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lovesick (VII)

— pairing: yandere ot7 x (f) reader — word count: 14.3k — warnings: yandere, stalking, obsessive behaviour, kidnapping, drugging, the boys being ~creeps~ — summary: You dreamed of the day you would get your very own soulmark. Though, you didn’t expect to wake up to a searing hurt in your arm, the phantom pain of your shoulder being dislocated and your forearm fractured. As if dealing with the worst possible soulmark ever wasn’t bad enough, you also have to come to terms with the fact that you’re being stalked. When the letters and gifts you receive begin to escalate and the police offers no help, you have no other option than to figure out who’s behind it yourself – and hopefully before it’s too late. — amazing cover by @leithold​!

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You stare at Jungkook’s back, his signature hoodie covered by a thick black coat. The cold air from outside clings to your body, refusing to thaw even in the warm reception area. You shiver, wrapping your arms around yourself as Jungkook texts his hyung to let him know you’re there. Today, the entrance is completely empty and the officer you spoke to last time is nowhere to be seen. You shift uneasily on your feet, a little unnerved by the complete silence. Is this even a good idea? You’ve been here twice before and no one has been able to help you. You want to believe Jungkook and the trust he has in his friend, but it doesn’t seem very likely that it’ll make much of a difference.

Feeling doubtful about the whole situation, you eye the front door, wondering if it’s too late to just go back home. Jungkook might think you’re a little rude for changing your mind when you’re already here, but maybe it’ll be worth it, if it can spare you the humiliation of having to share those letters with more people that can’t help you anyway.

Jungkook pockets his phone before you can make up your mind, light footsteps filling the empty reception as one of the adjacent doors open.

”Hyung!” He rushes over to excitedly greet whoever stepped into the room, the person hidden from your sight as Jungkook hugs them.

“Jungkookie,” The man’s airy, familiar, voice is full of mirth as he pats Jungkook’s back. ”You know hyung loves spending time with you, but why did we have to meet up while I’m on duty?”

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Eunoia // Ch. 23

eunoia (noun): beautiful thinking, the possession of a well-balanced mind, which exhibits goodwill and kindness

Pairings: Hybrid! BTS x reader

Summary: You are a world famous director and you have dedicated your life to your job.You have everything you could ever dream of; wealth, recognision, talent, your friends and family. But loneliness isn’t cured by success. So what happens when you somehow rescue seven hybrids? Can they fill the void?

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut

Word Count: 5.7k+

Warnings: past abuse, past sexual abuse, cursing, past violence, mentions of blood, panic attacks

Masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22

This chapter is shorter than usual but I’m in the middle of my exams so I decided to post it as it is instead of waiting until it was longer. 

Many thanks to my incredible beta reader @thewishofafallenangel​ <3

The taglist is now closed

Jimin’s head was spinning and phantom hands were squeezing his neck. They had been there once, solid and hard, cutting off his breath. Now, he could feel them again, holding him down. Punishing him.

Namjoon and Jin had been kissing. It couldn’t be. Why would they do that? Why?

“Minie?” Namjoon called his name softly, rising to his feet.

Jimin considered running. It was his first instinct; get away, pretend nothing happened. But something kept him rooted in place.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice unsteady.

Jin sent a wide-eyed look to Namjoon. Jimin’s chest hurt.

“Come here, Minie,” Namjoon said soothingly. “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you before. Come here and we will talk.”

He extended a hand to him and, even through the fear, Jimin couldn’t resist taking it. Namjoon was safe, he was his pack alpha. He and Jungkook were the reasons he was here, he wouldn’t have survived in that shelter if it hadn’t been for them. Jimin would trust his life in Namjoon’s hands.

The wolf hybrid pulled him to the bed and situated him between him and Jin with his back to the headboard. It was warm, surrounded by their mixed scents of summer rain and honey buns. He would have been purring any other time.

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family man | myg

➙ SUMMARY | Min Yoongi is a family man, there’s no doubt about it. But which family is the question: his crime ring, looking up to their Don? Or you, his wife and kids?

➙ PAIRING | Don!Yoongi x reader

➙ GENRE | The Godfather!AU, 1970s!AU, mafia!AU, angst, smut

➙ RATE | 18+

➙ WC | 6.8k

➙ VOCAB INDEX | these are terms used in old-school New York / within The Godfather in association with the Italian mafia that aren’t as common presently, which I employ in the fic.

Caporegime: a high ranking member of a crime family, usually directly under an Underboss or Don

Cold Coffee: bad luck

Consigliere: an advisor to a crime boss

Don: The head of a crime family

Family: the regular kind, but can also mean a crime ring

Sleeping with the fishes: dead

➙ A/N | PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS BEFORE YOU READ THIS! this has darker themes than any of my previous fics babes , make sure you're comfortable before you dive in.

— WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT —

➙ WARNINGS | violence, m*rder, mentions of blood, mentions of a drive-by, explicit gory scenes, mentions of disembodiment, some gory imagery, guns, shooting, descriptions of fear, immorality, misogyny, gender roles, weapons, toxic relationship / marriage dynamics, manipulation, intimidation, fear, gaslighting, he makes her cry, scare tactics, smoking a cigarette, gun play, ring play, face grabbing, manhandling, rough sex, fingering, hickies, slight dumbification, degradation, humiliation, taunting, use of ‘bitch’ & ‘whore’, daddy kink, threat of penetration with a foreign object, primal references, breeding kink

“IT’S THE NEXT big thing, Don Min. You invest now, and you’ll be reaping millions, just by the end of the month. Trust in the casino business, it’s the most reliable investment—besides brothels of course—” the man paused to titter at his joke, expecting to lighten the Don’s mood. But Yoongi’s face remained stoic as ever, piercing eyes and a head tilt his signature, “your grandchildren’s grandchildren will be set, I’ll tell ya.” 

There was a lull, silence meeting the man’s words. His excited proposition fell onto intimidating ears. Yoongi contemplated the man’s words with a hard-to-read expression. He was infamous for his poker face—the don’s steady demeanor, rarely fazed, was his signature. 

“It seems prosperable.” Yoongi said finally. The man before him physically relaxed, his tense shoulders loosening their iron grip. “What did I do to earn such a thoughtful gesture, Noto?” 

Noto laughed. “Is that a question? You’re my Don, of course. My first thought was to humbly ask for your support in this business endeavor.” He bowed his head, “I am grateful that you find value in my proposal.” 

Yoongi nods, a humorless puff of air leaving his mouth with a polite smile. He picked up the small glass of wine in front of him. “You’re right—and as your Don, I highly appreciate your respect. You know it carries weight with me.” He took a modest sip, slowly. He put his glass down, leaning back in his chair. “So forgive me if I’m a little confused as to why you already have a deal with Don Choi.” 

Noto was visibly frazzled at the confrontation. It was clear he didn’t think Don Min had any knowledge of his disloyalty—going behind his own Don’s back when he was approached by Choi’s people, after serving Don Min so loyally for so many years. Noto only wondered if the Don had any knowledge of the other deal between him and Choi…

The room tensed around Noto, pressure in the air building and pushing against his body. He loosened his necktie, finding oxygen hard to come by. His eyes darted between the caporegimes in the room, hesitantly landing back across the table. “Don Min, forgive me. But you know it’s just business, huh? Come on, you know me.” His intention is friendly, but his undertones panicked. “I’d never do anything to jeopardize your friendship. It was just, ah… bit of smart accounting, that’s all.” 

Yoongi nodded in understanding. “I see.” His hands clasped on the table as he leaned his weight forward. He shrugged. “It’s just business.” Noto nodded, keeping a nervous eye out for the other men in the room. “Of course, Don.” 

“Well, then,” Yoongi stretched his hand out—Noto flinched before he realized the absence of a threat—”count me in.” Yoongi’s expression was polite, with no hint of a smile or inviting gestures, but it was personal in a distinct Yoongi-like manner.

Noto let out a sigh of relief, reaching over vivaciously to shake the Don’s generously offered hand. “Thank you, sir. You won’t regret this, believe me.” 

Yoongi let the man clasp his ringed finger with both of his hands, shaking his appreciation. He nodded benevolently, patting Noto’s head. “I’m sure I won’t.” 

Noto bowed his head again to the Don, taking his cue to depart. He bid farewell to the other men in the room, nodding his head one by one—to Jung Hoseok’s handsomely stern pout, sat at Min Yoongi’s right hand; to Kim Namjoon’s stone cold expression, the Don’s consigliere; and finally to the youngest associate in the room, Jeon Jungkook. The Don’s newest recruit. Noto knew the boy well, having crossed paths with him at the house and the Don’s office, and never missed a chance to haze him. 

He reached over to Jungkook easily—he was sat closest, to Noto’s right—with the full intention of ruffling his respectable hairstyle into one of disarray. But his hand didn’t touch a hair on Jungkook’s head before the shots left Yoongi’s gun, dropping Noto to the floor. 

The body fell with a thud, chairs screeching against the tile floor as the weight pushed them away. Jungkook’s vest had caught a small splatter of blood, but the boy was quick to retrieve a small solution of laundry detergent from his inner pocket, dabbing at the fabric. 

Yoongi passed the gun to Hoseok, retrieving a handkerchief in return. “Shame. He was useful.” He wiped his hands clean, back to prim and proper, as always. “Traitorous bastard,” Namjoon spat. The blood pooled out of Noto’s body as the men all made to stand up. 

Yoongi didn’t spare a single glance down as he stepped over the body with his shiny leather shoes, shoes crisp to the ground as he carried on. “Find out who his contacts were. The proposition was good—he was onto something. And I’ll be damned if I let Choi get a hold of it first.” 

“Sure,” Hoseok was careful not to get any blood on his new, imported suit as he stepped around the body. “But how eager do you think they’ll be to switch? Surely that greasy Choi’s got ‘em under his protection.” 

Yoongi pushed his slicked hair back. “Make ‘em an offer they can’t refuse.” 

“Papa!” 

The front door closing shut was followed immediately by two loud screeches and two pairs of small footsteps running to greet him.

“I missed you, papa.” Your daughter’s hands reached up as high as they could go, fingers wiggling to be picked up. His son was crowding his legs, next to his daughter, trying to talk over her. Yoongi scooped her in one fell swoop, but his eyes looked past the kids—and he saw you. 

You were in the kitchen with your apron on—tell-tale signs of the dinner he missed. You were busy with the dishes, but the sound of the door made you look up, spotting your husband for the first time that day. 

He saw the way you dropped your gaze immediately. How you busied yourself, feigning distraction in an effort to fend his eyes off. He could see the pout you wore deepening at his presence, a scowl forming as a result. Aimed at him—your husband who missed dinner. 

“Dad, look what I made,” your son was vying for his attention, eager to show him his paper mache airplane.

Yoongi tore his gaze away, turning his attention back to his children. “Show me how it works, bud…”

Your drawer door slammed shut. “You’re always sorry, Yoongi. I don’t need your sorries.” Your robe moved as you turned around. “I need you to be here.” 

“I know.” His hands landed on your arms, rubbing comfortingly as he tried to catch your angry gaze at the floor, ducking his head. His sleeves were rolled up, his forearms on display, as he pulled you into his embrace, landing a kiss to the top of your head. Your arms stayed crossed, even as your cheek was pressed to his chest. “I’m sorry, baby. You know I don’t want to, but sometimes life’s some cold coffee. It’s for the prot—” 

“For the protection of the family. I know.” Yoongi was slightly taken aback by how you finished his sentence; even more so when you continued. “‘For the good of the family, for the protection of the family. I do everything for the family.’ I’ve heard it all, Yoongi.” You pulled away from his embrace, uncrossing your arms only to press your palms into his chest, and away. You retreated to the other side of the room, your back turned to him as you sat on the bed.

It wasn’t always like this. There was a time when you and Yoongi hardly went a moment without seeing each other, buzzing with longing if you two were separated. Before the kids, and the big house. Before the long work hours and closed doors. Before the secrets, and his rise to the role of Don. Before his father’s death. 

Yoongi was a different person back then, full of ambition and a hunger for honest-to-god, good living. He was on track to become a lawyer, or a senator. Something respectable. As the youngest of the family, this was never supposed to be his role—the head of the family would’ve always gone to his older brother when the previous Don’s time had passed. The plan was for Yoongi to lead an honest life. 

But he was a family man at heart. Showed up for his family when his brother was gunned down; comforted his grieving mother when his father passed of a heart attack. He stepped up, and assumed his responsibility. But along the way, that hunger and passion turned cold, and pivoted towards a more ruthless and unforgivable way of life. 

Though young when he’d been anointed don, he was smart; cunning. He gained respect and gathered power and influence faster than anyone had ever heard of. He was too good at his job, you always feared. And today, it was just dinner—but it’d build up, higher and higher until you were looking up at the man on a pedestal too high for you to touch. You could feel the Yoongi you once knew slipping away through your fingertips. 

“I saw the paper today.” Your voice was heavy after the lull of silence that had settled over the room. “You did it, didn’t you?” 

“You’re going to have to be more specific, sweetheart.” Yoongi sighed. 

“The newsboy, dead on Broad street. They said he got caught in a crossfire, but I know a drive-by when I see one. I heard Hoseok mention Broad street the other day, and—” you took a deep breath to calm your rising chest. “It was you, wasn’t it.” 

“Haven’t I told you not to ask about my work?” Yoongi’s voice had slipped into warning, a sigh on the tip of his tongue. 

But you didn’t stop. “You gave the order, Yoongi. To kill that boy. I don’t care what your excuse was, he saw something, he heard something. You came home … that night , and put our son to sleep with his blood on your hands, I—” a sob chokes you, your hand flies up to cover your mouth. You don’t want the kids to hear. 

“Stop it.” He crosses the room to you, pulling your hand away from your mouth. A sob breaks through, and he brushes a tear away with his thumb as he caresses your face. “I said stop,” he commanded. And you swallow the next sob—with nothing muffling you, the sounds could easily travel under the door and into your childrens’ rooms.  

Yoongi sighs and shakes his head, as if your reaction was an inconvenience. “I told you not to ask about my work.” His fingers slip away from your face, out of his caress. He sits down next to you purposefully, tilting your tear-stained face towards him. “But just this once. Okay?” 

You swallow, but the lump in your throat doesn’t go away. You’re scared for the whisper to leave your mouth, scared of his answer. But you have to know. “W-was it you?” 

He doesn’t break your eye contact, but his expression is unreadable. You search for any inkling, any hint. But he awards you none—it was his forte. After a few long, excruciating seconds, he answers you in a soft, firm, steady voice. “No.” 

You search his eyes for any other answer, any rogue feeling gone awry. But there isn’t any. You fall into his embrace in relief, unable to prevent your hiccuping cry. 

“Sh,” he pats your head. His voice is soft as he wipes the tears silently falling from your eyes. “Hey now, you’re alright. We’re alright.” He’s hugging you as her sobs shake your body, allowing yourself to be coddled and calmed by him. He was always a rock—a steady sangfroid against an ever volatile world.

“Please stop working so much.” You sniffle, looking up at him. “What’s the point of family if we don’t ever see you.” Your voice is tiny, but he hears. “One dinner. That’s all I want.” 

He looks down at you, his lips shifting into a soft smile. He kisses the top of your forehead. “How’s tomorrow?” 

The office blinds are open, allowing for a shutter of light to drift in. Lamps are lit around the room, illuminating the presence of the caporegimes and consigliere seated purposefully. 

“The Kangs are one of the oldest families in New York. We should be able to trust them.” Hoseok argued. 

“The way Don Kim was able to trust them?” Namjoon shot back. They all knew what had happened to the Kim family—the old Don was shot in a drive-by by a car notably driven by the Kang family. No one was able to prove it, the oldest son, Seokjin, assuming power soon after. Seokjin had proven to be a strategist, focusing all of his efforts on moving out west and relocating his family to profit from a more authentic enterprise, cutting crime out almost entirely from the family. He’d gotten his revenge in the end, though. In the form of Kang’s youngest son’s head delivered to him on a shiny platter. 

“They wouldn’t dare try anything at a meeting on our ground, not even a piece on ‘em.” Hoseok countered, but Yoongi held his hand up, silencing the room. 

“Namjoon’s right. They can’t be trusted.” Namjoon smirked smugly. “But we can’t outright refuse a meeting. It’s a show of disrespect. We’ll send people to meet ‘em somewhere public, at a restaurant full of civilians and shit. It’s safer.” 

Hoseok nodded, turning to signal another man, who left the room promptly to carry out the don’s instructions. 

Yoongi turned his attention to the next matter, facing Hoseok. “Did you take care of that newsboy problem?” 

“Of course, sir. He’s sleeping with the fishes.” Hoseok confirmed. “I’ve got the package we intercepted safely hidden.” 

Yoongi nodded thoughtfully. “Good. And, hey. Be more careful next time, huh? Yn saw the papers, and heard you mention Broad street. I don’t need her or anyone else asking questions.” 

“He was in a rush to get home that day, sir.” Namjoon had a hint of a smile on his face, much to Hoseok’s chagrin. “His wife was ovulating.” The room broke into soft chuckles, the men’s shoulders shaking silently with laughter. Yoongi rolled his eyes. 

“Regardless,” Hoseok interrupted. “Those damn Amatas never knew what hit ‘em.” 

“Serves them right, pushing our borders like that,” Namjoon riles up. He leans forward, “I mean, what did they think—” 

“It’s bullshit,” Hoseok agreed.” 

“They’ve been eyeing our business for a while now.” Park Jaisang, a senior caporegime to the don, chimed in. “It looks like they want to use their Transport connections to somehow overtake our business by controlling our intake of goods. 

“I’ll tell you what. They can take their transport connections, and shove ‘em up where—” Namjoon was in the middle of making a fist with his hands and pounding it in an obscene manner when Jaisang interrupted. 

“Anyways, we’ll have to push back. Protect our goods without interfering with their business. Otherwise we lose our connection.” 

“Well what if we…” Hoseok started, and the room fell into discussion. Heavy “No fucking way”s and “Forget about it!”s followed almost every proposition. 

Yoongi sat quietly, thinking. The men, running through and out of ideas, turned to their don, asking for his thoughts. Park Jaisang spoke, “There doesn’t seem to be a viable way to go about pushback without losing our transport connection.”

Yoongi was quiet for several moments, his head tilting to the side as he pondered. The room fell silent as his low voice arose. “Then we’ll have to take it over.” 

More silence followed his words. They all look at the don in shock. Jaisang was the one to voice their concerns, “It’s a big operation, Don Min. Bigger than we’ve handled before.” 

Yoongi leans forward in his chair, using his hands as sound actions as he talks, pointing to various sports on the desk as he lists, “With their business, we could control all of New York’s shipments. We wouldn’t have to rely on anyone else.” His voice is calm, deep. As though he wasn’t just outlining a plan to overthrow one of the biggest shipping companies on the East coast. Almost as though he was just discussing the weather. 

“Yes, but we’re not equipped for it.” Namjoon reminded, raising an important point. 

“So. We’re going to get equipped.” His voice was definitive, uninviting to debate. The room fell into another lull as understanding dawned on the men—Yoongi’s plans for the operation were bigger than any of them knew until now. The young Don was hungry, and he had the ambition to chase it. 

“Well, we’d have to start with…” They launched into logistics immediately, taking the boss’ command and running with it, like proper caporegimes. 

Through the discussion, Jeon Jungkook had quietly gained the don’s ear, to his left, “Excuse me, Don. You told me to notify you at 7:00 PM.” 

Yoongi’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why? What’s at 7 PM?” 

Jungkook cleared his throat. “Your family dinner, sir.” 

Fuck. Yoongi glanced up at the grandfather clock in his office. Sure enough, The clock was soon to strike 7, giving him thirty minutes to get back to the house in time to sit down for family dinner. Though, the lively discussion taking place wasn’t about to end soon. They were launching a full-scale operation. It needed time, planning. It needed his full attention. 

You’d have to understand. 

“Thank you, Jeon. Carry on.” 

The moment he steps into your bedroom, he knows how this is going to go. 

You don’t look at him when he calls out a greeting, eyes pointedly focused on your book. He silently scoffs, shaking his head as he goes to hang his suit jacket up in the closet. A row of neatly folded clothes and freshly pressed shirts greet him—fruits of your labor today. 

“You missed dinner.” Yoongi rolls his eyes. He can probably guess your dialogue word for word. You missed dinner, how could you, you promised, you work too much. He sighs, rolling his sleeves up. He’s in the mood, not after the day he’s had. 

But you go on, as if on cue. “You promised.”

He knows you have a right to be upset, but hadn’t you two had this conversation, at least a hundred times, before? You knew his excuses, as he knew your nags. You knew he was at work, and that he would get caught up sometimes. He was a Don, for chrissake.. 

Women. Only concerned with their dinners and clothes. Throwing a temper tantrum when their husbands get caught up with real business. So busy spending his money you don’t care what it takes to earn it. So busy raising his kids you don’t know what it takes to keep them safe. 

“Now you’re not even going to talk to me?” Your voice drifts through his tired, irritated mind, just begging to be disciplined. The lack of respect you have for him as a wife is jarring. If a husband were to come home, exhausted after a long day, his wife is supposed to first greet him, preferably with food. She’s supposed to let him relax, put the kids to bed, and shut the fuck up while he unwinds, to award him some peace and quiet. 

She isn’t supposed to run her mouth. Like a filthy brat.

“Yoongi—” 

“Stop it.” He turned around, his gaze sharp on your thin slip, barely covering you up. “I mean it.” 

“We need to talk—” 

He strides towards the bed, footsteps loud on the wooden floor as makes his way to the dresser next to you, roughly pulling his necktie off with a warning evident in his eyes. “Shut up.” His voice is dangerously low and steady; the calm before the storm. 

