Blurred Lines Masterlist

Blurred Lines Masterlist

Having one of your universities fuckboys become your roommate is the last thing you expect ...that is until you realize you're falling for him.

Now, you have to navigate the rude snob trying to be his girlfriend, an ex that isn't thrilled about you moving on, and feelings for a man that you're unsure can even reciprocate them.

*COMPLETED*

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 8 (Sunwoo's POV)

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14 (M)

Final

Short side stories:

Hiding in the Woods

The Campfire Scene

The Cowboy - Part 15 (Final)

Summary: Leaving the city for a rural area called Blayne seemed simple enough. Your task was to convince the people to agree with selling their land for a resort redevelopment. But once there, you soon realise that your city ways are entirely different to theirs. Winning their trust was going to take some effort, and when you start to fall for a local cowboy, you wonder if you really needed Blayne more than the city life after all.

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x female reader

Genre: cowboy au / drama / romance / if you squint there’s some enemies to lovers up in here.

Warnings: Jung Jaehyun is a cowboy, need I say more? (a bit of angst and drama, and it sometimes might feel like you’re reading a Nicolas Sparks book, so I’m told lol) 

Word count: 2160

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

Life in Blayne was ever-changing, and yet there were some constants that remained. You still woke up to the owl in the middle of the night at least once a week, and whenever it rained, you seemed to find yourself under the sheets moaning out Jaehyun’s name.

May was always the first person you turned for any news about anything regarding the people in Blayne and equally the one person you avoided the longest when you wanted to keep something to yourself.

Because Jaehyun wasn’t back yet from his second rodeo circuit, and you didn’t want anyone to know the news you had to share before telling him in person.

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call me by your name (M)

↣ PAIRING: Yuta (NCT) + reader (female)

↣ GENRE: tattoo artist; spicy and sweet and everything in between; smut

↣ SUMMARY: After getting out of a less than healthy relationship, you decide to finally get the tattoo you’ve always wanted. There’s an obvious attraction between you and Yuta, your tattoo artist, but the last thing you want is to date again and Yuta reluctantly agrees to keep things casual. At least until he can convince you he’s worth the risk of getting your heart broken again.

↣ WARNINGS: mild language; alcohol use; dialogue related to toxic relationships; descriptions of getting tattoos and piercings; explicit sexual content

↣ NOTES: 17k words; listening to call me by your name by lil nas x; this is a one-shot, there will be no sequels; check the masterlist in my description for other one-shots in this collection; happy reading!

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F.U.C.K

pairing: enemies to lovers! doyoung x fem! reader

genre: smut, angst, fluff

word count: 9.7k

warnings: alcohol consumption, oral (female receiving), public sex, sex under the influence, praise kink, breathplay, groping, dirty talk, doyoung lifts the reader at some point

summary: “If there was one person you’d imagine taking as a plus one to your cousin’s wedding, it definitely wouldn’t be Doyoung - your definition of a sour know-it-all in flesh and bones. Blame it on your friends that are never there when you need them, or your annoying curiosity for his cold demeanor, but there he is, downing expensive champagne with you.

One glass and you can still stand him.

Two glasses and he’s not so bad after all.

Three glasses and he’s in your bed.

Does the boy drive you mad or are you mad about the boy?”

“This is the longest conversation we’ve ever had in the one year we’ve worked together. I don’t think you're smooth enough to convince me to sleep with you. Besides, didn’t you say you’d never sleep with me like, ten minutes ago?”

“That was different. Now I have something to prove.”

“Which is?”

“That you still find me attractive enough to sleep with me.”

“Please”, you scoff, “don’t flatter yourself. In fact, I bet you can’t turn me on even if you tried.”

“Oh really?”

“Yup. You can try. Right now.”

Doyoung goes silent in thought for a couple of seconds, looking more determined than ever when he speaks again.

“Can I touch you?”

“Yes”, you answer immediately, gulping dryly at the thought of your coworker’s hands on you.

“Okay.”

a/n: This is my extremely late submission to @slightlymore 's Doyoung collab "mad about the boy" <33

general taglist: @naomis-sins , @jjaeyoonoh, @infnteen , @babyksworld, @kaja2016

“What do you mean you only have a room with a double bed?”

Your fingers threaten to rip your hair out with how tight your grip is on your locks, trying your hardest to explain to the young receptionist that you’ve explicitly requested a double room with separate beds. You must look so miserable, huffing and puffing in the lobby of this beautiful summer resort that your cousin booked for her wedding. Stoic and bored, your plus one waits for you to get your room card already, toying with a plastic spider plant next to your luggage in the meantime. As if the whole thing doesn’t bother him in the slightest. As if he doesn’t hate you just as much as you do.

You met Doyoung at the high school you work at. He’s a Physics professor while you teach Math, and for the rest of the teaching faculty this was enough of a reason to convince you to go on a date with each other. “It’s meant to be!”, they’d tell you during break time, urging you to go up to him and ask for his number. Your mouth would gape in shock as they’d recount stories of how fun he was at their birthday party, or how helpful he was in their time of need. A new student would come up to you every week, handing you a hand-written love letter with trembling hands, and ask you to pass it on to their favorite Physics teacher.

What was so great about the guy anyway?

He’s handsome, sure, long limbs and royal stature making him stand out in the crowd. His rich academic career and leading abilities demanded respect from his colleagues, while his youthful face made him approachable to the students. If you wanted something to be done and executed well, you’d leave it up to Mr. Kim. But why should all of this matter to you when the guy hates your guts from the moment he stepped foot in this goddamned school?

You can only conclude he does, with the way he avoids you like the plague. Parent-teacher meetings, field trips, school dance chaperone duties - he’d change and bend the schedule so that he ensures he’s in the same room as you for the least amount of time possible. Your wounded pride combined with his cold demeanor was enough for your silent hatred towards Doyoung to slowly boil in your heart.

Your third cousin’s wedding invitation got shipped to your house on a cold winter night. The ceremony would take place on an island three months from now, while the accommodation and plane tickets would be covered by the couple. She actually used to teach at the same school as you, something that brought the two of you closer, and while you love her to bits you also want to block her on Facebook so, so badly. You can only handle so many posts of her perfect dog and her perfect house and her rich husband that flies her out to Bali every summer before you lose your mind.

When you opened up the envelope, a black tear full of your mascara soiled the pretty handwriting. You were finishing up a bottle of wine, mourning the end of your latest relationship - a personal trainer who convinced you to sign up to his stupid gym and couldn’t make you orgasm even if he had a gun pointed to the back of his head. “Fuck you!”, you screamed at the lifeless piece of cardboard as you drunkenly circle that you will bring a plus one, and he will be much more fun and interesting and hot than the all-purpose flour of a man your cousin’s getting married to.

You only got reminded of your drunken mistake a week before the wedding, when your cousin called you to confirm you’d still make it to the venue with your company. Stressed and confused you said yes, as you’d rather die than admit that it was all due to an unwanted gym membership and a head full of alcohol. Plus, you really wanted to be there on her special day. It wasn’t like you couldn’t find one person to bring along, right?

Wrong. You were stuck on your phone for an entire day, your ear burning from the overuse and the heat of the consecutive rejections from your friends and family. A birthday party, a football game, a baby shower - they were all seemingly more important than a week’s notice destination wedding, each apology pushing you deeper and deeper in your quicksand of desperation.

You moaned about it to one of your teacher friends and fellow wedding invitee that Monday at the break room. You’d all met when your cousin still used to work at the school.

“I’m really sorry y/n. I’d come with you but I’m bringing my husband along”, she cooed apologetically, rubbing your loneliness even harder all over your face. “Why don’t you ask someone from here?”

“No one’s available this weekend”, you sighed out, pointing at the people in the room one by one. “She has a kid, he has vacation leave, her dog is sick, his wife would say no and -“

“I’m free.”

Your finger wavered awkwardly, pointing at the person whose name didn’t even have the chance to leave your lips. Doyoung didn’t move his head in your direction, even though he was addressing you, his hand still robotically grading a student’s test with a red ballpoint pen.

A sharp pain numbed your side as your friend nudged you excitedly, her face stretching out in a suggestive smile.

“See? Mr. Kim will take you! It’s about time you two get to know each other better”

“Oh no you don’t have to!”, you reassured him with a voice two octaves higher in pitch, “I’m sure I’ll find someone -“

“It’s fine”, he interrupted, removing his glasses and finally looking at you. This was one of the very few times his eyes fell on you, and you know this because the same chills run through your spine every time they do, “Think of it as returning the favor for that one week you substituted me when I was sick.”

Now that sounds more like him, calling it even. Not wanting to be indebted to someone he dislikes made sense to you, but spending an entire weekend with them to do so is still a bit much. You opened your mouth to argue back some more, when your friend managed to speak up before you did.

“Great, it’s decided then! As always, Mr. Kim is the man to step up when someone is in need”, she sang and Doyoung flashed his gummy smile at her, the sight so foreign to you that you had to blink twice to make sure you weren’t hallucinating from a caffeine overdose.

The bell rang and with it he got up on his feet, collecting the rest of the papers to be graded and making his way over to your desk. He looked like an Italian supermodel with his expensive slacks and poise in his walk, and when he gave you a small piece of paper with his number written in bright red ink on it, your friend almost passed out in sheer thrill.

“Text me the details, I’ll come to pick you up after work on Friday”

And that he did, carrying your overfilled suitcase with impressive ease all the way to the airport. The ride there was just as awkward as you imagined it to be, with the two of you switching the other’s desired radio station back and forth. It was insufferable just how stubborn he could be, and with every minute of silence you got from him the more it became clear to you that bringing him along was a terrible idea. The plane ride was just as boring. Even his socks annoyed you, grey and lifeless and something your grandpa would wear. Come to think of it, your grandpa would have made a more entertaining plus one than Mr. Downyoung.

