hello 🌸 I’m not sure if you’re still on here but I was rereading Crimson Park and some of the links to the chapters do not work. I just wanted to let you know in case you weren’t aware 🥹☺️ thank you and really miss your writing 🥺😭💓
I'll take a look, thanks for the heads up! Are the the links in the ToC or the links from chapter to chapter?
Hi, I hope you're doing fine. Stay hydrated and happy. I don't have anything to ask, just wanted to check up on one of my fave authors 💕
Take care 🌻
Thank you so much! Sorry I haven't been around - I've been working on some outside of fanfic writing projects (that might actually make me money) haha but I intend to come back soon!
Namjoon looked himself over in the mirror, intending it to be the last time. He first smoothed out his black dress shirt, refastening the third button from the top (which he had undone and redone several times over,) before running his fingers again through his gel-styled hair. He popped on his thick, horned-rimmed glasses, then pulled them off again. It had been forever since he had worn contacts. These days, all he wore was glasses. They were quick and convenient, and had basically become a part of him as recognizable as a limb. But, tonight, he wasn’t going to be the “him” of today. Tonight, Namjoon was trying to remember the “him” of yesterday… well, the him of nearly two years ago.
He looked at the button of his shirt again, and let out a small sniff as he reached to undo it once more. He pulled at the collar a touch, revealing the hint of the tattoo which danced over his right peck and slithered delicately up his neck, before it densely packed the sleeve of his arm in swirls of ink. Another relic of his former self.
With an unsure shrug to his reflection, he turned around to face his bedroom and stuck out his arms.
“How do I look?” he asked, looking down to his son, Alon, who had been sitting quietly on his bedroom floor, playing with a spatula which - amidst all the primary coloured toys he owned which rang irritatingly loud with bells and beads - was fortunately his most prized possession.
The infant looked up to his dad, a slightly confused look on his face, since fifteen-month olds didn’t quite understand questions about bar-hopping attire.
“Whatcha doing over there, buddy?” Namjoon dropped his arms, changing the subject to something his son could better understand.
Alon responded with a string of noises that resembled words. To those who didn’t know him, it sounded like nothing but jibberish, but Namjoon understood him perfectly. Alon was recounting an experience he had at daycare that day, in which the kids were asked to decorate cookies with sprinkles and tubes of colorful icing. Namjoon smiled with pride at how irresistibly cute his kid was, and noted that the spatula and the thick blocks of legos in front of him had become some sort of allusion to the obviously impactful baking experience.
“Are you excited to see Grandma?” Namjoon asked, checking his watch. He told his mother to arrive at seven, and it was only half past six. But knowing his mother, the doorbell would be ringing at any moment. That is if she extended him the courtesy of ringing the doorbell at all.
Alon mumbled his answer, another haphazard response that involved cookies and his grandma, which led to another chuckle from Namjoon.
As if the call of her name was an incantation, Namjoon heard a car pull up his driveway. He sauntered across the room and peered out the window to the yard, immediately recognizing his mother’s silver buick parked in front of his front porch. He returned to Alon, reaching down and scooping him up onto his hip, then made his way out of the room and down the stairs.
“There’s my peanut,” Namjoon’s mother cooed as she reached her arms out for Alon, not even bothering to pull off her boots. “Oh, you’re all bathed already!”
Namjoon tried not to roll his eyes at her obviously disappointed tone. He knew she liked to bath Alon, and he could understand why. Although bath time usually resulted in an impromptu half-shower and half-laundry wash of his own from the sheer amount of splashing Alon did, it was just such a pure feeling to watch someone so innocent play in water like it was a luxury and not a necessity. It was delightful to swaddle a giggling child in a towel and airplane them into their bedroom, and even though it was a battle to get him into a new diaper and a clean onesie, it was a battle that was all to endearing to not enjoy. Namjoon could admit, however, that after a near year and a half of this charade, the novelty had worn off a bit - but he tried to remind himself to enjoy those moments as much as possible, since one day they would be over. Sure, he could have waited for his mother to arrive, and let her basque in the joy of it all, but he had work so hard for so long to establish a strict bed time routine with his son, that he feared postponing bath time by an hour would only postpone bedtime. And postponing bedtime meant his parents would wake up tomorrow morning with a bear on their hands - and he’d be called in with a probable hangover to deal with it. Also, he wanted to show his parents that he indeed had everything under control in the parenting department. After everything that had happened with Leah, and everything that ensued after he became a full-time single father, he couldn’t help but feel the eyes of the world narrowed at him and waiting for him to make an unforgivable mistake.
“He might fall asleep in the car,” Namjoon told his mother as he handed Alon over to her, then began searching the front closet for the kid’s rain jacket. “He had a big day.”