You look back at him with your bottom lip threatening to jut out, like a child throwing a tantrum. Your brows are furrowed, your gaze indignant. Several moments pass as you stare at him, contemplating whether or not to open your mouth. You seem to be weighing the consequences. But your grievances win out in the end; you cross your arms over your chest, an attempt to look strong, but it only displays how weak the wall you’d put up was. 

“You parade around like a family man,” you taunt with a precarious voice, “But you’re a fake, Min Yoongi. A poser and a fake.” 

The thread keeping his composure together was thin to begin with, but with your perfectly targeted words, it snaps like a weak twig. He reaches over, easily grabbing your arm. Your eyes widen, darting to his hand, but quickly back to his face—anticipating his next move. 

He leans close, “And you’re the perfect mother? You’re a princess,” he spits, “sitting here at home all day, wearing pretty little dresses and decorating our baby’s room with bows and frills. But you want me to be a family man. You want me to sit at home playing dress up with you?” He grabs your face. “You wanna have quiet family dinners while bullets fly through our window? Because I was at home playing house? Because my wife threw a temper tantrum?” 

The whimper you let out is outside of your control, but it only makes Yoongi’s fingers tighten into your cheeks. “Who’s going to protect you when you’re out spending my money, huh? Who’s going to put a roof over your head, or food in your fridge?” He’s getting closer with each syllable—you can feel the spit flying everywhere, drops hitting your skin. He’s a breadth away from your lips when he says, “Who’s going to fuck those babies into you, the ones you wanted so badly?” His eyes are dark as he tilts his head, trailing his breath up your jawline. “Who’s going to pump you full of their cum, impregnate you like the bitch you are?” Blood is pounding in your ears, your breathing uneven as you try to hold perfectly still. 

He pushes you away, the force making you fall back into the bed. Your heart is racing, beating loudly from the intimate moment he just broke. Straightening up, he looks at your pitiful figure, “The disrespect you show me, when I’m all that stands between you and a bullet in your head.” He tsks, looking down disappointedly. “You have no idea what it takes. But I’m about to teach you, sweetheart.” 

He grabs your hand without looking at you, making your book fall from your lap as he pulls you off of the bed to follow him. Your breath is caught in your throat as you follow behind the man, weaving you through the house, and out the kitchen door into the backyard. You don’t realize your destination until he tugs you into the stand-alone garage, and locks the door behind you. 

He leaves you standing there, taking lazy steps around, as he lights his cigarette. The silence is eerie as he puffs, tucking his hand into his pocket and turning around to face you. He looks you up and down, standing meekly at the entrance with only your slip gown. He was in almost his full suit,  suspenders and all—he’d only gotten as far as taking off his jacket before…

He ends the staring contest with your body, leaning back against the garage wall nonchalantly. “Pick it up.” He nods over at the gun laying on the table in front of you. You take one look at the intimidating thing, and back up, where a target lay ahead of you—what the men used for practice—and your head whips back to him. 

“Pick it up.” He repeats, calm as ever, inhaling more smoke. Though his tone wasn’t turbulent, it awarded you with no room to argue—he isn’t going to ask again. 

Hesitantly, you reach a shaky hand out, feeling the cool metal under your touch as your hand wrapped around the gun. You’re sure you’re holding it wrong when you lift it up, surprised at the weight—it’s heavier than it looks. You turn it over in your hand, examining it up close. There was always a distance between you and guns, whether it was in someone else’s hand, or laying around in a room you never entered. This was the first time you had a good look at the deadly weapon. It wasn’t as scary up close. 

You feel Yoongi’s presence behind you before you hear it, his hand wrapping over yours. You look back, startled. “Put your finger here–like that—” he instructs, guiding your hands over the unfamiliar object. It’s slightly difficult when your body’s quivering, unaware of why he’s teaching you how to hold a gun. 

“Good.” He praises once you get a good hold. He reaches over you, his body pressing into your back, enveloping you entirely, to retrieve the bullets out of a drawer. And a second gun. 

“This is how you load ‘em.” His fingers work quickly, the gun clicking in the fearful silence you’re standing in. Once the barrel closes shut, he shows it to you. Leaning into your ear, over your shoulder, he nods at the gun in your hand, “Don’t worry, yours is already loaded.” 

You almost drop the gun in fright, your hand suddenly running cold. It suddenly feels as though the hand holding the gun didn’t belong to you, like its master was extracorporeal, simply attached to your body. But it wasn’t an alien presence—it was just Yoongi, holding the strings like a puppet master. 

“Stand here,” he grips your shoulders, moving you roughly to stand further back, directly in front of the makeshift target. His fingers run down your dominant arm, sending a warm sensation through your body. Once he reaches your wrist, he guides it upwards, making you point the barrel of the gun at the target. “Put your finger on the trigger.” 

Your heart starts beating rapidly in your chest, and you start to shake. He isn’t really going to make you go through with this? “Yoongi—” 

He doesn’t have patience, cutting off your sentence with an exasperated sigh and moving your finger over the trigger himself. “Fucks sake.” Tears well up in your eyes as your breathing is irregulated.

“Now, you wanted me to come home, so you have to protect the family.” His voice is low, his mouth pressed to your ear. “Shoot.” 

Your hand is shaking way too much, you have to support it with your other hand, grabbing it by the wrist. You shake your head, “Yoongi, I can’t—”

 “You can demand shit from me but you can’t pull a trigger?” He scoffs, holding you tightly at the waist to make sure you can't move away. Your eyes are teary when you shake your head, and he tsks. “Maybe you need a little motivation.” 

You hear the clicking of the gun behind you before you can register the feel of the cold metal pressed to your temple. On the other end of Yoongi’s hand is the barrel of his gun, pressing into you with a threatening force. His voice is steady as rock when he breathes, “Shoot.” 

Fear pierces through your heart, and your breath stops. Your tears break through the dam, running down your face as you silently weep. You’re afraid to make a sound, unsure of what’ll set off the precarious trap. You choke back sobs as you silently plead to Yoongi, hoping he’ll somehow understand. No such luck.

“Either you shoot, or I shoot.” Yoongi delineates. You chance a look at him, your eyes darting to his face—he’s stone cold. Not a hint of warmth to reassure you. You’ve seen this Yoongi before—the ruthless don who made difficult decisions. But you never thought you’d be on the other end of his gun. 

You wanted to believe your husband was a good man—that he’d never even consider blowing a hole through his wife, leaving his children motherless. You wanted to believe that he was a family man at heart, and that the softness you once saw in him was still alive. But deep down, you’d long accepted that the man you’d agreed to marry was gone. You didn’t know what this man was truly capable of. 

Maybe it’d never be a bullet in your head, but this was a test regardless—an allegory. Adrenaline shoots through your heart as you promise to yourself repeatedly that you’d never disobey him again. And you couldn’t now, either. 

You shut your eyes tightly as your hands tremble, but you tighten them further around the gun, lest you cause an accident with your unsteadiness. You send a small prayer up to the heavens before finding the trigger with your index finger. A sob breaks out of your chest, and the bullet leaves the gun in the time it took for a single tear drop to leave your ducts. 

The loud unexpected sound startles you, and amplifies this moment, the kickback even worse. You drop the gun immediately, not at all concerned about where the bullet landed on the target. You turn around to find refuge, sobbing as you throw yourself into Yoongi’s chest. Your whole body shakes as you grasp his shirt tightly with your fists, looking for something to hold you up before you collapse to your knees. 

“I can’t, Yoongi. I’m sorry,” you blubber, “I’m so sorry, please don’t make me do that again. I’m sorry—” 

Yoongi’s hand strokes your head as he shushes you. “Hey, it’s okay. Sh, baby, you don’t have to do it again.” He holds you close, safe. You nod as your shaking body winds down to a quiver, clutching Yoongi like a lifeline. He tilts your head up and makes your tear-stained face look at him, and the cold, soulless eyes you’d seen before were replaced with a soft look. He wiped your tear away with his thumb, and you leaned your cheek into his hand, a calming feeling meeting your veins for the first time that night. 

Until, “But you still disrespected me, didn’t you?”

You look at him with wide, teary eyes, wondering what fate would befall you next. You nod meekly. 

“What kind of husband would I be if I let that behavior fly, hm?” You want to point that he didn’t let it fly, that the reasons for your tears right now had to do with him not letting you get away with it. But you keep your mouth shut. 

His hand trails down your night slip, taunting the thin fabric. You let out a gasp when he reaches your core, a criminal smirk ghosting onto his lips. You feel his fingers pressing into you through the fabric, the indent of his rings making it clear. “You deserve to be punished, right?” 

You nod again without much thought, bowing your head. He has a right to punish you, you’d spoken much too boldly. A mistake you now have to pay for. 

“That’s what I fucking thought.” 

You suddenly find yourself clutching to his bicep for dear life as he pushes you backwards, towards the table in the center of the garage. Hoisting you up, he’s quick to tug your nightgown up roughly, surely ripping some of the seams. His tongue peeks out at the sight of your panties, running over his lips salaciously. “Whatcha put all the bows and frills on for? For me?” His hand runs up your thigh, and he leans closer over you. “Wanted to surprise your husband?” 

You gulp with a weak nod, now feeling pathetic about your earlier excitement. “So you do have a semblance of what it means to be a wife.” His fingers explore your garment, finding a protruding wetness seeping through. You burn in shame as his fingers press into you through the fabric, shutting your eyes at the squishing sound beneath his hand. 

“Your body knows it belongs to me, huh?” He drawls, pushing his tongue into his cheek.You can’t handle the eye contact, looking away in humiliation. He takes your exposed neck as an opportunity, hungrily leaning in to take a bite. 

You whimper as his teeth sink into your skin, his breaths loud in your ear as sloppily tongues your neck. You start to squirm with the sensations running through your veins, but he holds you still. He’s engulfing you with his body, hands pinned to either side of you, leaving you trapped underneath him. Like a hunter, who’s ensnared his prey and begins to feast. 

A tearing sound breaks through the room, the scraps of your panties throw over Yoongi’s shoulder as the culprit. He doesn’t pay any attention to your surprised face, just takes advantage of the new exposure and immediately cups your heat. His fingers run over your folds, like he was feeling them out—like you were his property, and he was doing a routine check. But there was nothing routine about the way he started rubbing fervently, his rings dragging across your folds. 

Your legs started to shake in anticipation as he explored, teasing your clit and your opening. When he finally sunk his fingers in, it was embarrassingly easy—something Yoongi didn’t fail to notice. “Look at how you suck me in,” he taunts with a pretty smile, the devil behind it. “I own you.” 

You cry out as the ridges of his rings nudge against your entrance. It doesn’t deter Yoongi, fully pushing them in and filling you to the brim. The metal feels cool against your hot walls, and you can’t stop kicking your legs. 

“Quit it.” Yoongi huffs, snatching your legs up in one fell swoop and pushing you down on your back. He holds your legs to his chest with one hand as the other pumps your cunt, your slick making it an easy glide. “Fucking brat.”

Your legs are quivering in his grasp, but he doesn’t let up. His iron grip is strong as his fingers move quickly in and out of your cunt. Your squishy walls are unaccustomed as the protruding rings penetrate you in invasive ways. You know one of them has his family emblem engraved into the metal—it’s like he’s branding you on the inside, too. A stamp to make sure you belonged to Don Min. 

His thrusts are ruthless, two fingers opening you up. You constrict around him, can’t help the way the metal makes you feel. You feel your end approaching quickly, not sure how much more of this stimulation you can take. “Yoongi, please, I-I’m—” 

He must’ve guessed the end of your sentence because he immediately pulls his fingers out, ignoring your cries as he wipes the essence on your slip with a sneer, soiling your clothes. He doesn’t have a care in the world about how hard you’re going to have to scrub tomorrow to wash it out. It’s not his problem. 

“This bratty shit, it never ends.” He scoffs, pushing your legs away from him aggressively. “Entitled as fuck.” You open your mouth, desperate to wail ‘no, i can be good! I promise!’, but he interrupts you first. 

“First it was the disrespect, and now this.” He shakes his head, his hands falling to something behind you. “You need to start taking me more seriously.” 

You don’t know how to tell him you do respect him, you already take the dangerous man seriously. You want to vouch for yourself, beg for him to see how good of a wife you were. Good and quiet, you can do that. But once you see what he’s retrieved in his hand, you’re shut silent. 

“See, baby, my job is very dangerous.” He moves the loaded gun, nudging your knees open with it. You see it all in slow motion as he moves towards your center. “More than I think you understand.” You choke back a gasp as you feel the barrel brush against your folds, afraid to take a breath. 

“Because I’d do anything to protect you. Because I love you,” he’s leaning in, his voice hushed with a hard edge as he brushes his lips against your ear. “But you can’t even appreciate that.” Your breath is shaky as he moves your head to look at him. “Can you?” You can’t focus on his words, too busy fearing for your life as the cold metal is pressed against you. You feel your entrance clenching tightly, preparing for the penetration. But it never comes. 

You nod, answering his question. “I respect you, Yoongi. I’m sorry.” You hold on to those words like a lifeline, hoping they’re the right ones. Several moments pass as Yoongi lets you marinate in the tense moment, unsure of where your fate lies. But he gives you a small nod of affirmation, disengaging the gun and throwing it to the side. You let out a big sigh of relief, dizzy with anticipation. 

Yoongi rolls his sleeves up, evidently not done with teaching you a lesson. “Who am I, baby?” His use of a pet name is laced with irony as he roughly tugged you closer by your legs. The jingle of his belt and zipper filled the room as Yoongi dropped his pants, wrapping your legs around his waist, his endgame evident. 

“My don,” you whisper, eyes avoiding his, and instead glued to the intimidating girth he’d just pulled out. His ringed hand wraps around it, pumping himself a few times, clearly satisfied with your answer. He is your don first. 

He nudges your entrance, “And what else am I?” 

You don’t have the chance to respond as he pushes in, crying out with the stretch of his cock. The rings are one thing—a new sensation. But nothing can top the feeling of Yoogi’s dick breaking you in two. 

His hand wraps around your face, pushing your mouth open with two fingers as he repeats himself. “What am I, sweetheart?”

“Daddy!” You cry, shaking as he impales you. He leans in close as he bottoms out, licking a stripe up your chin to find your mouth. He spits a glob of saliva into your open and awaiting hole, relishing in the way you swallow it down immediately, sticking your tongue out to show him it was all gone. 

“That’s right, I’m daddy.” He growls, picking up the pace. He holds you steady as he wreaks havoc on your battered cunt, making you take it. “I’m your family man. I’m daddy. Don’t forget it.” 

You give a weak nod, the best you can do in your state. Your hole is trying to adjust to the feeling of his cock after the cold sensations it was previously exposed to. But the way he ruthlessly moves his hips, slapping into you with each thrust, makes it more difficult. The power imbalance was clear, seeping in from your life. 

“Gonna fuck a baby into you,” he pants, driving his hips into yours, penetrating deeply. “It’s all you’re good for.” The way you tightly clench around him is outside of your control, and so is the moan you let out. There’s nothing more you want in life than to carry his children. 

“P-Please, daddy.” You beg, grasping at his shirt, hoping your need comes across. He reads your desperation like a book, feels how you pull him closer with your legs wrapped around his waist. 

“Yeah? Wanna carry my kids?” He quickens his pace and you know he’s close. What you don’t know is that he’s been edging himself the entire time, waiting for the moment he’d be able to empty his balls into your cunt. “Want me to fuck you stupid and get you pregnant again?” 

“Please, please,” you chant, dying to feel his seed fill you up. “I want your babies, Don Min. Please.” 

“Fuck, you’re a perfect little whore.” He kisses you roughly as he nears his end, rutting into you inhumanly as he builds himself up to his climax. It’s all tongue and teeth, your body jostling, as he claims your mouth as his. He stakes his claim in your pussy next, filling your womb to the brim with his cum as he reaches his peak. He lets out an animalistic grunt as he empties himself, lazily rutting and working himself through it. 

His head is thrown back and he looks like a god, damp hair sticking to his forehead, eyes shut, mouth open. The light behind him gives him a halo, topping the picturesque moment that you’d store away in your brain forever. 

He pulls himself out after riding his peak, pushing his hair back and pulling his pants up promptly, re-buckling his belt. He turns around, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lighting it, letting out a puff to the side, giving you a view of his side profile. He tucks the cigarettes back in his pocket, and without a second glance back, strides towards the door, walks out, and lets it close behind him. 

Left sitting on the table, his cum leaking out of you, you see the ruthless Don clearly now.

You know that the newsboy had died by his hand.

— let me know what you think!

Copyright © 2022, yoon2k| tumblr | no reposts, translations, copies, etc

in case it hasn’t been clear, this blog is firmly and unwaveringly pro-choice.

Eunoia // Ch.22

eunoia (noun): beautiful thinking, the possession of a well-balanced mind, which exhibits goodwill and kindness

Pairings: Hybrid! BTS x reader

Summary: You are a world famous director and you have dedicated your life to your job.You have everything you could ever dream of; wealth, recognision, talent, your friends and family. But loneliness ins’t cured by success. So what happens when you somehow rescue seven hybrids? Can they fill the void?

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut

Word Count: 11.1k+

Warnings: past abuse, past sexual abuse, cursing, past violence, mentions of blood, panic attacks

Masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21

Many thanks to my incredible beta reader @thewishofafallenangel​ <3

The taglist is now closed

You slumped against the door of your office. Everything you did these days ended in disaster. Everything was wrong. The most mindless actions could create storms. And it was always your fault.

Taehyung’s face after you unbuckled your belt would haunt you for months. The carefully concealed terror. The way he trembled. All because you hadn’t thought before acting.

You were always making mistakes, one after another. Any time you were in the same place as Taehyung something went wrong. You only made things worse for him regardless of how hard you tried to show him that he wasn’t in any kind of danger here. He was afraid of you, of what he thought you would do to him, and you could do nothing about it. No words could make this better.

You sat heavily on the chair behind your desk and rubbed your temples. It was better to stay away from him. You served only as a reminder of what he had been through. A reminder of that traumatising night. As long as you were around, he wouldn’t heal. For the first time in months, you longed for the long days of filming that would keep you away from the Castle from morning to night. But filming wouldn’t start for another two weeks, so what until then?

Most of your life followed a carefully structured plan. Step by step you had created routines and schedules that stretched into months. The movies and shows you would be filming and any other projects were put into neat boxes, dividing your time between them until there was no empty space in your planner. Since University, you had never felt as out of control as you did now. As if you were ten steps behind from the place you should be.

There were fifteen new emails in your inbox. You hadn’t checked them since yesterday and they were piling up. You scanned the subjects and after not finding any urgent ones, you started from the ones sent last night. Producers, the studios, screenwriters, and a reminder from the publishing house that they would be waiting for updates on the progress of your book. With everything going on in your life, you had forgotten about the book you were supposed to be writing. Again.

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Masterlist

Do NOT repost, translate or modify my work in ANY way on ANY platform. (Let me know if a link doesn’t work!)

* 99% angst/smut 

Key:

✓ - Complete 

✐ - Ongoing

Kim Namjoon

↳ ONE SHOTS

➳ Capitulate

➳ One Day

↳ SERIES

➳ Nothing Like Us ✓ 

Chapters: 1 | 2

Kim Seokjin

↳ ONE SHOTS

➳ Stress Relief 

↳ SERIES

➳ Remember Me ✐

Chapters: Prologue | 1

Min Yoongi

↳ ONE SHOTS

➳ Your Voice 

➳ Don’t Let Go 

↳ SERIES

➳ City of Chaos ✐

Chapters: Prologue | 1

Jung Hoseok

↳ ONE SHOTS

➳ Helping Hand 

Park Jimin

↳ ONE SHOTS

➳ Partiality

➳ Scars To Your Beautiful 

➳ Sinful Romance

➳ If This is Love

↳ SERIES

➳ Slight Changes (ft. Taehyung) ✐

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | Finale

Extras: Jimin’s POV | Taehyung’s POV

Kim Taehyung

↳ SERIES

➳ Slight Changes (ft. Jimin) ✐

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | Finale

Extras: Jimin’s POV | Taehyung’s POV

Jeon Jungkook

↳ ONE SHOTS

➳ Don’t You See Me 

➳ Appetence 

➳ Oblivious 

↳ SERIES

➳ Employee Perks ✐

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Others:

➳ Monsta X: Changkyun - Something New

Requested Drabbles Masterlist

— disclaimer: All works presented were written by me. Please do not copy or repost in other sites without any permission. 

to you, namjoon [one] | [two] | [three]

— Great news! Your sister sent your handwritten letters to your ex. (angst, fluff, exes!au, postbreakup au)

friends with history

— You and Jin broke up. It’s a mutual decision. Another decision you shared was to stay friends, considering you two are in a single friend group. It’s easy, you thought. Both of you just have to act like you did not have a seven-year relationship while you hangout with your other friends every Saturday with your new dates. But can you two really act normal with each other? (fluff, angst, exes au, established relationship au)

once again (ft. mc x taehyung) [one] | [two]

—  How can an eight year relationship turned as a bitter past? Can such thing be rekindled once again? (angst, fluff, exes au)

la la lost you

— When your bestfriend’s wedding invitation turned into more than you expected. (angst, fluff, best friends au, friends to lovers au (?))

illicit affairs

— To ensure the wealth both your families own, you and Hoseok, a guy you only met once, were arranged to marry each other. After learning about each others’ plans and romantic relationships, you and your husband came into an agreement. (angst, fluff, crack, smut, arranged marriage au, fake marriage au, fake dating au, cheating au)

lifetime (on hold)

—  A choice can change a lifetime. After the wedding, you and Hoseok tried to live your new lives with the choice of letting go of each one forever. But what if there’s another lifetime that was written for the both of you? (angst, fluff, friends to lovers au, best friends au, past lovers au)  (post la la lost you)

small world

—  You attended a relative’s wedding with your child as the ring bearer. Unbeknownst to you, someone estranged is also showing up at the said wedding. Leading to a disclosure of a longtime secret. (exes au, single parent au, fluff, angst)

the greatest, the worst

—  A private CEO has been appearing in his cousin’s Youtube channel. When asked what’s the greatest and the worst things he ever done, Taehyung have the same answer. ( angst, unrequited love au, one sided love au, best friends au)

(re)starting over again

—  Your four-year relationship with Taehyung was going well and strong. Until he was involved in a car accident, resulting to him losing some memories. By some, it means everything that happened five years ago. Things he remember? His friends, his bakeshop, and his ex girlfriend from the past. With that, you tried to keep up, restarting over again. (fluff, angst, established relationship au)

outtakes

— Having enough of how the media judged him with their overly critical eyes for several years, Kim Taehyung wants to take a break outside the industry. The management will let him only after doing this final movie offer he will get for this year. In this movie, he will work with familiar faces and an unrecognized actor in the movie scene. Unrecognized but the only one who sees him different from the rest. (WORK IN PROGRESS)

how to live a life [preview] [one]

— He is the nation’s prince who was hidden from the public ever since he was born. Being home schooled in all of his life, he craved for something new. Going to college as a senior in a university. There, he met a hopeless student who is already giving up from passing for the last year. You. You were the one who taught him how to live a common life, way more different from his. (fluff, angst, modern royalty au, college au)

backseat bickers

— In which you ended up in the backseat of your brother’s car after a disaster date, beside his best friend. The most hated person of yours. (fluff, crack, enemies to lovers au, brother’s best friend au)

our little private love affair

—  You and Jungkook have been dating for almost two years now. It sounds normal and great except you two have been keeping it behind everyone’s back.  A bunch of scenarios happens as you and Jungkook tries to keep your relationship in private. (fluff, angst, crack, smut, secret relationship au, established relationship au, friends to lovers au)

last updated: february 4, 2022

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embers of the fire | ksj. (m)

banner by the wonderful ryen @kithtaehyung​ <3

➵ summary : your marriage with seokjin is slowly dwindling, and so is your love. but as you near the end of it all, it’s not long before an unexpected event reminds you why you’ve always loved each other.