Defeatedly, you take the room key from the receptionist and call for Doyoung to follow you to the fourth floor. He refuses to let you carry your luggage to the elevator, making the rest of the hotel staff coo at what they probably thought was a couple starting their summer vacation.

As soon as the mechanical door slides closed you sigh in frustration, rubbing your temples to alleviate some of the tension in your body. You wish you could just travel through time, fast forward the whole three painful days to come until you’re lying comfortably on your bed again.

“It’s impressive, really”, Doyoung deadpans just as you thought you might’ve actually forgotten what his voice sounds like, “You’re a math teacher and you can’t do the simple task of booking the right room.”

“I told you”, you groan, exasperated, “I asked them for twin beds.”

“Well did you call to check again yesterday?”

“No? Why would I bother the couple for something so trivial?”

“Trivial”, he repeats lowly as he stares at the floor buttons glow one by one, the elevator music taunting him. “I’ll sleep on the couch”, he states after a second of silence and follows you down the hallway.

The room was really nice, you admit, decorated modernly and with a beautiful sea view from the big balcony. But there was no couch. Only a luggage rack and an armchair, both too small and uncomfortable for either of you to sleep on. The bed on the other hand was long, perfect for Doyoung’s height but not particularly wide, forcing the accommodated couples to get closer for a couple of nights. You groan at the uncomfortable realization, and slowly start to unpack.

“The wedding rehearsal starts in half an hour”, you remind him as you unzip your suitcase, flipping it open, “we should start getting ready”. He lets out a hum of acknowledgment, and hangs a nicely tailored cobalt blue suit in the available closet space before he grabs another outfit and locks himself in the bathroom. You take this as a chance to quickly change in the bedroom, opting for a light dress that fits the hot climate of the island. You were freshening up your makeup when you hear the lock click open, and then your jaw drops.

You’ve never seen Doyoung look like this in your one year working with him. He’s wearing a patterned shirt, the coral reds of the flowers on it bringing out his porcelain skin beautifully. It is slightly unbuttoned at the top, letting sharp collarbones and a couple of stray hairs peek out, and your imagination takes liberty in heading even more south. You just can’t believe Mr. Kim hid such thighs in those grandpa slacks, a comfortable pair of shorts melting over them now instead.

“What is it?”

His voice jolts you out of your dream zone and your face burns from getting caught. His calculating eyes stare back at you, and your mini dress suddenly makes you feel naked.

“Nothing, you just look- different.”

“Bad different?”

“No no!”, you exclaim, pulling up some more fabric over your decolletage. “I’m just so used to seeing you in those boring black and grey sweaters”

“Ouch. You’re not runway ready either”

“Ugh- You look good!”, you blurt out frustratingly and then yelp, cringing at your slip up. “I just wanted to give you a compliment, damn. Can we go to the main hall now?”

Doyoung thanks you under his breath, muttering something about the color of your dress and reminding you to take the room card with you before you head out.

The wedding hall was absolutely beautiful. Tulle decorations welcomed the guests right off the gate, evening light shone beautifully through the windows. People were bundled together in small social circles, and the foreign faces made you stick even closer to Doyoung’s side. You notice that he’s wearing one of those sweet-smelling body sprays, and the scent is so surprising for him that it excites you.

A female shriek makes you fall with your ass back to reality, and you’re suddenly engulfed in a tight embrace. When you realize it’s your cousin, in a white simple dress that resembles a wedding gown, you relax into her arms, glad to have actually made it.

“Oh my God, I’m so happy you’re here!”, she exclaims in genuine joy, and before you manage to take a breath she already moves onto her next victim.

Doyoung freezes in the hug, not used to your cousin’s affectionate nature and trying his hardest to at least pat her back in the confinement.

“And you brought your boyfriend with you! Oh, he’s so handsome! Are you guys thinking about taking the big step? Y/n, you better squeeze your way forward during the bouquet toss-“

“He’s my friend!”, you interrupt her, your heart pounding from the series of inappropriate questions. Doyoung snickers at the word ‘friend’ but you ignore him, focusing solely on your cousin once again. “He’s my coworker, actually. Doyoung’s a Physics teacher.”

“Ohh, I see. You say physics but I see a lot of chemistry between you two~”, she lilts suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows in the process. “Wait- is that Mr. Kim? The new, hot, young teacher that you told me all about?”

Fuck, you forgot about that. A couple of months after your cousin moved schools she’d suggested you go out for a drink or two to catch up. Things were still new with Doyoung and your first impressions were quite good, especially considering his looks. You may have gotten a little drunk that night and spilled way more than you should’ve.

“W-what are you talking about?”

“The Physics teacher, yes! My replacement! You said how he’s all serious and proper and probably nasty in be-“

“Y/n! Mr. Kim!”

The sound of your coworker’s voice sounds like honey to your ears as it interrupts the embarrassing conversation, and you use up the extra time it takes for her and her husband to greet the bride to cool yourself down. You still haven’t checked up on Doyoung, you don’t dare to look at him, and you can only hope he somehow didn’t finish the rest of that sentence in his head.

“I was just chatting up with my cousin’s plus one over here, so tell me- is it true that they came as friends? I don’t buy it.”

“If anything there’s always a lovers’ quarrel between the two.”

“I work better in more organized environments”, Doyoung butts in. You can’t keep yourself from rolling your eyes.

“And I work better with people who actually take the time to talk to me. You know, the bare minimum.”

“Oh come on y/n”, your coworker nags as she stands between the two of you, looping each hand through one of your elbows, “didn’t you say the other day that he was frustratingly fuckable?”

“You must’ve misheard me”, you murmur from her left side, “I probably said he is irresistibly punchable.”

“And you, Mr. Kim. Don’t pretend like you didn’t ask me if y/n was single on your first week at the school.”

Your head snaps at the speed of light, eyes studying the man who hardly wobbles on his two feet under the weight of the accusation. Why on earth would he ask if you were single? Why would someone who barely handles being in the same room as you even care about that? The signals were mixed, swirling with each other inside your head and you have to order your heart to stop beating so loudly before someone hears.

“Leave the kids alone”, the husband sighs, just a little more exhausted from the conversation than you, “don’t mingle in their personal business”

“We’re just happy they’re spending some quality time together”, your cousin says, and you wonder which part of the silent airplane trip or elevator argument would even qualify as that, “How about you all take your designated seats now?”

You shuffle with Doyoung through the row of wooden chairs, searching for your names in the printed papers that lay over each of them. You don’t comment on the previous conversation, at least not until you’re seated, not sure which one of you will be more flustered at the mention of what was said.

“So we’re friends, huh?”

“You’re the one who offered to come with me to this damn wedding. Don’t act as if I dragged you here.”

“I just saw someone needing my help and I-“

“I’m not your damsel in distress.”

Your icy tone makes him flinch and he loosens one more button of his shirt, in need of more air. The exposure of his skin makes the atmosphere feel stuffy, and it’s easier to blame it on the humid climate of the island than the indisputable sexual attraction you have towards him. Why did his thighs have to look so damn good in the middle of an argument?

He’s about to say something back when the bride-to-be slowly starts walking down the aisle. Everyone is in their casual clothing, someone’s unruly child cries in the background. The wedding planners are running around in pure anxiety to get everything right, yet the sight is still undeniably beautiful. You notice your aunt tearing up in the background, and you cannot blame her. Your cousin is absolutely glowing even in her simple slip dress, smile beaming as she locks eyes with her fiancé. There’s a clear moment of realization in their eyes, like the fact that they’re about to start a new chapter in their life finally kicked in.

You steal a quick glance at Doyoung, curious of his reaction. He’s probably thinking of how little they’ll last. How marriage is a stupid little social construct. How no woman could ever be a match for a great brain like-

“Doyoung, are you crying?”

Your date jumps at the sudden interrogating question, quickly rubbing the wet corners of his eyes with the thin fabric covering his shoulders.

“It’s a beautiful moment”, he sniffles, and clears his throat after his voice cracks a little. You still stare at him incredulously. “What? Are you that shocked that I have a heart?”

“Kinda.”

The morning light kisses your eyelashes through the window, forcing them to part. The first sound that your ears pick up is that of running water, nicely mixed with the birds’ song coming through the window. Checking your phone, you realize you overslept, with the wedding being only a couple of hours away. You’re lying right in the middle of the double bed, your roommate already awake and taking a morning shower, apparently.

Last night’s events flash before your eyes like a film strip. Remnants of embarrassment from having to ask for three extra pillows from the reception desk warm up your cheeks. Then the both of you, two fully grown adults, went up to your room to line them up in one straight pillowy border that separated the double bed evenly. Your blood boils at the memory of Doyoung telling you, a math teacher, that you weren’t dividing the mattress into two even halves. “I wish I could split you into two even halves”, was the last thing you remember murmuring before falling asleep. Curious, you look around for the missing pillows, noticing they’re scattered on the floor, and that is when the bathroom doorknob turns.

The first thing you notice is Doyoung’s naked torso, toned abs and tiny waist triggering your eyes to close. You feel him move towards the center of the room, and when he turns around to look for something in the closet you squint your right eye open to steal a peek. His hair is damp, waterdrops falling from the edge of his locks and dancing over his shoulder blades. You follow one as it travels down from his broad shoulders to the deep line of his spine, landing on the towel that hangs lowly from his hipbones. He bends over then, showing off a nice outline of his ass, and you are so invested in the view that you barely manage to go back to feigning to being asleep when he walks towards you.

