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My life is waiting for you| mostly BTS but sometimes a little NCT

[charcutetaerie]

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Updated 12/16/2023

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Currently I have no written works.

Hopefully I can come up with something I can be proud of enough to post.

Love reading other author's works and maybe need a fic rec because it's messy to scroll and find that one fic i remembered reading months ago.

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[jjungkkook]

[minyoonjin]

jimin is both me and better than me because same but also i would have just touched it....

[jjungkkook]

(credit)

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝕻𝖗𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖑 𝕭𝖔𝖓𝖉𝖘 [Teaser]

It doesn't matter how heavy the crown one wears might be- if it's made out of lies, it's worth nothing.

Tags/Warnings: Medieval AU, Alpha!Jungkook, Omega!Reader, Angst, Fluff, Adult Themes (such as smut, Violence and blood)

Type: Oneshot

Wordcount: long. Very long actually considering what I usually write.

A/N: This fic was actually written prior to moonlit, and the draft is available on patreon. But I could never really let go of it, so I'm finishing it these days.

Note: this is a 'sister-fic' to another work called Moon Of Claiming, which has similar themes and world building, but different plot. The draft for that is also available on patreon, and I'm planning on publishing that one after this one. Both fics will be Early Access there.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

The goal is clear.

His prize is right in front of him, your body held by silver chains, your eyes still shining like two polished gemstones with tears of pain and fear, as you’re forced to watch whatever might happen.

But your tears are unnecessary. Jungkook doesn’t even think about failing.

All that he can think about is the way that silver metal is burning your skin, how that is the only thing holding you back, weakening your body so much so that you’re unable to even move anymore. He can’t stand the sight of them keeping you close like this, far away from his reach, even though everyone around, wolfblood or not, knows that you’re his. Not just chosen by him, but chosen by the moon herself, born to become his mate. And yet, he’s being challenged.

A joke, really. That is what this is to him.

“She’s got stamina, doesn’t she?” his opponent claims, already convinced that he will win this chase- most likely with the help of the same foul tricks he used to get into his position in the first place. “it’ll be easy to catch her.”

Jungkook stays silent. Because deep down he knows- he’s right.

You’ll be weakened, not only by silver and wolfsbane- but also from fear, from being alone, left to run through the woods in search of anything that could become safety. And in a state such as that, you’ll most likely be completely unable to differentiate between friend and enemy- you’ll just take whatever you can get, even if that alpha isn’t him.

But he will find you first. He knows he has to.

Tonight they may take you away from him- keep you from him, but tomorrow, when the moon sits high in the skies to watch over him and witness the whole thing unfold, he’ll get you back. Tomorrow he will prove it to all that some things are not just pure chance- that your bond is more than just luck on his side, and that your choice was always written in the stars.

Tomorrow it’s time to show the fake king how much power he really holds.

[jiminrings]

if-then

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 7k

glimpse: you're an alien in prince jungkook's planet — both literally and figuratively.

alternatively, jungkook gives his nickname for you to someone else in a fit of anger, and you've never been more upset.

[ fluff, angst, painfully oblivious n dense alien koo, mutual pining (yes MUTUAL!!!!), the glaring concept of not being good n whole enough to deserve love (yikes but i Swear it gets better), mentions of injuries ]

notes: after being asked for literal years to write an alien au, it's finally here!!!! mwah thank u for patiently waiting :D

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Jungkook’s fond of appraising things.

He’s fond of assigning values to things that may or may not hold some bit of importance to his life, whether its value proves itself in the present or the future. Jungkook likes setting his literal ducks in a row, and the little inanimate yellow tokens that his brother brought back from Earth serve as a discreet (not really, though) reminder that he may have some hoarder tendencies.

Jungkook’s not really a hoarder-hoarder; it just happens that he likes keeping things, sometimes for no apparent reason at all.

He likes swiping the flashlights that the night guards use to stash in his own personal “emergency” (not that there’s ever been one, nor will there ever be) cabinet, just because he wants to be prepared for a natural catastrophe that won’t probably ever happen in his area. He’s already seen a couple of films that humans have made, and if ever comes a time that Planet Twell has a dinosaurian monster battle it out with a gigantic prehistoric ape, Jungkook’s proud to say that he has a couple flashlights for him and his brothers to use.

In addition, Jungkook likes picking flowers just before they go out of season. His eldest brother’s already cussed him out for it, but he’ll still do what he does best (?), if best means “preserving” the flowers by drowning them in water every ten minutes so they wouldn’t wilt and he’d still get to see them during off-peak days.

Prince Jungkook likes appraising things in his own definition and pace. They’re never categorized in his head for what they actually do, but for what kind of unexplainable fulfillment fills his chest whenever he thinks about the item.

The youngest prince of Twell didn’t like it when there was a commotion at the lily field and the citizens ran out to see what it was about, instead of eating their slices of cake with the fondant that he made out of scratch. Jungkook didn’t like the fondant either because there must be something insanely wrong with itself (or it’s just that he made it just as bad), but he didn’t like being alone either when finding out about the taste.

He didn’t like seeing the tiger lilies he planted himself squished underneath an unknown figure, who may or may not have fallen from the sky, judging by the way you’re wincing alone with no aircraft, no parachute, nor any other person with you.

Jungkook didn’t like seeing you, an alien, who’s just as confused with the entire ordeal. You can’t remember anything about how or why you’ve gotten here — all you know is your name and who you are, and unexpectedly so, the first prince who’s gotten to where you are isn’t so thrilled about the fact.

He’s fond of appraising things, and although he’s not extremely excited about you just as he had been when Yoongi brought home trinkets from him during his trip to Earth (including the very seeds for the tiger lilies you’ve destroyed), he’ll make do.

Jungkook will try and make you mean something, if not everything, to him.

.

.

.

Prince Jungkook has come to learn that you’re part human.

You’re neither fully his kind nor his type (or atleast that’s what he thinks so) and he doesn’t know what to feel about that. He doesn’t know what to feel about only the slight panic that filled you knowing that it’s still unexplained of how or why you’re in Twell; even more, he doesn’t know what to feel that you’re neither scared nor intimidated by him.

You don’t know what to feel either when Jungkook, who’s only mildly shocked about your existence in general, delivers his first question to you and it’s not of the sort that you expected. He looks soft and round, unlike the hearsay about his kind that only amounts to half of you. He doesn’t look aloof and unaccepting at all — if anything, he looks at you like you’re the one who’s cruel instead of him.

Jungkook almost completely does not care about who you are or where you’re from, but what he cares about is if you have any trinkets with you that he could possibly have. Out of anything he could possibly solicit from you, he only asks for so little, no matter how odd.

“T-trinkets?” you squeak, brows raising in surprise. “I’m sorry, Prince Jungkook — y-you’re asking if I have trinkets so you could have them?”

“Yeah,” he nods, lips pursed and cheeks puffed out as he confirms your confusion. “It’s my birthday, and I want to have a trinket.”

“Oh,” you blink once, twice,  a small smile playing on your lips to replace the fact that you’ve been confused for the entire half hour since you came back to consciousness. “Happy birthday, prince.”

“I see.” 

“It’s thank you,” you mutter automatically, coughing lightly when he only knits his brows at you. He’s cute this way — innocent, even. “I-I mean you’re supposed to say thank you when someone greets you, or when someone does something nice for you in general.”

“Okay. My brother forgot to teach me that,” Jungkook hums in recognition, eyes briefly glowing with a bluish hue before he regains his composure. “Thank you.”

You wonder if staring is also frowned upon in this planet.

You wonder if it would get you a mean glare or a sarcastic snicker if you were to stare at Prince Jungkook a little longer without any thoughts floating in your brain, except for the fact that you are completely unaware that you’re already zoning out on him. 

