horses and evincing a knack for their training and care; he was quite good as an extra hand in the kitchen when Granny was understaffed or had more visiting mouths than usual to feed (for all her tough talk the aging widow had a soft spot for the boy and would no doubt have mentored him as a cook). Killian was bright; genuine knowledge and curiosity made him a voracious reader and student, honestly gaining more from the princess’ many esteemed tutors than Emma ever had and enjoying the study much more. He would have been easy to train as a page or diplomat, but none of those options seemed quite right.

It was not until his fifteenth birthday that the way Killian hoped to take became clear. It might have seemed improbable to most, knowing that the sea had once nearly swallowed him whole and claimed his life, but to Emma who knew him better than anyone else, it made sense. Those restless, wandering waves held an appeal, a mystery and adventure, and perhaps even still some bit of himself that her friend needed to claim. He stated his intention to join her father’s Navy with a proud certainty. And Emma’s heart swelled with equal gratification, but also fear. The sea had given him to her, but it wanted to take him back again…

It had taken them all such a long time to show Killian that he was welcome there, truly a part of their loving extended family. At first, Killian had shrunk back - shoulders hunched, head bowed, breath coming quickly in frightened pants - any time he might accidentally drop and break a dish or he reached for a second roll at the table, making it clear was that he had been punished and berated, to the point that he cowered like a whipped dog whenever he feared he might have put even a toe out of line. Princess Emma knew that her parents suspected beatings and physical abuse; it was clear in the concerned way their eyes met in silent communication whenever Killian reacted with the intense fear and apology he often showed in his bearing; she sadly had to agree that they were quite probably correct. She shuddered to think of how he might still be suffering under some cruel captain’s mistreatment, miserable, stranded and helpless to change his situation if it had not been for the shipwreck which brought him to Misthaven instead. There had been no question for any of them that he must stay, when they had learned of his indenture and how he had been orphaned and abandoned. She couldn’t have been more glad that all in the castle were in agreement; Emma had already decided that “her boy” needed to stay there with them, where he was safe and she could be sure he was happy and free. Neither of them were small children anymore, but Emma’s care and affection for him had never changed.

For so long before Killian’s arrival, she had been the only child in a palace of grown-ups: rulers, dignitaries, staff - a whole caravan of people who doted and adored, but very few who could be peers, to play with, talk to, and simply understand her. As the days had flowed into one another, turning into months and years until most people could hardly remember when she and Killian were not linked, they  were practically siblings in every way that mattered. The princess knew that she didn’t intend to live - not could she imagine - her life without him ever again.

And then, seemingly in the mere blink of an eye, they were fifteen and moving from playing tag amongst the grape arbors and lilac bushes in her mother’s gardens and slipping out of the interminable poise and etiquette lessons which Emma detested yet was never allowed to miss, to the stage where Killian was serving as her partner while she learned the waltz and other ballroom dances she would need to master for formal balls and ceremonies. Not only that, but as they edged into adolescence, Emma’s heart thumped against her chest differently than it used to as Killian led her gracefully through the steps. Even as her heart seemed ready to ricochet from her body, the warmth of Killian’s skin where they touched and the utter safety she felt in his hold half intoxicated her. As awareness spun her head round, uncertain what to do with it or how to proceed with these strange new feelings suddenly flooding her, all Emma could be certain of was the pang of loss she felt at knowing that Killian’s desire was to soon join her father’s naval fleet. At fifteen, he was at last of age to sail as a cabin boy and begin to work his way up in a ship’s ranks. Though she knew that had long been her friend’s desired course, Emma’s heart still ached to see him go.

However, her parents could not deny him the chance to seek such a worthy ambition. Indeed, they were proud of Killian, happy to help him secure a place on one of their finest vessels and make certain he knew their confidence in him and their faith that he would succeed. All too soon, after years with him at her side, it was the day Emma’s confidant and companion was set to sail on his first voyage. Though she knew in her head that the kingdom was in a time of peace and that it was a mere routine mission, her heart could not ignore the fact that sea travel always came with risk. Not only that, but she would miss Killian terribly.

Still, goodbyes had been said, all was made ready, and she was left on the dock, waving goodbye as the best friend she had ever known met her eyes and waved back. His pretty blue eyes, that had long since begun to speak to her as ardently as his actual words, expressed a potent blend of pained anxiety at leaving his adopted family and the life he had known and excitement for the adventure ahead on the waves that stirred his blood. She stood there long after the rest of the crowd seeing him off had dispersed and gone back to the castle, watching as the naval ship bearing “her boy” (as she sometimes still in the deepest and most secret depths  of her heart thought of him) became a small dot on the horizon before fading from view entirely. 

And only then had the journey truly begun...

Tagging: @searchingwardrobes @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @cssns @tiganasummertree @hollyethecurious @darkcolinodonorgasm @winterbaby89 @shireness-says @snidgetsafan @let-it-raines @therooksshiningknight @spartanguard @mayquita @thisonesatellite @stahlop @whimsicallyenchantedrose @thislassishooked @drowned-dreamer @ineffablecolors @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @kday426 @lfh1226-linda @carpedzem 

[joheunsaram]

To Make A Power Couple - 06 (knj)

Chapter 6: Garlic Pasta and I Miss You-s

THIS IS A REPOST SINCE I LOST ACCESS TO MY OLD ACCOUNT. PLEASE FOLLOW THIS BLOG FOR UPDATES ON THIS SERIES.

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Summary- Namjoon visits his parents and Yoongi and Y/N bond over their past.

word count- 4.5k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- R

genre- series, fluff, angst, action, slightly smutty, strangers2lovers

warnings- drinking, talk of mental health and panic attacks, violence, blood, stalker

a.n- sorry for this chapter being late! i had major burn out this last few weeks but I finally got it out. Tell me what you think!

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach, @sscheherazadee, @rjsmochii , @jinjccns​ , @joyful-jimin @sideblogger @agustdpeach @diamonddia-mond

—

“I hate you Kim Namjoon! Get out!”

Namjoon looks at you with an amused smile as he drops his bags at the door of your bedroom. You’re sitting in your bed, your comforter fully around you, even on top of your head, as you loudly blow your nose, some show blaring on the television. Even though he feels bad about passing on his cold to you, he can’t help but find your red nose and whining adorable. The past few months since Namjoon returned from tour had been few of the best you’d had in Korea. Although you both still had remarkably busy schedules, you had found a routine of spending time together at least once a week, usually ending your Saturdays together to spend as much of the Sunday together as possible. It didn’t matter how you spent your time, whether it was spent going out on dates or sitting silently reading or cuddling, all that mattered was that you were together.

“Aw baby, I’m sorry!” He sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping his arms around your burittoed body. He kissed all over your face obnoxiously, much to your chagrin as you groaned and tried to get him off you, worried to get your snot on him. “Okay. Tell you what. I’ll cancel going to my parents and stay here to take care of you!” He punctuated that with another kiss on your lips. Hey, he’d already suffered through this cold, might as well take advantage of being able to be near you now.

“No! Shut up! You’re not cancelling.” Since things were slower at work, the company had decided to give Namjoon and the boys the week off. He had spent the first day with you, going to the most recent Ji Hye Yeom exhibit yesterday, and was going to go visit his family for the next four days. When Namjoon told you he was planning to spend the majority of his vacation with his parents, he was bracing himself for a negative reaction, a learned response from his previous relationship. His ex would always hate that he would visit his family for extended periods when he got time off and wouldn’t prioritize his relationship with her. He was surprised and relieved to hear you not only excited that he was visiting family but encouraging him to spend more time, upping his initial ask of two days to four. He liked that you always encouraged him to call his mom when he was on tour, as did his mom, so much so that she had started to say ‘my beautiful daughter’ whenever she referred to you in front of him.