You feel the bed dip next to you, and a little droplet of water falls on your cheek. His chuckle almost startles you as you fake deep, steady breaths.

“You know, I never pictured you to be a cuddler.”

Pretending not to hear him, you keep your eyes shut tight, yet you can’t stop the blood from accumulating on your face.

“As soon as you fell asleep you threw all the pillows to the floor and grabbed on my waist like a koala. It was cute.”

Cute.

The urge to scream and hide and ask about the details of your embarrassing actions was overwhelming. You can feel his hot breath as he examines your face closer, begging your racing heart to calm down when he chuckles again. A small yelp leaves your lips when you feel a towel thrown at your body, convinced that it is the same one you wished would magically slip off of Doyoung’s hips a minute ago. Opening your eyes, you see his lower body covered still, and yours veiled with a clean hotel robe.

“Stop playing dead, you’re a terrible actress. You should go get a shower now if you don’t want us to miss the wedding.”

You swirl the champagne around in your glass, staring at the bubbles that float to the top until they burst one by one.

The ceremony went as smoothly as the rehearsal, with the sky staying bright and the bride looking brighter. Nighttime came already, and everyone had now settled down for the reception, gathering around their designated tables. Your eyes wander away from your drink for a while, focusing on Doyoung’s lithe fingers instead. They toy with a small baby’s breath from the bundle of flowers you caught earlier during the bouquet toss: your cousin couldn’t have aimed at the top of your head better even if she was a javelin throw champion.

The mere sound of his breathing next to you annoys you at this point. By the end of the night, there wasn’t a single guest at this damn wedding that didn’t gush over your date. Why the hell did he act so completely different when he was around you? What kind of sick satisfaction did he get for being an ass?

“Are you ready to address your little problem?”

You feel the little hairs on the nape of your neck rise up as his low voice grazes your ears.

“What problem?”

“Your little staring problem. Staring at me to be exact.”

Instantaneously, you rip your gaze away from his hands, glaring at the glass in front of you instead as if it was the most interesting thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t try to catch me naked this morning.”

“Excuse me?”, you shriek before lowering your voice after collecting a few worried stares from the people at your table, “I didn’t ‘try to catch’ you. You got out of that bathroom barely naked on your own!”

“Oh?”, he feigns surprise, his lips forming into a smirk that you weren’t sure whether you wanted to kiss or punch off his face, “I thought you were asleep?”

“I was trying to save us both from the embarrassment”, you mutter under your breath, placing the back of your palms on your cheeks to force your face to cool down.

“In my defense, I didn’t know you’d wake up anytime soon. You were snoring really loudly.”

“So while I was sleeping I snored, threw the pillows off the bed, and cuddled you”, you groan, exasperated. A numb headache was moving slowly but steadily from the inside of your brain outwards, and you try to shut it out by pouring yourself another glass of champagne. “Great. Anything else?”

“Stop drinking so much”, Doyoung scolds you, grabbing the bottle out of your grasp just as you manage to fill your glass to the rim.

“Doyoung. I had at least ten people today ask me when I’m getting married when I don’t even have a boyfriend, and now I’m stuck in this lame wedding reception with a person who hates my guts. I am going to drink. Now if you pulled that stick out of your ass and had a glass yourself maybe we’d even manage to have some fun instead of subjecting me to that nonstop nagging of yours.”

“You tried to kiss me.”

“What?”

“Last night, in your sleep. You tried to kiss me.”

Frustrated with the situation you found yourself in and completely embarrassed, you have no other choice but to take a brave sip of the champagne you just served, emptying half a glass.

“Guess I’m doing charity while sleeping. If you’d experienced the loving touch of a woman maybe you wouldn’t be such a dick.”

“When your friend said that you were wild in bed I didn’t think that practically attacking me in my sleep was what she meant.”, he fired back, ignoring your insult.

“Did she tell you that before or after you asked her if I was single?”

“Like I would ever sleep with you. You’re insufferable.”

“Please. You’d probably cry after I was done.”

Doyoung scoffs and grabs the champagne bottle again, this time filling a glass for himself. He downs the drink in one go, and the burning in his throat fires a new passion inside him.

“Fine. You want us to have fun? Let’s play a game then.”

“A game?”

“Yes”, he replies, determined, and fills both of your glasses again. “We’ll ask each other questions. It can be anything, but we’ll answer genuinely. If you don’t want to answer, you drink. Got it?”

“Fine, but I’ll go first.”

“Shoot.”

“Why did you offer to come with me to this wedding? And I want a real answer.”

“Do you really think I hate you so much?”

“You can’t answer my question with a question!”

“Technically, it’s a clarification. Doesn’t count.”

“Oh my god, you’re so annoying”, you groan, wondering if it’d be against the rules to drink even if you don’t lose a round, “You barely talk to me at the school, you avoid me and argue with me on practically anything. So I’d say yes: I do think you really hate me that much.”

He sighs and withers in his seat a little, looking regretful.

“I don’t hate you. I think you’re a good friend. And a brilliant teacher. And you can be fun when you want to be. That’s why I came with you to the wedding.”

“You still haven’t stopped arguing with me since we came here though.”

Doyoung shrugs.

“It’s hot when you talk back.”

He doesn’t look at you, his hands and eyes occupied on the baby’s breath from earlier to ease his nerves. Just as you open your mouth to say something, he asks you a question.

“Why didn’t you say anything after I came out of the bathroom this morning? You know, to let me know you were awake? I truly thought you’d be sleeping. I mean, you yell at me for way less.”

For a passing moment, you consider drinking and opting out from giving an answer. Your hand twitches and almost reaches out to the champagne in front of you, yet eventually, you decide against it. The questions will probably get gradually harder anyways.

“At first I saw all the pillows on the floor. I was sprawled out in the middle of the bed, the door opened and I panicked. And then…”

You hesitate to continue further.

“We said truthfully, remember?”

You exhale a deep breath out.

“Then I saw how you looked fresh out of the shower.”

“And?”

“And I wanted to look at you a little more.”

Doyoung hums, the corner of his lips tugging up subtly.

“If you don’t actually hate me, why do you avoid me at work? And don’t you dare deny it.”

The man next to you laughs, dropping his head back and letting his black locks hang freely. You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol that’s heightened your senses, but you submerge yourself in the silvery sound of his laughter. You stare at the pretty blue veins on the side of his neck, watching his adam’s apple bob up and down. When he smiles like that he looks nice, you think. Mellow.

“I take my work very seriously. I want to do things well. And when you’re around, I can’t do that. You distract me, I guess.”

“I distract you? How?”

Doyoung’s eyes rake at your body twice, suddenly making you overconscious of every inch of skin that the mini dress you chose to wear tonight manages to cover up. Or rather, the parts of your body that it doesn’t.

He doesn’t answer further, drinking instead. You can see his eyes getting glossy from the alcohol, his pupils dilated. You’re certain you look like that as well.

“My turn. At the rehearsal, you were shocked that I teared up. Do you not believe in marriage?”

“I don’t know about marriage”, you admit after pondering for a bit, “But I do believe in lifelong partners. Do you?”

“I want one”, he confesses, “But I don’t know if I’m meant to have one.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know”, he sighs almost defeatedly, a bitter smile on his face, “I’m scared of that level of happiness, I think. I tend to avoid love.”

You both take a drink out of your glasses, feeling like it’s needed after a conversation like this. As you wait for Doyoung to come up with another question, you gaze at your cousin and her husband slow dancing in the distance. The sight triggers a stinging feeling of longing inside you, pulling on your heartstrings.

“Did you really say I was ‘irresistibly fuckable’?”

You blink three times at the unexpected question, cursing your friend under your breath and her big mouth. The kick that the champagne gave you allows you to answer way more bravely than you normally would.

“I think we’ve made it clear by now that we both found the other attractive when we first met.”

“When we first met? Not anymore?”

“This is the longest conversation we’ve ever had in the one year we’ve worked together. I don’t think you're smooth enough to convince me to sleep with you. Besides, didn’t you say you’d never sleep with me like, ten minutes ago?”

“That was different. Now I have something to prove.”

“Which is?”

“That you still find me attractive enough to sleep with me.”

“Please”, you scoff, “don’t flatter yourself. In fact, I bet you can’t turn me on even if you tried.”

“Oh really?”

“Yup. You can try. Right now.”

Doyoung goes silent in thought for a couple of seconds, looking more determined than ever when he speaks again.

“Can I touch you?”

“Yes”, you answer immediately, gulping dryly at the thought of your coworker’s hands on you.

“Okay.”

The first thing he does is grab the apron of your chair, dragging you closer to him. Worried, you look around you for the reaction of the people also sitting at your table. No one seems to really pay attention to you; some of them had already withdrawn back to their rooms, the rest focusing on the people grooving on the dancefloor. The cool night breeze grazes your bare arms, making you shiver.

“Relax”, Doyoung tells you softly while taking off his jacket. You watch entranced at his shirt hugging his chest, the white fabric stretching over his biceps. His fingertips pet your nape then, sweeping your hair to the side before throwing his jacket over your shoulders. The heat emitted from his body warms up your side, making you melt in your seat.

And then he places his left hand on your knee under the table. Closing the small distance between you, he lets his lips touch lightly the shell of your ear.

“Tell me when to stop.”

He starts off relatively gently, drawing circles on your bare skin with his thumb. You look at how short the skirt of your dress is, regretting your decision to leave your thighs exposed like that. You’re making his job so much easier.