You wonder if it would be wrong for your eyes to take in every single detail of him from his short hair that softly falls onto his forehead, to his supposed birthday attire that only consists of a white button-up, to his gleaming royal jewelry that rightfully so, only looks like it would belong to him and him only.

“Trinket?” he reminds you, head tilting and eyes widening as he cranes his neck to look at you beyond the table that separates the both of you.

“Oh! U-uhm,” you scour your pockets immediately just to present something, and bluntly put, you haven’t even checked your well-being, much less the possessions you have on yourself. You feel more than relieved to know that it isn’t empty, because oddly enough, you’d feel a little upset— a little down if you were to disappoint a prince you just met not more than an hour ago. “I have this handkerchief, I guess.”

“Perfect!” Jungkook exclaims, leaning to grab the baby blue square from you that’s embroidered with your initials that are unfamiliar to him. He clutches it into his hand tightly with a smile on his face, the happiness later dwindling when he realizes he has no clue of what he’s holding. “What is it supposed to do?”

You blank at that, meekly scratching your temple. “Nothing, I think. It’s just there for most people, but I’ve never had to use it.”

“You’ve never had to use it, but you still take it with you?” he attempts to clarify, a slight frown embedded into his lips as he looks down on your averagely prized possession.

“I don’t mean never as in never ever, and I’ve used it a couple of times like everyone else does, but it’s just-…” you trail off, shrugging helplessly because you can’t describe the concept of nothing to him easily. “It’s just there.”

You’re more than fatigued and a lot more confused (albeit less worried) about the semantics of your presence here in Twell, specifically in Prince Jungkook’s office, but the latter doesn’t seem to take mind as he takes you with an open mind.

“Okay. Thank you. I’ll have it,” he announces, shifting his eyes between you and your (his now) handkerchief that he’s slowly and hesitantly unraveling, only to put back into its original square form after every move.

“You will?” you almost snort, a tiny bit amused that a prince is clenching your handkerchief like its the most interesting thing in the galaxy.

“Yes,” he hums distractedly, looking up at you as he lightly scratches the embroidered teddy bear at the corner of the fold. “I will have you too.”

“You will?! You’re not going to dispose me or anything?” you straighten immediately, eyes more frantic and disbelieving to hear that you’re being taken care of (or something of the sort) than just awhile ago when you were unsure of your fate. “Why?”

“Don’t know,” Jungkook shrugs just as easily as you do. “I just want to.”

( ♡ ) 

Prince Jungkook isn’t so bad, and neither is Twell.

The planet isn’t so bad in the sense that although you don’t feel the most welcome you have ever been in your entire life, there’s a recognition that seeps into your bones that some of them, if not most, would set out a plate for you if ever Jungkook came into their homes. He’s the social butterfly of his family; the baby lamb that’s set out into the field to check up on everyone else and act as a mannequin of sorts that’s a little less superficial, and a little more warm.

Jungkook isn’t so bad either in the sense that although it’s the bare minimum to do so, he doesn’t throw his kindness back to your face even in the most critical situations, with now being the sole exception.

With the exception of now, Prince Jungkook has not ever acted rashly towards you. He wasn’t annoyed with you when you kept asking him questions of what it would mean to act as his security detail, and he wasn’t irked either when your questions about your heritage (and his by extension) toed personal lines that no one else would dare cross.

With the exception of now, Jungkook’s never acted rude towards you. He wasn’t as guarded with your existence like his older brothers were; as a matter of fact, he even came to your defense when some of them theorized that you were only here in their planet to act as a precursor for their downfall.

With the exception of now, Jungkook’s never been this cruel; with the ultimatum of his pride over your heart, he’s never made you feel this different and alienated from him — with, of course, the exception of now.

Heartbreak is a human emotion.

The weakness of the concept is disturbingly human and vulnerable. There’s no escape from it, even if the said percentage of human in your blood is barely half and could light a candle to your more evolved, far more powerful Twellian genes. It’s a sickening emotion to feel, much more have it get you carried away from what you have to do at hand.

The grip that said heartbreakhas on you is unimaginable, far more different than what your people, not humans, tell you how it’d feel like. There had already been an uproar when it was announced that you were appointed as Prince Jungkook’s guard, the news of an impure Twellian bearing the coveted position receiving every reaction possible — from fear, to distaste, and even to genuine amazement.

All of the kingdom’s advisers had theorized that despite you of being impure heritage, youwere superior in terms of physical capabilities. With everything else you’ve been theorized to lack at, you bite at the possibility that the ache in your chest is attributed to your stunted emotions.

You feel painfully human. You feel what heartbreak is, and compared to what others have made it out to be, it’s an emotion that you can’t put into words.

“You can’t, Jungkook,” you firmly say once more with your ears ringing, not because the volume of the club makes you want to get down on your knees, but because you’ve perhaps heard something far worse; far more grating, and far more overwhelming than what your heart could even bear. "All of your brothers specifically insisted for me to bring you back before midnight."

They say that your hearing’s supposed to be better. They say that you could see far more colors than what your alien counterpart could ever do. They say that for everything else you lacked, you made up for with the way you’re more physically advanced and therefore adept to protecting the planet’s youngest prince.

No one’s ever said that you’ll be safe from Jungkook himself.

"Jungkook, let's go home. Please," you plead through your teeth, the word you’ve last spoken being the latest term you’ve taught him. Jungkook, along with everyone else, is not familiar with begging; they’re not familiar with desperation so wrung out, there’s actually a word made just for it.

Jungkook only scowls at you, eyes turning a bright red as opposed to his usual pink allotted for you. "Butt out," he murmurs, tightly crossing his arms as his nostrils flare involuntarily. ”You promised me I could be out tonight."

You’re starting to get over the heartbreak little by little, the tantrum thrown by the young prince making you indifferent. 

Maybe you just misheard a few minutes ago — maybe, it was only a fluke and you didn’t hear it correctly the first time. Maybe it’s only your faulty impureness that made you susceptible to just hearing your nickname out of nowhere. Maybe, it’s not heartbreak that you were feeling, but rather only a subdued version of it by seeing Jungkook disappointed at you doing your job.

It’s your fault, you guess. Perhaps it’s the fault of the bustle of the club and the hundreds of dialects you could hear all at once finally got to you, overwhelming you to the point that you heard Jungkook calling for your name, despite not looking at you all.

You’re about to plead even more for the both of you to go back already; to save him from a lecture from all of his brothers and for you to be spared an even harsher scolding because they think you’ve gone too soft for him — but then you hear it. Again. 

Jungkook clenches his jaw tightly, eyes glowing a bright magenta before he opens his mouth.

"Come on, princess," he calls you by his term of endearment for you, yet his hand is outstretched for the female Twellian on his side.

He’s not calling you — he’s not even paying attention to you. Jungkook isn’t giving you a shred of his focus but he wants you to hear him call someone else the endearment he had playfully made up for you, to which you grew accustomed to without fail. He wants you to see how he gives it to someone else easily, the syllables falling from his tongue easily getting into the girl’s head.

Jungkook wants you to know how angry he is over you doing your job, he hits you where it hurts. He has no idea what heartbreak is supposed to feel like, but he doubts that you’d even feel that emotion over what he’s done — and if you actually do over something seemingly simple (for him atleast), he could only think that everyone else is exaggerating what it felt like.

Your heart, whatever is human of it, skips. It tightens and it loosens alarmingly so, almost as if you have no control for the liquid hurt that compromises you.

“I’ll show you a good time tonight, princess,” Jungkook whispers to her ear loudly for good measure, eyes darting up at you, only for him to see that you’ve been watching the whole time. 