Namjoon stood up as he watched you rant about the importance of visiting family, one arm out from your duvet heaven as you waved it about to emphasize your points. He almost giggled at how endearing you looked sniffling through your tirade, hair a mess and voice a little hoarse. Taking off his jeans to get comfortable, he chuckled at your wide eyes and dramatic gasp.

“No! We’re not having sex right now you maniac!” You whine as you lie down with the covers over your head. Namjoon gets into bed, pulling the comforter from over you to sneak inside, his arms snaking around your grumbling form to pull him to his chest. Although you complained, you snuggled into him, feeling the safe comfort that only Namjoon provided you.

“I just wanna nap with you before I leave.” He kissed the top of your head as he tangled your legs with his. You poked your head up from where it was hiding in his chest to look up at his smiling face as he cupped your cheek to place a chaste kiss on your lips. Caressing the skin once he leans away, he looks at you adoringly.  “Sorry for getting you sick, baby.”

———————————-

“Your boyfriend is a tyrant. Please never get sick again.” Yoongi took off his beanie and mask and shook his head to fluff his hair as you went through your phone to finish placing the order for takeout. After talking to Namjoon about how you had spent all of yesterday recovering, and even facetiming to ensure him that you were fit enough to be working again, he still didn’t believe you, forcing the only member of his band that was in Seoul during his vacation to make sure you were truly alright. You would be annoyed if your heart didn’t skip a beat at his overt concern. You were glad to spend time with Yoongi - he was pretty similar to you and you both had been slacking on hanging out lately. A few months ago you had decided to host a whiskey exchange where you would share bottles of your favourite liquor together, only for it to fall apart after two hangouts due to your busy schedules and Yoongi’s new relationship. It was nice to be in his company again, his mellow energy a great contrast to your usually loud friends.

“What did he say?” You question, laughing. Yoongi had called Namjoon many funny nicknames before but hearing him call him a tyrant made you laugh, picturing your boyfriend getting stern and demanding someone pay you a visit.

“You wanna see?” Yoongi chuckled as he pulled his phone out, navigating to the group chat and handing it to you. You couldn’t help but smile as you read Namjoon pleading to the group to check in on you, asking if anyone was around. Yoongi said he was around but refused only to relent once the other boys pressured him and Namjoon pulled in a favour Yoongi owed him from 2015.

“Ooof. Honestly, it’s not that bad. Good to know Jungkook would literally kill for me though, and that you hate to hang out with me.” You threw an ice cube at him from where you were putting them in your glasses.

“He wouldn’t. He’s just a suck up.” He dodged your attack, sticking his tongue out in triumph. “And you know I had to make Namjoon suffer a bit.”

Rolling your eyes at him as he smirked, you watched him pull out his bottle from his backpack. Your Craigellachie 16 no match for his Glenfiddich 30, you chastised him for buying such an expensive bottle for just the exchange. However, you were not going to say no to a glass of that and the two of you sat in a comfortable silence as you enjoyed your drinks. You were the first to break the silence.

“How’s your bae?”

“Oh haven’t you heard? Bae is no more! Broke my heart and left me to suffer.” Yoongi scowled as he dramatically grabbed his chest, before downing his drink. If you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought he was joking but his usual deadpan was missing.

“Shit… I’m sorry Yoongs.” You looked at him softly, making him scoff.

“It’s fine. Going to get a sick album out of this.” Yoongi waved you off, as he reached in his backpack again to bring out three bottles of soju. “Let’s get drunk!”

“That’s… one way of looking at things. You want to talk about it?” You knew he didn’t want to talk about it, it was probably still fresh and you didn’t want to impose but you wanted to give him the opportunity to share if he wanted to.

“Nah it’s fine. It was the usual anyways. ‘You’re always busy.’ ‘Why won’t you share your feelings with me?’ ‘Do you love me more or your career?’ I say good riddance.” He scoffed once again as he poured himself some more whiskey, sipping it blissfully.

“Well good to know you’re not hiding your pain.” You narrowed your eyes at him, but decided to get drunk with him anyways, taking up his offer to refill your glass. You had an extremely light day at work tomorrow with it being Friday and all, plus you knew that once Yoongi got drunk he would tell you how he was feeling. He was a very talkative drunk.

“Oh you know it. I’m nothing if not in touch with my feelings!”

Soon you and Yoongi were wasted, sitting on opposite ends of your couch as the television played the ‘important videos’ playlist on Youtube, laughing maniacally at each random short video that popped up. The food you had ordered was sitting on the coffee table, half eaten and getting cold. Having not heard Yoongi’s giggle in a while you looked away from the screen to see him staring into space, a slight frown on his lips.

“Dude. You good?” You poked him with your foot to break him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah. Sorry just realized I’m single again. Fuck.” He looked at you with wide eyes, as if he had just had an epiphany. You frowned at him, sad that he was feeling this way. In the past six months, you had come to learn that although Yoongi often talked about how much he loved being alone, in reality he put a lot of pressure on himself to find someone to be with.

“You know you’re worth more than a relationship, right?” You placed your hand on his, smiling reassuringly.

“Don’t go all Dr. Phil on me. I’m not that sad. It was like two months but it felt nice to call someone mine, you know?” He rolled his eyes at your concern, but held your hand tighter as he finished his sentence, averting his gaze with a melancholic look. He looked at you again sighing. “How did you get over your last breakup?”

“Um… not healthily. I almost sold my company.”

And so for the next hour, you told Yoongi of how messed up your previous relationship had made you. You don’t think you had talked about it in depth about your breakup with Beomseok for years now, but somehow drunk off extremely expensive whiskey and extremely cheap soju it felt natural to share the details about your most toxic relationship with Yoongi. Beomseok and you met when you were initially still in Canada, visiting Seoul in hopes of expanding. You were busy and he tried to help you as you adjusted to a new country, but as your relationship grew so did his tendency to ensure you relied on him. As hard as it was to admit to Yoongi, Beomseok had made you dependent on him, so much so that when he left you after two years of you accommodating him, you broke down. You started having terrible anxiety, using alcohol and cigarettes to take the edge off. Panic attacks became the norm so much so that you had contemplated leaving your position. You couldn’t see your friends, worked from home, and just buried yourself away. It took half a year of self destructive behaviour and for you to wake up in a bed with someone you didn’t remember to knock some sense into you and get yourself into therapy. Yoongi then talked about his own relationship issues, the two of you bonding over your struggles with mental health and shitty coping mechanisms. It was weird to think that Yoongi hadn’t been one of your close friends before this night.

It was around two in the morning by the time Yoongi left and you felt the emotions of the night catch up to you. You hadn’t thought about Beomseok in years, and thinking about him made you feel extremely sad for past you. You didn’t deserve how he treated you and you wished you could go back in time and shake some sense into yourself, and save the heartbreak. Lying in bed, drunk and emotional, you mourned for your old self and her faith in the world. However, looking at your phone you saw the photo of you and Namjoon - him standing behind you with his arm on your shoulder as he pretends to take a bite off your cheek as you grimace - and you were reminded that you were in a much better place now with a much better man. To say you looked forward to Namjoon returning tomorrow would be an understatement.

———————————-

Namjoon: I’m back!!! Namjoon: I miss you!!! Namjoon: Come over!!! Namjoon: I’m cooking for you!!! Y/N: Um… should I call poison control now or later? Namjoon: I’m back after almost a week and this is the welcome I get? Y/N: Babeeeee you know I love you! Namjoon: Prove it. Eat the pasta I’m making Y/N: Did anyone at least help you cook it? Namjoon: IT’S GOING TO BE GOOD. COME OVER. Y/N: Ok ok. No need to yell… Namjoon: Good. See you in an hour? Namjoon: I’m at the dorms btw Y/N: See you soon jooooooonie Y/N: I miss you too btw Namjoon: I love you too btw

You punched the code to the dorm and were greeted by a very excited Moni as you entered. The white dog jumping up at your legs, his tail wagging wildly behind him. You bent down in the entryway to give him a few scratches behind his ears, cooing and calling him a good boy.