“You like that?”, he asks you then, the rasp of his voice sending another shiver down your spine.

“It’s indifferent to me”, you lie, making him laugh.

“God, why are you so tense? To quote you, if you pulled that stick out of your ass maybe we’d even manage to have some fun.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

“You’re into anal baby?”

“I-”

Doyoung laughs again, his gummy smile contagious. His naughty kind of humor surprises you, and the nickname sends a wave of warmth to your face. A small moan leaves your lips as he drags his nails lightly against your skin.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

“I want to make you feel good.”

His fingers move up higher, to the fleshier part of your thighs. He keeps drawing the same design over your sensitive skin, and you soon realize that it’s actually his name.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“W-What?”

“I didn’t think anything could top that summer dress you put on yesterday. But then you wore this-”

He points vaguely at your black strapless dress, eyes dark as they take you in.

“You like it?”, you ask boldly, not easily intimidated.

“I’d rip it off of you in a heartbeat if you let me.”

You squirm in your seat at his words, feeling wetness pool between your thighs. Desperate, you cross your legs to discreetly rub your thighs together, hiding your arousal from the sharp observer next to you. Doyoung doesn’t let you off the hook, kissing his teeth disapprovingly at your movement.

“Did I give you permission to do that?”

“You’re not the boss of me, Kim Doyoung.”

You’re almost panting under the pressure of his stare, feline eyes commanding you to do as he says. His hands squeeze the meat of your thighs in a warning, making the rings he wears dig deeper into your skin.

“I won’t ask again. Spread those little thighs for me.”

Feeling small, you uncross your legs back to their previous position, parting them slightly.

“Good girl.”

All your thoughts evaporate in an instant when you hear him praise you. As his fingers move to the highest part of your inner thighs, just a few inches away from the place that aches to have him most, you can only hope he mercies you. You barely make the conscious effort of biting your tongue to not make a sound and attract unwanted attention. The tablecloth can only hide so much.

“So, are you ready to address your little problem?”

“My staring problem?”

“I was talking about the one between your legs this time. You’re soaking.”

A needy sound from the back of your throat reaches Doyoung’s ears, breathy and desperate - exactly like he wanted to have you.

“You sure moan a lot at my ‘indifferent’ touches.”

His fingers still pet your inner thighs, reaching the crease of your hips now. You can feel his digits spreading your wetness around, fully dipped under your dress.

“All this mess for me? How cute.”

You’re on the verge of losing your mind, right in front of all these people, especially when his index hovers right over your-

“Enough!”, you squeal before he gets the chance to gain full control of you, admitting defeat. Doyoung retracts his hand slowly, almost disappointedly, with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

When you see him lift his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean, you can only finish your glass of champagne to cope.

You were two of the last people to leave that ceremony, your little game keeping you occupied. The small path to your hotel room was void of any people, with only the sound of your heels interrupting the lulling sounds of the night. You almost trip in your step and you blame it on the wet poolside tiles, yet you know that that’s not the reason. Doyoung’s suit jacket is still hanging comfortably from your shoulders, his scent coiling around your body and making your head buzz even harder.

In a moment of forgetfulness, you get an intrusive thought asking you where you’d kept your room key. Halting abruptly, you start looking through the contents of the tiny bag you dragged along in panic, Doyoung staring at you questioningly.

“I can’t find the room key.”

“You asked me to hold it, remember?”, he reminds you calmly, fishing the keycard from his slacks before putting it back in his pocket.

You sigh, exhausted. “You’re right, sorry”

“You seem distracted”, Doyoung observes, “Is it because you lost the bet?”

The clacking of your heels stops again.

“What? I didn’t lose!”

“You let me touch you, I did. You liked it and asked me to stop because you couldn’t handle it. I think this qualifies as a win.”

“I couldn’t handle what?”

“It felt too good'', he shrugs.

“Right”, you spit sarcastically, knowing damn well he’s right but still arguing with him like it’s a reflex. “I was worried I was gonna cum from you rubbing my knee so hard. Oh Doyoung, don’t tell me that’s where you think the clit is.”

The man addressed kisses his teeth, trying to ignore how good you look in his jacket and how the ripples of the pool water illuminate your face. You’re overwhelmed by the animalistic instinct to keep the argument going, wishing it turns into something else. The champagne made you both a little too bold.

“Like you could do any better.”

“I absolutely could.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I’d have you begging for it.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Before any logic manages to make its way to the decision-making part of your brain, you shove Doyoung to the nearest wall, pushing your body against his. He smells even nicer in this proximity, the scent of his aftershave added to the things that mess up your thinking, yet you don’t let that distract you from your goal. Taking his larger hands in yours, you guide them across your waist to your lower back, right over your ass.

“You talk a big talk for someone who admitted to wanting to rip my dress off of me tonight.”

The man swallows dryly, eyes staring down at your exposed chest. You see his eyes open wide for a second before diverting his attention to the pool in the back, anything to take his focus off of you. The hardness that is poking your thigh is telling enough. You grab his chin, making him look at you again.

“You’re making this very hard for yourself by pretending like you don’t want me, Kim.” Determined, you start a line of kisses across his jawline, sucking lightly on the skin below his earlobe. The moan he lets out makes your knees shake a little. “Say you want me, and I’m yours.”

Unable to contain himself, Doyoung lowers his hands enough to grab your ass. You mewl in his ear at his roughness, just to taunt him.

“Shit, y/n.”

“I’m not wearing any underwear, thought you’d like to know.”

You can’t look at his pretty face, yours still buried in his neck, but you can clearly sense the torment he feels.

Finally, he gives up.

“Fuck this”, he mutters, pulling you into a kiss.

Doyoung moves his lips against yours deeply, with need, like he knows he’s never gonna get enough. You kiss him back just as eagerly, letting your tongue slide against his. The kiss feels perfect, as if his lips were only meant to be pressed against yours. Your whole body buzzes in the desire to make up for lost time.

“I want to taste you again”, he whispers into the kiss. “We can go back to hating each other in the morning.”

Doyoung slips from your hold then, falling down onto his knees. His hands move upwards from your calves towards your thighs, pushing up the fabric of your mini dress until you’re exposed enough for him. He leaves a bite on the soft skin of your inner thighs, on the place that he pet so diligently under the table earlier tonight.

“You look good like this.”

Confused, he pinches the collar of his dress shirt, tugging it a little.

“In this shirt?”

“On your knees.”

He chuckles, putting his mouth on your pussy finally. His lips are plush and soft, his small exhales make you shiver. You look around for any unwanted viewers yet your mind goes blank once Doyoung starts to move his tongue. Every lick feels like heaven, circling around your opening and entering you with his tongue. Biting your lip to stay as quiet as you can, you lift your right knee and rest it on his shoulder, grinding against his face.

“That’s it, use me.”, he sighs against your sensitive skin, making you want to scream at the sensation. His hands find their way over your ass again, grabbing you gluttonously. The mess of slick and spit helps your movement, his nose bumping against your clit with every circle of your hips. You’re already on edge from his teasing earlier, and when he starts to suck at the sensitive nub, you just can’t take it anymore.

You come embarrassingly fast, whole body tingling as he continues to flick his tongue against your clit during your high.

“I…”, is all you manage to whimper, but Doyoung doesn’t need anything else from you. The sight of you falling apart against his face is more than enough, patiently waiting for your legs to stop shaking and cleaning up the mess between your thighs in the meantime.

With a satisfied grin and a half-soaked up face, he gets on his feet again, holding you by the waist so that you don’t collapse. You’re still drunk by the orgasm and a bit disoriented, yet you still manage to slip your hands between your bodies, finding the outline of his cock. You start to massage his member over his clothes and Doyoung hisses, buckling his hips against your palm. The fabric under your fingertips starts to get wetter by the minute.

“I want you in my mouth”, you confess, dragging the zipper of his pants down and freeing his dick. He feels hot and hard and so fucking big in your palm that your mouth waters, precum already dribbling from his tip.

He stops your lazy strokes with a hand on your wrist before he kisses you again, and you can clearly taste yourself on his swollen lips. Not one to easily give up, you guide the tip of his cock between your wet folds, languidly dragging it back and forth until he groans in your mouth.

“Not here. Let’s go to our room.”

You nod, almost too desperately, letting him lead you forwards as you separate your back with the wall. It could be the champagne’s fault for your disorientation but it feels like you’re moving the wrong way, yet you don’t want to part your lips from his so you trust him blindly. The last thing you remember was floating on air.

Before you feel your body submerging in the pool water, that is.

You spend a few moments in panic before you realize you’re underwater, Doyoung quickly pulling you to the surface. You’re both panting when you finally manage to breathe again, and you curse at him when he flicks his wet hair out of his forehead, the droplets blinding you.

Your small designer bag floats just a couple of meters away from you, everything inside it ruined but you’re too tipsy to care about it now. All it takes is a glance at Doyoung’s flushed face for a nervous laugh to bubble up from your stomach, contagious as it makes him laugh as well. This is the lightest you’ve felt in a long time.

He swims closer to you, and you instinctively wrap your hands around him, locking your legs around his waist. He looks so handsome in the fluorescent lighting of the pool, his wet skin reminding you how good he looked this morning when he came out of the shower. You appreciate the little droplets decorating his eyelashes, fluttering as he blinks, staring at you. He looks at you so deeply that you’re scared he’s gonna see right through you, past the layers of skin and bones, and discover something that you’re not ready to admit just yet.

“What is it?”

“Even now, you look beautiful.”