“Oh that’s okay,” Grandma, sung, albeit more to Alon rather than to Namjoon. “We’re gonna have another big day tomorrow.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay here? I can come back early.”
“No, no, no, honey,” his mom finally looked at him, acknowledging his presence for the first time. “You deserve a little time off. Go have fun with your friends. Relax tomorrow. We can keep him until Sunday if you want.”
Namjoon was both elated and horrified by the idea. Two whole nights without seeing his kid? He hadn’t even gone a day without seeing him - not since he got him back…
It was a dream to have a little adult time - but it was also clear he hadn’t quite gotten over the trauma from a year ago.
“No, mom, it’s fine.”
“Well, how about I’ll come over and stay with you tomorrow night?” she offered. Her eyes began to now scan his tiny wartime house, which was still lined with unpacked boxes. “I can help you get settled.”
Namjoon felt embarrassment flush his cheeks. There was nothing like a mother’s love that could make a person feel so inadequate. It had only been a week since he moved in, so surely she could understand that he might have a few things left to do. He had at least gotten Alon’s nursery all set up. The kitchen was in some sort of working order. And yes, there were boxes, but the place was still safe for a just-beginning-to-walk baby.
“I’m not judging, honey,” she said remorsefully, picking up on his tension. “I just want to help.”
“I don’t need your help, mom,” he groaned - but he also regretted it. Sure, he maybe didn’t need her help, but it didn’t mean he didn’t want it. He knew his domestic skills as a bachelor would benefit from his mother's guidance - if only he could get over his pride to just ask for it.
"This place could use a woman’s touch," she pressed.
That’s not the only women’s touch I could use, he chided to himself, then visibly cringed as he realized he had made a double-entendre about sex in the middle of a conversation with his mother. Damn, he really needed this night out…
"I've just been busy," he retorted. "I can do it."
“I know, sweetheart, but you don’t have to do everything alone. We’ll come back tomorrow just before nap and while he sleeps we’ll just… sort a few things out. Won’t it be nice to be settled before Monday?”
Namjoon exhaled. She was right. As of Monday, Namjoon was starting his first “real” job. He had had many jobs before… flipping burgers during highschool, stocking groceries through college, until he graduated and started doing freelance web design. It was a pretty nice little life he had. Setting his own hours. Only working when he needed to or wanted to. The pay was reasonable enough for someone who only had himself to think about. When Alon first came into the world, Namjoon’s name had gained enough recognition that he was sure he would be able to easily continue the work that he loved so much. He and Leah had a pretty cushy plan for their future. She had a full-time job with a pension and benefits, and he would pick up some extra projects to supplement their joint income, but ultimately, he would be a stay at home dad so that they wouldn’t need to worry about expensive childcare.
Unfortunately, that didn’t work out… which is why as of Monday, Namjoon was going to embark on his very first 9 to 5. It was certainly going to be a culture shock. But he considered himself lucky. His friend, Jacob, who worked for an employment office, had found him a position at a web-based startup company - which was very quickly becoming quite lucrative. Lucrative enough that it offered medical and pharmaceutical benefits to its employees, and - according to the promises made by its founder and CEO - would soon be offering paid sick days and a pension plan once the company went public.
Namjoon’s job - although he wasn’t exactly sure yet what “general administration” meant - might’ve not been explicitly for the work he had been trained for and was so passionate about - but with his skill set, Jacob theorized that Namjoon would easily move within the company into something more suitable.
“Just play the game,” he remembered Jacob’s words.
So… yes… it would be nice to have his tiny new home in order before he started his new job. But would it be worth it at the expense of his mother rifling through his stuff and offering her unprompted advice?... he wasn’t sure.
Namjoon closed his eyes and clucked his teeth as he thought… but, as he felt the tension in his shoulders tighten at the prospect of Monday, he exhaled an exhausted “Yes. Thank-you, Mom, I would like that.”
“Great!” she beamed. “Now, you have fun tonight. And, please, if you meet a nice girl, just wear a condom this time.”
“Mom!” Namjoon screeched, feeling his face flush with more than just embarrassment.
“I’m not saying I don’t love my grandson, honey, I just think you should wait until you give me another–”
“Mom, seriously!” he raised his hands in a stop signal. He didn’t need another lesson about safe sex when he already had a living, breathing reminder of what could happen. He was pretty sure he would never again forget to carry prophylactics on a date, but if in the case he did, he was resolved in that “let’s risk it” was something he’d never utter nor agree to ever again.
“Okay, okay,” his mom raised her hands in surrender, although he could see more warnings wanting to spill from her mouth. “We’ll see you tomorrow,” she then turned to Alon. “Say bye-bye to Daddy!”
“He needs his boots and jacket,” Namjoon lectured.