➵ pairing : husband!seokjin x f. reader

➵ genre : broken marriage!au, angst, fluff, smut, oneshot

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 15k

➵ warnings : swearing, mentions of workplace harassment, small blood + injury warning, making out, explicit sexual content, soft dom!seokjin, big dicc!seokjin (cause wbk), dirty talk, fingering, mentions of masturbation, breast play/nipple sucking, praising, scratching, licking, marking, ass groping, missionary, reverse cowgirl, choking, mirror (?) sex (it’s a window), rough sex turned passionate/mushy gushy sex, creampie <3

➵ a/n : oof here i am again with a late birthday gift, this one’s for our seokjinnie!! i’m also kinda dedicating this to @kithtaehyung​ ryen my love because this my holiday gift to her 🥺💓 thank you a thousand times to my wonderful wife and beta @amourtae !! feedback means the world to me <3

“You know I’m talking to you, right? Not the laptop you keep clicking at?” You stand with your arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe of Seokjin’s study. 

“I know you’re talking to me, I’m just not responding.” 

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friends with history | ksj; masterlist

plot | You and Jin broke up. It’s a mutual decision. Another decision you shared was to stay friends, considering you two are in a single friend group. It’s easy, you thought. Both of you just have to act like you did not have a seven-year relationship while you hang out with your other friends every Saturday with your new dates.

genres | fluff, angst, smut, exes!au

warnings | specified in each chapter

pairing | seokjin x reader

songs | death by a thousand cuts - taylor swift, can we still be friends - todd rundgren, afterglow - taylor swift,  paper rings - taylor swift, cornelia street - taylor swift, (just play the whole lover album at this point lol)

masterlist  | preview

1  Aftermath of the Break Up

You and Jin broke up after seven years together. As you deal with it unhealthily, you still need to face your friends and tell them about the changes.

2  Announcement! Announcement!

Chocolate milk, dinner night, and a couple of announcements.

2.5  Chocolate Milk

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

Keep reading

INDEX

ao3 | spotify

summary: the journey of a broken-hearted woman and a remorseful man into the search for healing and forgiveness.

pairing: husband!kim seokjin x wife!reader (infidelity au)

inspiration: lemonade’s album by beyoncé, lemonade’s poetry written by warsan shire.

ACT 1

PRAY YOU CATCH ME

“the stages of a broken-hearted woman discovering her husband's infidelity."

scene one scene two scene three scene four scene five

INTERLUDE

I MADE YOU CRY

“the epiphany of a traitor husband after he loses the woman he loves.”

scene six

ACT II

HOW I MISSED YOU, MY LOVE

“the journey of a betrayed woman and a remorseful man to redemption.”

scene seven scene eight scene nine scene ten

with you | ksj | m

marrying your childhood best friend was not the love story that most painted it to be. you knew that better than anyone else.

PAIRING. kim seokjin x reader

GENRE. marriage!au, divorce!au, childhood friends2lovers!au, angst, fluff, smut

WARNINGS. dilf jin, mentions of divorce (it's literally the plot😭), marriage problems, jin is kind of an asshole (who redeems himself!!!-ish), slight jealousy, soft sex, crying during sex, oral (f receiving), bigdick!jin, oc is a crybaby who tries not to cry 99.9% of this fic

WORDS. 22.1k

NOTE. it's here!!!!! I've been working on this fic for a while and im somewhat pleased with how it turned out!!!! i apologise for any errors/edit mistakes bc I run through it on my own so I may overlook some grammar issues etc ...

anywho, I hope you enjoy this fic!!!! as always - my asks are open to let me know how you felt about this fic <3

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

“What is this?” he blinks.

“Divorce papers,” you say softly, smoothing out the surface while you avoid his eyes.

“You want,” he says slowly, eyebrows furrowing as he attempts to process your words. “You want a … divorce?”

You hate that he sounds so nonchalant like you weren’t mulling over this decision for the past three months as you found yourself losing hope in your marriage with each passing day. But for as long as you’ve known Jin, he’s always been like this. A little hard to understand, straightforward but never intentionally malicious. He just somehow ended up hurting people without him realising it.

“Yes,” you say.

“What about Jiho?”

The reminder of your son makes your heart drop to the pit of your stomach, but you were prepared for this question. In fact, your son was the only thing that made you hesitate your decision for another month because divorces were messy and even if Jiho was just four years old and probably too young to understand—he was perceptive and you didn’t want to put him through the taxing emotions of having his parents go through a divorce.

But you were exhausted of fighting alone and returning to a home that feels more isolating than welcoming.

“We’ll share custody,” you narrate the exact words you’ve been mulling over for the past few months, even if it breaks your heart to say them.

“What prompted this?” It hurts even more when Jin flips through the papers as he would with any other of his business contracts, and it’s a harsh reminder that your marriage was reaching an invincible expiry date that you wanted to ignore.

“We …” you hesitate, fingers clutching the fabric of your dress as you purse your lips. Was there a reason to justify your decision anymore, when you’ve fought tooth and nail for the past four months to be heard? To be seen as someone who wasn’t just his wife on paper but a person to be nurtured? You force yourself to look ahead, even when Jin raises an eyebrow at your silence. You settle for a soft response instead. “I think it’s for the best.”

Jin opens his mouth to say something but decides against it before he slides the papers towards him, and you half-expect him to sign it and tell you to leave. The thought only makes your heart shatter even more—because four years of marriage, a child—gone, just like that.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he offers you a curt nod with a look you can’t quite decipher.

“I’ll get back to you,” he says.

You blink, especially when he pushes himself off his desk and extends a hand towards you as if he’d expected you to grab it. The gesture doesn’t fit in with the context of the conversation, much less the emotions that thrash wildly in your heart.

“What are you doing?” you whisper.

“Lunch,” he says, “I haven’t had it with you in a while.”

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

“That took a while,” Taehyung points out when you clamber back into your office.

“I had lunch,” you respond curtly as you hang your jacket on the coat hanger while you attempt to ease the pressing headache between your temples.

“Alone?” He raises a brow.

“With Jin.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen as you plop onto the empty seat next to him. Your son’s fidgeting in his lap as your assistant types away at his laptop, and you’re absolutely exhausted so you extend your arms towards Jiho, who immediately turns to you with a toothy grin and leaps off Taehyung’s lap.

“Hi baby,” you press a kiss to his cheek, immediately seeking warmth in your son’s chubby body.

“Hi mama,” he returns, pressing a plush cheek into your chest when you squeeze him.

You try to keep your tears at bay, even if it’s just having your son in your arms. He doesn’t know the day you had or the meal you shared with his father. The man you married and decided to have a child with. Jiho doesn’t know that it’s over—and it hurts. It hurts because he deserved a family filled with love.

“How did it go?” Taehyung asks tentatively, swirling in his chair until he’s facing you.

You know he’s concerned. He was probably the person that received the news with the most shock, granted he was currently the only person that knew besides Jin. Taehyung has been your assistant before you relocated to this larger office and before your business set its course, and even when you and Jin were just dating. So, he knows—he knows how hard you’ve tried and when you decided that it was over.

“He didn’t even try,” you croak, eyes fluttering shut as you attempt to level your breathing to not alarm your son, “Just took the papers and said he’d get back to me.”

“He didn’t sign it?” Taehyung asks in slight surprise.

“No,” you murmur, peering down to see your son fiddling with a ribbon that sticks out your dress, “I didn’t want to ask why.”

Taehyung purses his lips before he reaches out to squeeze your available hand. The gesture is enough to remind you of what you just did—the conversation you just had with Jin, and it’s enough for your entire facade to go crumbling again.

But you don’t cry because your son is unaware of the conflict that exists between you and his father, you don’t cry because one of you needed to be strong and it had to be you.

“I’m sorry.” His apology is sincere but frankly, useless. But you don’t tell him that even if that’s all that plagues your mind. You know Taehyung knows this too, but you suppose it’s the best either of you can offer right now.

“Don’t be,” you laugh humourlessly, “You’re not the one that failed in this marriage.”

“You didn’t fail, ____,” he says sternly, “It just—some things don’t work out.”

Your lips wobble again, looking up so your son doesn’t spot your tears.

“I thought we would,” you croak, “I tried. I tried—so hard. But it still wasn’t enough.”

Taehyung stays silent, and your son is mumbling something under his breath. When you peer down, his smile remains innocent and oblivious to the world that’s falling apart right in front of his eyes.

“Mama, look,” he squeals as he lifts up an arm that he’s somehow managed to scribble on, “Mama, daddy, me!”

Taehyung has to take Jiho when you excuse yourself to the bathroom.

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

“What do you mean he hasn’t signed it?” You hiss, holding the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you attempt to shove old documents into the shredder.

“He … hasn’t,” Jimin, Jin’s assistant, says lamely over the line as you feel your headache return.

“Jimin, you’re his assistant,” you remind him sternly, “It’s literally your job to make sure he gets shit done.”

“I know!” He exclaims before he’s sighing, “He’s just—he keeps putting it off. I really can’t do much, ____.”

You chuck the last bit of papers aside before you’re grabbing your phone from in-between your ear and shoulders before you’re leaning against a desk, pinching the bridge of your nose in irritation.

It’s been a week since you visited Jin at his office propositioning him with a divorce, yet, the papers remain vacant from his signature that solidified the termination of your legal union. You were more so irritated than hurt right now, purely because you wanted actual documents to present to your lawyer and your parents before you told them that you and Jin were getting a divorce.

It’s also been a week since Jin’s came home, and you’re partly thankful that he did that on his own because that was another painful conversation you weren’t quite ready to have. Not that he came home at an acceptable hour anyway. But it’s almost daunting at how the bed remains cool where he used to lay, even if he’d disappear hours before your awakening.

“Just,” you exhale, “Please get him to sign it, Jimin. I’m tired.”

You can hear some shuffling on the other end and you assume it’s him moving to another place with the way the office chatter gets distinctively quieter the longer time passes.

“Do you,” he starts, “do you really have to do this?”

You sigh, already bracing for his comment.

If Taehyung knew you and Jin before you got married, Jimin was the person that got the two of you together. The instigator that insisted that the feelings and mutual, and that the chance should be taken. You believed him ten years ago when you were younger and in high school, oblivious to what the future held. You wanted to resent him for how things out but you knew it was irrational. You would’ve fallen in love with Jin with or without Jimin’s intervention.

He was that easy to love.

The bitter reminder that the divorce seemed easy for him to accept, even without the signature, plagues your mind as you hear Jimin call your name once more.

“Do you think this was my first option?” you snap, and immediately the silence is tense. “I was backed into a corner, Jimin. There’s no point in Jin and I remaining married if—if nothing about our relationship feels like a marriage anymore.”

“What about Jiho?” he throws back the same question Jin posed at you when you first came to him with the divorce.

You grit your teeth, your heart inevitably clenching at the guilt that’s yet to subside. It only hurt more because you knew Jimin didn’t mean it to hurt you, but it did—it did because it wasn’t easy.

“I’m not taking him away from Jin,” you whisper, “I can’t—I would never do that.”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Jimin says softly.

“I know,” you reply, equally as soft as your eyes dart to the ground, “I hate this, Jimin. I do. But I rather Jiho grow up with two parents who aren’t together than two parents who live together but not even talk.”

Jimin stays silent, and you know that he’s heavily contemplating his next set of words.

You beat him to it with a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, “I didn’t mean to unload.”

“Please don’t apologise,” he says, “I just … have you tried speaking to Jin?”

You scoff bitterly at the suggestion, and you know that you shouldn’t be taking it out on Jimin, who’s both Jin’s assistant and your close friend—but the nudge to recall the times you’ve tried, tried so hard to patch things up by planning mini-dates that he rain checked more than enough times for you to want to try again—only leaves you feeling sour.

“He clearly doesn’t mind if he says he’ll get back to me,” you say bitterly.

“Have you considered that maybe he only said that because—”

At that moment, your intercom goes off and you briefly hear Taehyung’s static voice filter through the speaker.

“Hold on, Jimin,” you rush as you put your hand to the speaker to lean forward to press the intercom. “Tae?”

“You have an appointment,” he says slowly, and your eyebrows furrow at his odd tone.

“I do?” You say with a puzzled expression, “I don’t remember scheduling an appointment—”

“Well, this isn’t really an appointment,” he laughs tightly.

“Tae,” you frown, “What are you saying?”

“She’s already—”

And at impeccable timing, a rapt knock is delivered to your door as you further scrunch your eyebrows in confusion.

“Jimin, I need to go. I have a visitor,” you bring the phone back up to your ear as you begin heading towards the door.

“No worries,” he clips, “Take care, okay?” He says softly.

You mumble a word of gratitude before you’re hanging up, hand already reaching out to turn to the knob to greet your guest.

You’re still confused before you come face-to-face with them, but the moment the door opens as you plaster a smile to greet your guest—your grin immediately freezes as you spot the one person that you surely didn’t expect to visit your workplace on a weekend, let alone at all.

“E-Eomeonim,” you stutter, eyes briefing landing on Taehyung’s apologetic expression behind your guest's elegant posture.

“Myeoneuri,” she immediately beams, leaning forward to embrace you into a hug that you’re still too stunned to properly returned, and it’s not until she pulls back with furrowed brows that you return the gesture, still frozen in shock as you lean your head against her shoulder.

“What brings you here?” You ask, forcing a smile at the sudden grant of her presence as you shut the door behind you, immediately guiding her towards the empty couch as you head towards your cupboards to bring out the glasses for drinks.

“Ah,” she laughs, gently and polished as ever as you keep your head-trained over your shoulder to engage in eye contact as you pour her some water, “Can’t I visit my daughter-in-law?”

The term doesn’t fall on deaf ears and you force yourself to laugh, even if you know that the term wouldn’t be applicable for much longer. You feel like a fraud, inviting her into your office and offering her water as if you weren’t over at her son’s office a week ago with papers that would immediately terminate any relationship you had with him—or her. Legally, at least.

She was still your son's grandmother and overall, a lovely person.

You grew up with her right next to your house, being the second mother in your life especially when she used to house you on nights where your parents were out of town as you integrated with her two sons and their antics. She cooked for you and treated you like you were her own daughter. Those things didn’t go away just because you were divorcing Jin.

“Of course,” you smile softly as you pass her a glass with two hands, “It’s nice to see you.”

She chuckles politely before taking a sip and setting the glass onto the table, eyes travelling around your office as she takes in your interior.

She’s been here on a few occasions, but they’ve been sprawled out over the years so there have definitely been some changes from when she last came. She doesn’t visit often—to your office, at least—she never had a reason to. So it’s all the more startling and nerve-wracking when she appeared today, conveniently after you proposed a divorce she’s yet to know about.

“I was thinking about you,” she says softly, peering up through her lashes as you gulp, fingers shaking ever so slightly when you take a sip of your drink yourself.

“You’re always free to visit, eomeonim,” you return politely, bowing your head.

She scoffs playfully, waving you off as she leans backwards into your plush couch.

“Don’t be so stiff with me, ____,” she teases, “I’ve changed your diapers.”

You flush at the reminder, and it’s both in fondness and in relative hurt because your family and hers were tight-knit from the very beginning. Your mother and she were best friends even before the two of you were born, and it’s only natural that their children ended up becoming friends. It was always a running joke that they’d hope you and Jin would fall in love and marry—and when it happened, the both of them were ecstatic.

It wasn’t as if they planned it, but fate worked out funnily sometimes. Even when you dated other people in the midst of unsure feelings in high school, you always found yourself returning to Jin. Whether it be in the form of comfort, or a laugh, or just a shoulder to lean on—you always found yourself on the front of his porch, eagerly waiting for another moment with him.

“I know,” you sigh with a small smile, “It’s crazy how long it’s been.”

“Thirty-two years,” she reminds.

You exhale, remember that you were in fact thirty-two this year. The thought that settles is one that is intrusive and annoying, purely because you couldn’t go a moment without remembering the divorce. Your age is another bitter reminder that you’ve really hit the mark with it, essentially starting over when you and Jin promised each other forever.

You take another sip to keep your tears behind.

“Anyway,” she continues as she rests her eyes on you. Her gaze is concerned and you’re stuttering, wondering if you were that obvious—if your face held all your emotions or if she was just that observant. When she speaks, you brace yourself for the worst. “I’ve been trying to contact that son of mine but he keeps sending me to his darned assistant.”

You relax ever so slightly as your lips twitch in a smile.

“Jiminie?” You ask amusedly.

“When he’s getting in the way of talking to my son, he’s a darned assistant,” she huffs, crossing her arms across her chest as you laugh.

“Even now, they’re inseparable,” you comment mindlessly, remembering all the times they used to get into trouble together in high school.

“For the wrong reasons,” she sighs, “That’s why I’m here, actually.”

You raise a brow, “Oh?”

“Seokjung’s planning on proposing,” she informs with an excited grin as your eyes widen.

“Oh my God,” you breath, equally as pleased to hear the news, “Finally? I’m so happy for him and Ah-reum.”

Your mother-in-law sighs wistfully as she smiles tenderly at you, reaching a hand out to squeeze yours as her eyes turn solemn.

“I am too,” she says softly, “My two son’s—Gosh.”

Your hand stiffens under her touch, but you don’t make an effort to correct her. She looks far too happy and emotional at the thought itself that you don’t have the heart to ruin that dream for her. You swallow the lump in your throat and the visual of the divorce papers that plague your mind as you offer a weak smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Yeah,” you say breathlessly, “I’m really happy for Seokjung.”

She nods, smiling at you before squeezing your hand again.

“I wanted to let you know myself,” she says, “I was meant to tell Jin but clearly, he’s caught up in whatever work he has,” she rolls her eyes before shooting you a pointed stare. “Make sure you make time for each other, even if he’s busy. That boy always drowns himself in work.”

Your face falls for a split second, but you immediately correct it when you realise the look of concern that marks her face.

You know her comment was made in good faith, she had no idea of your impending divorce … did she? But despite her voice mulling slightly under a whisper, you find that your heart betrays your blank face when it clenches. You should’ve made time for each other. Even if he was busy. You tried—and you failed.

“O-Of course,” you say, squeezing her hand in return.

“Make sure that the three of you spend time together,” she says softly, and you’re terrified that she knows when she mentions your son. “A relationship requires constant effort and dedication.”

“Of course,” you swallow, “I will.”

You hate yourself for lying to her, but you hope that she knows that you tried. That you really tried to pick up whatever that was lost—but some things would inevitably remain shattered.

“Tell Jin to take it easy,” she murmurs, “I worry for him sometimes.”

You nod your head mutely, agreeing silently.

“I’m”—she chokes, suddenly teary as your eyes widen in alarm—“I’m really glad that you have each other.”

It’s another blow that you receive, but force yourself to smile through.

“Eomeonim …” you say quietly, the guilt nabbing away at your heart.

She waves you off, laughing softly before she’s swabbing gently under her eyes to rid of the tears. And as always, she remains stunning as ever—the stark features of Jin apparent on her face, and the resemblance only makes your heart clench even further.

“Your mother and I would always joke about having our kids get married,” she reminisces as you smile tightly at her. “We never thought it would actually happen—but you and Jin …” she trails off with a fond smile, “It made sense. Like it was always meant to happen.”

You can’t take it anymore, but you weren’t allowed to pick your battles this time. You swallow the lump in your throat and hold her hand a little tighter as if an apology was worthy enough to be traced into the wrinkles of her palm. For now, this was all you could offer.

“Thank you, eomeonim,” you whisper, and it’s more than just the words she’s said, but how she’s treated you up until now. An apology also rests on your tongue, but that’s for a later date. When you and Jin no longer share the title of married.