You’re taken aback by his compliment, your face getting hot. In the ambiance of the night, you fail to remember what it was about Doyoung that you disliked so much. He lifts his thumbs to your undereyes, gently rubbing the running mascara off your face. You lean closer, giving him a peck at first, your hands smoothing down on his chest before kissing him again. And again. And again.

Soon, your back hits the wall of the pool, your body trapped between the hard surface and Doyoungs warm body. He sweeps his tongue across your lower lips, asking to enter your mouth again and you gladly let him. You’re shamelessly making out again, in the water now, and you feel his right hand slide from your face to your neck, grabbing at your throat.

He breaks the kiss, taking the time to admire how good you look deprived of oxygen. Your eyes are unfocused, mouth gaping open and lipstick smudged, tongue hanging out slightly. You look fucked out and it turns him on, cock painfully hard under your bare pussy.

“But you look more beautiful with my hands around your throat.

A thumb rubs your cheek before moving down to press onto your lips, and you lick his finger tentatively before sucking it inside your mouth. Your wet tongue moves around the digit slowly, making sure you show him just how talented you are before you let him go with a loud ‘pop’. God, he regrets not taking up your offer earlier.

“I need you”, you mewl with the little air still in your lungs, and Doyoung lets you go to hear your voice more clearly. “I need you now.”

“Fuck, I can’t wait either”, he agrees, looking around to make sure no one’s around. He turns you around then, the front of his body pressing against your back, and you rest your elbows on the pool tiles in front of you. Doyoung hikes your dress even higher, over your hips, kissing the top of your shoulder sensually. “You’re gonna have to be quiet. Okay, doll?”

You blindly agree with his words, already grinding your ass against him. He growls at your impatience, stilling your hips, and blindly looks for your entrance. You both gasp when he bottoms out inside you.

“Fuck”, you mutter at the feeling of him filling you to your gut, the stretch starting a fire in your stomach. He reaches for your chest, letting your boobs spill out from the hem of your dress to play with. The sensation makes you shiver, whimpering when he starts to tug at your nipples. Doyoung’s fingers that you love so much intertwine with yours as he starts to push his hips forward faster.

The pace is barely manageable, and when you push against him he finds that spot that has you seeing stars. If you were bad at being quiet before you were terrible now, long moans covering the sound of the small ripples you’re both creating.

His palm startles you when it covers your mouth suddenly, your sounds successfully muffled by his chlorine-flavored fingers.

“What’s wrong, does it feel too good?”, he asks smugly, snapping his hips even faster.

Your pride crumbles as you nod, biting on his fingers as his own snake their way over your already sensitive clit. The circles he draws around it have your eyes roll to the back of your head, your body putty in his hold.

“You said you could take it, but here you are, moaning like you don’t care who finds you getting all fucked out in public.” You whimper in his hand, gasping for air when he lets you breathe again. “The only thing you’re allowed to say from now on is my name when you come. Got it?”

“Doyoung!”, you moan out when your second orgasm washes over you, hitting you so hard that you think you might pass out right then and there. Your walls clench around his length, triggering his own orgasm, and he quickly pulls out of you before cumming in the water. His arm is still protectively wrapped around you as he thrusts his cock over your ass, riding it out.

You swim in complete silence for a while, catching your breaths. Doyoung helps you pull down your dress, picking up the floating bag for you as well. His jacket had survived the fall, dropping from your shoulders right before you took your involuntary dive, and he gets out of the pool to retrieve it as well.

“Are you okay?”, he asks you softly, helping you get out as well.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

It only took a couple of steps for you to realize that soaked heels on a wet tile floor are probably a bad idea. You stepped carefully, trying your hardest to keep your balance but still looking like a deer learning how to walk for the first time.

You stare in confusion when Doyoung crouches in front of you with his back facing you.

“Hop on. It’s too dangerous for you to walk like this.”

“But I-”

“The reception is not that far. Come on.”

Reluctantly, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, jumping a little for him to hold the back of your knees. The alcohol moves in your belly, making you dizzy, and you rest your forehead against the top of his head to ground yourself. You can smell the hotel’s shampoo he used this morning, and if you weren’t as embarrassed to have him carrying you you’re certain the scent alone could relax you enough to be put to sleep. You’re only hoping that he can’t feel your beating heart thumping against his back.

Doyoung doesn’t put you down even when you reach the elevator, the receptionists gossiping about you yet he doesn’t seem to care. You tap on his shoulder shyly, wanting to tell him you can handle it from here. Before you can even open your mouth, he repositions you higher on his back, his body language shushing you.

You wish you hadn’t caught your reflection on the elevator mirror. You’re both soaked to the bone, Doyoung’s clothes stuck on his body and his dying erection semi-visible on his thigh. His eyes are red from the alcohol and his lips pink from your lipgloss, but it’s not like you look any better. Your wet hair is messy, your makeup gone. You can’t wipe that stupid smile off your face.

He still carries you to the room, even opens the door for you.

“Here princess”, he mocks you, letting your feet touch the floor finally. You thank him quietly and move over to your suitcase, looking for your pijamas and some fresh underwear to put on. You’re not sure how to address the situation, it’s ridiculous how you can barely look at the man that just made you cum twice in the eyes. Not in a bad way, of course: he just didn’t feel like the same Doyoung that got in that flight with you yesterday, and you couldn’t stop the feeling of hope from growing enthusiastically in your stomach.

You grip the bathroom door nervously until your knuckles turn white, mustering the courage to spill out at least half of what you’re feeling. The sound of his name grabs his attention.

“What we did tonight-”

“...was a mistake.”

“Huh?”

You blink back at him twice, cursing at the tears that burn your eyes.

“It was a one time thing, right? Like I said, we’ll go back to hating each other in the morning.”

The room is dark, and you hope the dim lighting hides the obvious hurt that manifests itself on your face. You hate how a part of yourself still wants to grab him by the collar and take him in the shower with you. Beg him to love you again before that ‘morning’ comes. Kiss you so hard that he forgets whatever it is about you he despises so much that he can’t let it go. You can barely keep your voice from breaking.

“Right. I’ll take a shower and then I’ll pass out. Goodnight.”

“Good-”

You don’t let him finish, closing the door between you. He shouldn’t see you cry.

In the midst of all the laughter on such a beautiful morning like today, pressing on the power button of your phone while hoping it still works out of a miracle, you were the obvious stand out. You move your legs absentmindedly, only your feet dipped in the water, body slumped and looking miserable next to the children’s pool. You hoped that the sound of shrieking children might distract you from recalling the big rejection of last night, yet your growing headache makes you gradually regret yout decision more and more.

As you stare at a mother forcefully smear her child’s face with sunscreen, your phone still dead in your lap, your fingers toy with the buttons of your shirt. Doyoung’s shirt, actually. The same printed one he wore two days ago at the rehearsal. The need to have his smell on your body too intense for you to resist. God, you’re so pathetic.

“It looks better on you than me.”

His voice from behind you startles you, and before you can excuse yourself nicely he’s already taken a seat next to you. He looks rough, jaw stubbled from not shaving and with dark circles under his eyes. You wonder if he had a sleep as restless as yours.

“I know”, you reply and he chuckles. “I’m sorry for taking this without asking. I was planning on returning it before you woke up.”

“It’s okay”, he shrugs and you’re met with silence again, the atmosphere heavy with the memories of last night weighing you both down. You were ready to pretend taking a call from your useless phone when he speaks up again.

“Let’s play last night’s game again.”

“The question game?”

“Yeah.”

“Doyoung, I can’t handle any mimosas right now.”

“No alcohol, just questions. Just-”, he sighs, looking at you with pleading eyes. “Just talk to me.”

“Theres nothing to talk about. We did what we did, you regret it. It’s fine.”

“No it’s not fine-”

“It’s fine!”, you insist, lifting your shoulders and dropping them again disappointedly. “I can’t force you to like me back.” You can tell your words upset him, but he still decides to let you finish. “But I was kind of hoping you’d at least be my friend.”

You hear a muffled groan from your side, turning to see Doyoung rub his face with his hands.

“I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“Why?”

“Because I do like you back.”

“You- you do?”

“God, y/n, are you serious? I’ve liked you ever since I walked into the school and saw you on the teachers’ lounge for the first time. I like the stupid pins you wear in your hair. I like the little songs you make up on Monday mornings. I like your handwriting on the chalkboard. I like the way you say my name, I like how you feel around me. And now you’re sitting next to me looking all pretty in my shirt and all I can thing about is-”

You press his open mouth against your lips, muffling his words, kissing him fiercely. He’s surprised but only for a second before the heat of your body thaws his frozen state, digging his fingers in your hair as he kisses you back. His rough stubble scratches your chin but the dull pain only makes you kiss him harder, pulling your body against yours until your heart hammers loudly in your ears. Your lips part open and tongues meet, minty from the toothpaste you used that morning and you’re ready to fully succumb under his body weight, let him lay those broad shoulders on top of you fully.

“There’s children around!”, an angry father from afar yells so you push him away, embarrassed, rubbing your lips. The pure serotonin that you get when you see his gummy smile again is irreplaceable, and you both laugh in the ridiculousness of the situation. You wonder what your coworker would say if she saw the two of you like this, getting carried away by each other at such a place, and you giggle thinking of her reaction. Doyoung is the first to speak.

“In conclusion, yes, I will be your friend.”

“Is that what you do with your friends?”

“Sure”, he jokes, and you shove him a little with your elbow. “I’m always here for you if you need shoulders to cry on”

“Awww”

“...or to lay your legs on.”

“Doyoung!”, you squeal and kick some water his way, like a cat that needed to be reprimanded. He laughs heartily, lightly, patting his skin that got wet dry.