“All this love for Moni, what about Joonie? I’m a good boy too!” You heard Namjoon shout out as you made your way through the large living room towards the kitchen, Moni playfully following.

“Aww is my good boy jealous?” You set your eyes on your boyfriend huddled over a cutting board, concentrating hard on cutting what seemed to be garlic, his jaw set. Namjoon was dressed in a blue overalls under which he wore a black sweater, the hood atop his head, the hair of which was now back to his natural dark brown, his nose scrunched as he attempted to keep his glasses from slipping. You don’t know if it was not seeing him for a while or the fact that he looked so cuddly, but you felt butterflies, your stomach somersaulting. You hadn’t felt them since the beginning of your relationship, and you were a bit unnerved that he still had that effect on you six months later.

“Holy shit. You look like a hot minion!” You almost yelled as you walked towards him, startling him enough to look at you with wide eyes under his black rimmed glasses and yelp.

“Don’t scare me like that! I almost cut my hand off!” He tried to glare at you but was soon smiling widely as you ducked under his arm to stand directly in front of him between the counter, putting your arms around his neck as you pulled him into a kiss. It felt amazing to have his plush lips against yours again, his familiar scent enveloping your senses till it felt like you were drunk off of him.

“I missed you,” you whispered against his lips. Your hands found your elbows as you pulled him in closer and deepened the kiss, making him moan, his tongue massaging yours as his hands went to your hips, pulling you to him. Before you could lose all your senses you felt a sharp poke on your lower back, and you reluctantly pulled away to look behind you.

“Joonie! You’re still holding the knife!” You said in alarm as his eyes widened again and he dropped it on the counter immediately before looking at you sheepishly and apologizing. “Control yourself. I don’t want to spend the night in the hospital!”

“Then stop distracting me! Go sit there and watch me make you the best pasta of your life.” He smirked and his eyes followed as you moved around the island to sit at the stool, bending down to pet Moni as he settled at your feet. Namjoon knew he was a terrible cook, but he had spent the time at home perfecting this recipe, subjecting his mom to the first few horrible tries, till he figured it out. It was a simple five ingredient dish but it was the first he’d learn and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to impress you. You always cooked for him, from experimental recipes you had found online to traditional Korean food that was second best only to his mom’s, and though he was always happy to do the dishes, he wanted your reunion to be special. He cooked almost quietly, blushing slightly at your words and looks of encouragement, plating it like restaurants would before placing it on the dining table and sitting next to you with a bottle of wine, anticipating your reaction.

“What the fuck? You can cook!” you exclaim as you dig in for another bite. Namjoon lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he grinned at his success, finally digging into his meal. “I love the garlic. But damn, is this your way of telling me you don’t wanna kiss tonight?”

“Baby, I find even your gross morning breath irresistible, a little garlic’s not gonna stop me.” he laughed and you scowled at him, nudging him with your shoulder, as he leaned over to peck your lips. You weren’t trying to placate Namjoon, this pasta was absolutely delicious, the right amount of seasoning and everything. It warmed your heart that despite his firestarter tendencies he went through the effort to make you a home cooked meal.

As you ate, you talked about your days apart. You recovered from your cold within a day and had been back at work, and even though he scolded you for going back too fast Namjoon loved the way your eyes lit up when you talked about how you had managed to renew a contract with a client today, switching the period from their usual 1 year to 5 years. You had been working on this for a whole month, taking it upon yourself to attend meetings with not only the directors of this company but even the interns. He squealed with you at your success, high-fiving you and finding your excitement extremely adorable. You also talked about how after two bottles of soju Yoongi had finally admitted you were now his closest female friend and he agreed that you both should now tease him about it relentlessly.

Namjoon told you about how excited everyone was to have him home for that extended period of time, and how healing it was to be around them after the cacophony of tour. Apparently his sister had recently started learning how to make loom bracelets and he showed off the purple one on his wrist, telling you about how he had a matching one for you in his bag. Namjoon looked refreshed and you were glad you convinced him to spend the extra time home. He had also managed to bring back another bonsai tree to add to his collection, taking the time to explain how in a few years he could potentially tap the mini maple for some syrup. The image of your clumsy boyfriend trying to tap a tiny tree made you laugh. As the conversation continued and you both finished your food, you saw his mood dip a little. You silently lean forward cupping his face, as he nuzzles into your touch.

“My beautiful, hardworking boy. What’s wrong?” You coo with a soft smile on your face as your thumbs stroked his cheekbones and he pouts exaggeratedly before his hands go around your waist pulling you into his lap.

“I missed you.” He whispers as he nuzzles his face in your chest, his arms tightening around you. Namjoon felt cocooned in your sweet floral vanilla scent, and even though he’d been home just this morning, this felt like home too - just being in your embrace. He felt his heart swell with adoration as you stroked his hair slowly, whispering affirmations into his ear, slowly forgetting his worries about not spending enough time with you.

Usually when you both met after being apart, it was all desperation to get naked, but for the first time this felt much more intimate. He could hear your heartbeat and it soothed him. He suddenly envisioned both of you old and weathered in each other’s arms and he couldn’t fight the grin that made it on his face. He showered you in kisses, moving from your chest to your neck to your jaw and finally to your lips, where he stayed, kissing you firmly as his arms wind tighter around your waist. You lost yourself in his touch, wanting nothing more to be consumed by him as you tugged lightly at his hair, swallowing his moans. Before things could escalate you get startled by a loud thud.

“Wow! Right where we eat!” Jimin clicked his tongue in disapproval, as you both sheepishly stared at him.

“Noona!” Jungkook exclaimed as he came over to Namjoon and you, dragging you into a hug as he kissed the top of both of your heads. The two men seemed overly excited, and as Namjoon explained to you how he thought he was alone in the dorms tonight since no one has been around in weeks, the two interrupted to say that they had come to start a movie marathon, hoping to stay up all night since they had the day off tomorrow to marathon the Batman franchise as they had a bet going on as which one was the best.

“Do you guys want to join us?” Jimin asked politely as he munched on leftover pasta on the table. You excitedly opened your mouth to speak but before you could get a word out, Namjoon looked at you sternly.

“Nope.” He refused the boys as he looked at you, leaning in close to whisper in your ear before he nipped at it. “Baby, ignore your obsession with Batman. I want my dessert.” His voice was a few octaves lower than usual and his words made you shiver, a blush creeping up your face as a nervous giggle escaped your lips. Maybe you could skip rewatching these old movies, just once.

Bidding a quick goodbye to the boys and ignoring their smirks, you both made your way to Namjoon’s room. As soon as you were out of sight, Namjoon pulled you into another kiss, slotting your lower lip between his, making your heart race as he walked you down the hallway towards his room. You almost tripped over his bags haphazardly strewn in front of his door.

“Sorry, didn’t have time to go to my room yet.” He chuckled against your lips as his grip on your hips stabilized you. You giggled as you turned around to open his door, his lips on your neck instantaneously as he rubbed his growing bulge against your butt. His touch had you breathless as you moved in his room, Moni following closely behind you. Removing himself from you he picked up his dog and moved him outside murmuring an apology to the whining canine as he shut the door.