“Don’t thank me,” she scoffs, “Thank you for making Jin’s life brighter. For bringing Jiho into this world.”

You swallow.

“Of course,” you smile, “He’s made mine too.”

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

“You’re here,” Jimin blinks, opening the door to let you in as you give him a tight smile.

“I wish I wasn’t,” you mutter under your breath as the two of you walk side-by-side down a familiar hall.

“Listen—” he begins but you cut him off, already too tired to engage with him attempting to convince you otherwise on the divorce.

“I really can’t do this right now, Jimin,” you say quietly and he looks at you with an apologetic look that you ignore to save your heart from more tears. “I’m only here because Jin isn’t answering his mother’s damn calls.”

“He’s in the middle of an important business deal,” Jimin says weakly.

“When is he not?” You roll your eyes as you huff, feet clacking against the marble as you turn into a familiar corridor where your eyes rest on the plague with the name of your husband, a name that you’ve welcomed into your life and in your son's name—a name that you’ve grown up with. You push aside the ache in your heart as you reach towards the door to knock. “Listen, I know you’re his best friend and his assistant but … tell him to remember that his job isn’t the only important thing in his life, yeah?”

Jimin doesn’t say anything but waits with you, and you briefly hear the shuffling of feet from the other end. You can tell Jimin wants to say something with the way that he’s impatiently tapping his feet against the ground, and you don’t placate him like you usually do because you know that you weren’t ready to hear whatever he had to say.

“Jin’s—”

The door swings open, and it isn’t Jin that you see. It’s—

“Isa,” you smile tightly.

“____,” she exclaims, immediately trotting over in her heels as she towers over you, arms wrapping you into a hug that you don’t expect. When she pulls away, you see her bright teeth in between her red lips. “You’re glowing! Are you pregnant?”

You shoot her a blank look, and you feel Jimin’s eyes widen.

“I’m not,” you say dryly.

“Oh,” she blinks, “Could’ve sworn you were,” she says off-handedly before she moves out the way, only for Jin to appear behind her with a vacant expression on his face, eyes immediately falling onto your unimpressed figure.

“____?” He furrows his eyebrows, “What are you doing here?”

You push past Isa, who you briefly see from the corner of your eye, press two rather friendly kisses onto your husband—well, soon to be ex-husbands—cheeks. She’s always done that, claiming that it was from her French roots even if you knew deep down that she had the hots for her husband. You don’t want to know why she’s here, appropriately right when you and Jin were in the middle of a divorce. Unless she’s representing him as his lawyer, you didn’t want to humour the thought.

“Your mother says you aren’t answering her,” you don’t spare him another glance, or Jimin, who is all but offering you a timid smile right before he shuts the door to the office, leaving you and Jin alone.

“I’ve been busy,” he replies.

“You couldn’t even just send a damn text to your own mother?” you ask irritatedly as you plop into a seat in front of his desk.

“I had Jimin do it,” he says with a frown.

You roll your eyes, bitter that you had to be here—bitter about the divorce—bitter about gorgeous Isa who just left his office. You were bitter about everything, and now you were here, with your soon-to-be ex-husband.

“Really, Jin,” you deadpan, “You couldn’t even spare two seconds to let your mom know that you were—I don’t know—alive?”

He sighs as if you were pointing out irrational facts and not attempting to get him to do things himself for once. To maintain relationships with people without a damn middleman. You were a victim once, and you sure as hell wouldn’t let his mom suffer the same painful fate as you did.

“It’s been hectic at the office,” he says curtly, “I did eventually get back to her.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, “After she visited me at my office.”

“She visited you?” he furrows his brows.

You roll your eyes, “It doesn’t matter. She told me that your brother is planning on proposing and she’s expecting us to be there at the engagement party.”

“I know,” he sighs, “I don’t think I can make it.”

You still.

“What?”

“The investors planned for a meeting that same week and I—”

“He’s your brother,” you splutter in disbelief, rage slowly assimilating in your blood when Jin shoots you with another blank look that you’ve grown to resent, especially recently.

“I can’t do anything about the investors, ____,” he frowns.

“You’re the CEO!” you balk, “You call the shots. You literally make the rules. He’s getting engaged and you can’t even try to make it?”

His brows turn downwards at your harsh tone, but you were unbothered. The disbelief that marks your face is reflective of how your heart slowly burns in anger, the way that your fists clench by your side. Even now, as you attempt to knock some sense of rationality into Jin—you find yourself exhausted. It’s because—this—is familiar. It’s the same routine you found yourself fighting against, now only applied to his direct family. If you weren’t considered that.

“They’re flying in from the States,” he says pointedly.

“And that matters more than your brother because?” You scoff, narrowing your eyes at him, “Don’t be fucking selfish, Seokjin.”

You don’t think you’ve referred to him as his full name in years. Even before the two of you dated. You always called him Jin because it was more intimate that way. Only business associates that he was professional with called him Seokjin. It was an unspoken rule that Seokjin was the persona he adapted with people that he needed on his side, not people he wanted by his side.

You’re too busy seething to see the way his face drops ever so slightly, but he’s quick to correct himself when he purses his lips at you.

“I’m at crossroads, ____,” he snaps, “On one hand, it’s my brother who I’m going to disappoint, or—it’s the ten investors that are eager on investing in this company. I can’t win—and right now, I need them on my side.”

“I can’t believe that you actually need to choose who’s more important right now,” you laugh humourlessly, eyes meeting his for a split second as you frown. “It’s your family, Seokjin. It’ll always be your family. You choose your family—you—you choose the people you love.”

Your words are venomous and purposeful when you spit at him, immediately pushing yourself off the seat. Your words refer to more than his brother, or his mother. It’s personal—and it hurts. You didn’t want him to see you cry, you don’t think he’d care anyway.

“Wait,” he sighs, following you until he’s at your door, hand blocking you from leaving, “I …”

You turn around, eyes fluttering shut as you even out your breathing. When you open them, it’s intuitive for you to believe that you were able to read him, especially after a decade of being together—but you can’t. Your eyes are blurred with more than just your fatigue, but it’s disappointment too.

“What?” you sigh, “I don’t—I don’t care what you do Seokjin. But just know that when you’re closing whatever damned business deal you have for profits—your family is missing you.”

You turn to leave, not expecting him to do anything further than where you’ve left it at—but his hand reaches for your shoulder to stop you, your body tensing at his touch that you haven’t felt in a long time.

“I’ll,” he begins, nibbling on his lip when you raise a brow at him. It’s the most you’ve gotten out from him in a long time, but it’s not enough for you to read what the hell is going on in his mind. “I’ll be there.”

You roll your eyes, “Whatever. I’ll believe it when I see it happen.”

You go to push his hand off but his grip remains firm on your shoulder as he furrows his brows at you.

“We’ll go together,” he says.

You blink.

“I can go there myself,” you clip back curtly.

“They don’t know,” he blinks, “Right?”

He’s talking about the divorce.

Your body stills under his grip as you scowl.

“Of course they don’t,” you snap, “I won’t do that to your mom,” you say softly, “Not now.”

He doesn’t ask you to elaborate, even when your eyes turn sad as they dart to the floor.

“Then we’ll go together,” he says simply, “It’s easier that way.”

You don’t argue anymore because your mind just recalls the conversation you shared with his mother, the woman who’s simultaneously raised you along with your own mother. The woman you’ve shared fond memories with, and the woman whose heart you were inevitably going to break with the news of the divorce.

“Fine,” you sigh, finally shrugging off his hand as you turn towards the door to finally leave.

The door opens, and you’re already halfway out when his voice interrupts you.

“Your dress,” he says softly.

You stop, turning your head slowly as you raise a brow.

“… my dress?” You look down at your attire and you note that it’s a simple knee-length dress that you’ve had for years. It was strapless, but casual enough for you to wear on a daily basis—and definitely nothing noteworthy about it.

“You wore it during our honeymoon,” he states as your body locks at the mention of the memory.

You don’t even remember if you did—so you can’t confirm whether or not he was pulling your leg. But the look that Jin sends you is … you can’t quite put a word to it but it looks soft. Gentle, almost fond. But it goes as quick as it comes before he’s offering you a small smile.

“I don’t remember,” you say bluntly.

His face remains blank, even if there’s a slight drop at his lips.

“Well,” he clears his throat before he steps out of the way to make space for your departure, “You look beautiful.”

The compliment steals your breath away, not because he’s never said it before but because it’s unexpected. It’s unexpected because you were divorcing him, and you haven’t heard those words leave his lips in a long time—directed to you, at least. You’re breathless because your heart is ramming against your chest, and there’s a painful feeling lingering.

You also remember the woman that’s left his office. You know it’s irrational for you to feel this way when you were the one that suggested the divorce. But it’s only proof at his options, especially when he was … he was him.

It’s hope—but you’re not an idiot to allow yourself to burn twice.

“I,” you croak, shaking your head as you manage a tight nod, “Thank you.”

When you leave, you have to force your tears back—without sparing another glance at Jin. When Jimin passes by you, he knows well enough not to ask.

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

“Have you got everything?” Taehyung asks, helping you with the bag filled with Jiho’s things as you snort at his overeagerness of getting you out of the office.

“Yes, Tae, I have,” you say with an amused grin. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you actually cared about my well-being.”

He gasps with a faux sense of offence as he places a hand on his chest, shooting you a look that you roll your eyes at.

“Of course I do!” He pouts, “My boss is getting the break she deserves,” he says before peering down to Jiho, who’s tiredly dozing off in your arms since it was in the wee hours of the morning, “But I’ll definitely miss this one.”

He pokes Jiho softly on the cheek but your son doesn’t even so budge. He’s exhausted, and you were too—but you were more used to staying up late packing last-minute than your son was so you brush his hair gently before placing a soft peck to the crown of his head.

You know Taehyung will miss Jiho, purely because you’ve been at the office more than your home through the past week. You couldn’t bear to return to a space that was void and only had the title of a home when it didn’t feel like it anymore. It was the most difficult explaining to Jiho, who sought his dad’s attention and you couldn’t give it to him. A business trip was the best you got.

“Thank you, by the way,” you smile gratefully at your assistant as the three of you are taken down to the lobby of your office via the lift.

“Don’t,” he says sternly as you giggle softly at his tone, “Thank you for leaving.”

“I knew it,” you narrow your eyes as you stick your tongue out at him. “You’re just happy that I’m gone.”

“It’s four days,” he reminds, “You need a longer break. You’ve been working non-stop.”

You know his jibe is stern despite his light tone, purely because he’s aware of your tendency to ignore your problems by overworking yourself. He’s seen you devote all your energy to reports and analysing data than acknowledge the impending shatter in your heart.

“That’s long enough,” you sigh, “Make sure you—”

“Yes,” he groans as the two of you finally reach the lobby, offering a polite smile toward the receptionist as he returns the gesture. “Did you forget that I’m your assistant? God forbid I’m incompetent.”

You sniff even if you don’t disagree. You didn’t hire him just because he was your friend, but because he’s proven himself over and over again on his capabilities, you needed someone that was lax enough to balance out your perfectionist tendencies but also precise with his work. Taehyung was the perfect mixture of that—so it made sense that he’s stuck with you since you first hired him.

“Call me if you need anything,” you remind as the two of you spot Jin’s car, a sleek range rover fit for the rather long travel. You let out an exhale at the prospect of being in a car with your own husband for the next four hours as you travel out to his family vacation home, but your son needed you—and he needed his dad, so you brace yourself.

“Yes,” he sighs, and you see Jin step out of the car, a t-shirt and sweats combo that you adored him in. You look away.

“Taehyung,” you hear Jin greet your assistant as the two males engage in a rather amicable bro-hug.

“Hey, hyung,” he smiles softly, “How are you?”

You busy yourself with making sure that Jiho’s head doesn’t slip off your shoulders, but you note that your son’s awake this time—sensing the presence of his father as he groggily flutters his eyes open to search for him.

“Could’ve been better,” Jin returns, though not unkindly as his eyes dart towards his son, eyes softening immediately when Jiho calls for him through a mumble.

“Daddy?” He mumbles, immediately shaking out of your grasp as he extends his arms to be held by Jin. You swallow, but you allow Jin to take him from you. He hasn’t seen your son in over a week, and you would never be the person that deprived him from his own blood.

“Jiho,” he whispers, “Tired, bud?”

Your son nods his head, immediately snuggling into the comfort of his father’s chest as you force yourself to look away, distracting your mind as you help Taehyung load your belongings into the boot of Jin’s car.

“Where were you?” Your son asks innocently, “Mama said trip.”

“Yeah,” Jin says breathlessly, eyes meeting yours for a split second as you look away. “Missed you so much.”

“We miss you too,” Jiho pouts, and you don’t correct him when he alludes to you either.

“You okay?” Taehyung whispers, hand clasping your shoulder as you blink away the heat behind your eyelids. It was too early to cry, and you’ve spent the past week crying at random intervals so you were tired of shedding tears.

“I’ll survive,” you smile tightly as Taehyung finally loads the last bag, closing the boot with a button before shuffling back to the curb where Jin continues to cradle your son in his arms.

You’ve known him before you could properly speak, and you intimately recognise the expression on his face. He looks … sad. And it’s the most emotion you’ve seen on his face ever since you approached him with the divorce. You know that the worst part of it all is that Jiho is caught in the crossfire, and what hurts the most is that you didn’t want him to be.

“Thank you,” Jin looks over to Taehyung before he reaches out to give him a semi-awkward hug due to the little boy in his arms. “For taking care of the both of them.”

You almost don’t catch it, but you do despite the hushed tone he takes. Your eyes dart to the ground before you head towards the door to the passenger seat, already too overwhelmed at the break of dawn.

You enter the car, taking a deep breath to even out your breathing and force your tears back. You hated yourself for crying so easily but you knew that it wasn’t just your crybaby tendencies, but it was the pent up emotions that you’ve suppressed for months resurfacing after months of repression. You catch the two men through the side-mirror in a rather intense conversation, though you don’t hear anything of what they’re saying. You know they’re not raising their voices because Jiho finds it peaceful enough to drift off into slumber.

When Taehyung catches your eyes through the side-mirror, he offers you a smile, one that you can’t quite read before he’s patting Jin on the back and giving him one last solemn look.

He’s quick to set Jiho at the backseat, fastening him in the booster seat and placing a soft pillow to support his neck. Your heart both grows fond and tighter when he places a soft kiss on your son’s forehead before carefully shutting the door, quickly entering the driver’s seat as he fastens himself in.

“There’s pineapple juice and gummies, by the way,” Jin breaks the silence as your eyes snap to his figure.

“Oh.”

“I know you don’t like travelling without them,” he mentions while he simultaneously setting up the GPS.

“I—thank you,” you reply softly, eyes dropping to the middle console, and in fact, spotting your favourite brand of pineapple juice and gummies sitting comfortably, waiting for your consumption.

You swallow, deciding against digging in immediately.

“My phone’s already connected to the Bluetooth so you can play any song,” he tells you, “The password’s the same.”

Your breath hitches. His password, the one he’s kept since college even if you’ve berated him for it on multiple occasions because of how predictable it was. Your anniversary date, the day when he first asked you to be his girlfriend. Even after you got married, he never changed it to your wedding anniversary date because he didn’t need to. He was that sentimental, proposing to you on the same day as when he first asked you out.

God, what was he doing to your heart?

You don’t say anything when you reach for his phone, and it’s like the universe is dead-set on reminding you of all the memories you shared with him when you spot the picture at the back of his clear phone case.

A polaroid of the both of you on your wedding night, face smushed with cake as the two of you double over in laughter.

Don’t cry, you tell yourself.

You type in the password when Jin finally ignites the engine, pulling out of the lobby as you finally start your four-hour journey. When you scroll through his phone to find the music app, you’re also surprised to see a familiar playlist.

“You still listen to it?” you find yourself asking, despite your heart clenching again.

Jin looks over his shoulder to catch a glance at his phone that was in your hands to see what you were talking about before he nods.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “I don’t really listen to anything else.”

It’s the playlist the two of you made when you were rather drunk one night during your marriage. A random playlist filled with songs that didn’t really go well together, from upbeat tracks to mellow ballads that have your heart weeping and to R&B songs that set the mood.

It’s the millionth time that you swallow your tears, and you know it’s not going to be the last. It’s because it’s been less than twenty minutes back in close vicinity with Jin when you’re reminded that your lives are both so intertwined with one another that every aspect of his and your lives have remainders of your essences. Whether it be the scarf you precariously spotted at the back of the seat you remember leaving, or whether it was the keychain that dangles from his rearview mirror—or the damn playlist.

It was everything, and it hurt that you had to let it go.

You play a song that’s in the middle. Safe. A quiet tune that filters through the speakers as you turn the volume lower so that it wouldn’t startle your son awake.

“If you get tired halfway just let me know and I can take over,” you inform him.

You’re surprised to hear Jin scoff with a shake of his head, though when you turn to look at him, there’s a small smile on his face.

“You’re a terrible driver, so no,” he laughs.

You gasp, squinting your eyes at him.

You’ve gotten … better. Though your better was still debatably worse than the average person, it was progress nevertheless!

“I won’t get us killed,” you hiss at him, pouting as you cross your arms across your chest, “Besides, I don’t trust myself to drive if you’re not around, anyway.”

You don’t realise what you said, or the implications behind it. But you think Jin does when he flicks his eyes over to you, staring softly as you blatantly miss it to continue pouting while you stare forward, grumbling about being a better driver as he can’t take his eyes off of you.

“Don’t worry,” he says so quietly that you almost miss it, “Get some rest. I’ll drive us.”

You open your mouth to argue but the look he gives you makes you clamp your mouth shut in defeat. In all the times you’ve travelled by car with Jin, you don’t think you’ve ever driven the both of you, or even when Jiho became an addition to the family, because Jin was always so insistent on doing the heavy loaded things.

It was something that both annoyed you, but you were grateful for. You knew when Jin offered to do stereotypically husband things such as carrying the groceries, building furniture or driving you everywhere—it never came from a place where he believed you couldn’t do it. He knew you could because whenever he wasn’t around you did those things yourself, and dare you say, even better than him (with the exception of the driving). It was because he wanted to do these things for you, to have you worry about nothing but just yourself, him and Jiho.

The thoughts plague your mind, and suddenly everything is bitter again. You almost deluded yourself into thinking that things were normal and this was a normal family trip. But it wasn’t. Because you were inevitably going to get divorced, once he signed those papers.

“Hey, Jin?” you call.

He hums noncommittally as you fiddle with your fingers.

“When are you going to sign the papers?”

The question stills in the tense air, and you don’t catch the way his shoulders lock into position at your question.

“Soon,” he says curtly.

You nod your head slowly, eyes drifting out the window as you keep your sigh to yourself.

Yeah, it’d be over soon.

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

“You’re going the wrong way.”

“I’m literally following the GPS,” he says dryly.

“Then the GPS is wrong,” you snap, “The service is horrible here—god—make a left.”

“I’m not going to be listening to a person who gets mixed up with East and West,” he deadpans.

“That was like—ages ago! I’ve changed!”

“Not taking the chance,” he snorts, going against your very orders of turning left as he makes a right, shooting you a smug look over his shoulder as you glare at him.

“Pull over, I’m driving because I clearly don’t remember taking this road the last time.”

“Roads change, ____,” he groans, “Infrastructure and public goods! It’s government-funded so our tax money damn well better be used for good.”

“Still,” you say petulantly, “You’ve been driving the entire time—it’s time to switch.”

“I never agreed to that,” he says pointedly as you hear your son humming along to the song, giggling every once in a while when you’d get particularly frustrated with Jin.

“You’re going to cramp,” you say.

“I won’t,” he sighs before looking over to you, then into your lap where the gummies lay. “How about you feed me instead?”

You still at the suggestion, the rather intimate one in fact. Though you’ve done this a million times before, bickering during road trips and feeding him—it feels different now. But you know your son is watching, even if he doesn’t understand the severity of the situation, and you didn’t want to throw him off.

“Keep your eyes on the road,” you grumble before pouring out some gummies into your hand and shoving it towards him.

His eyes briefly cast downwards before ignoring your hand, eyes returning to the road as you gawk at his blatant dismissal.

“Um, hello?” you say in disbelief, “Gummies?”

You wiggle your hand in front of his face but he’s still ignoring you, a somewhat smug expression on his face as you scowl even further.

“Do you want gummies or not?” You snap.

“I do,” he shrugs, “I asked you to feed me, didn’t I?”

You give him a bland look.

“They’re literally right there.”

“You know what feeding means, right?” he sighs dramatically, “You do that with Jiho. You know—feeding someone. Putting food in their mouth.”

“I’ll put something in your mouth all right,” you grit as he grins, “My fist.”

“Please,” he whines as you roll your eyes, “My hands are on the steering wheel. You’re always telling me to keep two hands on the wheel yet you’re making me feed myself?” He pouts and you can’t believe this is a thirty-five-year-old man that’s speaking. “That hardly seems—”

You’ve had enough of his complaints as you begrudgingly smack your hand towards his mouth, effectively feeding him a gummy as he nearly chokes while his eyes bulge out of his sockets.

“Ow!—what the f—?” you glare at him at his near slip up as he clears his throat, “That hurt.”

“Oh, really,” you hum blandly, “Would you like another?” You smile plastically at him as he pouts.

“Yes please, but spare my lips,” he mutters.

You roll your eyes but listen to him anyway. You didn’t want to startle him into swerving off the road so you feed him the next gummy gentler. But you’ve underestimated Jin’s ability to be exasperating as he ends up biting your finger in retaliation for your previous stunt.

“Ow!” you hiss, glaring at him as you go to flick his forehead.

All he does is snicker, even if he does manage to dodge your finger.