You almost can’t tear your eyes away until Jungkook crashes his lips into hers, your nickname easily falling out of his lips as if the endearment is free for everyone; as if it’s never been yours in the first place and you only borrowed it out of desperation.

Your whole flight home is quiet.

Jungkook makes it back home before midnight, but you don’t.

( ♡ ) 

Jungkook’s been looking for you the whole day.

He’s been looking for you since he woke up, and that was fifteen ungodly hours ago when he had risen in a cold sweat. Jungkook felt sick to his stomach, and despite his insistence that something must be severely wrong with him for him to feel that way, the palace doctor (along with every other physician, healer, and reader he knew of) confirmed that nothing was out of place.

Jungkook’s supposedly okay, yet it feels like every part of him is being wrung dry. There’s an ache to his chest that renders him stupid because he feels like he’s forgotten every word, every lesson, and every vaguest bit of semblance that would detail about what he felt.

All of a sudden, Jungkook feels like he’s forgotten what the palace looks like. It’s as if he’s forgotten how tiles are supposed to feel cold on bare feet and how bleak his days are when he doesn’t have you by his side, even if the palace is also occupied by his brothers and the grounds are teeming with staff.

The young prince suddenly feels that he’s forgotten the very layout of his home because his mouth is agape at each room he walks in, simply because you’re not there. He’s practically turned the palace upside down just to grab a whiff of you somehow, and yet you’re nowhere to be found. 

Nothing from his or his brothers’ belongings are missing. There’s not a single piece of furniture that’s tilted askew. Nothing has been taken from Jungkook except his peace of mind and the capacity to just stay still because your sudden disappearance unsettles him like no other.

.

.

.

You’re back home, except you’re no longer dressed in the same outfit you left him in. 

Your uniform’s been ditched for something more casual — something more worn and lived in to the point that it looks like a shirt that’s never been yours in the first place. The sight of you, dressed in clothes that’s not yours, puts a bitter taste to Jungkook’s mouth.

He’s never been that selfish before. He’s generous and lenient as far as a prince could go, and yet he’s never felt this territorial over something seemingly as trivial as a shared garment.

The concern feels too vulnerable to the point that only a silly human, something Jungkook’s not, would consider it as a burden.

“Where were you?” he asks with the gentleness he didn’t think he’d possess after being worried shitless about you, the panic he had harbored for the longest time immediately dissipating at you.

Jungkook wants to be mad at you so, so, so badly. He wants to be angry at the way it was irresponsible for you to be alone because after all, your strength wouldn’t compensate for the gleaming fact that you’re not from here in the first place.

“I was on my leave,” you answer simply, keeping your hands behind your back as if this was any other outing with Prince Jungkook and not just Jungkook, the same man who’d call you princess for fun and hold your hand just for the sake of it.

“I didn’t say you could be on leave,” he lowers his voice, jaw tightening at the sight of you being indifferent towards him.

“I asked your brothers.”

Jungkook feels that sickness again. He feels that tinge of metal that lingers in the roof of his mouth and he wants to spit it out in front of you just to see if he’d find something else that’s not the sensations he’s been experiencing since you came around; if he’d find something else that’s not your doing yet affects him just as much.

“What if I needed protecting, hm? What if something happened to me while you were gone?” Jungkook half-taunts, shrinking on himself despite doing his hardest to appear big by crossing his arms.

“I knew you were in good hands, prince,” you tense, the tide that comes with your tone washing over Jungkook until he drowns in the realization that you were there while she was in his quarters. “I made to sure to hear that you were in very good company before I left.”

( ♡ ) 

Jungkook’s on a self-imposed break from his duties.

The prince’s duties almost exclusively involved chatting and being charismatic in general, along with the occasional goodwill event wherein he had to be all over the place just to take care of things, and not once did he ever take this long of a radio silent break — or atleast that’s what one of his brothers said.

He’s been cooped up in his room since you came back two weeks ago. Despite your absence (if you could even call it that) that barely lasted for an entire day, along with your confrontation just spanning within minutes, it’s been theorized by one of Jungkook’s brothers, again, that it’s because of your doing.

The youngest prince is theorized to be sulking over you and you simply cannot believe it.

You refuse to believe that Jungkook is bedridden with sadness because to begin with, his kind isn’t even supposed to feel such type of intense emotion. He shouldn’t be swayed by you — he shouldn’t be preoccupied with such pathetic, human emotion that you thought only you could feel because of him.

You rebuff the idea that he’s paralyzed with guilt, not only because you feel that it’s physically impossible for him to be, but because it’s him. Someone of Jungkook’s power and influence wouldn’t be so ridden with guilt that he refuses to show his face to you because he’s ashamed of hurting you.

You reject with your whole heart each and every idea that his brothers pitch you. You stay stationary with Jungkook and yet you will yourself to amount to something, even if it isn’t for him, just so the sickening feeling of being replaced won’t ever creep up to you.

You’re in love with him and it’s terrifying.

What’s even more terrifying is that you’re not the only one who knows so.

“I suggest not falling in love with Jungkook.”

You look up so sharply, your neck aches at the speed. Yoongi stands above you with a perfunctory smile, and with just the tiny bit of effort for him to come near you almost makes you forget that he’s Jungkook’s brother who had been particularly vocal about being wary of you.

“I’m sorry?” you murmur in disbelief, eyes wide and unblinking as you take into account his perfect tone.

“It’s obvious, you know?” he smiles tightly, pulling a chair to sit himself down across from you. Yoongi looks relaxed as he takes you in, almost as if he hasn’t spent half a year avoiding you. “I’ve seen the way you look at my brother. I’ve seen it over and over again when I was sent for a mission on your planet.”

You want to ask him why he’s telling you this. You want to ask badly why he’s saying this now when you’ve been certain for the longest time that your adoration for Jungkook wasn’t apparent in a land of creatures that don’t know what love, in your own terms, is supposed to look like.

You want to ask Yoongi why it shouldn’t be Jungkook, but you can’t bring yourself to — not because you know the answer deep down in your subconscious, but because you’re afraid that he would only make sense—

That he’d only solidify why Jungkook should never be in your orbit.

“Oh,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “How do you like my planet then?”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“I’m sorry, my prince,” you immediately apologize, looking down on your lap as you wait for the impeding lecture; maybe even the impending punishment (you’re not sure what it is, but you know it would hurt someway and somehow) that comes with loving the prince, even by the sidelines.

“Jungkook is a wildcard at best,” he trails off, exhaling heavily as he listens for the heartbeat in the room behind you that houses his brother. “He’s brash and stubborn. He’s driven by emotions we are not even supposed to have.”

If Yoongi stands up now and jiggles the knob to Jungkook’s room with just the slightest bit of force, he can guarantee that the latter would be falling face-down to the floor, just because of the way he has his ears pressed to the door.

Jungkook is moping and sulking and to this day, he does remain miserable — the aforementioned factors don’t stop him from being desperate and nosy.

“What I’m saying is that he’s weak, Y/N,” Yoongi sighs. “The strong isn’t for the weak. That’s always been the case.”

“I know I’m weak, prince, but I-…”

“What?” the prince laughs out loud, the smile on his face wide and cheery. He’s so amused with you that his eyes glow into pink, throwing his head back as he regains his composure. “Jungkook’s the weak one. Not you, obviously,” he snorts. “He’s basically a loser with a crown on his head. He’s the one who doesn’t deserve you and not the other way around.”

You’re not the one who’s being insulted, and yet it feels like it. Your throat tingles and your ribs burn at the sudden urge for you to protect Jungkook, even if he’s in no real threat; even if it feels like all the baser parts of you are coming together just to make sense of the way you grow simultaneously weak and strong for him.

Jungkook, the actual subject who’s being insulted and is proving his brother right by being weak because he’s wallowing in his room out of self-deprecation, sadly hums to himself in agreement.

