#jouho

[ ; It has been a quiet morning. The idea of being able to restfor a good amount of time was sufficed by the engaged thoughts that keptrunning inside his head, despite being asleep, he was still stressed. The nightthat he had was no longer something that he’s holding onto, despite the factthat she was able to rest with him and to reassure him that things aren’t goingto fall in the hands of an opposed solicitor of the crown that was placed onhis head but the fact that tomorrow will be a good day was enough for him tokeep his eyes closed and his mind off the matter. She really is something that graced him from the skiesabove, with her gentle touch, the same caress that somewhat filled his heartwith joy and bliss; he knows that she would never do anything that could seemto suffice the anger bubbling around his chest, and yet there he is, amidst ofthe pile of papers that he has in hand, he has the time to think of her, and tothink of what surprise she has on her shoulders. ] 

( you can do it !! )

He’s becoming stronger in each day that passes, and he’smore than sure that it is from the people who are giving him more than enoughstrength that he could give himself, despite the satisfaction that he doesn’tburden anyone else from it. The smile on his lips is prominent, fingers lacedupon each other as he leans against the railing of the balcony, where hewatches the stars shine the night, and how it seemingly light up the road aheadof him—ahead of them. It doesn’t seem to matter what he could lose fromhimself, as long as the important people of his life are safe and protected, it’smore than just a reward for him to have.

The night is as promising as how the dreams of tomorroware, watching the stars align each other, the clouds fade in each passingminute, it’s serene, and the nice dimmed environment is soothing, it makes himfeel like there’s something good upon having the night as how it is, untilbehind held by the one and only meaning of life—for him.

➢ random lyrics starter • accepting :: ‘Things can get ugly, but we’re still a team.’

Was there ever a word ‘team’ in her dictionary? All the things Soojin has done, all the people she has worked with, they were all people who she had to work with. No one was truly a team of hers. You were born alone into this world, and you die alone. That doesn’t dismiss the fact that she should be a team with anyone during the time she’s still alive. Though, it was a fact that the both of them had done a fair few things for each other. Knowing secrets of someone and knowing that you can trust them with a secret of yours had always been a good feeling. Once you blow hers, she blows yours. It was a fair game. 

Her panic attack started stemming as soon as she received the phone call from the blonde about how she might have almost accidentally spilled her secret to someone, yet the older reassured her that she didn’t, but Soojin was far too gone, her head started spinning as she walked over to the kitchen counter, chugging down a half empty can of beer just for the sake of busying herself to not yell at the woman. Sure, she had anger issues, but everything was fine -- it didn’t cancel out the fact that she wanted to toss deathly glares towards the female, only if modern day mobile phones would allow her to do that. 

Taking a deep breath, she counted from one to ten... slightly light-headed as she inhaled deeply. The words she said repeatedly in her head. Things can get ugly, but we’re still a team. Yes, things were about to get ugly if she hadn’t calmed herself down. Instead of throwing rude demeanors her way, Haru decided to lean her hip against the surface of the kitchen counter, fingers rummaging through her dark locks of hair. 

Send me a ✿ and my muse will react to your muse putting a flower in their hair

The scentof the flowers around the shop became a familiar spoor for Joonmyeon. It becamea habit, to take his time off from work every Wednesday of the week to give her,all of him, which means no work in the evening, no thinking about anything; itwould be just him and her. He left his briefcase inside his car to check onher, he has the extra keys of the flower shop but he never really had thechance to use it, the shop is still open, and she’s probably packing by thecounter, it’s only five in the afternoon anyway, and she has one more hour tofinish things up as he helps.

It’sbeen a while since he actually came around the vice where he wanted to hold herin his arms, don’t get him wrong, every night when they sleep, it would alwaysbe her against his chest, possibly listening to the sync heartbeat that theyboth have as they fall asleep into the slumber where they could see each otheragain. Some would say he’s obsessed, but he calls it love; the possession ofwhat had always been his was getting onto him. He’s taking his time on walkingaround, the shop wasn’t exactly big but it wasn’t small either, the big plantswere located at the back side where it balances out the small pots on the firstaisle of flowers that he came across to, flowers would always bloom lovely inspring, and no wonder it’s her favorite time of the year.

“Byuu?” The endearmentwas funny, and he wouldn’t lie about cringing for a moment as he calls her buthe was trying to lift up the mood where they’re both serious by the end of theend; Joonmyeon had always been, whenever he comes back from the busy life of aprofessor and into the same life as the King who keeps his business to himself.

He picks up a white rosefrom the side, cutting the stem off, and the thorns that were around its length,he could see the woman behind the counter with her blonde hair cascading alongthe expanse of her back. Even while staring at her in such position, he hadalways seen her in such a vulnerable state, lovely, and always so beautiful. “Thereyou are.” He says, casually leaning in front of the counter as he reaches totug on her shirt, trying to get her attention—a smile slowly curling along thecorners of his lips, watching his wife preparing to depart home.

As soon as she turnsaround, she slips a primrose on his ear, beating him on doing it.