“Revenge,” he says childishly, sticking a tongue out at you.

“You’re so annoying,” you seethe.

“You love it,” he smiles over his shoulder—and you freeze.

He realises what he’s said only when he spots your frozen expression. He’s about to rectify the mistake and dissipate the tension that arose, but your son is intercepting before Jin can make the shot.

“Love!” he giggles, innocent and childlike, “Love mama and daddy.”

Your eyes filter to the back as you see your son giggling, cheeks bulged as he smiles widely at you. For a split second, you’re reminded of Jin when he was a toddler, with puffy cheeks and a cheeky grin as your eyes soften at him. He really did look like Jin, much to your initial disappointment when he looked more like Jin’s child than your own. Even if your parents and in-laws said that Jiho had your eyes.

“Love you, bubs,” you coo, reaching out to squeeze his chubby fingers as he smiles wider.

“Love you,” Jin replies as well, eyes soft when he catches his son’s expression through the rearview mirror.

“Say it!” he babbles, huffing as you raise a brow.

“Love you, Jiho—”

“No no no,” he harrumphs, cutely folding his arms across his chest as you attempt to figure out what his toddler mind was getting at. “Each other—mama and daddy.”

You get it soon enough, and your expression drops completely as you feel the anxiety rise in your throat.

You were getting a divorce. Your son had no idea. He asked you to declare your love to Jin. Why did you feel oddly targeted right now, by a four-year-old, no less!

“Jiho—” you laugh, attempting to distract him but your son is persistent.

“Mama,” he scolds with a frown and you curse yourself for giving him the one trait of your own that you couldn’t bear to deal with yourself, “Say.”

You glance over to Jin who’s already giving you a passing look, a rather earnest expression marring his face as you clear your throat. Suddenly, everything’s more intense, and all you can see is his face. There was a time where the two of you abused your I love you’s that it was the first thing you heard in the morning and the last thing you heard at night. So why was it so difficult now? Why was it difficult to tell a little white lie in front of your son?

Perhaps it’s because the love never disappeared, from your end at least. And maybe that’s why all of this is all the more painful.

Before your son can throw a tantrum at your silence, Jin is reaching over the console to grasp your hand in his in a familiar manner as he brings your knuckle up to his lips and presses a gentle kiss to it.

When your head turns to him with your eyes wide in shock, he doesn’t break eye contact even as you’re about to yell at him for not looking at the road.

“Love you,” he whispers, and you don’t know if Jiho had even heard it with how soft he’s said it, but you think he does because he stops whining.

All you can do is stare at him, especially at how earnestly the confession leaves his lips. But you remember that it’s fruitless to keep hope, to have your heart flutter at his low voice—because the divorce papers existed, and it’s the first time in a while that you’ve heard it, and it was only because your son demanded so.

You pull your hand away, albeit roughly as your eyes dart out the window to distract yourself, to suck up the tears again.

You’re looking away quick enough that you don’t catch the crestfallen expression on Jin’s face.

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

“Jiho-yah,” Jin’s mother immediately runs up to your son rather than greet you or Jin as your son excitedly receives the hug, squeezing into his grandmother’s arms as he lifts him up.

“Halmeoni,” he giggles, “Miss you!”

Your face softens as you see the way Jin’s mother presses wet smooches on both of your son’s cheeks, accompanied slowly by your father-in-law, who’s far more mellowed down than his wife, as he greets you with a wide grin.

“Is this a way to greet your father-in-law?” He jokes when you simply smile at him as you roll your eyes at his light jibe.

“Come here,” you sigh playfully, opening your arms to embrace him as you feel the comfort of a familiar father figure.

“Yes, let’s ignore your actual son, right?” Jin snorts, huffing as he lugs your belongings onto the porch.

His mother’s ears perk up as she shoots him a stern glare that still doesn’t fail to have him cowering. Mother’s really are terrifying when they wanted to be.

“At least she responds to messages,” his mother narrows her eyes at him as Jin smiles meekly in response, probably regretting his words, “I know you’re grown but I’m still your mother—I’ll take you out of that damned company and put you under house arrest."

“Mom,” he exasperates, ears flushed as you snicker at him.

“House arrest?” Jiho repeats, confused.

You pick him up before pressing a kiss in between his brows to soothe the furrow.

“Daddy’s being dumb,” you explain.

“Gang up on me, all right,” Jin snorts, already heading towards the door to bring your stuff in.

His father pats him on the back before shooting him a pointed look.

“A word of advice son,” he murmurs with a low voice, “you’re never right. Your wife is.”

Jin sighs, and you can’t help the amused grin that makes its way onto your face. Even if he had referred to you as his wife—and you knew that it wouldn’t be the case for long, it feels nice to be with them again, even if your utopia would eventually get destroyed.

“The guest room on the second floor is for the kids,” his mother informs, “Jin’s cousins are bringing their children along as well so Jiho won’t be alone.”

You smile gratefully towards her as you guide Jiho towards the home, while the rest of them follow slowly behind.

When you enter, you’re immediately greeted by Jin’s older brother, another familiar figure that you’re grinning widely at as he enthusiastically extends his arms that you immediately jump into.

Jiho’s following close by, tiny figure wrapping around his uncle’s legs as Seokjung picks the little one up with ease.

“Ah, my favourite sister,” he coos playfully, pinching your cheek as you roll your eyes.

“Your only sister,” you correct pointedly.

He’s always referred to you as his sister, even before you married Jin—purely because he was there for you like an older brother was. Since he was two years older than Jin, meaning he was five years older than you, he always looked out for you and took care of you when you were children—and you were immensely grateful for that.

“Semantics,” he waves you off before pressing a kiss to Jiho’s cheek, “Missed you, buddy.”

“You too samchon,” Jiho quips back cheerfully, “Noona?”

He’s referring to Ah-reum, and Seokjung only grins wider.

“She’s coming in two days,” he informs in a hushed whisper, “I’m going to propose to her.”

Jiho tilts his head to the side cutely in confusion.

“Pro-propose?” He mumbles as you laugh softly, patting his head in fondness.

“I want to marry noona,” he whispers with a wink.

“Like—mama? Daddy?” he gasps.

“Like mama and daddy,” Seokjung nods as you swallow.

You look away, feeling like a fraud, especially when at that very moment, Jin brushes up against you with a gentle hand to the small of your back that you flinch at. The look he sends you is concerned, but you know it’s because of what his brother had said. Of course, it was, it couldn’t be anything else.

“Come Jiho,” you say softly, “Let’s get you into your room, yeah?”

He nods eagerly before you’re shooting Seokjung an apologetic smile.

“Hey,” he calls right as you turn, Jin close by your side. “Are you … are you okay?”

The question makes you freeze for a moment as you attempt to school your face and power through the grimace that almost appears.

“Of course,” you clip, “Don’t worry about me. You’ve got a girlfriend to propose to,” you say through a tight smile before squeezing his shoulder before you’re turning on your heel, face immediately dropping.

Jin almost chases after you, but he decides against it when you distract yourself by fiddling with the hem of your son’s pants. It was a habit of yours, finding solace in your son because he’d never do you or anyone wrong, though you could’ve been biased because you played a part in creating him and pushing him out of your vagina.

He wouldn’t do you wrong, you think as he mumbles about marriage under his breath. You really wished he wasn’t so curious.

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

“I forgot how big your family was,” you say a little breathlessly as you escape the fifth aunt of the hour asking about your life and work. That was fine, small talk was okay. Not asking when baby number two was coming along when you were divorcing their precious nephew.

“Sorry,” Jin winces, moving over so that you could plop onto the rattan chair, “it gets bigger every year because of the kids.”

You know that’s true because, for some reason, Jin’s family was as fertile as a fertility clinic. You were sure that they could single-handedly repopulate the human species if Thanos really did snap half the universe away. It’s also probably the reason why Jin managed to get you pregnant three months into your marriage, four years ago.

“Jiho’s trying to break up an argument between the twins,” you sigh when you tilt your head ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of your son helplessly standing in the middle of two older kids as they banter back and forth. Your son was too sweet for his own good, but it was also way too amusing to see his eyebrows furrow as he attempts to get their attention.

“Maybe we should tell our son to not waste his time doing impossible things,” he snorts.

“It’s good character development,” you reason, “It’ll teach him to acknowledge his potential.”

Jin shoots you a dry look before turning his head to the scene where the twins were now tugging at each other’s locks like they were in the tug of war as your son can only watch the scene unfold. You really should tell him that that wasn’t how you resolved conflict, even if their parents humourlessly stand by and allow it to happen.

“I’m not giving our son ammunition for his villain origin story,” he scoffs, “I’m going there—”

“Relax,” you stop him from moving any further with a gentle hand to his bicep out of habit, even if your brain stutters for a split second as you clear your throat, “Your mom’s got him.”

As you’d also like to call her, the heroine of the day, Jin’s mother picks up her grandson before cooing something that you can’t hear from how far you are. You’re thankful when she makes eye contact with you, offering a wink before she’s showing him off to her family members.

The sight makes your heart fond because everyone seemed to love Jiho, you really don’t blame them. You fell in love with Jiho before he was born and you would love him until you didn’t know love anymore. You never knew that being a mother would be this monumental for you, in fact, you never knew if you wanted children anyway.

But when things were … brighter. Jin was the only reason you needed. Then, you wouldn’t have wanted to do this parenting thing with anyone else. The bitter thought of co-parenting plagues your mind and the anxiety of attempting to explain the situation to your son doesn’t ease your nerves at all. Even thinking about telling Jin’s family has you feeling nauseous—you were the real villain. The heartbreaker of it all.

“It’s been a while,” he says, snapping you out of your thoughts as you blink up at him.

“Sorry?”

“It’s been a while since we,” he looks down to his cup before throwing back the last bit of orange juice in it, “Since we had a vacation.”

You snort, “I’d hardly call this a vacation. There are screaming kids and your brother is having ten mental breakdowns a day before the actual proposal.”

“I mean, I guess,” he shrugs, “We just haven’t had the time—to take one. This is nice.”

You don’t know what he’s implying but you know it makes your heart clench at the insinuation. You almost wanted to bitterly add that you tried to make time despite your own busy schedule. It was him that put it off. It was him that didn’t have the time.

“Yeah,” you say quietly, too tired to fight, “It is.”

“Why”—he hesitates for a second as his eyebrows furrow while you raise a brow at the sudden jerk of his tone—“why did you suggest—?”

“Jin?”

Your head turns, and you recognise the voice before you see the approaching figure and you already feel sick to your stomach. Not because you knew what Jin was going to say before he was cut off, but because of the person that comes into your vision. You should’ve seen it coming, really, because this was Seokjung’s engagement party and it wouldn’t make sense if—

“Chahee?” Jin greets in confusion before he’s being pulled into a tight embrace.

“Don’t be a stranger,” she whines, “Weren’t you going to come to say hi?”

Your jaw ticks as you look away from the scene before you.

When there was you and Jin, there was also Chahee and Jin. They’ve never dated, though you knew that if the opportunity presented itself, she’d be the first person up in line anyway. But with every relationship, also came with relationship troubles and unfortunately for you, Chahee was the instigator for most of your relationship insecurities with Jin.

It’s because you weren’t the only person that was a constant in Jin’s life—she was too.

Of course, she’d be here, and of course, she’d still look at Jin with a determination to make him hers. Even if you’re here, face blank as you wait and see if she’d actually acknowledge you this time.

“I,” he swallows, eyes darting to you, fully aware of what her presence implies. But your head is trained to the side, pointedly ignoring it for the sake of your sanity. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

She scoffs as if he’s said something absurd, which in retrospect, he did—because clearly, she’d be here. Where he goes, she’ll try her best to be there.

“Of course, I am!” She chirps, “It’s Seokjung’s big day—and besides, I missed you.”

You nearly roll your eyes to the back of your head and the audacity of this fucking chick. Sure, you were divorcing him, but to everyone else—you were his wife. And you were very much still together, even if it felt like it’s ended months ago.

“It’s good to see you,” he smiles politely, not making much effort to pull away when she rubs at the back of his neck. You’d clock her if you weren’t civilised, but instead, you take a sip of your drink and hope it doesn’t end up in her face.

“You too,” she smiles flirtatiously before she decides to finally acknowledge you. You think it’s a new record. “____, you’re here.”

She sounds much less enthusiastic than before, and you don’t blame her—nor do you plaster a smile on your face. Instead, you tilt the drink up to her and nod your head, giving her a less than a satisfactory greeting. You couldn’t even bother clarifying the obvious because you were Seokjung’s sister-in-law, Jin’s wife; and the mother to the adorable boy who’s currently stealing the show. Silence was a pettier option.

Her fake smile drops when she realises that you weren’t bothered, and you’re glad she doesn’t attempt to be plastic with you anymore when you’re fully aware that she’d sleep with Jin if given the chance.

“What’s up with her?” You hear her mutter to him as you roll your eyes, pushing yourself up to leave the two of them alone.

Alarmed, Jin hastily grabs your arm before you can leave, “She’s—uh, not feeling well.”

“I’m feeling—”

“Acting up at a family event?” Chahee scoffs. You would seriously slap her.

“Listen—” you sigh.

“Pregnancy,” Jin blurts as you nearly stumble from how flabbergasted you are, “You know hormones—not easy.”

You would seriously slap him too.

“You’re … pregnant?” she says slowly, jaw slackening as you see her eyes darken.

“Don’t listen—”

“We need to get you indoors,” Jin smiles tightly, “The sun—yeah. Not good for the baby.”

Before you can even get another word in, Jin’s dragging you into the house as you yelp, spotting the last glare that Chahee sends you before she’s downing the alcoholic beverage in one-go and stomping off somewhere.

When you’re settled into a private corner in the kitchen, only then do you yank away your arm from Jin with a menacing glare.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you snap.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he sighs, “She was—she’s crazy.”

“And you had to be crazy too?” you ask incredulously, “How the fuck would telling her that I’m pregnant solve anything?”

“It’s to get her to back off!” he hisses.

“If a baby would get her to back off then she would’ve done that when I was pregnant with Jiho,” you say dryly.

“I panicked, okay,” he exasperates.

You scowl.

“Well fix it,” you snap, “We’re getting divorced, Jin. Chahee’s going to run her mouth and if it gets to any of your family members then there’s no way we can break our split to them.”

You sound much more bitter than you’d anticipated, but who would sound neutral or happy when speaking about a divorce? With someone you still cared deeply about, no less. But you’re slightly surprised when you see Jin’s face harden at the reminder.

“Is that what you care about?” he blinks.

You give him a weird look before sighing, turning your back to him as you find yourself a glass to pour some water.

“Jin, it’s due time,” you sigh, “I don’t want to make this harder for your family—”

“For them,” he laughs humourlessly, “You’re thinking about how the divorce is going to be hard for them.”

You blink at his sharp tone.

“… yes?” you say slowly, “We grew up together, Jin. Obviously the divorce would crush them.”

“You”—he blinks—“you’re thinking about them but you didn’t for one second to wonder how I felt?”

You freeze.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah,” he exhales with a tight chuckle, “You really decided that it was over by yourself, didn’t you?”

You don’t appreciate his tone, nor do you appreciate the accusation. Not when you’ve spent literal months and sleepless nights agonising over your decision while you mulled every possible solution, crying over the demise and when you finally decided to take that step forward. You don’t appreciate it—especially when you did your best.

“You didn’t say anything!” you seethe. “You never say anything! You took the damn papers and flipped through to them like it was one of your business contracts.” “How did you expect me to react?” he exclaims, throwing his hands into the air as his voice raises. “I was caught off-guard!"

You scoff, “Really? That’s your excuse?” You narrow your eyes at him as you jab a finger into his chest. “Don’t give me shit for not considering how you felt when you’ve given me no indication that you gave a shit about this marriage at all.”

“Of course I give a shit about this marriage!” He says in disbelief.

“Do you, Seokjin?” you say bitterly, and the name returns along with the drop in his expression. “You don’t. I don’t know what you feel about anything anymore. It’s stopped being a marriage a long time ago. The divorce would’ve come either way.” You finish in a whisper.

“And you decided that for us?” ye snaps.

“Yes, Seokjin, I did,” you sneer, “I decided for us because we don’t even talk anymore. Every time I try to reach out to you—I took ten steps backwards from where I started and I can’t do this anymore. I can’t continue feeling like a placeholder in this marriage instead of your wife.”

“You’re not—” his eyes soften as he reaches out to you while you flinch, eyes darting to the ground.

“Don’t,” you whisper harshly, “Don’t you dare comfort me now, Kim Seokjin. Not when it took the actual divorce for you to be apologetic.”

The kitchen is silent, and it’s deafening, especially when the outside chatter filters in through the slips of the divider. You know they can’t see you through the tinted windows, but it’s a stark contrast with how people are outside laughing while your marriage falls apart under the same roof.

“So that’s it?” he says softly, “Ten years of dating and four years of marriage?”

“Don’t you dare,” you repeat again, weaker, “I wanted this to work out more than anyone else.”

“Then why aren’t you fighting,” he hisses, stepping closer as he attempts to get you to look at him.

You can’t.

“I’ve been fighting,” you return vehemently, though your resolve is weak at best. “I’ve been fighting on my own for the past four months to save this marriage and you—you just …” your eyes flutter shut as you feel the first tear fall. You don’t want to look at him. “You didn’t fight, Seokjin. You were the one that did this to us.”

“____,” he calls your name.

You step away, furiously swiping under your eyes as you attempt to keep the last few bits of your tears back.

“No more burdens, Seokjin,” you smile sadly, “Stop making this harder than it has to be and sign the papers.”

“I—”

“You should go look for Chahee,” you say softly, and you know your words are purposeful with its double-meaning.

You’re already excusing yourself to your room, the godforsaken room you were forced to share with Jin before you catch the way his face drops completely.

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

It’s been radio silent between you and Jin ever since your conversation from yesterday, and you’re both thankful and frustrated. It’s proven difficult to maintain an amicable distance from him when you were meant to be in love and married, along with your son who’s none the wiser.

Seokjung’s nervously pacing back and forth in the living room, but it’s not because of how large his family is—or that he has an audience to please with his grand show. It’s the prospect of proposing to Ah-reum, even if he was madly in love with her.

Right now, he’s not listening to anyone, even his own mother, the same person that would play the level-headed role in situations like these. It’s almost concerning when he mutters incoherencies under his breath, a slip-of the tongue that revealed his fear and desire to leave.

Your eyes widen as you walk towards the anxious man, leaving Jiho with your father-in-law who only smiles at you gratefully.

“Hey,” you say softly, reaching out to clasp his shoulder as he nearly stumbles from being startled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine,” he exhales, rubbing a hand across his face before his eyes are nervously darting towards the door where Ah-reum could enter at any moment, according to his cousin, “God—I’m going to puke."

“You’re okay,” you reassure him gently, eyes searching for his as he nearly doubles over in anxiety, “You’re good.”

“Am I?” he chokes, “God, I haven’t felt this nervous ever since I had to submit my Master’s thesis.”

You snort, even if you pat his back affectionately.

“It’s normal to feel nervous,” you promise.

“Is it?” he says softly, “I love her—I do. But … but why does this feel so scary?”

You give him a small smile while he peers up at you with panicked eyes. Despite him being relatively older than you were, he looked very much like his younger self right now. Nerves and wide-eyes as he contemplates a decision that would very much change the course of his life.

“It’s because you love her you’re scared,” you explain, “Change will always feel scary, and proposing to Ah-reum is a huge change in your life. Nothing will make this easier, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t worth it. Once you overcome that initial barrier, you’re going to thank yourself for taking that leap of faith.”

He groans, cradling his face into his hands as your eyes widen alarm, afraid if you said the wrong thing.

“You know,” he says suddenly, eyes darting up, “It’s a little reassuring to know that Jin went through this before I did.”

At the mention of his brother, your hand tenses on his shoulder—but you don’t think he notices. Or at least you hope he doesn’t.

“Way to throw your brother under the bus,” you chuckle.

“No, really,” he snorts, shaking his head fondly as if he was recalling those days. “You know, at first I thought it was too early for him to be proposing.”

Your eyes widen at the new set of information.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he says breathlessly, “Don’t tell him I told you that, though. He’d kill me,” he says in a low whisper as you laugh, a little sadly purely because he didn’t have to worry about that. You weren’t even talking to Jin. “I knew the two of you were endgame—but getting married? That’s next-level commitment.”

“I mean,” you say bashfully, eyes darting to the ground.

“But now, looking back …” he trails off wistfully, “It made sense.”

He’s the second person who’s told you that within the span of the past week and you’re left more conflicted than ever. His words came during a time where you were contemplating on splitting up with Jin, so you have no idea what to feel, especially when you’ve convinced yourself that the divorce was the decision that made sense.

“Everyone keeps saying that,” you mumble.

Seokjung snorts, “Because it’s true. You ground each other, you know?” He murmurs with a smile, “I mean more so you to him,” he finishes as you giggle at his hushed whisper.

“I’m clearly the more level-headed one,” you say jokingly with a small smile.

“Yeah,” he agrees easily as the two of you share a laugh. “Early or late, the two of you are meant for each other.”

You ignore the way your heart pangs, the reminder that you once thought that was the case too until reality hit you hard.

“Maybe we did get married too early,” you mention quietly.

Seokjung raises a brow at your statement, and you realise the little slip-up too late as you purse your lips in a moment of panic.

“Are the two of you okay?” he asks with a concerned gaze, taking your hand into his.

You let out a shaky breath before smiling at him, the gesture not quite reaching your eyes.

“Don’t worry about us,” you tell him, “It’s your day.”

He frowns.

“Yeah, but you’re my sister and he’s my—”

“I’m fine,” you say curtly, realising your tone as his face drops before you sigh. “I—I am, really. Please don’t worry about us, okay? You’ve got a girlfriend to propose to.”