“It’s warm out, Joon.”
“It's gonna rain and the temperature is supposed to drop. It is fall, afterall.”
It was his mother’s turn to roll her eyes, “Okay.”
She sat on the bench, then took Alon’s jacket from Namjoon’s hand and started wrestling the baby into it. Namjoon reached for the rubber boots and started wrangling them onto the tiny feet - which had interpreted the move as a game.
After a silent few concentrated moments between them, and after Namjoon had finally managed to get one boot on, and Grandma had gotten enough of the coat on to start working at the zipper, Namjoon swallowed heavily then began to speak.
“Do not open the door unless you know who is behind it,” he said firmly, trying to keep fear from lacing his words.
“I know, Namjoon,” she said firmly and empathetically. “You don’t need to worry.”
“She got out of rehab last month.”
“I know, sweetheart. But apparently she’s doing well. Her P.O. says she’s doing really well.”
“He’s talking to you too?” Namjoon looked up at his mother, surprised by the news.
“I think he talks to everybody involved.”
“What about?”
“Oh, I don’t know… I think he’s just looking to make sure she is following the rules and isn’t trying to make contact.”
“And she hasn’t tried to contact you?”
“No," she shook her head. "I would tell you right away if she did.”
Namjoon’s stomach began to twist. Suddenly, the excitement he felt about his first night out in almost two years was beginning to morph into a sickening dread.”
“Namjoon,” his mother called his name sternly, clearly witnessing him silently spinning out in front of her. “I will drag you to that bar myself. All parents need their ‘me’ time - that includes you.”
“Not all parents have gone through what I went through.”
“Honey, I really don’t think you need to worry. She’s sober, and she’s been doing really well. She wants to make things right."
Namjoon wasn’t sure if he felt relieved or even more terrified by the revelation. On one hand, if Leah was doing well, then he didn’t need to worry that it would happen again. On the other hand, if she was doing really well, it would only be a matter of time before he would meet her in yet another courtroom.
“Even if it was her M.O. to show up at our house, she doesn’t even know where we live,” his mother continued. “Your father and I will be there, and our doorman knows to look out for her. We’re like Fort Knox.”
Namjoon let a smile slip across his lips. His mother was right… about a few things… Alon was probably safer with his Grandparents than when he was with him in his tiny house; he didn’t need to worry about Leah as much as he did; and, he did deserve a night out. He couldn’t let his anxiety prevent him and his son from living a normal, healthy life.
“You’re right,” he lamented.
“What was that?” his mother tilted her ear towards him, pretending as if she hadn’t heard him.
“I said you’re right,” Namjoon repeated the words sternly, warning her he wouldn’t say it again.
Alon impressively had his attention held throughout the whole exchange between the adults in the room. However, as his raincoat began to feel stuffy in the warm house, his need to move onto new scenery caused him to begin to squirm and fuss.
“Okay, little man,” Namjoon said, picking him up in his arms again and pressing a kiss to his chubby cheek. “Let’s get you to Grandma’s.”
Namjoon perched Alon onto his hip once again, then picked up the diaper bag, and nodded to his mom to lead them out towards the car.
Sighhh what am I going to do now that AOR is over 😩😭 The epilogue was CHEFS KISS 😘 Chapter 12 had me on edge but the epilogue made up for it hehe. I love them both sooo much 🥺🥰 Thank you for sharing this work of art with us. And thank you for cranking out those chapters for us - sometimes two chapters in the same week! You were definitely spoiling us 🥰 I loved getting lost in oc and jk’s world. I cannot wait to read your future works ❤️
Yeah sometimes I can crank rm out really fast lol this one I did, but others not so much. Idk this one was just fun to write and sorta came naturally! I'm feeling a bit lost too haha I feel like I should be writing it but it's over
Hi! Just finished the last chapter and epi of AOR and let me just say, I in no way think I have a vocabulary extensive enough to express my emotions, imma try anyway though 😅
I started the last chapter with a true sense of dread about where it was going, I was honest to God hoping oc would just stay and never leave him even when I solidly knew there were important things to address and finalize and that perhaps that 'break' in the routine they had crafted was needed for a final shift to take place. But as I read further, you wrote their interactions and conversations in such a way that I was instantly reassured that she would go back to him or that he would eventually go to her, just because they could no longer seem to be apart for long, and I quite liked it.