Without wasting any time, he pinned you against the door, your makeout session getting heavy. Your eyes were screwed shut as you mewled, his lips along your neck igniting a fire in you. Your hands moved from his hair to the buckles of his overalls, snapping them off as they fell to the ground unceremoniously. “Oh look! Easy access!” you exclaimed as he smiled against your skin.

His lips met yours again, his hands kneading the flesh of your sides under your shirt. You could kiss him like this forever, the way his tongue explores your mouth as if he doesn’t already know every crevice of your body, as if he’s worshipping you. His kiss slows down, turning from a sloppy fiery heat to intentional moves made to make you moan as he moves you towards the bed, dropping you to the middle as soon as your knees hit the back of the bed. He stands above you removing his shirt with one hand as you move backwards and soon he’s slotting himself between you.

“Fuck I love you.” He whispers as he kisses your cheek, moving towards your ear. You moan loudly as he grinds against you. Your hands run over his back, feeling the muscles as he continues to kiss your neck, biting it before soothing it with wide licks of his tongue. You used to be embarrassed by the marks he left behind but somehow as time passed you craved them. Jiyoung had even nicknamed him your vampire, and you’d be lying if that didn’t make you giddy.

Realizing you were still fully dressed you pushed at his chest, making him lie next to you as you straddled him, one of your knees almost slipping off the edge of the bed. You giggle at your clumsiness as he holds your hips to steady you and you slowly unbutton your shirt. As your skin becomes visible he runs his hands up your stomach to your chest, squeezing each breast as he reaches your neck before pulling your face to his.

“Mhmm… my pretty girl.” He almost growls as he pulls you into another heated kiss, his hands cupping your face as you grind on him. Suddenly you feel a tug at your hair, making you moan into his mouth, breaking the kiss. Before you know it you are on the floor, laughing at your clumsiness as you see his confused face, eyes still closed, lips puckered.

However, your laughter dies as you hear a loud screech. That’s when you feel that your hair was still being tugged as you looked up to see a tall, bulky woman, probably in her late thirties calling you a slut. Before you can even register what is happening you feel a sharp pain across your face as you realize you’ve just been punched. You taste the iron before you notice drops of bright red on your chest.

You cup your nose with one hand as you hear chaos ensue. Namjoon yelling your name as Moni barks loudly outside the room. You are aware that you are still lying on the floor but your eyes refuse to open as you hear scuffling before the door being slammed and Jungkook’s voice.

Everything’s a blur and you hear a loud blood curdling scream. Before you can register that that noise came from your mouth you hear your arm snap just as the most pain you have ever felt in your life turns your arm numb. You don’t remember much after, only grunts and shouts of your name. The last thing you hear is Namjoon’s voice calling your name repeatedly as he holds your head.

——

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[guardianofjunmyeon]

Finding Atlantis (part 7)

Genre: Action/Adventure, Enemies to Lovers, PirateAU

Description:   20 years ago the seas became angry. Unruly and unkind to any sailor, to  any ship that dared venture too far out in her waters. Many a man has  heard the tales of Atlantis, the lost city, the key the ocean. But  fewer  men know the tale of it’s missing child. The key to the ocean, the key  to Atlantis but a lost little one. The power one would hold should they  find this child would be nearly that of Poseidon himself. Thus, the hunt  began.    

A/N: Sorry it took so long for an update but i was kind of pissed off at baekhyun and exo for their lack of BLM support but whatever now. I’ve received you guys’ messages and asks and I keep meaning to respond to things but i really dont get on tumblr all that often. I really love and appreciate you all though so here’s a pretty...cute chap

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18

Darkness. Suffocation. Cold. Not breathing. He’s not breathing. He’s not breathing.

You’re not breathing.

You sit up with a start. “Baekhyun!” You gasp for air. Your chest heaves as you frantically try to breathe. The image of Baekhyun’s unmoving body begins to fade from your memory like a dream you can’t fully recall. Darkness makes way for the brightness that you are beginning to realize surrounds you. You don’t feel seasick; your body is still.

Panting, you look around.

A beach. Your heartbeat slows down when you realize that you’re sitting on a beach, alive. Alive and safe and the boat is pulled ashore.

But you can’t find Baekhyun. Panic rises again.

“You’re awake.” You hear from behind you.

You whip around, and there he is. Baekhyun stands on both of his feet, shirtless with an armful of wood.

And both of his god damn eyes.

Pain unexpectedly shoots up your middle. You groan loudly and lower yourself back down on your back. It doesn’t feel as intense like this. “Fuck,” you hiss in agony.

“You fractured your rib,” Baekhyun says, now at your side. You look at him through squinted eyelids. “It’s not broken, and it’ll heal on its own. You’ve just got to take it easy for a while,” he instructs you softly. You catch a glimpse of concern in his eyes.

His fucking two eyes.

“You’ve got more than one eye…” you croak dumbly. With each inhale of breath the pain begins to subside.

He blinks and the concern that you think you saw vanishes. “Yeah, and you’ve got fractured bones. Now we’ve both stated the obvious.”

He stands up and walks off while you struggle to sit up without experiencing more shooting pains. It doesn’t work out well; any move to raise your body sends another painful jolt through your body. From experience, you can tell that it’s your lower left rib that’s injured. That’s where you experience the most pain. Breathing doesn’t hurt; you chalk it up to luck that you didn’t puncture a lung in the process. In…all of that.

Your throat begins to close up at the memory. The rain. The waves. The cold.

He’s not breathing.

A decently sized canteen drops into your lap. You jump in your spot. “You’re dehydrated,” is all Baekhyun says before he walks off again.

You follow his retreating figure with your eyes. “Thanks,” you rasp to yourself.

Surprising yourself, you’re glad to see that he’s fine. That he’s alive despite the years you’ve spent wishing him dead.

It takes a bit of time, and a lot of moaning and hissing, to open the canteen. You nearly cry when you’re finally able to feel the water sliding down your throat. You drink it greedily.

What if this is all the water you’ve got?

You stop and pull the lip of it away from your mouth. You drank half of it in just 3 seconds.

“You can finish it,” you hear Baekhyun say from where he’s crouched by the wood. “There’s more on the island, we won’t go thirsty for a while.”

Without further hesitation you drain the rest. You’re still thirsty, but at least now you can talk, and maybe even stand without passing out. Like a baby learning to walk on its own, you slowly lift your body off the ground and on to your knees.

Baekhyun watches you closely, but does nothing to help. Once you’ve caught your breath again and are comfortably sitting on your knees, he stands up. He pulls on his shirt and then starts in the direction of the tree line. He pauses, turns to you and jerks his head towards the trees. A silent beckoning.

With a breath to prep you for the pain, you force yourself on your legs.

After only a few seconds of dizziness, your visions clears and you take careful steps in his direction.

Baekhyun waits until you’re only a step behind him to start walking forward again. There seems to be a clear path to wherever he’s leading you. You’re thankful that you don’t have to duck and dodge branches with your fractured rib.

Actually, the more you think about it, the path is suspiciously cleared of obstructions. You frown and look around. It’s clear as day that branches have been broken off recently. Maybe Baekhyun was going to use it for the fire?

You squint at the ground and see broken pieces of tree along the ground. So, not firewood. Path wood?

Why would he need to do that when he can just push them out of the way? The ground is flat even without the branches he’d torn down. It seems kind of unnecessary.

Your foot catches on a divot in the ground and your body stumbles half a step too far just fast enough to cause a pain to shoot up your side. You bite back a pathetic whine and notice belatedly that Baekhyun is hovering right at your side anxiously. Your eyes water instinctively at the smarting in your torso.

You let out a shaky breath and straighten up. “Fuck.”

He frowns.

“We’re almost there.” A beat of silence. And then, “Watch your step dumbass.”