“All jokes aside”, he adds, intertwining your fingers and resting your connecting hands on his thigh, “when we get back, I want to take you out on a proper date.”

“Fine”, you agree, giving him another kiss and hoping it won’t get you kicked out, “As long as you promise that you won’t throw us fully clothed in a pool again.”

“Keep it up and I’ll throw you fully clothed in a pool right now.”

Finding Atlantis (part 18)

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: WE DID IT! I bet you all thought i wouldn't follow through on my promise hehe. Well guys...this is it. The final chapter. I have no idea what to say because this story has so much of me in it and i'm just...at a loss for words after all the ones ive put in it. I'm considering an epilogue with anything extra you all may want to see (unanswered questions, deleted scenes, life after the story, etc.) So let me stop talking and lets get into it! WARNING: depression mention alongside pretty severe symptoms

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

Death is easy.

It’s dying that hurts.

Only those from Atlantis can survive under water. You know that. Baekhyun knows that. It’s an ability that, as regular humans, you will never have.

Death by drowning. Death by blood loss. Death by blade or gunshot. These are all things you’d long predicted would inevitably take your last breath from you. Old age, illness, or natural causes never seemed like probable deaths. A peaceful death isn’t one your lifestyle affords. You’d leave this world the way you’d entered it, no holds barred, all or nothing.

You’ve never feared death.

No.

You’ve only ever feared dying.

You’ve found fear in the pain, in the ugliness of it –never of actually being dead. You’ve only ever worried about the thoughts you would have as you came to the realization that you’d never live another day in this life. You imagined feeling scared, of gasping out agonized breaths.

You never imagined that dying could feel like melting in the embrace from someone close to your heart. Like a suffocating darkness that is eased away by warmth and light. A feeling that carries a gentleness that can only be given through a touch imbued with love.

You never imagined that dying at the bottom of the ocean would lead to you washing up on a regular old beach in the afterlife.

When you open your eyes, you see an early morning sky above you. You can hear the wind whistling through the trees and waves crashing against the land. You can feel the wet sand beneath your palms and the salty water droplets rolling off your face. The afterlife feels all too similar to home.

Sitting up, you can see that you’re still in the outfit you died in. You’re in the outfit you died in, the sun is rising on the horizon, and a copy of your ship is bobbing calmly on the water not far ahead.

All your limbs are intact. You muscles ache but that’s nothing new to you. Water droplets bead on your forearms as the morning sun begins to evaporate it. An anxiety settles in your stomach and you follow the urge to look around for any other signs of life.

Of souls?

Of the gate, or passage to wherever the hell you are supposed to go now that your own fleeting life has ended.

Throat tight, you look around the mostly empty beach.

And you find Baekhyun seemingly not breathing not far behind you.

You scramble on to your knees and lean down to see if you can feel his breath.

Not again…

Maybe this is secretly hell. A replica of one of your happier moments, but you’re forced to spend eternity waking up and finding Baekhyun dead or dying in a new way at your side.

When you lean down again to find he is still unmoving, you attempt to breathe life into his lungs. It feels ironic given your situation.

He finally livens up. Water and acid come out of his mouth as soon as he opens his eyes.

Relief overcomes you at the sight of him and as soon as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, you press your lips to his –desperate for touch to prove to you he’s there.

“You taste like vomit,” you sob happily.

He grimaces and leans up on his elbows. “You’re the one shoving your tongue down my throat after I threw up, you nutcase.” He groans and looks around. “Where the hell are we?”

“Didn’t we die? Aren’t we in some kind of limbo? Davy Jones’s locker.”

He laughs, wet with the water still in his lungs. “I don’t think this is quite what the afterlife looks like. Your ship is right there, there are still signs of life around us, and besides; we’d have ended up in different places. Different lockers, right?” he rationalizes.

It takes you a moment to consider his words –to really feel the sand on your palms, the heat on your skin, the beating of your heart in your chest. You’re still alive somehow, after all of that. You were so far below the surface, there’s no way the two of you should have survived that.

“But…how?” you whisper to your shaking hands.

“I think…” Baekhyun coughs, looks out at the water. “I think Junmyeon guided us to safety somehow.”

You think back on the feeling you felt just after the initial suffocation and you turn to face the water as well. You recall the warmth and safety that came with what you thought was death. “…I…Yeah. I guess he did…”

The water laps lazily against the sand. Calmly.

At peace.

You close your eyes and let the full weight of your reality set in. You’re alive. Junmyeon is gone. He saved you somehow.

Junmyeon is gone.

The tears spill before you can even try and verbalize the realization. You curl into yourself and let the hard sobs shake you to the very core. Baekhyun doesn't say a word.

What couldhe say? Nothing would change what’s been done.

Instead of speaking, he wraps his arms around you to let you weep until you no longer can.

~~~

When your crew realizes that it’s you and Baekhyun who have washed up on the island, they send out a dinghy immediately. By then, your tears have gone, but the lump in your throat won’t go away no matter how many times you swallow around it.

“I miss him,” you mutter as you watch the dinghy get closer to the beach.

“I know,” Baekhyun replies.

“But, he’s happy now.”

He hesitates as he looks out at the water. “…I know.”

Questions are thrown at you as soon as Yixing and Chanyeol make it on land. Baekhyun just shakes his head at your side and they quiet. You’re thankful for the silence.

Your body shakes violently, but your mind is numb.

The joy of your crew as you climb on deck is overwhelming. You look at all the faces emotionlessly. When people begin to sense that something is wrong you lower your gaze to the floor and walk towards your quarters. You can’t speak, not right now. Not when you aren’t even sure what they expect you to say. And you surely can’t plaster on a grin.

The door closes behind you, and the shaking only worsens in your solitude. You let the wet clothing, the only physical reminder of your time in Atlantis left, carelessly fall from your body. More out of habit than by conscious thought, you pull on something dry.

When you bury yourself under your covers, you can’t stop the tremors no matter how hard you try.

~~~

Hours pass. Or maybe it’s a few minutes. It could have been half a day, you can’t be sure. All you know, is that in the time between you closing yourself off in the room and the first person coming in to check on you, is that you haven’t been able to go to sleep.

Every time you close your eyes for more than a few seconds you’re haunted with the sight of Junmyeon’s smile as he thanked you. That and then his still form in the sphere of water. Every time you tried to sleep, you just ended up crying.

Yeri is the first person to knock. She peaks her head in and says words that hold no meaning to you. When you show no sign of responding, she retreats.

Yixing comes in next. He tries to make conversation. Checks you for any obvious injury or illness. Frowns despite seeing nothing physically wrong. You think he tells you that you need to eat.

Jongin and Kyungsoo come in together. Kyungsoo with a tray of food, and Jongin seemingly just there to see you with his own eyes.

When they give up trying to coax words out of you they leave the food too.

You push it to the floor just to hear it clatter. To hear something.

The door opens for a fourth time and you want to exhale in frustration. Why does no one understand that you want to be left alone?

A cup of tea is set on the table where the food once sat. You tiredly raise your eyes to the face of the newest intruder. Baekhyun looks down at the mess on the floor with pursed lips. You decide then to avoid his eyes.

He rounds the bed and sits on the other side. You can feel his weight against your back. A dry sob finds its way out of your mouth. You would feel embarrassed if you had the energy to.

A sigh is all you get from him. You can feel him shifting and the sound of his boots hitting the floor before the covers lift and he crawls under. He doesn’t say anything. You turn to face him. His eyes catch yours before you can even think to look away.

When he opens up his arms, your lip trembles and you hide yourself against his chest without second thought. He holds you tightly, as if his arms are the only thing keeping you from breaking apart.