“I’m not-…”

“Don’t refute it — that’s an order.”

“Prince Yoongi,” you relent, trying to find the right words. “May I ask why you’re telling me this?”

“Because Jungkook’s weak,” Yoongi answers simply. “I’m just saying that you don’t have to be weak with him and for him.”

( ♡ ) 

You’re eating dinner by yourself in the staff room when Jungkook walks in.

It’s the first you’ve seen of him in three weeks. He’s evidently moving on from what seems to have been a rough period for him, right when you’re at your lowest that you’ve ever been.

Prince Jungkook decides that after three weeks, he should take you by surprise and meet you in the staff room wherein you’re alone, pushing your dinner around your plate instead of doing any other menial task you’ve assigned yourself just so it would feel like you’re in use.

You’re just there. You just happen to be there and no one, even you, could do anything about it. You just happen to be there with no exact purpose and it’s gnawing at you from the inside out.

It feels all over again that your family is the runt of the entire extended bloodline. It feels that you’re not remarkable enough for your relatives to surround you and that you don’t amount to anything enough, in whatever aspect it is, to get a shred of attention that isn’t pity,

It feels like the sinking sensation in your chest wherein you have to see that all your mom could contribute to the table is her trusted homemade recipe during holidays, lost amongst a sea full of pre-ordered meals that only your relatives could afford. Like it’s how your dad’s side of the family is borderline batshit crazy and he’s the only one that turned out to be good, and you can’t do anything but watch strangers your have for blood relatives belittle you. Familiarly so, it’s like you’re a kid again with your siblings sitting on the carpet and cleaning up wrapping paper from gifts, not because the gifts are for you, but because you just happen to be there.

You feel like the alien that you are wherein you don’t belong; wherein your family has to sit on the spare chairs dug up from the basement, situated on a portable table outside of the actual, solid dining table where everyone’s sat. 

Jungkook sits with you at that dusty, old portable table. He sits himself on the flimsy chair that’s only used for stepping and for laundry.

Jungkook sits with you, not because he just happens to be there, but because he’s there for you.

“I’m… sorry for calling someone else princess.”

“It’s no problem,” you murmur, putting your fork down as you keep your hands glued to your knees underneath the table.

“But there is a problem,” Jungkook counters, lowering his head to get you to look at him yet you don’t budge. “I’m not okay with calling anyone else princess other than you.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

“Then suit yourself,” you quip, even with your voice shaky and your vision blurry.

“I’m-…” Jungkook starts again, racking his brain for the limited vocabulary he has that surely isn’t enough to make up for his grave msitake. “I’m very sorry for making you feel bad. It must have hurt.”

“It’s no problem.”

“There’s a problem,” he insists. “I’m saying sorry because I hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me.”

“But I did,” he frowns, beyond confused to why you keep denying the fact that he’s hurt you in ways he can’t even imagine.

“You really didn’t.”

“Why do you not want me to say sorry?” Jungkook questions, voice raising yet he still looks confused— innocent, even. “Did I… hurt you that much?”

It’s the last straw for you. The pure innocence in Jungkook’s words is and should be the last straw for you because it only makes you realize that he’d never understand you. It resonates in your head, more than ever, that you’ll never be able to understand him fully either because you’ll never be the same.

The only option the universe provides you is for you to love Jungkook halfway.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Prince Jungkook. I shall go back to-…”

“Can I not say sorry to you?” Jungkook bursts, darting his hand out blindly to get a hold on you before you leave.

“You can’t say sorry to me because all of this would feel real,” you ramble, shaking your head vehemently. “You should not say sorry to me because that would mean that I’m hurt because I love you.”

Jungkook looks at you innocently with his eyes wide and lips parted, blissfully unaware of the name to the sensation that keeps tugging at his chest to the point that it feels like it would burst open, yet above all else, he still dives in head-first.

“Can you not love me, princess?” he tilts his head. “Is it not allowed?”

( ♡ ) 

Yoongi’s words lie heavily on both you and Jungkook.

The prince’s sentiment stays on your chest like a paperweight that only grows heavier the more that you try to push it off. You know Yoongi means well, no matter how his words come across otherwise, but the longer that you think about his own suggestion regarding his brother, the more you feel unsure.

Jungkook’s made complete sense of his brother’s words on the other hand, and instead of being filled with a type of rage that only bubbles up when being looked down on, oddly enough, he comes to the truth quite easily.

He knows the truth that he’s weak despite painting himself the opposite, and he feels it the most now that you’re the one who’s distancing yourself from him. Jungkook feels like swallowing the sun and chasing it down with water when you respond to princess, even if it’s jokingly uttered by his brothers and not said sincerely by him alone.

He knows the truth that he’s the weak one in the family, if not the weakest, whenever he stands next to them. Jungkook may be the poster prince for the citizens but he knows the most out of everyone that he’s not as vital to the kingdom as the others are. He may get an assigned seat at the actual, solid dining table, but he knows that he’s not at the head of it.

He knows he’s weak, with and for you, and that’s never bothered him until it actually did.

Jungkook’s eyesight isn’t as good as yours.

Unlike you, he’s restrained by the entirety of his Twellian blood from immediately focusing his gaze on anything. There’s a lag that registers whenever he fixes his sight on anything, just like everyone else but you, and that hadn’t been a bother to Jungkook the whole time.

He had falsely assumed that since you’re the only one who’s different here, the only exception in the planet by being impure and partially human, you’d be the one who’ll have a hard time adjusting your daily life to his — not the other way around.

Jungkook, who had not once ever felt insecurity before, suddenly feels inferior. He feels like dirt and yet he’s angry, not because of the fact that he comes second to your abilities, but because he can’t do shit when it comes to you.

The prince’s eyesight isn’t good enough to notice the tiny little expressions that litter your face whenever something remotely intriguing happens to you. His hearing isn’t on par with yours because he can’t register the laugh in your voice as quickly as you could recognize his. He’s not on the same level as you and it’s only now that it bothers him—

The realization creeps into Jungkook, slowly yet unsettlingly, when he sees the cut on your cheek; the liquor of inferiority, chased down by Jungkook’s own rage, only hits him the moment he sees that a nasty bruise is blossoming by the corner of your eye.

Jungkook grips your jaw lightly out of nowhere, making you look up at him unexpectedly when you had been only preoccupied with fixing him his drink. The prince, no matter the unmistakeable rage that’s brewing in red, is the softest he’s ever been when it comes to addressing you.

“Who hurt you?” 

He has all his attention on you and it’s almost sickening with the way he doesn’t want to break off. Jungkook’s hand is still on your jaw and his eyes are still fixed on yours and yet his mind, whatever remains rational of it and not just vengeful, is going a million miles per hour.

“Get your hands off me,” you spit, suddenly overwhelmed by his presence and the vitriol that spills out of him so clearly, the air around both of you shifts.

“I asked you a question,”Jungkook repeats, putting is hand on your wrist firmly instead. He makes the grave mistake of looking down, though, because as soon as he realizes that there’s blood caked underneath your nails and that your knuckles are stained with your own blood, Jungkook can no longer hold himself back. “Who. Hurt. You.”

Jungkook’s reflexes are slow, but the moment your bottom lip trembles in vulnerability and pure bitterness, he feels as if time has caught on to the point that it’s only your anguish that sharpens his senses.

His feelings, even.

“If I tell you, would it make a difference? If I’m considered weak, Jungkook, then that means you’re even weaker,” you scoff, eyes trained on the ground with your head low so you could muffle the tremble in your voice; not that it would make your prince any less attuned to you.