Your rib prevents you from fighting back. You don’t think you would really want to even if you could. You trod behind him dutifully. The forest is full with the sounds of life, but the conversation between the two of you is dead. Painfully so.

“How long have you been awake?” you ask to fill the silence.

“A few hours. I looked around the island while you were unconscious.”

You hum. You wonder whether the boat washed up on its own or if he rowed here in your sleep.

To your surprise he continues on. “It’s an old prison island from the looks of it. I came across the jail and a bunker when I was gathering firewood.”

“Were there people in the prison?”

“Not living ones.”

“Gross.”

Silence.

“Thanks…by the way,” he says gently. Oh? Is that…a thank you you’ve heard?

“What was that?” you goad.

“Don’t make me say it again…”

“Do you mean for saving your life? Are you thanking me for that? For being a heroic, brave, sexy, strong-”

“I should have thrown your body into the ocean when I woke up.”

You laugh softy, carefully. If you breathe too hard then your rib smarts again.

“How’s your rib doing?” he asks.

“Hurts.”

“Okay smartass-”

“I’m serious!”

A beat.

“How are your stitches?” you ask.

“Hurts.”

“Listen here-”

He laughs. A full one. A bright one.

You shuffle behind holding back a smile. A building comes into view after a few minutes of walking. He was right; it’s obviously an old prison if the dreariness of it is anything to go by. It’s a small one. You follow him through broken doors, barely hanging onto their last hinge.

It reeks of death.

A chill runs down your spine.

Avoiding the actual prison cells, the two of you walk right to the guard room. Light streams through the window and you can see that the place was left in a hurry. There is still a lot of junk strewn around. It smells of moldy water. Maybe the place was hit by a hurricane.

You walk over to the desk and pull out a drawer. Matches, pens, an old pipe. You pocket the matches and check each drawer for anything of use while Baekhyun does the same across the room.

Most of the things you come across are entirely worthless, but you do find a fully loaded gun and a dusty flare.

The finds remind you that you didn’t grab anything when you jumped off the ship. Reckless. Thoughtless. But the realization that you don’t regret it is humbling.

Quickly you pat your body to see if you happened to bring anything of use. Your smallest blade sits reliably on your hip, and your gun still happens to be in its holster.

The compass.

You unhook it from your hip and stare at it in disappointment. Useless.

The sound of glass crashing across the room alarms you.

Baekhyun stands next to the shattered object with startled eyes and a wince frozen on his face. “Can you be quiet?” you whisper harshly.

He relaxes and rolls his eyes. “There’s no one alive here,” he reminds. “It’s not like we’re going to get in trouble.” His voice is as low as yours.

“Then why are you whispering?”

“Because you’re whispering!” He whispers back in frustration.

You cock an eyebrow.

“Shut up,” he says at normal volume. He steps over the glass with his hands on his hips and his lips jut out in a disappointed pout.

Clearly there’s nothing else of value in here.

“Do you know where the kitchen is?” you ask quietly.

“Yeah, come on.”

You travel through the halls wordlessly. The dripping of water punctuates every other second that passes. Your boots slosh through puddles of dirty water.

The silence of the jail feels more oppressive than anything else you’ve ever felt in life. It puts you on edge. You won’t say it scares you. Not when you’ve faced death itself countless times in your life. But if a fucking dead body comes back to life to eat your heart, you will not be responsible for your actions.

You are not beyond tripping Baekhyun so that you can get away.

In the kitchen, you split up to look for anything that can be salvaged. There are cans of food, packages of dried meats and fruits. The food left in the broken fridge is rancid, and rats crawl around on the floor. You would probably be better off just hunting and fishing on your own.

The floor creaks awkwardly under your foot as you close a cabinet with metal serving dishes; you look down. There’s a catch in the floor.

A door.

“Hey,” you hiss. You motion to your side when Baekhyun looks up from snacking on a bag of dried bananas. “Can you lift this up for me?” you ask.

He pads over and looks down in confusion at the spot near your foot. His jaw freezes in the middle of chewing as interest spreads across his face.

When he reaches down, the door squeaks open with a severity that hurts your ears. It’s pitch black below.

You dig the matches out of your pocket and lower yourself carefully, closer to the entrance. You strike a match and it dimly illuminates a bit of the space. An oil lamp hangs not far from the top.

Once lit, the lamp brightens up the hidden room.

A ladder.

Despite the burning in your torso you begin to lower yourself down farther.

An hand lands on your shoulder to stop you. “What are you doing?” Baekhyun whispers.

“I’m investigating. There’s no one here remember?” you mock. You shrug off his hand and scale down the short ladder. Another lamp awaits at the bottom. You strike another match and the full room comes into view.

You smile. “It’s a liquor storage.”

“What?”

“It’s a liquor storage,” you whisper a bit louder.

“What?!” he calls louder.

You inhale angrily. “IT’S A-”

“I heard you the first time. Quiet down,” he laughs from above. You hear him jump down into the small space. He looks around appreciatively.

“Party on the beach. Better than dying stranded and sober I guess.”

Baekhyun grabs a few bottles and places them outside of the little room. You attempt to grab a bottle of bourbon that’s caught your eye a bit above your head.

You’ll have to stretch for it.

Bracing yourself for pain, you suck air through your teeth. But before you can lift your hand above your head, a warm body is pressed against your back and the bottle is pulled from your vision. You blink dumbly and once the solidness of his chest vanishes from your back, you turn to face him.

“What part of ‘take it easy’ don’t you understand?” Baekhyun scolds you, the bottle of bourbon you were going to grab cradled in his arm. He exhales in exasperation. “I’ll carry this stuff back. Just…stop doing shit that will hurt your fracture.”

“Aw Baekhyun are you worried about m-”

“If you actually break your rib I’m not going to help you fix it and you can die on this island immobile.”

You quiet.

“Fine.”

Baekhyun ends up carrying all of the heavy items found on your search back to the beach where you’d washed up. You trail behind him, mind shrouded in confusion, and a bit of worry. When did he start to care about your injuries?

He puts down the sheet, that he’d used the carry everything over, with an exhausted puff of breath.

Wordlessly you both begin to set up camp.

Baekhyun works on getting a fire started as the sun begins to lower in the sky, and you spread out the cloth so that you’ll have a buffer between your bodies and the sand when you sit down or sleep.

You take stock of all of the supplies that you’d collected while he continues to nurse dim embers to life. You’re happy to see that he’d found a second flare in his search.

The sky and the ocean are calm, cruelly so, as the two of you settle in front of the growing fire. When the sky is blanketed in black and stars begin to make themselves known, you light the flare that you’d grabbed from the prison. It illuminates the sky briefly and then fades away. Hopefully your ship sees it.

The night is warm, and the fire crackles excited between you. You on one side of the fire and Baekhyun five feet away.

Baekhyun munches on a package of dried meat he’d collected, and you struggle to open a bottle of rum with your teeth. It uncorks with a satisfying ‘pop’.

You take a large swallow and feel is settling, warm, in the pit of your stomach.

When you hold it out towards Baekhyun, he only looks at it, and then trains his attention back to the fire.

You shrug and take another swig. You smack your tongue against the roof of your mouth loudly to show your satisfaction.

“Okay fine. Hand it over.” You smile gratuitously as he takes the bottle and takes a drink for himself.

The alcohol relaxes your muscles and you feel the urge to start talking. “So…two eyes huh?”

You name falls from his lips in warning, telling you to drop it. You raise your hand in mock defeat.

You think maybe the alcohol is making him want to talk too. Or maybe it’s the silence. “…Why do you keep calling Suho a princess?”

“Huh?”

“He’s a prince,” Baekhyun states. He shifts in his spot and turns his body to face you. “He’s the Prince of Atlantis, but you’ve been calling him a princess even though you know that he’s not a girl.”