You let your eyes fall closed. Thanks to the warmth of his body and the thumping of his heart, you’re finally, finally, able to fall into a dreamless sleep.

~~~

You wake up alone. The tea on your bedside table has long gone cold. You don’t need to touch it to know. The lethargy in your bones lets you know that you got at least a few hours rest –plenty of time for a hot cup of tea to go stale. You frown and fight the urge to throw the cold glass across the room.

Sitting up, you dig the palms of your hands into your eyes as hard as you can. Stars and non-shapes flash across your vision when you reopen them.

Frustrated, you notice that nothing has changed when you open your eyes. The room is the same. The tea is still cold.

And you’re still alone.

What now?

You never thought about what you would do after Junmyeon was gone. Hell, you hadn’t thought that Junmyeon would die.

Where do you go from here? Are you just supposed to get up and sail on? Find a new mission? Make someone else your new first mate?

The thought of that alone makes you feel sick. You aren’t ready to think about that.

What do you do now? You don’t want to think, you don’t want to feel, you just want to lie in bed and pretend this never happened. Maybe have a dream where thisis all just a dream.

Should you eat? Should you go talk to someone? Should you throw yourself over the side of the ship? If you’re lucky, maybe you’d hit a rock and die from head trauma. You’ve drowned enough in this lifetime, you think. You couldn’t handle drowning being the last thing you ever felt.

The compass catches your eye, flipped open and on its side on the bedside table. That probably happened when you flipped over the food.

Automatically you reach out for it and cradle it in both of your hands. There’s no way you can make a decision for yourself right now. Maybe the compass will help lead you to what you should focus on doing next.

A breath in. Closed eyes. Cleared mind. A heavy breath out.

You open your eyes and see the needle of the compass slowing moving from the left towards your door.

Baekhyun must be about to walk in, you think bitterly.

And he does.

There’s a fresh tray of food in his hands. He falters in the doorway when he sees you sitting up with the compass in your hands. He doesn’t say anything as he walks to the side of the bed –where he’d slept- and places the food there.

He reaches over and closes the compass in your hands. “Don’t look at that thing right now. You’re in the middle of mourning.”

Mourning. That sounds right. You couldn’t place the feeling until you heard it.

“You should eat something,” he says softly. He settles on the bed at your side. “I cleaned up the food on the floor earlier, and we all figured you would feel somewhat better with fresh food.”

You don’t reply.

“Eat something. You can’t starve yourself.”

You clench your fingers around the closed compass.

Baekhyun groans exasperatedly. “You haven’t eaten or had any water in nearly 48 hours. Do you not care? I don’t expect you to say anything, but the least you can do is not sit here on your ass trying to kill yourself by refusing to eat.”

There’s nothing for you to say to that. You hadn’t realized how long it had been, but even then you don’t want any food. The thought of eating makes you feel nauseous.

The compass is snatched from your hands. “Okay fine. You don’t want to eat? Then decide on the next plan of action. Where do you want to go huh? You want revenge? Wanna go kick Poseidon’s ass? Let’s do it. Just get up and do something, you can’t waste away like this. Not after everything you’ve been through.” He opens the compass up and immediately puts it back in your hands.

As always, it turns towards him.

He looks at it in confusion. You exhale and let it fall from your hands. Baekhyun looks from you to the compass with furrowed brows before he picks it up himself. After only a second he holds it in your line of vision.

The needle unwaveringly points towards you.

So, what?

You sluggishly drag your gaze back up. His jaw is set in determination.

“It points towards you too. It won’t stop pointing towards you. From the start of this, it’s only been you. I’m here…I’m trying to be here with you.” He sounds as exhausted as you feel.

You bite your lip to hold back a fresh set of tears.

He rakes a hand roughly through his hair.

“I-I love you.” He pauses and you see the shock in his eyes as he realizes what he’s said. You clench your fists at your side. “I…love you, and I’m sorry it took you losing Junmyeon, us nearly dying 10 times, and your confession for me to finally say it. I don’t think I could tell you when it started even if I wanted to, but that doesn’t matter.” His face burns red with embarrassment but he pushes on. “What matters right now, is that I’m here, you’re here, and you’re killingyourself. Do you hear me?

“Junmyeon wouldn’t want to see you like this. I don’t want to fucking see you like this.” He licks his lips and exhales shakily. “We still have so much to fight over. Don’t you still wanna kick my ass? You can stab me again if you want, I don’t care, just…please,” he begs. He lowers his head into your lap and his hands clench around the sheets. His face is hidden from view but you can see the shake in his shoulders as he tries not to cry.

Silently, you reach over the grab the cup of water in your trembling hands. You drink a few mouthfuls but it doesn’t feel as though it really helps. Baekhyun looks up with red rimmed eyesat your movement.

You grab a piece of soft bread and break off a piece and hand it to him. He opens his mouth to eat it. You break another piece off and feed it to yourself.

Until the food is gone, neither of you say a word to each other. It’s only when he sits up to clear away the tray that you find the energy to speak. “Stay with me, please.” Your fingers curl around his wrist to keep him from leaving. You silently notice that he’s paler than usual, and his wrist is thinner.

As if he’s been in a similar state of distress.

If he wanted to, you still think he could escape your hold without even trying –given the comparatively worse state you’re in. “You help keep the nightmares away. You…you being here helps me sleep.”

He blinks at your admission and then nods. “Of course. I’m here. You couldn’t make me leave even if you wanted to.”

You lower yourself back down to your side, nearly chin deep under the covers as he settles in next to you. This time when he opens his arms, he doesn’t wait for you to close the distance. He pulls you closer on his own.

After a few minutes of quiet, “I don’t know what to do now,” you admit softly. He hums in question. “I never thought this far ahead…I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Just take it day by day. You don’t have a plan in place now. It’s okay to take some time to just feel, to do nothing. That might be what’s best for you until you get back on your feet. It doesn’t matter what you do. Just take it day by day.”

~~~

The days get easier, or maybe you become more accustomed to feeling like shit.

Who knows?

It’s decided that everyone will head back to Arae and take a well deserved break. After all that has occurred, some time on land to recuperate is the least the crew could use.

It takes a week before you’re able to finally call a meeting with all the crew to discuss what happened while you, Junmyeon and Baekhyun were in Atlantis.

You give your retelling and Baekhyun chimes in to fill in blanks where needed. Once you describe the last moments with your former first mate, you actively see people’s eyes glassing over.

Even as you try to convince everyone that he is content with his decision, you hear the uncertainty in your own voice.

“So…that’s just it? Mission accomplished, I guess.” Yixing runs a hand through his hair. “This is a lot to hear.”

“I understand that there may still be confusion and that emotions are high after all of our recent events. I’m still trying to come to terms with it all myself. Let’s just get to port and then everyone can rest and take the time they need,” you say to the crowd. “We can figure everything else out later. Junmyeon was treasured, and was proud of each and every one of you. Never forget that…”

You end your address with a nod to your men. The weight of a hand on your shoulder gives you just enough strength to summon the authority of a captain in your voice. “Anchors aweigh! Man your stations! We’ll be heading northwest until we’ve set our course for Arae!”

Your words snap everyone to attention, and the deck bursts with movement.

“I want a record of how our food rations are looking! I need a headcount of our men! Sehun, you’re on the helm until I get back!”

For the first time in a while, you feel the rush of being in charge. Of being in control of the things occurring around you. You would puff up with pride if the thought hadn’t reminded you of all that you’ve recently had no control over. Of the things…the people…you’ve lost.

The hand on your shoulder squeezes. “You’re doing a great job. You don’t have to push yourself any further than you can handle.”

You turn to look at Baekhyun head on. “I’m fine. Let’s go chart our course to port before I get the urge to vomit in the middle of the deck.” You grimace.

His hand drifts to your nape. The smile on his face is affectionate, warm, loving. “C’mon then.”

~~~

You wake up in the middle of the night feeling like all of the air has been stolen from your lungs. Sitting up with a start, you clutch your throat to check if anything was physically choking you. The candle you’d put out before going to bed burns brightly on your bedside table, but your throat is no longer constricted.

Baekhyun, who has unofficially moved into your quarters (not completely unwanted), is dead asleep at your side. You look around the room slowly, hand itching to grab a weapon in case you’re being ambushed. Being woken with such abruptness has your guard raised.

A glint of gold catches your eye as the candle flickers in the darkness.

A golden seal. Wax with an unfamiliar emblem pressed into it holding closed a note by the flame.

Confusion causes your eyebrows to furrow, but curiosity has you reaching out to grab it. The paper feels strange in your hands. Smooth and glossy, but wet. The water droplets don’t soak into the note; you’re able to wipe them off easily without disturbing the integrity of the odd parchment.

As you open it, you recognize the handwriting immediately.

Dear Captain,

I’m writing this hurriedly in my bedroom, so I apologize if it doesn't read as easily as it should.

I decided that you deserve a proper explanation. After the experience with the guardians earlier, I knew that I needed to tell you what things will happen next. What my purpose of being here is for. I fear there’s not much more time before I will lose my chance to talk to you.

The guardians of the ocean were never meant to last for all of time. They lose power just as all things do, and certain events can trigger a power outage faster than others.

Events like my leaving home.

You might have been able to put together the pieces from what Jongdae was saying, but my reason for leaving was quite simple.

I knew that I would have to die to restore power to our guardians.

I knew that I would have to die, so I wanted to live before I had to give up my life for the kingdom. I didn’t think much of it when I left. I didn’t have any plans or any idea of where I would go. I just needed to leave. I needed time to enjoy my life while I could.

But every action has a consequence. By leaving, I unintentionally caused not one, not two, but three of our sacred guardians to lose power. If I don’t step in, then we may very well lose a fourth and I can’t let that happen. I refuse to let that happen.

All this is to say, that this note is my goodbye to you. It is my goodbye to the crew. If things go as I expect, then the fourth guardian will lose power soon and I’ll have to give up all that I am in order to restore at least the guardians that we lost in my absence.

This is a goodbye, and I know you must be thinking, ‘there must be another way’, but there isn’t. This is the only way, and I’ve long accepted that.

However, I’ve gotten to live a full life thanks to you taking me in that one rainy night. Thanks to the crew for being a family for me and dedicating so much time and spilling s much blood just to get me home. Being able to sail with you all, experiencing the good and the bad of being human, has steeled my resolve. I will do this to protect humanity. To protect the seas. To protect my family, both in Atlantis and aboard my real home on the Storm Chaser.

I never planned on leaving any trace of my existence on land. I thought I could exist and vanish without a trace, but in a way I’m grateful that I will be able to complete the prophecy with people who will remember me as me.

Not as a prince.

Not as a cursed child of Posiedon.

Not as Suho the Guardian of the Ocean.

But as a man. As Junmyeon. As first mate of the Storm Chaser.

Thank you for everything, Captain. Continue to sail the seas happily and healthily. I know that you’ll continue to be a protector and a home to many more lost souls like mine. Live a long life. For me.

Yours truly,

Kim Junmyeon

P.S. you should give Byun a chance to get his thoughts together. From what I’ve gathered, you stunned him and he is just as much in love with you as you are him. We’ve all be telling you this for so long

P.P.S please clean up your quarters. I won’t be around to help you keep things in order, so for me, clear away all those damn posters.

Your eyes flit over to the messy pile of wanted posters that have spilled onto the floor and you feel a smile stretching across your lips. You run your thumbs across the paper a few times to keep your mind distracted as you scan over the note again.

Having this final piece of him here in your hands fills your chest with emotion. An ache, a fullness, a kind of pain and a kind of happiness. It’s a lot to process so soon after waking.

“Euurggh,” you hear him rising before you feel him shifting beside you. “What are you doing awake so soon?”

“A letter.”

“I’ve got a letter for you, it’s ‘Z’ and it means lay back down and get some.”

You can’t help how your eyes roll. He’s as annoying as ever, but he’s right. You only get a few hours of rest before you have to take over from Yixing for the night. The letter, figuring out where it came from and what to do with it, can wait a few hours more.

You fold it back neatly and set it next to the candle before blowing out the flame. It’s presence in the room is heavy, but you are determined not to deal with it until you wake again.

Burying yourself under the blanket, Baekhyun attaches himself to you immediately to sap you of your body heat. “Baekhyun…”

“Mm.” You contemplate briefly bringing up the note, but think better of it. Instead you focus on the heat he radiates against you. You feel warm all over.

“You know…you’re the only one who’s said it so far.”

“Mm?”

You shuffle up and cup one of his cheeks in your hand. He opens his sleepy eyes to gaze at you in confusion. You take the moment to really accept this moment. You can’t lie to yourself and say that you’re happy, but you can see yourself being happy in the future. In this moment, it’s clearer now than before. You may no longer have Junmyeon at your side, but Baekhyun is here. He’s here, he genuinely seems to care about you, and he said he loves you.

You hadn’t even had the courage to say those words when you’d been sharing your own feelings in that hallway. The words felt too real. Too permanent. But now, in the darkness of your room, everything feels…right.

“I love you.” You press a poorly aimed kiss to the corner of his lips. “I love you…a lot.” A giddy feeling bubbles up in your stomach. “It kinda makes me disgusted.”

“You just had to ruin the moment at the end there didn't you?”

“I can’t have you thinking I no longer think that you’re a bastard.”

“But I’m your bastard.”

You snort. “Yeah, unfortunately.”

He presses a messy kiss to your mouth. You laugh at first, taken off guard by the suddenness of the action. He pulls you closer to his body, and the kiss develops into something more purposeful.

Your hands on each other hold so much more meaning now. There’s no hidden feelings here. No rush of any kind. No need to hide tenderness for fear of being to vulnerable. Just two lovers who want to cherish the person in their arms. You brush your lips against his temple. “Baekhyunie…I really do love you,” you whisper before placing a peck against his earlobe.

He groans deep in his throat, hides his face in your neck. “You’ve gotta stop using that nickname when we’re fucking. I’m never gonna be able to hear it again without my dick getting hard,” he breathes hotly against your skin. A laugh escapes you without warning.

He breathes out a laugh of his own before pulling away and kissing up your neck to your forehead. His lips linger there. “God, I love you.”

You hum happily. “I could get use to hearing that.”

“Oh, shut up.” He says softly. “Go back to sleep. I’m too tired to do anything else. We can continue after a few more hours of rest.” You wrap your arms around him and place your head on his chest. “We can deal with whatever is in that letter tomorrow too, get some rest for now,” he yawns out.

You’d almost forgotten about the letter, but you don’t feel any desperation to address it. You’ll sleep for now. Punctuated by a light kiss to his skin, you murmur quietly, sincerely, “I love you.”

His arms tighten around you in acknowledgement and you fall asleep at peace.