You nudge him on the shoulder to cock your head towards the door where you see his aunt frantically waving her arms, indicating that Ah-reum was near, and all retort that was about to leave his lips dies on his tongue as his eyes widen while he vigorously pats down his pants to search for the ring.

“God—fuck, shit godamnit,” he curses, fumbling ever so slightly as you giggle, squeezing his shoulder one last time before you’re shooting him a thumbs up along with a cheeky grin.

Good luck, you mouth—but he doesn’t see it.

The door opens and Ah-reum enters; Seokjung cries before he can get the words out but she knows. She knows because they’re in love.

You suppose love makes you know things. You look away because you’re starting to cry too, and when you do—you search for Jin on instinct, but he’s already looking at you.

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

“Did daddy cry when proposing to mama?” Jiho asks Jin innocently when you’re close enough to catch it.

“No,” Jin says honestly, brushing a stray hair away from his face as Jiho snuggles into his chest. His sigh is clear as day. “Was too happy to cry."

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

“Hey,” you whisper, nudging Jin with your knuckles as he stirs in his sleep, groggily fluttering his eyes open as you shoot him an apologetic smile.

“____?”

“Your back,” you say quietly, “Sleep on the bed.”

“But—”

“I’m not sleeping yet,” you say before your eyes are darting to anywhere but the face you yearn to hold. “Just … please. It’d make me feel a lot better if you were sleeping on your own bed than on this couch.”

He doesn’t argue with you, likely too exhausted from the events of the day to find it in him to challenge you like usual. You’re thankful for the sense of normalcy, even if you’re still tiptoeing around him. Even if the remnants of your conversation is the reason why you’ve encountered yet another sleepless night.

You don’t tell him this because it’s been months since you’ve confided him. Telling him what was bothering you didn’t fit in the context of your situation right now, and besides—he was too tired. He needed to drive.

Jin stumbles off the couch and you’re grateful that the room you were sharing had a couch inside, to begin with. You had no idea how to explain the fact that you and your husband weren’t sharing a bed to your in-laws, and you didn’t want to. It saved the hassle.

(Even if he’d take a part of you to sleep every night when he rests his head against the throw pillow than on the bed.)

He shuffles into the room, quietly shutting the door behind him to not wake anyone else up. The kids' room was a good distance away, but some of them had really acute hearing and he likely didn’t want to risk that. You didn’t need to spend another half an hour trying to get Jiho to sleep.

You sigh deeply, brushing a hand through your hair as your feet takes you towards the second-floor kitchen (and yes, Jin’s family was that wealthy to have a kitchen attached to each floor) as you prepare yourself a cup of hot milk. It’s a drink you’ve made over and over throughout the years, the same brand of carton milk always remains in the fridge—and you knew it was about the Kim’s had relatively picky eating habits.

It’s different this time because you’re making one instead of two, a lone cup that’s usually accompanied by another makes you sadder. It makes your heart hurt all over again and you’re exhausted. You’re drained but you can’t sleep because your body remains active due to the way that your mind runs miles.

You focus on the milk because maybe it’ll hurt less when you don’t think. But it doesn’t—because the stupid fucking milk only reminds you of him. The man in his room, snoozing away while you lose sleep all over again.

You’re momentarily absorbed in the way that the residue from the milk swirls in the cup to notice or hear the shuffling of feet beside you, but it’s too late because when you turn you nearly scream.

“Sorry.”

You’re surprised to see Jin’s mother standing there as you place a hand to your chest to ease your racing heart.

“I nearly screamed,” you confess, shaking your head as she smiles apologetically at you.

“I tend to do that,” she says, “My husband’s always telling me I move like I’m avoiding a footprint.”

You laugh at that, not disagreeing as you mindlessly stir your drink.

“It’s late, eomeonim,” you say with a concerned look, “Is everything okay?”

She gives you a kind smile before she looks over her shoulder.

“Heard something in the kitchen and woke up,” she tells you as your face grimaces in embarrassment, “Shall we head to the office to talk?”

You nod your head mutely, unsure on why she’s decided to stay away even if it nearly approaches two am, but you don’t argue with her. Instead, she guides you towards the study, a comfortable room where you can speak freely without worrying too much about waking others. Your thoughts run a lot more liberally in here, despite the ache in your chest.

You take a seat on the couch, noting that it’s changed. You haven’t been here in a while, yet it remained homey with a much-needed replacement.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly, “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

She waves you off.

“I couldn’t sleep anyway,” she says.

Your eyebrows furrow in concern. “Is there something wrong?”

She sighs, staring wistfully to the side as you see her throat move as she swallows. The longer the silence ensues, the antsier you grew. Was she okay? Did something happen to her? Is she—?

“You and Jin are getting a divorce.”

You nearly drop your glass as you spill some of the contents on your t-shirt, hissing at the stain. But you can’t even be bothered to reach for a tissue to clean at it when you’re looking up with a horrified expression to meet your mother-in-law's face.

“I—eomeonim—how?” you splutter, cheeks flushed in mortification.

“I overheard the two of you,” she says simply, “And Jin left his laptop open and I saw an email from Jimin regarding the papers.”

You don’t know what to say because you’re absolutely mortified. More importantly, you feel ashamed. Ashamed because she found out due to you and Jin’s shouting in the kitchen and his carelessness. Not from you yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, emotions slowly overwhelming you as she looks at you with an unreadable expression.

“Why are you apologising, my sweet girl?” she says softly, immediately reaching out to you to wrap her arms around you as a mother would. And right now, she wasn’t your mother-in-law—but a woman who’s seen you grow alongside her own two children. You weren’t disappointing your mother-in-law but your second mother.

“I-I’m s-sorry,” you choke, tears immediately falling the tighter she holds you, “I-I’m s-so sorry. I-I tried—I didn’t—want to but—I-I’m sorry.”

Your words are slurred the harder you cry, pathetically shoving your face into her shoulder as she holds you. The dam breaks, unleashing the emotions you’ve held in for so long in the arms of a mother. She doesn’t say anything but brushes your hair, holding you a little tighter when your tears stain her nightgown.

You don’t know why you’re crying so hard. Maybe it’s because it seems all too real now, with Jin’s mother knowing. Her words only solidify the fact that your marriage was nearly over and you couldn’t do anything. The ghost of Jin’s words from a day earlier still remain clear to you, and maybe—it was really your fault.

You decided it was over.

“____,” she calls you softly as you continue to sniffle in her arms, frustrated at the fact that your tears weren’t stopping. “Look at me, dear.”

You force yourself to obey even if you can’t bear to, the humiliation of her finding out this way still tormenting you.

“I’m sorry, eom—”

“Please don’t say sorry,” she holds your face in her hands, forcing your puffy eyes to look at her.

“But it’s,” you choke, unable to look at her without wanting to cry. “It’s—my fault.”

“It’s not your fault,” she replies vehemently, swiping at your tears for you, “It’s not your fault.” She repeats in a softer tune.

“I wanted the divorce, eomeonim,” your lips wobble when you speak, words shakily escaping past your lips, “It’s all my fault.”

“I’m sorry,” she says instead as you nearly knock your forehead with hers at how fast you try to pull away, appalled that she was the one apologising.

“Why are you—?” your brows furrow in confusion when she holds onto you a little tighter.

“I’m not just Jin’s mother or your mother-in-law,” she says softly, “I’m a person and I see that you’re hurting. I’m apologising because you don’t deserve this.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as your eyes look up to the ceiling to stop your tears.

“I know mothers-in-law will side with their son,” she says, “But I won’t. Because Jin made a mistake and now you’re suffering because of him.”

“It’s not his fault,” you reply quietly.

You know that you blamed him earlier, but deep down—you could never blame Jin. You were the one that brought forward the divorce, and if you decided to keep fighting then maybe … maybe it wouldn’t hurt this much.

“I don’t know,” she sighs, “I don’t want to invalidate your feelings, that’s the last thing I want to do but …” she trails off as you stare at her expectantly, “I don’t know who he is without you, ____.”

You bite your lips to prevent yourself from crying again.

“Please don’t think of this as me trying to convince you to stay with him,” she begs, “If you’re unhappy, I rather you leave him than punish yourself.” You nod your head, eyes darting to your lap as she continues. “But I spoke to Jin.”

Your eyes immediately dart up in surprise as your eyes widen.

“You—?”

“Right after,” she continues softly, “I caught him before he went to bed and …” her eyes begin to water and you think you’re about to break again. “I haven’t seen him cry since your wedding day.”

Her confession knocks the wind out of you as you find yourself gasping, tears immediately leaving your eyes. The realisation that Jin cried, to his mother makes your heart clench. You knew that Jin wasn’t much of a crier himself—he didn’t even cry when Jiho was born. Nor was he the type to cry in front of his mother. He held his ego at a high level even if that irked you at times, so the news only makes you more devastated.

“I don’t know what he said to you per se,” she whispers, “But he loves you. He loves you so much—and that goddamn idiot doesn’t know how to do anything but work and I’m sorry for that. I shouldn’t be apologising on my son’s behalf but I want to. I want to because I love you as my daughter and I want to see you happy.”

“Eomeonim …” you croak, reaching your hand up to cover hers that lay on your face.

“Please, if you call me that I think I’m going to bawl,” she laughs quietly as you find yourself giggling along, despite the way it gets stuck in your throat. “My son is stupid. So stupid. Please—please talk to him. If it …” she swallows, “If it doesn’t work out—I’ll support you, either way. Just please, don’t leave whatever questions you have unanswered.”

You nod your head, chest feeling slightly lighter but burdened nevertheless.

“I will,” you say softly, “I promise.”

You walk her back to her room after, hugging her tightly at her door as she pushes past it, sniffling ever so slightly before retreating into the dark room.

You make your way quietly back to your room, mind weighed with different thoughts plaguing every crevice of your brain. You didn’t know what to make of her confession or statement. You wanted to believe her that Jin still loved you—but you didn’t know. You couldn’t know because you don’t remember the last time he held you, or maybe you did and it was months ago.

Your feet stop right in front of the door as you hesitate to reach for the knob. He was asleep, anyway. You decide to push, slowly turning as you slip into the dark room.

It wasn’t dark.

And Jin was awake.

He’s awake and sat in his bed, something resting on his lap as he uses the nightlight beside him to flip through it. He hears the intrusion as you stand, frozen, and his eyes lift to meet yours.

You think this is the first time in a while that you’ve seen him like this, in bed and comfortable with a slight puffiness to his eyes while his shirt remains wrinkled—the proof of his comfort. Your heart clenches because you missed this—missed returning to him in bed, soft and warm as you press against him.

And the dam breaks for the second time that night.

You don’t know what compels you to run to him, or allow him to hold you while you sob into his arms—but you do. You practically leap onto him, body curling pathetically into his side as he holds you like he’s afraid you’d slip away. He lets you cry your eyes out, he lets you cry until snot is unattractively running down your nose and staining his t-shirt. He lets you, because he hasn’t let you feel him for a long time.

You instantly melt into his hold, missing his warmth. And when your eyes briefly fall into his lap to get a glimpse of what he was staring at, you cry even harder.

It was a banner you made for his twenty-ninth birthday, right after the two of you got married. Your then favourite pictures of Jin stained every surface of the banner, some edges wearing off due to age—and you remember each moment so vividly.

From taking a picture of him when he was taking a picture of you, to when he was making you breakfast in the morning, to his birthday as you smashed cake into his face, the flowers he got you when he broke your favourite cup, your fishing trip—everything. You remember it.

You sob harder, clutching onto his t-shirt as he tucks your face into the crook of his neck, pressing a soft kiss into your hair. You were so tired of crying but it was all you could do.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers after your sobs turn into tireless chokes, “I’m so sorry.”

“I hate you,” you cry, hitting his chest while he lets you, “Why are you so stupid.”

“I know,” he sighs, “I’m stupid. Hate me. Do anything you want to me.”

“I-I”—you croak, still slamming your fists into his chest weakly as you helplessly flutter your eyes shut—“I don’t hate you.” You finish quietly, your truth surfacing as you note that his eyes soften at your defeated tone.

Your emotions are everywhere and frankly, you can’t really think with how you’re pressed against his body like you never wanted him to let go. Right now, you didn’t. You wanted to be held, vulnerable and teary while he soothes you with his gentle touches.

You can’t stop the tears, way too overwhelmed to even process the fact that Jin doesn’t shift away one bit, hand clutching the back of your head as he rubs circles against your scalp. Who were you to pull away?

You sniffle pathetically before you pull away ever so slightly, flushed and embarrassed at the sudden loss of control over your emotions.

“Are you done?” he asks softly, referring to your tears as you pull away to swipe under your eyes.

“I don’t know,” you whisper, “I still feel like crying.”

“Then cry,” he replies gently, “I’ll be here to hold you.”

You want to hit him because his words only spur the tears on.

“I just wanted you,” you whisper, “I only wanted you …” your lips wobble when you look up at him.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, “I know sorry won’t erase the pain I’ve caused you but that’s all I can offer for now.”

“Why did you—why did you just”—you sniff pathetically—“why didn’t you fight me. Why didn’t you stop me.”

“I thought it would make you happy,” he pulls away, and you both know how absurd his excuse sounds but you’re too tired to fight. “I only wanted you to be happy.”

“You idiot,” you hiss through a clogged nose, “You would’ve made me happy.” You say softly. “I wanted to be happy with you.”

“You make me happy too,” he says softly into your hair.

You’re still angry, and you’re tired. But even if there were things you were unsure about, you missed being close to Jin more than anything.

“Your mom said you were stupid,” you murmur.

He laughs quietly, pulling you closer to his chest.

“I am,” he agrees.

The silence returns but it’s no longer as suffocating as the past few days have been. It’s more reflective than not and you’re thankful, even if your eyes are uncomfortably swollen—you allow yourself to be held. The weaker part of you is unable to say no to him.

“Why …” you begin softly, eyes looking up to already see him staring at you. “Why didn’t you sign the papers?”

He blinks at you for a while before he sighs, resting his chin atop your head.

“I didn’t want it to be real,” he says so softly you almost missed it. “I thought—I thought if I dragged it out then …”

“… it wouldn’t have happened?” You finish quietly.

He groans, frustrated as your eyebrows furrow at his sudden change in demeanour.

“I know it sounds pathetic,” he admits, “I was a coward, ____. I was stressed and overwhelmed and—suddenly … you wanted a divorce, I just”—he takes a deep breath to collect himself and you’re mildly alarmed to spot his glassy eyes—“I didn’t know what to do …”

“Why didn’t you talk to me?” you ask timidly, fingers gripping his shirt tightly. There was really no need for you to cling onto him, but you couldn’t do anything else right now. Especially when he returns the gesture.

“Would you believe me if I said it’s because I didn’t want to burden you?” he brushes your hair out of your face as his hand cradles your cheek, “I wanted to be the one you could rely on and … I didn’t know what to do.”

Your face crumbles when you note the sincerity behind his voice. Rationally, you knew that a relationship required communication but you knew Jin, and you knew that he always tried to plaster this mask to the world that depicted him as a reliable and unshakable fortress. All this time … he was struggling and so were you.

The realisation only makes you sadder, and you feel all the more horrible when you remember that you brought up the divorce in the midst of all of this.

“I’m sorry!” you wail, face burying into his chest as his eyes widen.

“_____—” he murmurs.

“No—I just,” you say frantically, rushing to get your words out, afraid if you’d forget as if he’d disappear. “I didn’t know—and I thought—I thought you didn’t … I thought we were—fuck. I’m so sorry, I just wanted you—I—”

You have no idea what you’re saying but Jin doesn’t look confused. He understands, and you know that because he shoots you a gentle smile before rubbing his thumb across your cheek.

“Please don’t apologise,” he whispers, forehead resting against yours as you blink away your tears. “I don’t blame you. I could never blame you.”

“But I …” you protest.

He shushes you with a kiss to your forehead and you instantly melt into his hold.

“You did what you thought would make you happy,” he tells you honestly, “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I asked for a divorce, Jin,” you exasperate.

“Are we?”

You blink, startled as you pull away, heart nearly shattering until he grabs you by the wrist.

“Hey, no,” he whispers, “That’s not what I meant,” he cups your face in his hands as your lips wobble all over again. God—you fucking despised being a crybaby. “Look at me.”

You do, and you see how tired he looks. How have you not noticed before? His cheeks look duller, and his dark circles are more apparent than ever. You just want to reach out to touch him.

And you do. Your hand shakily reaches out to caress his face in a way that you weren’t able to for the past few months. It’s almost like a new feeling, but your fingers find their way home relatively easy, tracing each pore and wrinkle, memorising his face to memory all over again.

“Are we getting a divorce, ____?” he repeats firmly, never breaking eye contact with you.

Your lip tremble.

“I don’t—” you warble, as he leans his forehead against yours again.

“Because I don’t want a divorce,” he says, and it’s the first time he’s explicitly admitted it.

“I don’t either,” you say weakly.

“I meant it when I said I want to be with you in sickness and in health,” he whispers earnestly, breath tickling your cheek, “And till death do us apart.”

“I’m sorry, Jin,” you say timidly, eyes darting to your lap.

“Don’t apologise to me,” he says sternly, not unkindly as your eyes flutter up. “Not when I’m the one that has an entire lifetime worth of apologies to give you.”

“I just …” you trail off softly, “I just want us to be okay.”

He’s still staring at you, and there’s a pained expression behind his eyes.

“Can I kiss you?”

His question stuns you, purely because you weren’t expecting it and because you’ve nearly forgotten what it felt like to have his lips pressed against yours, or even the nervous waver of his voice when he looks at you so earnestly that you can’t find the words to respond with. So, you settle for actions instead.

You nod your head mutely, heart ramming against your chest when he begins to lean in.

You don’t remember the last time he’s kissed you, or held you, or looked at you like this. There’s a dull ache in your chest when you recall the nights you’ve spent agonising over the downfall of your marriage, but Jin distracts you from your thoughts when his lips tickle over yours.

There’s no rush this time, even as your eyes are swollen while you flutter them shut. There’s no desperation to kiss you, and you aren’t desperate to be kissed either. It’s as if the both of you wanted to savour this moment—to remember what it feels like to have almost lost. It hurt—but it was necessary. A necessary reminder to you and to Jin that fighting was tiring but it was worth it.

When he finally presses his lips to yours, you nearly cry. You immediately melt into his hold, especially when he cradles your cheek with his palm and pulls you closer to his chest.

You kiss him with a mission to tell him how much you’ve yearned for this—for him. But you’re distracted when you feel something hot against your cheek.

It’s not your tears—it’s his.

You pull away, alarmed when you realise that Jin’s body is shaking.

“Jin?” zYou clutch his shoulders, eyes searching for his as he covers his face with his shoulder, effectively shielding his tears away from you.

“I-I’m sorry,” he chokes, furiously wiping his eyes with his shirt as your face falls.

“J-Jin, please don’t—” you say shakily, going to embrace him, but to your displeasure, he refuses, breathing deeply to collect himself.

You don’t think you’ve seen Jin this uncollected ever. Not even when he was crying during your wedding. His body shakes with the ferocity of his tears, the intensity of his breaths only causes his shoulders to heave up and down and all you can do is stare at him with sad eyes.

“I know an apology won’t fix anything,” he says vehemently, managing to get some of his words out as he peers up at you with red-rimmed eyes, “But I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making you question this marriage—for—for not loving you the way you deserve.”

“Jin …” you say softly, reaching out to hold his hand as his own tears continue to fall from his eyes.

This time, it’s you who allows him to nuzzle his head into the crook of your shoulder as he sobs. It’s quieter than you, but no less painful.

“I was so scared,” he confesses, “I was terrified when you showed me the papers. I really thought—this is it. It’s over.”

You stay silent, biting your lip to stop your own tears from escaping when you recall the memory.

“I was so scared what would happen,” he croaks, “I thought I was going to lose you, forever. I thought—I thought I was going to lose Jiho.”

“I’d never do that to you,” you say shakily.

“I know,” he returns, “But I was the most afraid of who I was going to be without you.”

You look down at him when his eyes dart up, pained and sunken when he clutches your hands in his larger ones, squeezing your fingers in a way that you assume he hopes to translate his desperation. You feel it, and you squeeze back.

“You’re Kim Seokjin,” you murmur, rubbing your thumb across his chin.

“That’s just my name,” he scoffs, shaking his head, “I’m nothing without you.”

“That’s not—”

“You and Jiho were the only one’s that got me through each day, you know?” He murmurs as your heart clenches. “Every day, when another deal failed to follow through and ended up bringing losses—or when the stockholders went against me—I could only think of you and Jiho.”

You couldn’t stop the tears that return this time around, choking on your own sobs.

“I wanted so much to give you both the world that I,” he swallows, “That I got greedy—and I ended up … I ended up losing the both of you instead.”

“I’m here, Jin,” you say softly.

“I know I don’t deserve it yet,” he says quietly, “But please don’t leave me.”

You realise belatedly that even with the divorce, you could never have left him the way you thought you could.

You don’t answer him, instead—you provide your answer through your actions by kissing him. Harder than before but just as earnest. Both of your tears clash against your skins, but you can’t be bothered to care when he returns your kiss with an equal amount of desperation and affection.

“I love you,” he breathes into your mouth as you gasp. “I love you more than love itself.”

You want to hit him in the way he’s making you cry harder.

“I love”—you choke on your words when he presses a kiss to your jaw, his confession raw and honest—“God, I love you.”

“I’m going to spend the rest of my life loving you,” he says vehemently, kissing every inch of your face, your jaw and your neck as you cling onto his shirt desperately right before his dark eyes look up to catch your flushed expression. “Will you let me?”