You shrug. “The stories…they originally just called him the lost child of Atlantis.”

“Yeah…”

“I don’t know when people started to just assume the lost child was a girl. It helped to keep his identity hidden that way even if it was wrong. If everyone was out looking for the Princess of Atlantis, they wouldn’t give a second thought to a man who fits the description. After a while it just became second nature to refer to him like that, to continue to talk about him as a little missing girl rather than who he actually was. Suho is a princess, and Junmyeon is a member of my ship. They weren’t the same person in my head.”

Baekhyun hands you the rum. For the same reason that you keep your own identity a secret, your crew decided to keep Junmyeon’s. Sometimes you gain an advantage by letting people assume what they want.

“Did you find out on your own that he was the princess- the prince?”

You smirk. “Your curiosity finally won out huh?”

He pelts a stick at your arm.

He waited longer than you expected –you’ll give him that.

“Since you are so curious I guess I can tell you.” He picks up another stick. “Anyways! He came up and told me. Introduced himself to me that way, the dumbass,” you laugh at the memory. “It was…years ago. Right as I was starting to find people to join my crew. He just walked up to me while I was sitting in the corner of a bar and slid one of my ‘Man for Hire’ posters across the table. This scrawny guy, soaked from head to toe. He looked exhausted but there was something in his eyes that I’d never seen before.” You look into the fire as you try to recall the details of that night.

“He told me that he wanted to hire me to get him home. I’m pretty sure I laughed right in his face. He sat down at my table, dropped a heavy bag of money between us, and said, ‘I can get you more money than you can imagine.’

“‘Okay I’ll bite. What’s the deal?’

“‘Have you ever heard of Atlantis?’” you repeat the words from the exchange and then pull your gaze from the fire to meet Baekhyun’s. “He went on to tell me that he was a prince and that he’d run away a few years before. He was ready to return, but he had no idea how to do it. He’d left because his family and his people were pressuring him about his destiny and the role he had to fulfill to save the kingdom and he just...panicked. He was just a teenager, you know? He was scared, he wasn’t ready, and so he ran away. He fled and then lived on land among humans for long enough that the connection he’d had with the ocean had dimmed. He couldn’t find his own way home, and they couldn’t come find him, even if they wanted to.”  

Baekhyun frowns. You take a drink, pass him the bottle, and continue on.

“I didn’t believe him at first, but decided to do what I could. Our relationship started out like that, with me trying to get him home. After some time he just decided to be on my crew. We would find crewmen, do other jobs to pay for our expenses, and then continue to look for Atlantis. Over time we gained more men, we lost even more, but he was always there at my side as my first mate. As my first crewman.” You smile fondly and play with the sand at your side. “Soon enough, finding Atlantis became an…afterthought. It wasn’t our priority anymore. We went on other adventures, faced other challenges, and strengthened the family we built aboard the ship.

“He said he was fine not finding his way home anymore after a few years of looking. But the way he looks out at the sea sometimes…” Memories arise of him leaning against the side of the ship and looking out at the expanse of the ocean longingly. “It’s heartbreaking.”

You don’t realize that your eyes are starting to water until a tear falls against the back of your hand. You swipe away the moisture and paste on a smile. Baekhyun’s expression is one of empathy. “I know that he misses the sea; I know that he misses home no matter what he says to deny it. I promised him that I would get him back, once. He laughed at me, but I meant it. He’s like my family, but his happiness comes before anything else…even if I have to give him back to the sea.”

Your words settle over you both like a heavy blanket. Your own heart tugs a bit at the memories and realization that you really may be giving him up soon. If they find you on this island and you continue on your quest. You’ll be giving up the person who’s been at your side longest.

“You love him,” Baekhyun states.

His words startle you. You look at him with widened eyes and try to read his expression, or at the very least the intention behind his words. It’s carefully concealed behind neutrality, but you can see a bit of the uneasiness in his eyes. You don’t know what comes over you. Why you want to see his reaction to your words so badly. Why you hope that it’ll bother him –even if it’s just a little.

You keep your gaze steady when you respond. “Yes.”

A glimpse of offense is all you catch as evidence that you words may have affected him, but it could have been a trick of the light from the fire. He rolls his eyes and takes a long swig of the rum, no longer looking you in your eyes.

“I love him the way I love every member of my crew,” you press on cautiously. You catch the stillness in his throat as he stops swallowing for half a second. Satisfaction thrums through your body. Why? Why? You don’t know for sure yourself. “Everyone on my crew is my responsibility, and with that comes a level of love and respect that we’ve all worked hard to build. Like I said, the men and women on that ship are my family. We wouldn’t work as well as we do if we didn’t love each other just a little bit. Thinking that you can’t love your shipmates just because you’re a pirate and you kill people is old fashioned. Love solidifies a bond like nothing else. We would risk our lives for each other…that goes for us with you and your men too.”

The fire pops loudly.

He wipes away a drop of alcohol from the corner of his lips and gives you a measured look. You watch as he figures out how to form the question he wants to ask next. You hold out your hand for the bottle.

He passes it, and if your hands faintly brush –neither of you mention it.

The next swallow of the liquid burns its way down and blurs your senses. Drunkenness creeps in at the corners of your mind. A weighted silence stretches on while you focus on the pleasant humming in your veins.

“Is that why you jumped in after me?” You twitch in your spot at the sound of Baekhyun’s voice. Enough time has passed of prolonged silence that you have to search your mind for what it is he’s referring to.

Oh, the storm. Your recklessness.

“Yeah,” you say easily. “You’re a part of my crew for now. We shook hands on our truce and everything –and you didn’t stab me after I cut your side, so I figure I can trust you. I would have done the same thing for anyone.” He seems unhappy with your answer, but doesn’t voice it. “If I can save a life, I save it. Especially if it’s someone on my crew,” you ramble on.

He laughs in disdain. “That’s stupid of you. No self respecting captain would do something like that.” He mutters around the bottle he’s slipped from your fingers, “I would have let me drown.”

You toss a handful of sand in his direction. “Well I’m not you.”

His eyes shine in confusion. You curse under your breath from the movement on your rib as you scoot closer to him. “You know,” you start, fully committed to over sharing now that you’ve started, “I haven’t hold anyone this, but years before I met Junmyeon –when I was still just a little street rat pick pocketing to eat and whatever- I had my life saved. You can think it’s stupid, because it kind of is but I don't care.” Baekhyun’s lip twitches up in amusement.

“Anyway! I had my life saved by this one kid. I was being chased down by a couple of thugs a man sent on me after I stole his purse. It was a rich guy who lived in my town, super well-known and feared. I’d really fucked myself over this time. His men were after me, and I tried to hide, but no one was willing to let me in. They were afraid of him. And I was just this random kid; they didn’t owe me anything. I knew if I was caught, I’d get my hands cut off…or worse!” You widen your eyes to emphasize your words. Baekhyun breathes out a laugh.

“I ran around in a panic, crying, shaking, begging. I was only like…10. I hid in an alleyway for an hour when I heard them coming. I could hear them asking people on the street if they’d seen me. ‘Have you seen this girl?’ ‘Have you seen this girl?’” you mimic. “I knew that I was going to be found. But then, this kid, he saw me when he’d come to throw out the trash from the shop he worked at. Or maybe he lived there? I don’t know…I just know that he didn’t have to help me, but he did. He helped me up and hid me in a storage shed under the shop until the next morning. It might not have meant anything to him, but I remember that favor to this day.

“I know it’s unlikely that I’ll ever meet him again, especially since I haven’t returned home, but I feel like I’m repaying him in some way like this. Saving the lives of people close to me or the lives of people who can’t save themselves. I can’t save everyone; shit, I’ve killed way more than I’ve ever saved, but where I can, if I know I can do it, then I do. Since I never got to tell him thank you…it helps.”