The way you plotted that feeling of no longer belonging somewhere that was once literally home and everything that made you happy, without outright saying those words deserves a round of applause and I got so into this story that I think I got a little teary when she was packing up her old life and realizing all the things she had wanted and worked so hard for didn't seem to matter anymore, that they were a burden now more than a joy, don't know if I read too much into it, but it felt that way 😅
And that conversation with Stephanie, I truly didn't expect it even though I was hoping a confrontation would happen. I'm really very happy oc got to say her mind and realise the true nature of who she thought was a friend though, even until the very end she didnt change and I liked that you kept it real between them, the way that face to face was written made me think of the fact that there are some people truly like that, that even at the very end, everyone has reasons for doing the things they do, skewed and misguided and twisted as they are, it all boils down to wanting to belong.
Now onto the happier parts, please know that there was the stupidest, cheesiest, dopiest grin on my face when she got into that car and started driving. Having read these at almost midnight I had to squeal into pillows because I was so happy. I love the little moment our couple shared on that porch, it was exactly perfect for them and I appreciate the vulnerability you allowed Jungkook to show, both when she was leaving and when she came back, I don't think I realised how much I wanted his side of things until I got it. It makes me curious of his thoughts when he received that first phone call.
The epilogue was a most pleasant surprise, I didn't quite expect the marriage part given that oc is such a 'structure and planning' girl, but then I wasn't surprised at all about the way in which it happened given Jungkook was involved. I will say I liked the 'my wife' thing a little too much 😅🙈 The ending paragraph made my heart full for them both in the best way possible, then I read the last sentence and thought 'yup! There it is, there's their dynamic' 😅
Finally, I just want to say a truly, heartfelt thank you to you for sharing this story with us, at the beginning of it you were transparent in your intentions of this being a story rife with smut and admittedly it is, I was expecting it to be one of those pieces with intimate happenings everywhere and anywhere and that was it (nothing wrong with those sometimes we need our brain to just melt and short-circuit😅) but you truly surprised me with the lovely plot, even if it didn't start out that way, I honestly did love the small town vibe, and the bond that went beyond between the couple, and my favorite thing is that oc got a life she is happy to live, that she still has the structure, but that she's free and willing to sway in the wind.
Please know that I will be re-reading this story multiple times and that I cannot wait to see what you come up with next, I've read your others works but never reached out until this one. I just couldn't not tell you how much I loved this one.
Hope you are well, happy and proud and as always,
Happy writing ✨️
Thank-you! I'm really enjoying with how much of a response this story is getting. I'll try to respond to what I can, haha!
Yes, the plotting around how she felt about her things and her home was intentional, so you were reading right into it lol. I try to be a touch clever with metaphors and symbolism 😅 even the tattoo healing was suppose to be a subtle metaphor but idk if it landed. I just felt like... OC needed to face her home in order to realize she didn't belong there anymore? Even if it was only for a day, I felt it would suffice as enough of a reason to be like... "why am I even trying here when I got something good elsewhere?" Cuz technically she hadn't seen her home since the infidelity happened, so seeing it in person was gonna give her closure.
And yeah, in terms of Stephanie - and I talked about this with a couple commenters cuz they didn't have a confrontation at JKs house, and hoenstly I wasn't really planning on there being one, because on one hand... who cares what someone like that has to say. But, it felt kinda right in the moment to later have that, and I thought it would be kinda nice to just... show that even though you maybe don't get to hear or say everything you wanna say, but you can still have closure...? And, yeah, there are def people like that out there. They don't even necessarily step out into the world thinking they're doing anything bad that day, or they justify what they do by thinking they're just looking out for themselves, but, yeah there are absolutely people out there who will never take accountability for themselves and have no concept of what's going on outside of themselves.
I am happy to make you swoon - sometimes i swoon when i read stuff back too haha the "my _ _ wife" line made me giggle every time I listened back (I used a text to speech app when I edit, hence why I say "listening.")
And yeah the marriage I just thought suited lol. A rockstar wedding in a Vegas-type setting lol cuz why the hell not. I thought the impulsiveness parts of their relationship were hot haha
And yes, you called me out lol this was supposed to actually be a one-shot of horny keyboard smashing but definitely grew. I'm finding lately that I can't just write a quick and dirty story anymore. The best example of this was The Cross in the Toys series. I started that series years ago with a plan to to seven stories, and the initial stories were all fairly short (The wand was less than 2k words) and straight forward smut with little dialogue or plot. After the Ice Cubes, the series sat unfinished for a long time while I did other stuff, but when I said "you gotta finish this" and sat down in April to write The Cross and The Ring, I figured i'd be able to pump out each in a day (I wrote i think Starboard and Couchsurfer and The Wand each in a day). But it took me like... maybe a week and a half to two weeks to write the Cross and end up being like 22k words. In short, I just don't think I have it in me to write dirty one-shots anymore haha! Once I get going things start happening and then I gotta shell out a whole story.
Anyway, thank-you so much for deciding to reach out! Getting feedback from readers is like... so much much more valuable than I first realized when I started writing.