Jungkook’s eyes remain narrowed at you, breathing heavily as you only state the facts not to insult him, but to remind the both of you of your place — or whatever is left clear of it because Jungkook can’t even think straight the longer that he looks at you hurting.

“What, prince? What are you gonna do about it?” you spit as the last resort, standing up abruptly to storm off and make an escape for it just once so you’ll be free of the burden of being yourself in Jungkook’s existence, yet he doesn’t let you.

The grip that the prince has on your arm is unstable yet unyielding at the same time, as if it’s taking everything in Jungkook to remain standing despite wanting to hunch over by the unexplainable tremor that roots from his chest.

(It is taking everything in him.)

“Burn,” he utters. “I’ll burn everything.”

“You’re-…”

“Weaker than you? I know that,” Jungkook interrupts, his lips set in a straight line as he lets himself be swept by the current that is you. “All the more reason to do everything for you then.”

The young prince doesn’t even break his gaze from you once, even if his pupils are trembling and his teeth are chattering out of the sheer trepidation that comes with being scared for someone else who carries your heart with them.

He doesn’t break his gaze from you, even for the briefest second, as he fishes out his (your) handkerchief from his pocket that’s there, not because it just happens to be, but because it’s allotted for you.

To love and to be loved is to feel the sun from both sides, and Jungkook no longer wants the star to swallow him whole because he doesn’t want you to be burned.

Jungkook wants to love you all the way.

[itsvminkook]

JIMIN BTS - 'NORMAL (Korean Ver.)' Visualizer for ARMY

[jung-koook]

jungkook for chanel beauty ♡

[jjungkkook]

[jooyeone]

JIMIN Behind the Scenes at the Dior Show in Paris

[jjungkkook]

[jung-koook]

handsome ♡ (cr. movewithsope)

[jung-koook]

our best friend testing out his new streaming gear and showing it to us ♡

[muniimyg]

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ kiss it better // jjk ་༘࿐

tell me, what are you willing to do?

+

in which a divorce lawyer who believes in love chases after a retired wedding planner that doesn't

kimi's note ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა // m.list

nsfw is applied in all my content + fluff , angst , and crack .

— info

wedding au

strangers / slight enemies to lovers

slice of life / slow burn

— parts

1:

2:

3:

4:

5:

/15

˗ˏˋ© 2026 muniimyg on tumblrˎˊ˗

[outrokoo]

𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙪𝙨 | 𝙟𝙟𝙠 • 10

˙⋆✮ They say having feelings for your brother's best friend is never a good idea...

But loving Jungkook feels like the easiest thing in the world.

He's been by your side for as long as you can remember, so it's only natural for you to feel devastated when your brother, Dohyun, tells you that Jungkook is about to get married.

For the first time ever, loving him doesn't feel easy at all.

paining: brother's best friend!jungkook × f!reader

genre: unrequited love(?), brother's best friend trope, angst, fluff, smut, slow burn

wc: 6.4k

cw: age gap (jk is 32, reader is 22 ops), tension, reader is WHIPPED, pining, initial unrequited love (my fav), eventual smut (!!adding new warnings when needed!!)

>>english is not my first language

chapter 09 | masterlist

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

You’ve been avoiding Jungkook like the plague, and that’s easily one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to endure. Being close to him feels almost unbearable, the distance you’re desperately trying to create keeps dissolving every time you manage to put a few steps between you. No matter where you go or what excuse you find to keep yourself occupied, he always ends up there somehow, existing at the edge of your vision until you can’t pretend not to notice him anymore.

His presence is suffocating in the quietest way imaginable. It doesn’t demand attention, yet it steals yours effortlessly, his eyes never wavering whenever they land on you, never carrying even the slightest hint of hesitation. You spend the entire evening searching for distractions: throwing yourself into conversations, admiring the scenery, focusing on anything that can keep your mind from wandering back to him.

Eventually, everyone decides to have dinner at the hotel’s seaside restaurant, located in a separate building overlooking the water. The short walk there offers the kind of view people usually stop to enjoy. The ocean is stretching endlessly beneath a sky painted with fading shades of gold and blue, the salty breeze is brushing against your skin and the rhythmic sound of waves is breaking gently against the shore. You barely register any of it as you’re too busy rehearsing ways to make it through the night without finding yourself alone with him.

By the time everyone reaches the table, you’ve already made up your mind. Without drawing attention to yourself, you slip into the seat beside Taehyung, hoping the decision speaks for itself before anyone can question it. Thankfully, he doesn’t. He simply glances at you with his usual easygoing expression, completely unaware of the reason behind your choice, or perhaps kind enough not to ask.

The conversation flows naturally throughout dinner, jumping from one topic to another while plates of fresh seafood continue arriving at the table. The flavors are delicate, impossibly fresh, and for a while they almost succeed in pulling your thoughts somewhere else. You laugh when everyone else does, contribute just enough to avoid looking distant, and cling to the smoothness of the evening as though it might carry you safely to the end of it.

You never look at Jungkook. Not once.

The temptation lingers constantly, sitting at the back of your mind like an itch you refuse to scratch, but you know better than to give in. The possibility of meeting his eyes across the table is enough to make your appetite disappear altogether: you keep yours fixed on your plate, on Taehyung whenever he speaks, on the candle flickering between the dishes… anywhere but him.

Still, you know he’s trying to find an opportunity to talk to you. You don’t need to catch him staring to understand it. Every time you move, he somehow ends up nearby, a few steps behind you. He’s always close enough that you’re painfully aware of him without ever needing to turn around. It’s almost as if he’s become your shadow, silently following wherever the evening takes you, waiting for the moment you’ll finally stop running.

You refuse to give him that chance.

By the time dinner comes to an end, you’re already rehearsing your escape. You stand before anyone else has the chance to suggest another drink or a walk along the beach, rubbing at your eyes as you force out a tired smile and admit that you’re exhausted. You even complain that your legs barely have the strength to carry you back to your room, hoping the performance is convincing enough to keep anyone from insisting. It works.

A wave of understanding passes around the table almost immediately. Everyone wishes you goodnight, telling you to get some rest and enjoy the sleep you so obviously need. You return every smile, every farewell, then waste no time. The second you’re free to leave, you head straight back toward the hotel, eager to put walls, doors, and as much distance as possible between yourself and the one person you’ve spent the entire evening pretending not to notice.

Of course, sleep never comes.

You spend the entire night lying awake, staring into the darkness while your thoughts refuse to leave you alone. Every time your eyes begin to close, your mind drags you back to the moment when you and Jungkook were just a single breath apart, replaying everything that happened with cruel precision until you’re wide awake again. Somewhere between the endless hours and the moonlight filtering through the curtains, one thought settles itself so deeply in your chest that it becomes impossible to shake: you haven’t just ruined the vacation you’ve been counting down to for weeks, but you’ve probably ruined Jungkook’s too.

.✦ ݁˖

By the time morning rolls around, exhaustion clings to you like a second skin.

You barely remember agreeing to breakfast this early, but you regret it the second you step into the dining room. The smell of fresh coffee, warm pastries, and toasted bread fills the room, voices already buzzing around the large circular table where everyone has gathered, impossibly awake for this hour.

You, on the other hand, feel as though you’re still trapped somewhere between yesterday and today. Without really thinking, you spread a thin layer of strawberry jam across a slice of toast. Your hand moves on its own while your mind wanders somewhere else entirely, until the knife suddenly stops halfway across the bread.

You don’t even realize you’ve frozen when a gentle pressure lands on your shoulder, pulling you back to reality.

“I hope you’re not planning on killing me with that.”

Sophie’s voice is light, followed by an easy laugh as she nods toward the knife still suspended in your hand. You blink a couple of times before looking down, only now noticing how ridiculous you must’ve looked.