You aren’t sure if your words make sense; they don’t the longer you think about them, but you hope that Baekhyun gets the general idea. As a pirate, you pride yourself on killing those who are evil by nature. The people who pick on and hurt the innocent, the less fortunate, the defenseless. You kill, and you collect money for killing, but you have never killed someone who did nothing to deserve it. You’re relentless, sadistic, and at times monstrous, but you aren’t heartless. Despite how you grew up and the struggles you’ve faced –for every unkind soul you encountered, you met two with hearts of gold.

“You know…you talk a lot when you’re drunk.”

“Shut up.”

“No it’s…nice. Having a…normal conversation.”

You blink at him. Yeah, it is. Not throwing curses and insults at each other for once is…nice.

But the thought of admitting that aloud to him makes your stomach twist in an ugly way.

“Are you going soft on me Byun?” you tease.

“I’m allowed to enjoy just talking every once in a while. You’re the one going all starry eyed over some kid from your childhood that’s probably buried in whores and liquor right now,” he throws back. “You shouldn’t idolize people like that. It’ll hurt you less when they don’t fulfill your expectations.” He fingers the neck of the bottle before taking a large swallow. “Besides it sounds like you’re in love with him and you don’t even remember what he looked like.”

“I’m not in love with him,” you feel your stomach turn uncomfortably when Baekhyun looks back at you with an amused eyebrow raise.

So you’re in love with him right? That's why you’re acting like this?

Heat fills your cheeks. “And so what if I can’t remember what he looked like? It was a long time ago and my memory’s been distorted. Fuck off.”

For a while you did look for that kid. You can remember the kohl rimming his eyes, and the hood he wore that hid his face in the darkness. In the time you searched for him you wanted so bad for someone to fit the mental description that you began to make people fit it. You confused what you actually remembered of his appearance with what you wanted him to look like.

Even if he sat right in front of you today –you probably wouldn’t even recognize him.

You hear Baekhyun holding back his giggling and you glare at him half-heartedly. With a full smile, all rectangle, all rounded cheeks, he holds the nearly empty bottle for you to take once again.

When your hand touches his this time, you both pause for a second longer than you should. You blame the alcohol. He lets go and averts his gaze back to the fire. You clear your throat nervously. “What about you?” his eyes flicker quickly from the fire. “Any savior stories? Or love stories, heartbreaker? You know, outside of ones with me,” you add jokingly before finishing the bottle.

“No,” he says quickly. You see his ears color.

You gasp. “You do don’t you? Tell me,” you demand. “Was it someone you grew up with? Are you in love with someone right now?”

The red spreading up his neck isn’t a result of your imagination, or your drunkenness, you know it. “Why are we even talking about this?” he complains, a whine taking form in his voice. You’ve heard him whine like this once before –when he was leaving a bar being held up by one of his men (Sehun, now that you know the people in his crew) and not wanting to go home.

“You’re the one interrogating me over my love life!”

“I was not!”

“‘You love him’, ‘Sounds like you’re in love with him’, ‘You’re obsessed with each other’,” you mock.

His eyes narrow. “I never said that last one.”

This time you feel your face heating. “Whatever. You started the conversation.” You grab sand and start to fill the empty bottle just to give yourself the distraction. You don’t think you can look at him right now. “Besides, there’s nothing else to do. Unless you want to spar…” you look over eagerly.

His face scrunches up (cutely) and he lies on his back. “No, I’m too tired and too drunk to fight you right now.”

You frown to yourself and finger the top of the bottle distractedly. “You know…” you start again, “You act like love is a death sentence, or like it’s something bad.”

“It is,” he says simply. His voice sounds far away. You shuffle closer so (so that you can hear him better –obviously) and grumble under your breath as a way to distract from the pain movement causes you.

He doesn’t move away when you lie down next to him. You both stare up at the sky, visions swimming.

Fuck you’re drunk.

“Are you drunk?” you whisper.

“…a bit,” he laughs in a whisper back.

You both continue to look at the stars and giggle to yourselves. It’s funny that you’re here like this, you think –lying on a beach with Baekhyun on your side, so close that the sides of your bodies are nearly overlapping. Giggling and drunk and talking about love like old friends.

I think you should both admit you’re in love with each other so we can all move on.

“Baekhyun…”

“Hmm?”

“It could be nice…being in love.” His head rolls to the side to watch you. You keep your eyes trained on the sky. “Like…it could be like having a first mate in life. Someone to help you navigate your ups and downs like a first mate helps a captain navigate the seas. It could be nice having that one person to lean on when the waters get too rough and it feels like the entire world is against you –you still have the one person who will always be there at your side. It might be nice to be scolded and praised and encouraged for just living…for just being yourself. Don’t you think?” you let your head loll to the side so you can look at him.

You observe the furrow of his eyebrows and the way his lips pout as he thinks. You stare openly into the darkness of his eyes and notice how they both droop downwards. How his nose slopes and how his face is so round.

You feel your stomach flip in an ugly way.

Struck by panic and by his silence at your words –you slap on a sleazy drunk smile. “And you can have sex with them whenever you want. That’s a pretty cool bonus, I think.”

He laughs his absolute loudest –his brightest- at that.

You shove down the urge to say something else, something just as dumb, just so that you can see him laugh like that again.

Shit.

“Shut up,” he giggles. His eyes shine and dart across your face excitedly and you faintly register your own doing the same. His cheeks are so round and so red from the alcohol and the joy.

He’s very pretty when he smiles.

Both of his eyes, pretty (he’s got two of them who would have thought?). A mole under one of them, another on his cheek, one more above his lip.

His lips…those stupid little pink triangles that make up his upper and the stupid moisturized swell of the other. As if able to read your thoughts, his tongue darts out to wet them.

“Your lips are so stupid,” you grumble to yourself loud enough for him to hear you clearly.

That pulls another raucous laugh out of him. His teeth gleam in the moonlight and against the fire.

“Your teeth too,” you add softly. “They’re too white.”

“You’re drunk. Go to sleep,” he says with a smile.

You roll onto your side to face him. He follows. “Am’not. You’re s’the one who’s drunk,” you fire back. He chuckles softly, almost fondly, and it ghosts across your face. You’re close enough to count his eyelashes.

If you had half the coherence to do so.

“Baekhyun…”

“Hmm?”

You pause to figure out why you called out his name this time. You don’t have anything else you really want to say –just wanted to capture his attention.

“You wanna mess around?” you try.

He giggles. “No, we’re drunk.”

“How valiant of you, that’s never stopped us before. I’m only offering this one time so you better take it up before I take it back.”

He scoffs. “No you aren’t. You’ll probably ask again tomorrow too when you’re sober because you’re always horny and always stupid and you’re in love with my dick.”

You hum and close your eyes with a smile. “Touché.”

The world spins even as your eyes are shut. Your body feels heavy with alcohol and warm with whatever it is that has happened tonight between you and Baekhyun.

When you hear him murmur your name, you peak open an eye. His gaze is surprisingly clear for someone who drank just as much as you.

“Yeah?”

“I’ll uh…I’ll take the first watch,” he stammers.

You close your eyes again and hum in agreement. “You’ve got first watch?” you yawn out.

You vaguely hear him hum as the crackle of the fire sound of his soft breaths lull you to sleep.

[jackiejacks923]

A Story to Tell the Kids

Prompt: “It’s the wrong color.” - @challengingwords​

Pairing: Shownu x reader feat. Minhyuk, Hyungwon & IM

A/N: So I somehow accidentally made a series without even realizing that I did...lol. My brain surprises me sometimes. In this story, we revisit the world of the Chang siblings that were introduced in an earlier fic. Check the masterlist for the corresponding stories. I’ll be updating that soon. I hope you enjoy <3

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“Uncle Min!” you heard ChangMi exclaim from the patio facing the beach, “It’s the wrong color! The sky is not purple!”