~~~*Three months later*~~~

“Are we ready to leave port?”

“Yes Captain. All members are present and accounted for.”

“Good. Our heading is southeast, let’s make haste. I want to get this bounty quickly. We’re rusty, we need to start with something easy.”

“Ay, Captain.”

Leaving port is always as gratifying as it is stress inducing. There’s nothing that can quite match the rush you feel when you see your fellow crewman rushing around your ship, bringing her to life again, after months at rest. Raising the sails and cleaning down her surfaces before taking her back out home on the open sea, that rush is what excites you most in this world. The entire vessel buzzes with energy as your men call out to each other across the ship ensuring that she’s prepped and safe to take out on the water.

“Uh…Captain? We’ve got an extra in our headcount.”

You whip around at Yixing’s voice.

“Long time no see,” the new face says, smile as bright as you remember.

“Jongdae?” you can’t believe your eyes. It’s been months since you saw the younger prince last. The last place you expected to see him again was on land, in Arae no less.

“I figured you might be needing an extra hand here and there. Although I don’t know much about working on a ship, I know plenty about how the currents and how the ocean works.”

Yixing looks from you to Jongdae in confusion. “So…you know this guy?”

“Yeah...yeah. He’s Junmyeon’s younger brother.” Your words stun your quartermaster so much so that his mouth drops open.

“Speaking of my brother, did you get the letter I delivered?”

Letter?

The note!

“You put that letter there? We couldn’t figure out how it could have possibly ended up there.” You’d all spent hours thinking of ways that the letter could have been snuck aboard, and even longer trying to make sense of the paper itself. After reading its contents, everyone aboard the ship felt as though they’d finally gotten the proper send off deserved of your first mate. Most questions had been answered, and everyone felt content in the way things had played out, even if it meant Junmyeon was no longer with you all.

“Well yeah. Junmyeon wanted it to go to you after he took over as guardian. I had to do my part to fulfill that wish. That, and getting you all the treasure you were promised.” Its then that you notice the enormous cases being loaded on the ship –cases you know the crew hadn’t packed themselves.

“Treasure?”

“Gold, jewels, shiny stuff you humans like.”

Yixing rushes over to a case to open it. “Are these all full of treasures?”

Jongdae nods easily, as if the fortune he’s brought has little meaning to him. “Of course.”

“This would set the entire crew for generations Captain…” Yixing says in awe.

You blink at Jongdae dumbly.

“There’s just one favor I have to ask in return for delivering all of this,” he starts. “I need you and your crew to help me with my destiny.”

“Of fucking course there’s a catch. What? We gotta help you on a suicide mission next?” Baekhyun’s voice shakes you out of your stupor. He tosses an arm over your shoulder. He’s gained more weight in the months at rest. The weight on your shoulders is welcomed.

“It’s nothing like that trust me,” Jongdae says with raised hands. He focuses his attention back to you. “Junmyeon trusts you all, so I do too. It’s nothing quite as final as Junmyeon’s, but it’s still quite a feat to complete on my own.”

“Did you run away too?” You ask in worry.

“No, no! I was given permission. This has to do with my destiny so it’s completely fine. Besides, Junmyeon’s able to help guide me home if I need to go back.”

“I’m sorry, what?” You ask incredulously.

He blinks innocently. “Junmyeon can help me find my way home when I’m ready. Whenever I talk to him he seems pretty sure that he can.”

“You still talk to him!?”

“Duh, he’s a part of the ocean now. He’s not gone. I’m sure even you guys could get some kind of response from him if you tried to talk to him. It might not be words, but he’s pretty good at communicating.” He waves away his words as if it was a passing thought. “He told me to come to you guys for help, and said I might be able to help in return. If you all help me destroy the monsters that inhabit the more dangerous parts of the ocean, then I can offer my knowledge in exchange.”

Baekhyun is able to jump back into the conversation first. You’re still stupefied at the idea that you could have talked to Junmyeon all this time. That he isn’t fucking dead, just…part of the ocean now?

Whatever the fuck that is supposed to mean.

“So…you want us to help you fight sea monsters? Like sirens and krakens and shit?”

Jongdae gives an eager nod.

Baekhyun looks at you and raises an eyebrow. Do you really want to take this on? You purse your lips and turn back to Jongdae. You’ve spent over 3 months not taking on any missions. Your crew is as rusty as they can get. Fresh out of mourning and getting back on their feet. You have enough gold and jewels to never have to work again.

Even if you declined, you doubt Jongdae would take the treasures back. This was your payment for Junmyeon’s return. Nothing more than that. If anything, this would be a favor to the other prince.

But, Junmyeon thinks you’d be of help to each other. Besides, you don’t know what you would do with your time if you stopped sailing as a pirate. You belong on the sea. You’ve know that for nearly all your life. You want to live adventurously. The Storm Chaser can’t be reduced to some shitty cargo ship. Your men came to you to escape their lives on land. They wouldn’t want to return even if they had the money to live happily. You can tell by how eager everyone is today just coming back aboard the ship.

You jut your hand out. Your decision is made; although, it might have been made up from the moment he even asked. “You’ve got a deal.” Jongdae beams and reaches out to grab your hand, but you suddenly pull back. “Ah…well as long as my first mate agrees?”

You catch Baekhyun’s eyes again and he smiles. “If you want to do this, I’m behind you 100% Captain.” The eye patch he was using to keep his bangs out of his face is slid back over his eye.

“Let’s go kill some fucking sea monsters.”

~~~

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.

The heart of the ocean.

These days, her heart is at ease. These days, the ocean is calm.

The tale of the lost child of Atlantis have become nothing but an old wives tale. A thrilling bedtime story told to children to amaze them with the wonders of the sea.

A story of family, of fear, and of loss.

A story about mermaids, and storms –of ships that nearly faced destruction in attempt to return that lost child.

To return that lost man. A prince.

A tale that dazzles with promises of riches, and happiness. Of adventure and hate. A tale of love.

There’s no way to determine the truth of the story, for no written record of Atlantis exists. Only the oral retellings by those who claim to have seen it.

Many secrets lie beneath the ocean’s surface –wonders and horrors alike. The tale of finding Atlantis will stay as secret as the ocean herself.

Thus, her story continues on.

Calm. At peace.

-Anonymous

The Boyz Recs

A- Angst, S-Smut F-Fluff

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Get F*cked by Kyufiber A

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Blurred Lines by Biaswreckingfics AS

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