In any other circumstances, you would’ve laughed with her. This morning, the best you can manage is a weak breath that doesn’t quite become a smile.

The lack of sleep is written all over your face, you don’t need a mirror to know that. You can feel it in the heaviness behind your eyes, in the dull ache settled somewhere inside your head, in the way your body seems to be functioning a few seconds behind everyone else’s.

Sophie’s smile falters almost immediately.

“Hey…” she says more quietly this time. “Are you okay? You look kind of pale.”

The question hangs in the air just long enough for the rest of the table to notice. You become aware of the silence before you understand why it feels so heavy. Conversations begin to trail off one after another, replaced by the unmistakable sensation of being watched. When you finally lift your head, several pairs of eyes are already on you, concern replacing the easy smiles that had filled the room only moments earlier.

“Yeah-” Jimin agrees, his brows knitting together as he studies you from across the table. “You disappeared pretty early last night. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

The attention is almost unbearable. Instinctively, your gaze slips away in search of somewhere to land. Of course it finds Jungkook.

He’s sitting across the table with his head lowered, his phone resting beside his plate as his thumb moves lazily across the screen. He hasn’t looked up once since the conversation shifted toward you, his expression unreadable from where you’re sitting.

You find yourself wondering if he’s avoiding your eyes or if he’s simply waiting for you to answer.

“Don’t worry, guys-”

The words leave your mouth before you’ve decided how you’re going to finish them. A faint vibration interrupts you. Your eyes drop automatically to the digital watch strapped around your wrist, expecting nothing more than one of the usual notifications. Instead, your breath catches.

Everything around you fades into the background as your pulse surges violently against your ribs.

kook ❤️‍🩹: Come find me downstairs tonight once everyone’s asleep.

Your breathing falters before you can stop it, your breakfast abandoned in front of you as the meaning of the message settles in. The piece of toast you were holding moments ago has become completely irrelevant, your fingers resting still against the table while your mind struggles to catch up with what you have just read.

You don’t want to look at him.

Every part of you knows that you shouldn’t, that the moment your eyes meet his you’ll lose the fragile control you’ve been holding onto since yesterday. But the pull is stronger than your attempt to resist it, and despite the silent warnings running through your head, your gaze eventually lifts across the table.

Jungkook is already looking at you. There is no surprise written across his face, no trace of hesitation now that you’ve finally caught him. He simply holds your gaze with the same quiet intensity he’s carried since yesterday.

What frightens you most isn’t the fact that he is watching you, but it’s the fact that you have no idea what he’s thinking.

You have known Jungkook for years. Long enough that understanding him has become something almost involuntary- something you never had to consciously learn. You know the way his expression changes when something bothers him, the small habits that appear when he’s uncomfortable, the subtle differences between the smiles he gives when he’s genuinely happy and the ones he wears when he’s trying to hide something. You can tell what kind of mood he’s in by the way he speaks, by the way he moves, by the smallest details most people would never notice. But right now, all of those familiar signs are gone.

The person sitting in front of you is still Jungkook, the same person you’ve spent years knowing better than almost anyone else, yet there is something about him that feels completely out of reach. For the first time, you find yourself unable to read the thoughts behind his eyes, unable to understand whether he is hurt, angry, disappointed, or simply waiting for you to stop running.

“…I’m fine.”

The words escape you before you can stop them, softer than intended. A small smile follows, carefully placed there for everyone watching, but you already know it isn’t convincing.

.✦ ݁˖

Today’s plan consists of a small boat tour around some of the island’s beaches, with a couple of stops planned along the way for anyone interested in spending some time in the water, whether that means snorkeling, swimming, or simply floating beneath the morning sun. As it turns out, your group is the only one that has any interest in leaving this early, which means the ocean is pretty quiet, interrupted only by the gentle sound of the boat cutting through the water as the shoreline gradually disappears behind you. The water is so clear that every now and then you catch glimpses of the seabed beneath the surface, patches of coral and darker rocks coming into view before disappearing again beneath the movement of the waves.

Your attention eventually shifts toward Dohyun, who seems to be enjoying himself more than anyone else on board. He’s been standing near the edge ever since you left the dock, phone held carefully over the side as he records video after video of the crystal-clear water below, leaning just enough to make you wonder whether he’s more likely to capture the perfect shot or accidentally sacrifice his phone to the ocean before the morning is over.

A little further away, the girls have naturally gathered together near the front of the boat, tucked away in their own little corner while they chat among themselves. You suppose it shouldn’t surprise you. Between wives (in Sophie’s case, a soon-to-be wife) there’s bound to be an understanding that comes effortlessly, conversations flowing in ways you probably wouldn’t be able to follow even if you were sitting beside them. Still, a small part of you can’t help feeling disappointed that no one thought to wave you over. No one except Celeste.

She catches you looking from across the deck and immediately lifts a hand in your direction, offering you the same warm smile she always seems to have whenever she’s with you. You don’t hesitate to wave back, grateful for the gesture, before your attention drifts toward Sophie almost without meaning to.

You remember spending hours helping her look for a wedding dress, listening to her overthink every little detail while asking for your opinion more times than you could count, convinced that if anyone knew what Jungkook would like, it was you. Back then she hadn’t seemed bothered by that fact in the slightest, yet ever since that afternoon she hasn’t come to you for advice again. You wonder whether she started thinking about it afterward- whether realizing how well you know him made her uncomfortable in a way she hadn’t expected.

You sigh knowing there’s no point dwelling on a question you could never bring yourself to ask, so you force yourself to let the thought go before it has the chance to make you anxious.

The boat comes to a gradual stop a few minutes later, close enough to the beach that you can make out the white sand beneath the palm trees, though still far enough for the water below to remain deep.

Someone begins passing around snorkeling masks and suddenly everyone is climbing over the side, one after another, without much hesitation. You follow not long after, the cold water wrapping itself around your body the moment you dive in, sharp enough to steal your breath for an instant before the discomfort fades beneath the sight waiting for you below the surface.

The reef is unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. Sunlight filters through the water in pale golden streaks, illuminating clusters of coral in shades of orange and soft yellow while countless fish weave effortlessly between them, some no larger than the palm of your hand, others bright enough to look fake. You watch as tiny silver fish move together, changing direction all at once before disappearing behind the rocks, unbothered by the people swimming only a few feet above them.

You swim back to the surface to take a deep breath before disappearing underwater again, wanting to get closer to everything around you. The silence feels peaceful, leaving nothing but the slow movement of the current around you as you follow a small group of fish, so distracted by everything unfolding in front of you that you completely lose track of where you’re going.

It isn’t until something solid collides with your back that you realize you’ve been drifting backwards the entire time.

Turning around proves to be far more difficult than you expect, your movements slowed by the water surrounding you, but after a slightly awkward attempt you finally manage to face whoever you’ve just bumped into.

You’re not surprised when you find Jungkook in front of you.

For what seems like an eternity, the two of you simply stare at one another, suspended beneath the surface as if neither of you knows what to do, before his hands find your waist, steadying you long enough to guide you back toward the surface with ease.

You emerge a second later, immediately pushing your mask up onto your forehead while brushing the wet strands of hair away from your face, only to realize that Jungkook has surfaced beside you at almost the exact same moment.

Everyone else is still underwater, leaving the two of you alone above the surface with nothing but the distant sound of the boat rocking gently behind you and the waves breaking softly somewhere closer to the shore.

Your gaze lingers on the silver of his lip ring as it catches the sunlight with every subtle movement he makes. You don’t look away until he finally speaks.

“Careful, sweetheart.”

Your cheeks warm almost instantly. At this point, you’re starting to believe that water is genuinely cursed whenever Jungkook is involved. This also happens to be the first interaction you’ve had since climbing onto him like a koala.