You and Hyunwoo laughed from the kitchen as you prepared the meat and side dishes to cook on the grill of the vacation home you rented. ChangMi was painting a landscape side by side with her Uncle Minhyuk and ChangGun was on the beach burying a sleeping Uncle Hyungwon with the assistance from his Uncle Changkyun. You were glad that at least a few of your husband’s brothers could join you and the kids on this short summer getaway.

“ChangMi, it’s called ‘creativity’,” you heard Minhyuk explain to your daughter as you and Hyunwoo brought out the food and he started up the grill. “It doesn’t have to be exactly like what you see with your eyes. It could be what you see in your head and heart.”

ChangMi tilted her head in thought as she continued to paint her light blue sky. “So you have purple skies in your head?”

“Yup,” Minhyuk answered, “And yellow whales, and pink water, and a blue sun.” He painted such a picture as he described it and he was rewarded with a giggling ChangMi.

“Uncle Min,” she said as she put down her paintbrush and stood to wrap her arms around her uncle’s neck as he painted, “you have a pretty happy place.” Minhyuk smiled as he placed a kiss on the little girl’s cheek.

You walked to look over the balcony and check on ChangGun with his uncles since it was unusually quiet. Years of experience has taught you that quiet is not always a good thing. You discovered the small mound of sand on top of Hyungwon had taken a different shape. You quickly took out your phone and snapped a picture of the turtle shell in the sand that Changkyun helped design with ChangGun. How Hyungwon stayed asleep through it all astounded you, but for as long as you had known him, you knew this wasn’t unusual.

Knowing that your kids were thoroughly preoccupied with different activities and bonding with their uncles, you went back to Hyunwoo’s side at the grill to help him cook.

“It’s nice to know this place hasn’t changed much, right?” Hyunwoo commented as you were making skewers to place on the grill.

You nodded in agreement. “We have a lot of memories with this place, don’t we?”

You felt Hyunwoo’s arm wrap around your waist and pulled you in to place a kiss on your temple. “We do.” You smiled up at your husband before he turned his attention back to the grill.

The smell of the meat grilling soon spread and moments later a laughing ChangGun in the arms of an equally laughing Changkyun came up the steps to the patio followed by a sandy Hyungwon which made everybody laugh.

“I’m gonna go take a shower,” he said as he dragged his feet across the patio and into the house.

“Uncle Hyungwon dirty,” ChangGun laughed.

“I think he’ll think twice about sleeping around us, right Gunnie?” Changkyun said as he tickled the little boy’s tummy, who laughed and happily agreed with his uncle.

The pair then began to take their seats at the table you began to set with ChangMi and Minhyuk joining shortly after. Hyunwoo brought the cooked meat over right on time for Hyungwon to return from cleaning up and joining the rest of the family.

“We should plan for a whole reunion here next time,” Minhyuk suggested as you all ate.

“It has been a while since the whole group was here together,” you added.

“Have you been here before Uncle Min?” ChangMi asked as she took a bite from her plate.

Minhyuk nodded. “Your dad and your other uncles and your aunties and mommy would come out here every summer in college.”

“Oooohhh,” the little girl replied.

“This is a special place for mommy and daddy, too,” Changkyun revealed.

“Why is it special?” ChangMi asked curiously.

You and Hyunwoo then looked at each other as the events of that fateful summer came back to you as vividly as it was yesterday.

You found yourself around the beach bonfire. Your sorority sisters had given you a makeover after finding out some info that one of the guys you invited from the fraternity, MuChi, actually harbored a crush on you. They were determined to find out who. Unfortunately, the outfit Dasom and Bora had picked out wasn’t very warm.

“You look cold,” Hoseok commented as he offered you his hoodie. You started thinking that maybe the outfit was strategically planned after all.

“Thank you,” you said as you pulled it over your head. As you were putting your arms through, you pondered over the thought you didn’t even notice he had a hoodie with him to begin with. He took the seat next to you and you felt a nudge from Soyou from your other side. You began some small talk with him since you didn’t want to be stuck in awkward silence for the rest of the night.

“Shall we start some games?” Hyolyn then loudly suggested. The group was in agreement and started to form a small circle next to the bonfire that was keeping you all warm from the ocean breeze. Hyolyn started with the word association rhythm game and each person that messed up would have to do a penalty. You all laughed as each loser executed each penalty, whether it be a shot of soju or some other ridiculous penalty request the group agreed upon.

Then came the moment where you messed up the rhythm and had to execute your penalty.

“Aegyo!!!” Hyolyn yelled out before bursting into a fit of laughter and the rest of your sisters betrayed you by agreeing this would be your penalty. So much for solidarity.

You looked around as you reluctantly stood up to see all eyes eagerly set upon you. You closed your own and took the deepest breath you could while quickly executing the best aegyo you could muster in 5 seconds and promptly pulled the hood of your borrowed sweatshirt over your head and tied it closed. All you could hear were the group’s giggles and exclamations of “how cute” from all angles around you. You took a deep breath from inside the hoodie and took in the woodsy scent it held. You had never pegged Hoseok to be a woodsy type guy with his cologne scent, though. You became attached to this scent the more you breathed it in. It had such a calming effect on you.

You then felt a pat on your head and a voice close to your ear as you continued to hide. “That was really cute,” the soothing voice had told you. You eventually came out of your makeshift hoodie tent to see who it belonged to, but someone started the music and so dancing and drinking around the bonfire began and the owner of the voice was no longer at your side.

The ratio of guys to girls was off so you were all just aimlessly dancing. Until a song came on the speaker that you knew the choreography to and so you busted out in the dance moves. The group then began cheering for you. When you turned your head, you discovered you had a dance partner in this impromptu performance after all. You and Hyunwoo kept in sync through the whole thing which made you smile. The song ended and your friends applauded the two of you. You smiled at each other, but before either of you could say anything, you were pulled away in different directions by your friends dancing to the next song on the playlist.

After another hour or so of more bonfire celebrations, you excused yourself back to the beach house to call it a night. You were starting to feel the effects of the soju and were aware you were close to your limit and would eventually fall fast asleep.

“Y/N!” a voice called out to you. You turned around and saw Hyunwoo catching up to you. “I’ll walk you back.”

“Daddy then told me that the hoodie belonged to him and not Uncle Hoseok,” you told your daughter.

“And I built up the courage to finally ask mommy out on a date,” Hyunwoo added.

“A few years later we came back here for another summer celebration with everybody,” you continued.

“And that was the trip your uncles and aunties helped me plan my proposal to mommy,” Hyunwoo concluded.

“Wow,” your daughter eventually said as she leaned against her Uncle Minhyuk’s arm attentively listening to her parents' story.

Hyunwoo took your hand and brought it to his lips and placed a kiss on your knuckles. You smiled lovingly at him.

“Does that mean I might find the man I marry here, too?” ChangMi innocently asked. Her dad and her uncles focused their attention on her with shocked looks.

“Maybe one day, my darling,” you answered her.

“Not for many, many years though,” Hyunwoo added.

“When you’re 30,” Hyungwon suggested.

“Why 30?” Changkyun asked, “I say 40.”

“ChangMi,” Minhyuk said, “You don’t need any other guys. Just daddy and your uncles.” You and ChangMi laughed at the ridiculous responses her overprotective bodyguards had to her question.

You smiled at your daughter and prayed that maybe one day, this beach will hold a special meaning for her as it did for you...when the time was right.