Primrose, it’s one of thethings that he likes calling her. The pale yellow flower that ran through thetip of his ear, brushing his temple actually means, “I can’t live without you.” And it’s been forever, and possibly aday since they managed to see the same beautiful petals of the said plant. “Wheredid you get this?” He asks, twirling the rose in his hand as he flashes her afond smile, his eyes never leaving her own hazel pair.

sleep sentence starters 💤  [ x ]  ―  status: accepting. [ ✔ ]

The loss of appetite, blurred vision, and the pounding headache that he experienced over the course of time was nothing more than an implication that he’s sick. Being a supernatural being doesn’t mean he’s not prone in such disease, especially when it was implanted within his cells--from what he knew, he was drugged by a witch, and if he knew any better, the witch may have been associated with Ying.

Drugs are used to weaken the body, and his father once told him that perseverance and sweat could be the only solution for it. Yesterday, even over the course of the past few days, he had been unwell and Joohyun managed to catch the same glimpse of his weakened demeanor, when he was trying to tie his shoes for work, even when he was trying to reach for something on the cupboard--Joonmyeon feels his body weakening by second, and there’s nothing that he couldn’t do without falling apart. The time of the day was enough for him to get pass his unconscious state, to drag himself over the hallway, to take a bath, to dress himself up for another day’s work, but before he could manage to step near the doorway, a hand over his arm stopped him, and he knew from the warmth that it upholds it’s Joohyun.

“I can do this, why don’t you trust me?” Joonmyeon’s voice was soft, his eyes were a little dark from the lack of sleep, turning over to her with a small smile etched on his lips. He’s trying to assure her, but he knows it’s actually failing by the concern that heaves out from her pair of hues, he couldn’t do anything but to be playful with her, if not, he knows that she would do anything to stop him from doing anything that could make his condition worse. 

“Joo.” 

“Joonmyeon.”

With a sigh, he licks his lips— soon feeling his lithe fingers trace the outline of her face, pushing himself forward to balance himself and to close the space between them, his arm wrapped around her waist, his thumb brushing the small of her back. “Fine, fine. I’m staying with you.” He breathes out, maybe some blood could efface the feeling bubbling in his stomach, mixed of frustration, slight madness, and maybe something that wishes to be with her for a little while longer to share the warmth that she has against her body; Joonmyeon held her in his arms, the tip of his nose brushing the soft expanse of her neck. 

Two hours have passed since her husband left to the gym, one since she had an unfortunate encounter with her uncle and his subordinates. He had appeared on her balcony, busted through the window and calmly approached her whilst wearing his best smile. Joohyun is no fool, she knew that there was more to that subtle curve of his lips, knew that he was hiding something up his sleeve, but she was yet to know what.

Things began quietly, but ended with a bang. Furniture was flipped, moved out of its original position. Framed photos were broken, glass shattered and scattered across the floor - along with the assortment of random inanimate objects. It was a pretty sight, her bedroom has been turned into battlefield, suffered from aftermath. She was knocked unconscious, hauled away in the arms of another man, and strapped down to a chair once they’ve reached her uncle’s hideout. Rogue vampires, many of whom has once been in battle against the royals, stared at the queen in awe. Joohyun has been the council’s primary target for years on end, and to see that they were finally successful in capturing her was a miracle just waiting to happen. Ying is now one step closer to achieving his goals, and it’s all thanks to her.

The feeling was not good, not at all. Joonmyeon has a feeling that as soon as he came out from the parking area where he drove his car right past the broken street light, he knew that something was bound to happen. The feeling was eerie, and he will never forget that his guts were one of the reasons why he’s still alive, but he shook the feeling off, thinking that maybe, just maybe, he’s been stressed over the past few days and it’s due to his overthinking.

Two hours, two hours was what took him to drive back home after the flare that rose within the confinements of his chest; the message was enough of an eye opener that he shouldn’t have left his wife, not alone, not when his sons were actually doing a mission for their own. “Your wife is safe with me, King.”

Joonmyeon took an oath, with her—on this same day of the fourteenth, that he will love her, cherish her, protect her through thick and thin; and until death do them apart.

He’s angry, furious, and no one could stop the rising heat along the veins of his body. The mahogany tresses that were supposed to be covered by ebony ones were shown, his eyes are heaving the same hue of crimson, he’s not Joonmyeon anymore, but he’s Suho, the ruthless King. The phone in his grasp were almost clustered to the ground, but he stopped himself from dusting it off as the ringing of the same ringtone that his wife placed on the said device rang, and he knew who it was.

“If you lay you hand on her, you’re fucking dead.”

No need to worry, King. No one will dare hurt her, but who could ever resist her flawless body… her skin, so, so smooth—

“Kris, I will fucking kill you.” He has to breathe, but how could he, when his wife is in danger and he knows that there’s no one that could help her but him. It’s been a while since he got the chance to talk to the man, it’s been a year since he wanted a glimpse of the royals, it’s been a long while since he had planned something like this, and Suho should have known better than to put some of his guards down.

Calm down, I’m going to take care of her.

Beep.

“Fuck!” He crushes the device in his hand, the newly bought cellular phone that he took from the company that was offering him a great deal. The phone created a cluttered mess underneath him, his eyes growing and getting darker by seconds, and he needed to think clearly before anything else.

Suho rushes down to the living room, taking one of his former phone to slip the card that all his contacts were, only to let his thumb trace the name that he will soon call for help.

Byun Baekhyun.

“I need you. Joohyun, she—she got kidnapped.” It isn’t every day that he will ask for help, but he knew too well that Baekhyun could help him, especially when they’re basically each other’s family. He could have asked someone else, Zero, perhaps, but the latter would only take the mission for himself to finish, and Suho wants to be the one who kills Kris.