“I know how to swim” you mumble, trying your best to sound unaffected. “but thanks.”

You don’t give him the opportunity to answer. Almost as soon as the words leave your mouth, you turn away and begin swimming back toward the boat, convincing yourself that you’ve explored enough for now. In reality, the reef has become the last thing capable of holding your attention now that Jungkook has managed to find you yet again.

Namjoon’s voice reaches you from behind, calling you back and asking you not to leave the water, but you pretend you don’t hear him. You know he only wants you to have fun, but right now you don’t have the energy for that. So you keep moving, letting his voice fade behind you.

Climbing back onto the boat is harder than you expect. Your hands tighten around the small ladder as you pull yourself up, the wet surface making every movement less steady, and for a second your foot slips beneath you. The sudden loss of balance makes your heart jump, but you manage to recover quickly enough to avoid falling or drawing anyone’s attention. You finally step inside the boat, quietly making your way to one of the seats that sticks out near the side, close to where your friends are still in the water, laughing and enjoying themselves.

You sit down, watching them from a distance while trying to ignore your watering eyes. The sound of their voices and the movement of the waves should be enough to distract you, but your mind keeps returning to the same thing you have been trying not to think about.

Jungkook wants to see you. He wants to talk to you. And you are not ready for that.

The idea of having to face him- of sitting down and hearing whatever he has to say- already makes you feel uneasy, because you have a pretty good idea of what the conversation would be about. There is only one thing that has been left hanging between the two of you, something that neither of you has directly addressed: your feelings for him. After what happened, you know there is no way he doesn’t believe that the person you like is him. From his perspective, the conclusion must seem obvious, and even if you wish things were different you can’t really blame him for thinking that. With the way everything happened and the way you were so ready to kiss him, it would be difficult for him to believe anything else.

The instructor eventually calls everyone back onto the boat, interrupting the fun everyone was having in the water. After stopping at a few more beaches along the way, you all decide it is finally time to head back.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before, it’s beautiful.” Hoseok comments as he takes one of the available seats, still looking around at the view surrounding him.

And of course, because luck has never really been on your side, you somehow end up sitting right beside Jungkook.

You try not to show how uncomfortable you feel, hoping that maybe if you act normal enough, your own nerves will eventually calm down. Jungkook seems completely unaware of the anxiety building inside your head as he adjusts his position, placing the arm closest to you against the small railing beside him and gripping it to keep himself steady once the boat starts moving.

You immediately try to create as much distance as possible, shifting away from him even though you already know there isn’t much space to work with. The seat is too narrow, the space around you too limited, and no matter how much you try to move, there is nowhere for you to escape.

Then the boat suddenly starts moving.

The unexpected speed catches you off guard, and before you have enough time to prepare yourself, the wind created by the movement rushes against you. The force of it pushes your body sideways, making you lose your balance and moving you without your permission.

Before you can stop yourself, you end up against Jungkook. His free arm immediately moves around your waist, catching you before you can fall, and even though the gesture is only meant to keep you safe, it is enough to make your heart race.

You hate how easily he affects you. How a simple touch, something that probably means nothing to him, can completely throw you off balance.

You feel almost weak from how overwhelmed you are, and while you are still trying to recover from the situation- from the fact that you are so close to him again- you make up your mind.

You won’t be seeing him tonight.

Because if being near him for only a few seconds is already enough to make you feel this way, you know you are not ready to talk to him.

.✦ ݁˖

There is a bar by the beach that stays open until late at night, and after dinner, following Jin’s suggestion, that is exactly where everyone decides to go.

Getting ready takes considerably less time than it usually would. You barely glance at yourself in the mirror before slipping into the green dress hanging at the front of your wardrobe, deciding it is good enough without bothering to look for something else. Under different circumstances you probably would have changed your mind at least twice before leaving the room, but tonight you cannot bring yourself to care. The hem keeps brushing against your legs as you walk, occasionally catching the sand beneath your feet whenever the path gets too close to the beach, while the open back leaves your skin exposed to the cooler air that settles over the island after sunset. Every now and then your hand reaches down to dust away the grains clinging stubbornly to the fabric, only for new ones to replace them a few steps later.

“Come on, guys, let’s go get something to drink.”

Dohyun doesn’t wait for anyone to answer before slipping an arm around Celeste’s shoulders, pressing a quick kiss against her temple before they disappear into the growing crowd together.

You find yourself watching them for a second longer than you probably should. It reminds you, rather unwillingly, of the bet you made with Jungkook. Well… at least one thing is certain: you definitely won’t be the one paying for the drinks.

The bar is busier than you expected, filled with tourists and locals alike, their conversations blending together beneath the music drifting from the speakers positioned around the wooden deck. Some people have claimed the tables overlooking the water, others remain standing closer to the counter with colourful cocktails in their hands. It’s the kind of atmosphere you usually enjoy, yet tonight it barely manages to excite you.

By the time you finally decide what to order, everyone else has already collected their drinks and wandered off in different directions.

You thank the bartender before turning around, only to stop almost immediately when you find Taehyung standing a few steps behind you, clearly convinced that approaching in complete silence would somehow be enough to catch you off guard. You notice him before he even gets close. Raising an eyebrow, you turn to face him just as he comes to an abrupt stop, his expression making it painfully obvious that his plan has fallen apart before it even began.

“Oh…” He hesitates, tilting his head as though he is genuinely considering whether there is still a way to fix the situation. “…boo?” A laugh escapes before you can stop it, drawing an exaggerated sigh from him as he finally gives up on the idea of pretending the attempt had been successful. “I almost had you” he insists anyway, taking the first sip of his drink only to miss the straw entirely, something you thankfully manage not to point out.

The smile lingers for a little longer than you expect before fading on its own, and you know Taehyung notices the change almost immediately.

Without really noticing, the two of you fall behind the others, the music becoming quieter with every step until it’s softly humming in the background. The distance is enough that you no longer need to raise your voices to hear each other, and for a while neither of you says much, content to stand side by side. Taehyung is the one who eventually breaks the silence.

“I know something’s bothering you, y/n.”

You already know where this conversation is heading. Taehyung has never hidden the fact that, whenever Jungkook is the reason behind your sour mood, he would rather you tell him than keep everything bottled up. More often than not, you have managed to avoid conversations like this with a quick excuse or a subject change before he could insist, mostly because you never wanted to make your feelings someone else’s problem.

You stay quiet, your fingers tightening slightly around the glass resting in your hand while your eyes wander over the people gathered around the bar, searching for a reason to leave the conversation exactly where it is.When you don’t find one, your gaze returns to Taehyung.

For as long as you’ve known him, he has never given you a reason to question his honesty, and somewhere between all the conversations you’ve shared over the past few months, trusting him became easy.

You reach for his hand before you can talk yourself out of it. “Come with me.”

His eyebrows lift ever so slightly though he doesn’t ask what you mean, he simply follows.

Neither of you notices Jungkook watching from across the bar, his attention drifting away from the people around him the moment he sees you weave through the crowd with Taehyung’s hand still loosely wrapped in yours.

You lead Taehyung away from the crowd, following the shoreline until the music gives way to the sound of the waves, quieter now that you’ve put enough distance between yourselves and the bar. A handful of tables have also been scattered along the beach for anyone wanting a break from the noise, most of them already occupied despite the late hour, though one tucked slightly farther from the others has somehow been left empty. You head toward it without saying a word, setting your drink down before taking the chair facing the ocean, your eyes lingering on the water while you search for a way to begin.

The silence stretches between you, though it never feels uncomfortable. You had convinced yourself that dragging Taehyung away from everyone else would make this easier, that once the two of you were alone the words would come naturally, yet now that the opportunity is sitting right in front of you, they seem determined to remain exactly where they are.