“Yes—God—please,” you beg, pulling him closer to your body as he peppers open-mouth kisses down your sternum and across your chest.

“Can I love you tonight, ____?”

You nod your head desperately, heart fuller than it’s been in a long time. You know the consequences, and you couldn’t give a damn right now. You still needed to heal, and so did he—but when he holds you a little tighter, you know that neither of you was going anywhere.

“Love me,” you gasp, “Please, Jin.”

“I’ll love you,” he hisses, trailing down your neck, his words juxtaposing with the tenderness of his touch as his hands slip under your shirt. His touch is molten, especially when you’ve missed the feeling of having him like this—close, desperate and yours for the moment.

“I miss you,” you confess while he drags his fingers across your abdomen and rests right under your breasts. He looks up at you with soft eyes as you return them, eyes swollen. “I really miss you, Jin.”

He leans up to kiss you, hands multitasking as they cup your tits while you gasp into his mouth.

“I miss you,” he returns with a heartfelt tone, “I’ll never let this happen. Ever again.”

Now, all you can do is trust him, trust him and his words and that he’d take care of you. His hands tickle under your shirt but you can’t be bothered when he finally cups your breast with his large hands, gentle yet steadfast when he tweaks your peaked buds.

“O-Oh,” you gasp, head lulling back when his lips trail down to your neck, hands already helping you out of your shirt.

“Will you let me see you, beautiful?” he murmurs.

“Please,” you say breathlessly, lifting your arms up to ease the process.

You should’ve felt vulnerable, being more than just physically naked in front of him. But throughout the hurt and the pain, he’s never made you doubt yourself for once. It was as if you were held captive by him, even when your heart was slowly shattering. It’s also why when he gives you a once over with hunger behind his eyes, you don’t shy away. Instead, your back arches, giving him more than enough to see—to feel.

“I missed you,” he repeats, pressing a kiss to your nipple as you whimper, hands curling around his hair as his head dips lower, “Missed you—missed how gorgeous you looked like this.”

He tells you more by painting the truth on your breast, lavishing each bud with pert attention as you find yourself growing wetter in arousal. His tongue is hot against the cool air of the room, the juxtaposition of the temperatures only sending your head into short-circuiting.

“J-Jin please,” you breathe, staring down at him when his dark eyes lift up to meet yours. His stare is enough to have your thighs clenching together. “M-More.”

“Of course,” he croons, “I’ll give you everything you want.”

You mewl as his hands trace fluttering touches against your stomach before they’re reaching your mound. He doesn’t drag this out as he’d normally, the distant memories of your nights spent tangled together as he edged you till you were crying. No, this time—he’s gentle, he’s soft and careful with the way he handles you, spreading your legs as you pliantly obey, eyes fluttering with every move that he makes.

“So beautiful,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your mound as you whimper at the contact, needy in want. “I’m gonna eat this pretty pussy, hm?”

You nod your head in desperation, lifting your hips to aid him in the process of slipping off your pants along with your panties, baring your slicked pussy to his face. You catch a brief glimpse of his expression, especially when he unabashedly ogles your wetness with desire behind his eyes. You’re a little flustered since it’s been a while, so your legs naturally threaten to snap shut but Jin doesn’t let you get too far.

“Don’t hide from me,” he says quietly, eyes peering up at you as you can’t find it in you to respond with how your throat clamps shut. “Want to see you. Always do.”

Your heart tugs in your chest, but you aren’t able to dwell on the feeling for too long when Jin dives into your heat, tongue immediately flattening against your pussy as he tracks your wetness up your slit to where your engorged bud lies. Your back immediately arches while your hand finds purchase in his hair, grounding yourself at the way your stomach immediately heaves inwards at his ministrations.

Jin doesn’t relent, nor does he tease. He’s quick and precise with every flick of his appendage over your clit, rapidly swirling the bud in the way you like as he alternates between harsh sucks and tugging at the pearl, causing sobs of pleasure to leave your lips. It’s a product of how long you’ve been together and how he’s learned every pulse and shiver as a sign of your pleasure.

“Pleasepleaseplease,” you mewl, “D-Don’t stop.”

“You taste so good, love,” he moans into your pussy, the vibrations immediately causing your toes to curl as your head tilts backwards. “A pussy like yours should be eaten every day, yeah? As your husband—I should do that.”

When he calls himself your husband, you feel yourself whine in pleasure, the term causing fondness to bloom in your chest. You don’t know if he’s said it on purpose, but he doesn’t stop with his actions, instead, one of the hands that presses your stomach down to keep you in place reaches up to where your hand clutches his hair and brings it away.

“J-Jin,” you whine, hips bucking when he swirls his tongue over your clit, slowly while his eyes peer up to lock with yours.

The act is all too intimate, and your poor heart can barely take it with how sensitive you are all over, emotionally and physically. But Jin takes your flushed face as a good sign, and he ruins you all over when he intertwines your fingers together.

“Can feel you clenching,” he hums teasingly, “you going to come for me?”

You nod your head vigorously, fingers pressing tightly against his larger palm as he laughs into your pussy at your eagerness. Once he gets the confirmation for you, it’s like he was holding out the entire time despite him causing your legs to shiver by the side of his face.

This time, Jin presses his face tightly against your pussy as you squeal, louder than you expected as he flicks his tongue over your bud so rapidly that your mind is blank in pleasure, legs shaking uncontrollably as your body quivers in pleasure.

“Oh oh oh! J-Jin—fuck, I-I’m gonna—please let me cum, please please please,” you cry desperately, hips grinding against his face as he slurps your clit like he was parched.

“Come for me, beautiful. Wanna feel you drench my tongue,” he encourages you softly, yet his words send a wave of pleasure all across your body as you finally feel the last bit of your coil snap.

“J-Jin!” you sob, back arching as his large palm splays over your stomach to keep you rooted in position, forcing you to take all the pleasure he was giving you. Your legs shake by his face as he keeps his mouth open with his tongue out as you ride the aftershocks of your orgasm away.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pulling away with a parting kiss to your clit that as you jumping. “I missed this. Missed your pussy.”

“Miss you,” you mumble dazedly, your fingers carding through his hair as he peers up at you.

“Come here,” he whispers, inching up as he gently holds your cheek in his palm while you immediately lean into his touch.

While you lay on his bed, relatively boneless, Jin stares at you with devout affection, his eyes softening when he holds your gaze. His lips glisten with your wetness, mouth slightly parting while he rubs a thumb against your cheek.

“I love you,” he says quietly, “I really—I’m so in love with you.”

“Jin,” you say shyly, eyes darting away when he doesn’t look away.

“You’re the love of my life,” he divulges gently, leaning his forehead against yours as you take in every freckle that marks his skin, and the dulcet curve of his lips when he presses it against yours.

You can’t find a response that would indulge in what you truly felt, so you settle for reciprocating his kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as you learn all about the way he feels all over again. You miss this, and you’d admit it over and over again—until he reminds you just how much of a home his touch was.

“I want you,” you whimper, pulling away to peer up to his dark eyes.

“Gotta be quiet, okay?” he murmurs as you nod obediently. “Need me to prep you? It’s been a while.”

Ever the gentleman and the considerate person he was, although you reckoned it was the most sensible option—you missed the feeling of having him feel you whole.

“No need,” you say, “Just—fuck me, please.”

He chuckles, leaning down to press hot kisses against your jaw and the nape of your neck as he uses his palms to spread your legs, feeling the way his hardened cock presses against your thigh. You take the time to card your fingers through his hair, gently pressing against his temple, then his cheek, and finally his bottom lip while you attempt to let your actions display what you feel.

As if Jin senses this, he leans up to press a soft kiss to your lips. One that’s both desperate and longing, a greeting from the past that blooms in the present.

“Ready?” he murmurs, fist clutching his cock while it prods against your quivering hole.

He swiftly removes his shirt, chucking it aside as he presses the tip against your quivering hole. You nod eagerly, wrapping your arms around his shoulder as he finally pushes through the first barrier. Your breath hitches, mostly because Jin wasn’t average-sized by any means. He grunts from above you, face contorted as he slowly inches his way in, careful to not hurt you.

Frankly, you were wet enough from your previous orgasm and how much your body craved him—but as you mentioned, he was big. But the pleasant burn of his girth stretching you out have you gasping, eyes peering up at him in desperation.

“M-More,” you whimper, hips chasing his as you encourage him to sheathe himself further into you.

“Are you sure?” he asks, lips pressed against your jaw as you nod.

“I’m good,” you assure him, pulling away just to shoot him a small smile that he returns.

Finally, he bottoms out, the last bit of his length in you as you whimper at the feeling of being so full, so whole. Jin remains still, to allow you a few seconds to adjust to having him in you. While you were desperate for more, you appreciated the gesture.

There’s something oddly intimate about having him in you but not moving at all. There’s no rush to thrust into you with hot pleasure and love, but just the comfort of having him here—with you. Your heart squeezes in fondness, mostly because you missed him. Missed having him so close to you and in your reach.

“Y-You can move,” you pant, hips already moving at their own accord as he groans from above you.

“God,” he sighs, “I missed you. Missed you so much.”

“I-I missed you too,” you say in between pants as he begins to thrust into you, pulling his cock out until the hilt before slamming back home.

It sends your body up the bed as you indulge in how good it feels. Both emotionally and physically. One of your hands clutches at his hair while he builds up his pace by occupying all the space in between your hot walls.

“Fuck,” he grunts, “You feel so—good.”

You nearly forgot how strong Jin was, and how effortlessly he was able to send white-hot pleasure coursing through your bloodstream with the way that his hips move. He’s relentless with his pounding, the squelches of your wetness echoing in the room with every single purposeful thrust, your gasps of pleasure tangled with the way the slap of his hips meet yours—it’s all too stimulating and it feels so good.

“Oh my God, J-Jin, fuck, oh,” you sob, clawing at his back when he speeds up his thrusts, the tip of his cockhead scraping against the spot within you that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

You feel so full, and your pussy is attempting to accommodate his thick and long length. Your clit is throbbing in want as your hand reaches down to deliver some reprieve, but before you can do anything meaningful—Jin’s slapping your hand away to replace it with his own, and a determined expression on his face.

“Fuck, this pussy’s so wet,” he hisses, rubbing vigorous figure eights on your swollen bud as your mouth falls open into a silent moan, “Would die for this pussy. Always.”

His words send your stomach clenching, paired with the way he doesn’t falter at all with the rhythm of his brutal thrusts.

“Oh oh—ngh, p-please—don’t stop oh my God you’re so fucking—good,” you scream, right before Jin captures your mouth with his lips, swallowing your moans.

“As much as I want to hear you, we’re not home,” he reminds you softly, eyes swirling with amusement as you flush a deeper shade of red, a chortled squeal caught in your throat when he emphasises his point with a particular thrust that has your chest jostling.

Yet, it’s not his cock that has you burning.

Home.

Your home. The home that hasn’t felt much like one.

“Ohhhh,” you wail, muffled by his lips, “Don’t stop oh my god, I’m gonna fucking cum again—shit.”

“Yeah, gonna cum for me again?” he eggs you on with a grunt, leaning his chest against yours as your sticky body meets while his hips continue working its way into your pussy. “God fuck, I’m so lucky—you’re so beautiful.

“J-Jin,” you mewl, your glassy eyes peering up at him as he returns. Somehow, he knows—he knows even if all you’ve uttered was his name.

“I got you, my love,” he says so ardently that you feel a tear fall, both in pleasure and in overwhelming love. “Look at me.”

You do, and Jin decides to intertwine the free hand that isn’t abusing your poor clit into blazing pleasure with your own, squeezing your hand. It just so happens to be his left hand, and you feel the familiar squeeze of his wedding ring against your empty finger.

The realisation that he never took it off only makes you cry harder.

“J-Jin, I-I’m—” you blubber through a moan, feeling the coil in your stomach grow tenfold when he rams into you at a speed and a sense of determination you’ve never felt before. “I—oh fuck—I’m going to—!”

“I love you,” he confesses, squeezing your hand as it lays by the side of your head. The heat grows, and you feel yourself grow light-headed when Jin leans in to press a hot kiss to your lips, his own grunts caught in between your teeth.

“I love—fuck, oh,” you struggle to form coherent words, not when your pussy clenches erratically around his length, your wetness dripping down his balls while he attempts to focus on battering your g-spot with a snipers precision.

“Cum for me,” he grunts, “Cum for me and look me in the eye. Wanna see how fucking gorgeous you look for me.”

You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut momentarily as more tears fall, and when you open them—you see a manic look in Jin’s gaze, paired with his own stray tear falling.

“I love you—I love you I love you I love you,” you chant frantically, cunt pulsing as your legs shake, “I-I’m cum—cumming—”

“Me too, love,” he murmurs, hips stuttering when you clench around him. “I love you so much. You’re the—best thing. I’m so fucking—lucky.”

His own words are slurred, and you feel the coil snap, your eyes trained only on his expression as you feel your orgasm overtake you with an acute force that has you nearly blanking out. You gush around his length, and that stimulates Jin’s own release, his cum painting your walls white with its heat as you shudder at the feeling of being so wholly full.

“Oh oh oh,” you mewl, clutching his hand tighter as you choke on your sobs of pleasure and tears. “Kiss me. Kiss me please.”

Your pleas are granted with a desperate kiss to your lips, your arms immediately wrapping around his shoulders while he shoves his cock further into you, plugging his cum as you whine into his open mouth. He releases loads of his cum into you that it threatens to slip past your swollen folds.

Jin kisses you, and you kiss him back. You don’t dare to let go and neither does he. The desperation between the two of you is an accumulation of nights spent apart, spent agonising the death of your relationship, the potential of a future without each other—the hypotheticals of what-ifs. You feel his ring against your jaw when he curls his hand around it to push himself deeper into your mouth.

“I love you,” he says again, and yet your heart flutters like it’s the first.

You pull away to catch your breath, forehead resting against his as you sniff the remaining of your tears away. A croaked laugh leaves your lips as Jin smiles softly at you, thumb rubbing against your cheek with immense tenderness and affection that you can’t do anything but lean into his touch.

He’s still in you, and yet—there’s no rush to move despite the cum that leaks out of your hole.

“I love you,” you echo.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you, regret staining his words as his eyes flutter shut. “I—I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness just yet—”

You stop him by pressing a kiss to his lips, soft. Pleading.

“We’ve got all the time to learn,” you say quietly, “Now, I just want you.”

He pauses for a second just to observe your face, to take in your earnest eyes as he sighs, both remorseful and thankful. Thankful that he’s met you, and thankful that you’re still here despite his shortcomings.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you,” he says with a determined gaze as you smile softly at him.

“I’ll take your word on that,” you say with a giggle.

He pulls out of you as you wince, immediately feeling his cum drip out of you. You’re about to whine a complaint, but he interrupts any ripostes from your lips with another kiss.

You’re not complaining.

“And I’ll spend the rest of my life loving you,” he says as you flush at his words. “Being next to you. Learning with you. Growing with you. I want to do it all—only with you.”

You want to slap him. You do. It’s the only thing you can think of when you feel your tears burn behind your eyelids.

“God,” you sniff as he grins at you.

“You’re such a crybaby,” he teases, leaning over your body to pick up his t-shirt before he’s wiping at your folds.

You scowl, ready to nag his ear off for using his own shirt, but before you can do any damage, he’s chucking it aside once he deems you clean enough before he’s suffocating you with a death grip around your body.

“My baby,” he murmurs into your neck as you flush.

“Jiiiiiiin,” you whine, “I need to—I need to pee.”

“Let me carry you,” he immediately says, swooping your naked body up with his arms as you yelp.

“I’m not—I can walk!” you squeak.

“Don’t think so,” he smirks as you roll your eyes at him, your eyes still puffy from your tears. “Your legs are shaking.”

And shaking, they were. You knew that you had no way of walking to the bathroom without collapsing with how good Jin had fucked you previously. But you were prideful as you stick your nose up snootily, looking away when he leans in to kiss you.

“Does the queen not want to kiss her king?” he pouts childishly as you roll her eyes.

“More like a peasant,” you mutter.

You squeal when he threatens to tickle you, blowing a raspberry into your neck while your boisterous laughter echoes against the wall.

It’s late, and people were sleeping, but the way that Jin holds you so gently as you’ve remembered—makes you forget about reality, about everything else. You can only focus on him, the way he’s making you feel and the way you see your best friend, love of your life—and your husband—return to you.

“Hey,” he murmurs once you’re done peeing and draped over one of his large t-shirts as the two of you cuddle in bed.

“Hm?”

“I love you,” he whispers, your eyes nearly drooping shut in fatigue.

“I love you too,” you say softly, snuggling into his chest as he holds you tighter.

“Once we go back …” he murmurs, “I want—I want us to go for couple therapy.”

You pause.

You look up at him, noticing his nervous expression as you smile. You wrap your fingers around him before brushing your thumb over his knuckles comfortingly.

“Okay,” you agree, “We will.”

“And … I want to take you out,” he says before clearing his throat. “On a date.”

“We’re married,” you giggle.

And it feels to good to believe it.

He rolls his eyes and you spot the slight flush on his cheeks.

“I know,” he says, “I missed going out with you.”

Your face softens before you sigh to yourself, happy.

“Me too,” you say.

“I love you,” he repeats again. You won’t ever get tired of hearing it.

You return it with a kiss, and finally, allow yourself a comfortable sleep after months.

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

It’s both simultaneously all too hot and too cold when you arise from your slumber.

Your body aches in satisfaction from the events from last night, and you vividly remember the hot touches and long-awaited, teary-eyed confessions that were shared between you and your husband (and yes, your heart does bloom when you refer to Jin as his rightful position in your life rather than … that).

But the indent of where his body lays remains cool, as your body attempts to search for warmth that wasn’t the duvet absolutely suffocating you but in a touch of the love of your life. Still drowsy from sleep, you pat down on the mattress to find not what you were looking for, but a sick feeling of anxiety that stirs in your stomach.

The worst permeates your mind, and for a moment you’ve wondered if you dreamt it all—the reconciliation that promised retribution and a better future just a figment of your imagination and deepest desires. The mound between your thighs aches when you push yourself into an upright position, blinking as you attempt to search the room for his whereabouts.

Before your mind can continue to think the worst of the situation, the door creaks open—and Jin enters, face still slightly puffy from sleep but no less handsome than he’s always been. Your shoulders droop in relief, and just as you’re about to call to him—you note the third guest that joins you.

“Stole Jiho from the kids' room,” he whispers in consideration of your still snoozing son as he wraps himself around his father’s broad body.

“Thought you left,” you confess softly, making space when his knee pressed against the mattress, only for him to lay Jiho softly on the plush surface as he joins his son by his side.

“Never,” Jin says, reaching a hand to brush a stray hair away from your face before he reaches to hold your hand to press a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

At that moment, your son’s eyes slowly peer open, probably due to the fact that you and Jin were staring at him with full adoration. When he realises it’s just his parents, he grins, wide and with his bread cheeks before he lets out a giggle that has your heart soaring.

“Mama,” he smiles, chubby arms reaching out for a hug as you indulge in his affection. You lay back, pressing a kiss to his forehead as he snuggles into your warmth.

“Just wanted to hold the both of you,” Jin says as you rub gentle circles on Jiho’s back.

Your heart softens exponentially, free hand reaching out to Jin’s so that he’d wrap an arm around you and your son.

“Warm,” Jiho mumbles, pressed between the bodies of you and Jin’s love while the two of you stare, hopelessly and utterly in love with the person you’ve created—and each other.

“I love you, Jiho,” Jin whispers, hugging him impossibly tighter as your son smiles innocently.

“Love you!” he chirps back, eyes fluttering shut the more comfortable it gets for him.

As you run your fingers fondly through the strands of your son’s hair, Jin’s voice interrupts your love-dazed gaze with a soft confession, a record of the years you’ve known each other and the many more years you had to learn about each other.

“I love you,” he murmurs, leaning over to capture your lips in a kiss.

You smile even with the crust in your eyes, happy and content. You don’t respond because Jin’s already beginning to doze off, cheeks puffed and pressed against the pillow.

For a moment, you allow yourself to be selfish, to wallow in the love of your small family and the warmth that they gave you today, and every other day that was to come. You and Jin still had a long way to go before you could properly say things were okay, but the fact that either of you had given up, was more than enough to give you hope—to give you a vision of another thirty years, and more.

You’d do it all, with Jin.

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first love (m)

genre : fluff, angst, light smut

pairing : kim seokjin x reader (f)

word count : 4.6k

warnings/content : mentions of sexual intercourse, mature language, infidelity, separated parents, unresolved past relationship, dad!seokjin, mom!reader

Seokjin doesn’t mean to overreact. He knows he shouldn’t. Knows you hate it. Knows, because he’s been told enough times, that these types of reactions are unnecessary and possibly harmful for a child.

He can’t really help it when deep down he knows he was meant to be an actor. Right before his actual birthday, his mother had dreamt of giving birth on a theatre stage, for God’s sake.

Keep reading

Can’t Keep Lying

PLOT: Jin’s been distant lately. Maybe it’s the work flow, maybe it’s something you said. Or maybe, maybe it’s just the girl at work.

Next

Masterlist

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Jin x Reader

Warnings: Language

…

It was happening again. Jin was absent. Well, not completely. Jin was there, as he always was in the late afternoon, sitting at the kitchen table eating his dinner. But you could see it in his glossy eyes, see it in the way his fork mindlessly pushed his food around the porcelain plate, he was absent. His mind was elsewhere whilst his still body sat in the seat of your kitchen. This had become your normal. The chatter and laughter you two shared before, replaced by an unsteady silence ever since he began his new acting role. You cleared your throat, his eyes finally showing some sign of life as he glanced up at you.

“How was the filming today?” You asked, hoping you sounded more uplifting than you felt.

“It was great!” He also smiled back at you, a taut, fake smile that you’d been receiving more and more lately. You were becoming increasingly aware of Jin’s changes in behavior, that fake happiness had began to forge on his face often. Normally, he could go on for hours. He would tell you about his day, he’d tell you what he’d done and what he was up to. He’d always talk in a very animated and vivid way, fueled with enthusiasm and excitement. Then he’d lovingly question you about your day, you’d go watch a movie or go for a walk together, and then curl up to sleep. That had been your routine. But Jin didn’t continue the conversation further, you knew that after he was done eating he’d go shower and fall asleep before you could say anything. He no longer made jokes, or kept you up teasingly poking at your sides and chatting. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d heard him genuinely laugh.

“Jin.” You said. You were done letting him put on this little act, you needed to know what was wrong. “Talk to me.”

He didn’t look up. Jin’s eyebrows knit together, a concerned look covering his face as he set his fork down.

“You know that I would never want to hurt you, right?” He asked. You nodded, even though he was still not looking at you. “.. And I realize, that as much as I would hate to, I’m going to. Because there is no way I can go about this, that will not hurt you. There’s no good way to let you know this.”

You pushed your plate away from you, your heart was pounding. You were afraid now, everything suddenly seemed at stake. You were running over the memories in your head, wondering if you’d ever done anything wrong, if you had anything to do with what he was about to say. Jin finally looked at you, you nodded at him to go on.

“As you know, I’ve gotten along with the crew on the film I’m working on. There’s a lot of people on it. The director is talented and kind to us, the cast members are amazing and great to work with. There’s Jiwoo, Jaehyun and.. Oh, I did tell you about Seoyeon, didn’t I?” He asked, the tone of his voice became more nervous at the mention of her. You did the only thing you’d been able to do, nod. This was where it was getting difficult, Jin was visibly hesitating to speak again as he reached out and held onto your hand. You wanted to pull away from him, but something told you this might be the last time you got the chance. So you gripped onto his hand and listened. “Well, Seoyeon. She is a love interest of my character, you know that. We were both understanding of it, it’s only a role and it’s part of the job. We did not hang out afterwards, she knows I’m with you. We kept it all professional. One day we went out to celebrate the shoot going well, and we spoke. After that, we kept in touch. Then we started hanging out together on set.. And off set. I’ve realized over time, that maybe, well..” Jin was not one to stammer over his words, but he couldn’t help it. “I’ve realized that-”

“It’s not just part of the role.” You whispered, almost afraid to say it. In the short silence that followed, you wanted Jin to laugh and shake his head and tell you that you were wrong. Unfortunately that’s not what he did. Instead he just bit his lip and looked away.

“I think I fell in love with her.”

You were frozen. Everything was gone for a second, and when you finally came to your senses you felt the warmth in your limbs and realized that your hand was still in his. You yanked your hand away, the chair legs forcefully skidding on the ground as you came to a stand. Jin jumped in surprise, he was also rising to his feet. There was finally emotion back on his face, fear and confusion.

“I love you Y/N.” Jin assured you, but it was of no comfort.

“No, no you don’t. Maybe you did, but you know you don’t anymore. That’s what you’re trying to tell me, right?” You choked.

“.. I just can’t stay with you anymore.”

“So you told her you’d leave me? So she’s waiting for you to come back, single? I was just the obstacle in your way?” You spat. The silence from the male proved that you were correct yet again. Why couldn’t you just be wrong? He looked composed, serious, maybe a little hurt but not anything compared to how you were feeling. His empty hand was back at his side now, his eyes searching you for understanding.

“Then I guess she gets what she wants. I want you-” You paused as your voice cracked, taking a breath before trying again. “I want you, to grab your stuff, and get out of my house.”

Jin’s eyes widened in shock. He knew that it would resort to this eventually, but hearing it is something different. He never actually did mean to bring you so much distress, but he needed to tell you the truth while he still could, and a part of him really did love you. He moved towards you, trying to grab onto your arm and mumbling your name softly. But you pressed your hands into his chest and pushed him away. “No! I’m going to go outside, and go for a walk. By the time I get back, you better be the hell out of my house!” You stormed past him, your throat was drowning with the tears you were swallowing back. You threw the front door open, stomping down the stairs and walking down the sidewalk. The sky was turning dark with night time, the wind had also began to pick up. Your lungs filled up with chilling air everytime you sobbed, the cold was nipping at the tears on your cheeks turning them into trails on your red skin. But you refused to return. It’s a surreal feeling. Heart break is in every movie, every book, every song. People all over the world who pour out their feelings of pain, and you can sympathise with them, but it’s completely different when it’s you. To realize that this person that brings you so much joy, who accompanies you everywhere and makes you who you are, is going to be gone. You don’t get to wake up to him anymore, you don’t get to hold his hand, you don’t get to kiss him. You do not get Kim Seokjin anymore, and there is no one in the world like him that can replace the memory he’s left. The worst part of it all, is knowing that someone else will. He is someone else’s joy now, leaving you wondering if perhaps you just weren’t good enough to make him stay.

You were walking and shivering for so long now, you couldn’t feel your toes. You finally decided to make it back before it got any colder or darker than it already was. As your house came into view, you stopped when you realized that Jin’s car was gone. You stared wide eyed at the driveway, slowly piecing together what had happened again. And then you started running, your shoes pounding the cement as you sprinted down the road and to your front door, throwing it open. You started to take big unsteady breaths as you looked around, his jacket was gone, his shoes at the door were gone, his papers on the coffee table were gone. You ran up the stairs, down the hallway and into your shared room hurrying to the closet. You flung the large doors open so fast they collided loudly with the wall but you didn’t care, your eyes scanning the small room. The shirts he had hanging up were gone, his pants were gone, his shoes and hats were gone.. Jin was gone. You thought you’d already cried it all out, but then there were more tears pouring down your cheeks. You stumbled back, slumping down besides the bed and bawling your eyes out. So that was it. You’d told him to leave, and he had. You’d held his hand one last time, and now you wouldn’t ever again. Your cries were muffled by your knees as you pulled them up to your chest, clutching onto your jeans.

“Come back.”

once upon an us [m] | knj

❥ Summary | You have spent years building a life of your own until you find yourself living a life that every little girl could have ever dreamed of. With a promising career and an expensive apartment in the big city, the only thing left is the fairytale wedding that you had wished for since you were a little girl. When the one you believe to be your prince charming finally comes into your life, you start to believe that dreams do come true. But you also know that things aren’t always as simple as it seems, when there is still a piece of your past that is still tethering you back from reaching for it.

❥ Title | Once Upon an Us

❥ Pairings | Kim Namjoon x female reader

⤑ Genre | Past Lovers!au, Exes to Lovers!au, Established relationship, Angst, Rom-com, Fluff, Smut

⤑ Ratings | +18 / M for Mature

⤑ Warnings | Mentions of miscarriage, grief, characters making bad decisions, fake relationship(-ish) trope, Namjoon as a (former) basketball player, some cliche scenes as part to romcoms (sharing a bed, lots of arguments), technically involves infidelity, sexual tension, lots of kissing, dry humping, outdoor foreplay, public sex, breast play, clothed foreplay, clothed sex, denied orgasm, hair pulling, fingering (female), oral sex (female, including clit play, implied biting), unprotected sex, rough sex, mention of multiple orgasms, implied creampie.

⤑ Word count | 47k words (I am so sorry!!!)

⤑ Cross Post | AO3 | Inkitt 

❥ Author’s Note | This story is written as a part of the ‘Christmas in July’ project, for the ‘Winter Wedding Season’ category, an event hosted by @kookdiaries, @kithtaehyung, and @xiaokoo. This fic is loosely inspired by the movie Sweet Home Alabama (2002) | Thank you @theodea for reading through this on such a short notice (I love you, bub!) and for my sprint mates and fellow camp nano-ers who kept hyping me up in this journey @softyoongiionly @randombtsprincessa @yeoldontknow 

❥ Song Companion | Sabrina Claudio - Belong To You (feat. 6lack) ● Daughter - Landfill ● ORKID - Only If You Want To ● Jutes - We Good ● Standing Egg - Ironic

There is always something to be said about little girls and their big dreams.

The way their innocence allows them to conjure imaginations that are beyond any adult mind could comprehend. To have their minds going places without any worries of facing the reality of life, without any barriers or limits to how far their extensive imagination would go as they create all the scenarios involving their whole life—starting with the paths where they want to go in life, the person they imagine they would become, the people they want to meet, and everything that they want to achieve.

For a lot of people who had known you since you were a little girl, this is exactly how they had seen you and has continued to remember you with. A dreamer. The little girl who would paint a big picture inside your head that you would often get stuck in your own world, oftentimes too stubborn to look at the present or the world around you and to simply follow the course that your life was taking you into.

The little girl in you had dreamt of becoming your own princess, just like the ones you have read in the storybooks that your parents used to read you before bed. You dreamt about living in a castle somewhere at the top of the mountains—just like the mountains that you had always seen growing up at home. You dreamt about having all the fancy things that princesses would acquire and being spoiled with the pleasure of the admiration and praises from all the people that you would surround yourself with.

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Daisies and Dinosaurs (M) – Chapter 01

Summary: A tragic brain aneurysm stole the life of your best friend and no one took it harder than her husband, Namjoon. After locking himself away to mourn for two years, he walks back into your life with his precocious daughter in tow, ready to prepare her for kindergarten. As you offer to help him acclimate to his new normal, the opportunity to grow closer than friends kindles healing in both of your hearts.

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Fluff, angst

Word Count: 26,351 (for the series so far – in progress)

Warnings: SingleFather!Namjoon, mentions of death, excessive cuteness, risk of cavities

A/N: I had a very compelling dream about Namjoon over a year ago and it’s been marinating in my cream puff heart ever since. This is how it began.

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | …?

Excerpt:

He grins and diverts his gaze toward the floor to his left, murmuring something you can’t quite make out. You take a couple steps closer to the edge of the counter to see him lean down and pick up a little girl. She’s grown a lot since you’ve last seen her, but she is still every bit as adorable, donning ebony pigtail braids and a light blue sundress…Her eyes are full of wonder as they soak in her surroundings, but the moment she sees you, she tries to bury her face in her father’s neck. The sight is so endearing and sweet you feel as though you’ll melt into a puddle.

“We’re here to get a library book,” Namjoon answers, before redirecting his attention to the girl in his arms. “Jaeah, this is ___. She’s one of Daddy’s friends. She’s a librarian. Want to say hello to her?”

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Copyright © 2018-2019 by dark-muse-iris. All rights reserved.

guarded AU: masterlist

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masterlist: guarded

you’ve tried to separate yourself from your infamous crime family, but a new case has your carefully-constructed world crashing down around you.  now you have to figure out how to heal old wounds and handle the new man who enters your orbit.

Chapter One: Fan Mail

Chapter Two: I’m Screwed

Chapter Three: Exotic Pets

Chapter Four: Cham-pain

Chapter Five: Italian Leather Gloves

Chapter Six: No One But You

Chapter Seven: Epilogue

part two: guilty | knj x reader

cuties!!!

<< seven | wait for you >>

jungkook and y/n have been together for three years and it was perfect, until it wasn’t. when jungkook tells her that he thinks they should take a break, y/n waits for him only to find out that jungkook has started dating their mutual friend.

series masterlist | general masterlist | taglist

taglist. (check your settings if i'm unable to tag you!!) @lunamoons @ellesalazar @blubearxy @bri-mal @thenewjefferson @kissme-ornot @doublebunnykoo @galaxiejeon @halesandy @ggukkieland @parabataisarah @aria-grace-scott @finelinememories @softiegukk @notvantaes @thequeen-kat @yoonabeo @swthxrry @athenakyle @pvt-only @di0rgguk @malewife-supremacy @lavenderhotcoco @erraaxh @haijkk @vintaegegirl @katesreading @vantedmp

a/n. listen to "fuck apologies" by jojo. the next few chapters might be a bit rough because our poor girl is going through a rough breakup atm. for the abp readers, the chapter is coming along! I just haven't written something in a long time so it's taking me some time. also, amm for wwbu characters is still open!! anyway, lmk what you guys thought of this chapter~

luna!!! minnie!! my sweets!! my love!!! i am begging for a part 2 to the e2l mafia au 🥺🥺🥺

(only if you have the time to do so and feel like it ofc!!! pls put yourself first!! drink water and have snack!! hydration is key 🥰)

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6

You're not sure if you heard him right but before you could ask Jimin to repeat what he had just said, an uproar from outside the door catches your attention.

"What's that?"

The three of you listen in close, holding your breath in order to hear what the commotion is about as you sit up straight, tension taking over your bodies.

"Jimin.."

"Yeah."

You turn to the two of them. "What is it?"

"That's Namjoon's signal. He's here," the older man states as they begin to stand from the floor. "We have to escape now."

"Namjoon?" You sit there unsure of what to do. Bangtan is here to rescue them but what about you? They're not exactly here for you, right? You could always try to escape with them and run away when you get the chance but there's a risk in being unsure of whether they'll help you out or not.

It's two groups of enemies against one of you.

"Y/N, what're you doing?" You look up upon Jungkook's hurried question. He has the injured Jimin by his side as the two of them look at you as if you're crazy to just sit there and doing nothing. "Help me with Jimin, will you? Get your lazy ass up."

Huh.

So they actually plan to escape this hell hole with you by their side, no questions asked.

"R-right."

You quickly stand up to support Jimin on the other side and when the door opens, you're faced with five enemies hoping to escort the three of you and hide you away.

Not on your watch.

"Hold him for a second, will you?"

"Y/N—"

In just mere seconds, the five of them are on the ground, unconscious and unmoving. They stare in awe at the scene, surprised but not truly because you've always been an admirable opponent who had always been too good for anyone.

"I think I hear Yoongi," Jungkook says, looking straight ahead.

Just as you're about to go on to support Jimin once again, you hear a shout as someone catches sight of the three of you. Looking behind your shoulder, more and more enemies seem to be running through, and you make up your mind when you turn back to the two members of Bangtan.

"I'll take care of them, you escape first," you say and they're quick to protest.

"We're not leaving you."

"Oh come on," you jest with a laugh, "any other day you'd be more than willing to take this opportunity, why the hesitation now?"

"They're more than you can handle," Jungkook argues, his voice low and serious.

"If you don't go now, none of us are getting away," you tell him, eyes falling just as serious. "Jimin's injured, stop being stubborn."

"Y/N—"

Before he can try and argue with you any further, you're off running straight for the enemies coming for you. Jimin looks up at him with concern but they know how right you are.

"We have to trust her," he says and despite their hesitation, the two of them quickly escape through the hall opposite of you, knowing that if the quicker they find the others, the faster they'll be able to send help.

.

.

"Yoongi!"

"We found them," he speaks into the earpiece once he finds Jimin and Jungkook emerging from one of the hallways before quickly rushing over to them. "Jimin-"

"I'll be okay."

"But Y/N-"

"Y/N?" Yoongi's brows furrow with confusion as he looks up at Jungkook. "You're saying she got into this mess as well?"

"You have to send help, hyung, she's on her own."

"And you decided to leave her on her own?"

"If I had a choice, do you really think I'd take that chance?" Jungkook glares up at him upon the accusatory tone.

Yoongi grunts. Of course he wouldn't. The maknae had always been the most captivated by you out of the seven of them, why would he ever make the decision to leave you alone to deal with a bunch of men if he could get you out of that mess himself?

Unfortunately he couldn't get the chance.

"Hoseok—"

"I'm on it." Quick on his feet before anyone can ask him what to do, he rushes past the three of them without another word.

There's no way they're leaving this place without you.

Moments later just as they're reaching the exit with Namjoon just ahead of their vision, Hoseok's voice comes into the intercom.

"I can't find her," he says, sounding a bit out of breath.

Jungkook's brows furrow. "What do you mean you can't find her?"

"They have her."

He panics. "Joon—"

"Search the area," the leader is quick to command in a grave tone.

for the au + quote, can I request a mafia bts and mafia y/n e2l???? with "I thought you'd kill me by now"

- 🍦

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6

"I thought you'd kill me by now."

"We have a common enemy that just kidnapped us, you think I'd be foolish enough to try and kill you now?" Jungkook asks, a bit irritated that he has to be stuck in a room with you.

You shrug lightly. "You always love the thrill."

"I don't love anything when it comes to you." He glares your way and you let out a laugh.

"Alright, hot-head, calm down now."

Just as you finish saying that, the door to the dark room opens and the two of you look up to find two of the enemy's guard throwing Jimin right in without a care.

He falls with a thud and Jungkook is quick on his feet to run on over to his hyung, his eyes fuming with rage when he finds the older gentleman bruised and injured.

Yet despite his glaring eyes made their way, the guards simply ignore him to close the door shut once more.

"Hyung-"

"I'm okay," Jimin coughs out as Jungkook helps him to sit up.

"Found anything useful?" You ask and is quick to receive another one of Jungkook's glares.

"Seriously? Right now?"

"I'm trying to help us find a way out of here," you retort.

"You can help by shutting up and staying in your corner."

"Oh come on-"

"There's a hallway two doors before the room where they tortured me," Jimin states in between your bickering. "It's heavily guarded, which probably means the exit is close to there. If one of us can get away and find any signal to alert our people, we'll have a chance at surviving this."

"That sounds fun," you comment halfheartedly. "Looks like it'll be up to you and I, Jeon Jungkook."

"You better not leave us behind if you manage to escape."

"Me?" You laugh. "Why would I ever do that?" His face is contoured with grim and irritation whenever he looks your way so you find yourself looking away, sort of amused by the situation. "Well on the bright side, I'd rather be stuck here than back at home."

Jimin's tilts his head with confusion. "You'd rather be stuck here, kidnapped with your longtime enemy?" He scoffs. "That bad at the house, huh?"

"No," you say, "I'd just rather be here than meet the man who's supposed to be my fiancé."

The two of them are quick to react upon those words.

"You have a fiancé?" Jungkook asks.

You shrug. "Well the engagement was supposed to be finalized two days ago but I decided to chase your tail right before the meeting so now here we are, kidnapped by our common enemy."

The room falls silent for a moment and you wondering what they're thinking before Jungkook speaks up again.

"I didn't know you already had someone."

You gag at the thought and quickly point his way. "Hey, get this straight. I do not like this man, alright? He's a total creep. I'm only doing this because otherwise I'm risking the chance of my gang falling off."

"Falling off?"

"Marriage is supposed to tie two families together, right? If I don't do this...well," you shrug. "Anyways, he's my best option, alright? I'm not doing this because I want to."

"Well that's dumb."

"Our system is dumb," you grunt. "Not everyone has to the freedom to live independently or choose the people you love and get to live the rest of your life with them," you say, giving the two of them a pointed gaze.

They take a moment to look at one another. It isn't a secret that Bangtan has a strong relationship that goes beyond that of just gang members and for that you envy the seven of them.

"What if you marry into our family?"

Your head snaps at Jungkook's way, caught by surprised the man is even suggesting that when he hates your guts the most out of the seven of them. "You're kidding."

He shrugs. "It'd help your situation and you won't have to be stuck with a creep for the rest of your life."

"He's right," Jimin agrees. "You can tolerate us better than that creep, right?"

They're not wrong but seriously? How many years have you gone head to head with these guys? For as long as you can remember. And now two of them are suggesting you marry into their family just to help you out?

"Hm, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you actually like me," you snicker. "But whether you'd want that or not, doesn't your leader Namjoon have the final say?"

"As if Namjoon doesn't secretly like you in the first place," Jimin mumbles under his breath and you blink.

"What?"

i ADORE your story, Eunoia. Love all the character arcs so fucking much its probably one of the best series I've ever read and I read A LOT of fanfiction. I was hoping you could suggest some hybrid bts fanfics, maybe a bit similar to yours? Very excited to for the next update :)

Thank you so much 💜💜 Honestly I don't read a lot of fanfiction on tumblr anymore because I don't really have time. But a few that I have read and really liked are:

Abundance by @angelicyoongie

Reasons Wretched and Divine by @hollyhomburg

Desolate by @angelicyoongie

A Place Called Home by @agustdakasuga

Crinkle by @worldwidebt7 (it’s a webtoon but I’m including it anyway because I love it)

lovesick (V)

— pairing: yandere ot7 x (f) reader — word count: 4.6k — warnings: yandere, stalking, obsessive behaviour, general creepy behaviour — summary: You dreamed of the day you would get your very own soulmark. Though, you didn’t expect to wake up to a searing hurt in your arm, the phantom pain of your shoulder being dislocated and your forearm fractured. As if dealing with the worst possible soulmark ever wasn’t bad enough, you also have to come to terms with the fact that you’re being stalked. When the letters and gifts you receive begin to escalate and the police offers no help, you have no other option than to figure out who’s behind it yourself – and hopefully before it’s too late. — amazing cover by @leithold​!

Previous – Next

Hope chocolaterie.

You balance your laptop on your knees, the bright screen illuminating your rapidly darkening living room.

It took some time before you were able to push away from your door, your trembling legs barely holding you up as you stumbled over to your trashcan. It wasn’t until you were standing over it, the box of chocolates dangling from your fingertips, that it hit you that all hope was not lost just yet. You still had one more chance to track your stalker down, and it was right there in your hands.

Turning the two-tone pink and purple box over, you were met with a bright yellow sticker attached to the bottom of it, the small print spelling out the shop’s name and website. You could vaguely remember Heejun raving about it after Jaemin had gifted him some chocolates for their anniversary last year, because apparently ’the sea-salt truffles were to die for.’ Heejun’s words had lingered in your head as you spared the box another glance, peeking at the confectionery through the plastic window in the box. They looked good, and they might’ve tasted good, but you were not willing to try your luck. No chocolate was actually worth dying over.

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