“Tae…” You let out a quiet breath, still watching the waves instead of him. “I messed up. Big time.”

The hint of amusement that had followed him ever since he failed to scare you disappears almost immediately. “What happened?”

Your fingers tighten slightly around the cold glass in front of you, the condensation dampening your fingertips as you slowly turn it against the wooden table.

“Do you remember when Jungkook and I went to the pool?” He nods once, waiting for you to continue without interrupting.

“We were having fun…” A humourless smile flickers across your face before disappearing just as quickly. “I was trying to push him underwater, and I still don’t know how we ended up like that because one second we were just messing around and…” You stop, the memory surfacing so clearly that for an instant it almost feels as though you’re standing in that pool all over again. “…the next thing I knew, I had my legs around his waist.”

Saying it out loud sounds so much worse than replaying it in your own head. You lower your eyes to the table, your thumb tracing the rim of the glass as you struggle to put the rest into words.

“He was so close that I couldn’t think about anything else.” Even now, remembering the way he had been looking at you is enough to make your chest feel heavy. “Neither of us moved. We just… stayed there.” Taehyung remains silent.

He doesn’t rush you, doesn’t fill the pause with questions.

“I was looking at him and-” Your voice falters, forcing you to swallow before trying again. “Tae… I was about to kiss him.” You don’t dare look up.

“I was so caught up in that moment that if that woman hadn’t interrupted us…” The sentence trails off on its own, the ending so painfully obvious that saying it aloud almost feels unnecessary. You force yourself to do it anyway, your voice barely rising above the sound of the waves.

“…I would’ve kissed him.”

You hear him sigh quietly, and it’s clear that the situation is weighing on him too. Taehyung stays silent for a moment, looking deep in thought before he finally speaks again.

“Y/n… you know I love you, and I’ll always be here for you. But you need to learn how to control yourself.” He pauses, letting the words settle between you.

“He’s getting married in a month.” He sighs again, leaning closer to you as his arms are now resting on the table. “I’m telling you this because I care about you, not because I’m trying to do what’s best for Jungkook.”

You know he’s right. You know that, somehow, you’re supposed to move on, and maybe this is the moment when you finally have to try.

But Jungkook has always been someone you could rely on- your soulmate. The thought of disappearing without an explanation or leaving him confused about why you’ve suddenly become so cold toward him feels worse than the pain you’ve been carrying yourself. You would rather keep suffering for the rest of your life than be the reason he’s hurting.

“He wants to talk.” you add quietly, almost afraid of saying the words out loud. Your heart starts racing at the mere thought of it. “Tonight.”

You watch as Taehyung gets up from his chair, his drink completely empty by now. He reaches out, offering you his hand, his expression softer than before. “And you will.”

He steps closer, keeping his hand extended, waiting for you to take it.

“Stop assuming you’re going to lose Jungkook no matter what. You don’t know that. Just be honest with him.”

His words linger in your mind as you slowly reach for his hand. The moment your fingers touch his, he pulls you up from the chair and swiftly wraps his arms around you, holding you in a hug that feels almost overwhelming.

“You can do it. Everything will be alright.” he whispers against your ear, his voice gentle as he pats your head. “It’s time to let go.” You fight against the sudden urge to cry as you hug him back, taking a deep breath and letting the familiar scent of his perfume fill your senses.

You hate how easily your mind compares it to Jungkook’s.

.✦ ݁˖

You’re a coward.

You keep pacing around your hotel room, your hands constantly finding their way into your hair as you try to convince yourself that staying here, away from Jungkook, is the right thing to do.

The night ended almost an hour ago, but your mind is still stuck on the moment when the guys started asking where you and Taehyung had disappeared to, their teasing expressions making it obvious that they had already noticed something was off. It was a harmless question, but then Taehyung, with absolutely no hesitation, decided to answer with “trouble in paradise.”

The joke was funny, you couldn’t even deny that, but at that moment all you wanted was to somehow glue his mouth shut before he could make the situation any more complicated than it already was.

Eventually, you stop walking around and sit down on the edge of the bed, your elbows resting on your knees while you stare at the floor and try to slow down your breathing, although your heart is beating so fast you almost feel dizzy.

The idea of staying in your room for the rest of the night seems like the easiest option. The thought of not having to see Jungkook- not having to sit in front of him while waiting for him to ask questions you’re not ready to answer- brings you a sense of relief that you gladly welcome in.

You reach for your phone and unplug it from the charger before opening your conversation with him, your eyes immediately going to his last message. He hasn’t said anything else since then.

Maybe you should be relieved by that, maybe you should take the silence as an opportunity to avoid the conversation for one more night, but instead you find yourself wondering if he’s waiting for you to say something first, if he’s looking at his phone the same way you are, unsure of what to do next.

Your thumb hovers over his name, the possibility of sending him a message sitting there for a few seconds before you lock your phone again.

No, if Jungkook really wants to talk, he’ll find you.

You throw your phone onto the bed before grabbing a pillow and burying your face into it, letting out a frustrated sound as you try to convince yourself that this is the right decision.

You’re not going to see him tonight. That’s final.

You’re sticking to the plan you made the second he wrapped his arm around you on that boat, even if you can already imagine Taehyung’s reaction when he finds out you ran away again instead of doing as asked.

The next thirty minutes feel impossibly suffocating, every attempt at distracting yourself failing because your mind keeps returning to Jungkook. When you finally pick up your phone again and notice that it’s already three in the morning, you feel your stomach twist at the realization that the night has passed so quickly and yet somehow you’re still exactly where you started. Then, almost immediately after, your phone lights up.

You stare at the notification for a few seconds before sitting up, a quiet panic taking over as you get out of bed and start pacing again, walking from one side of the room to the other while seriously considering whether turning your phone off and throwing it out the window would make the problem disappear.

kook❤️‍🩹: where r u?

You don’t answer. Even though you know you should, even though the guilt is already starting to build because you have no idea how long he has been waiting or if he has been looking for you, your fingers remain completely still.

After another ten minutes of convincing yourself that he has probably already given up and gone back to his room, you decide to finally try sleeping. You get under the covers, pulling them closer around yourself because the hotel room feels colder during the night, and just when you start to relax enough to close your eyes, a knock echoes through the room. You freeze, your entire body going tense as you suddenly become aware of every single sound you could possibly make.

“Y/n, please open the door.”

His voice reaches you from the other side, and for a few seconds you simply stay there, unable to process the fact that he is actually standing outside your room.

You don’t move, hoping that if you stay completely silent he’ll eventually believe you’re asleep and leave, even though deep down you already know Jungkook has always been too good at reading you to fall for something like that.

“I know you’re awake.”

You close your eyes, realizing that there is no way out anymore. You can’t keep avoiding him forever, especially not when he’s right there, waiting for you to open the door and finally have the conversation you’ve been trying so desperately to run away from. You slowly get out of bed and walk toward the door, pressing your forehead against it as you take a deep breath, trying to gather enough courage before speaking.

“What do you want, Jungkook?”

You hear him try the handle, but the locked door prevents him from opening it.

“Please, sweetheart. Let’s talk.”

And somehow, despite everything you’ve been telling yourself for the past hour, you still end up unlocking the door. Because when it comes to Jungkook, your heart has always been much weaker than your mind.

You open it slowly, and the first thing you notice is him standing there dressed completely in black, wearing only shorts and a shirt, looking calm and composed while you feel like your entire body is about to collapse.

You immediately feel your cheeks warm up and quickly look away, annoyed at yourself for checking him out in this kind of situation. You step aside to let him enter, and he walks into the room before sitting down on the bed.

You stay standing a few feet away, keeping the distance between you because being close to him feels devastating, but when he taps the empty space beside him, silently asking you to sit, you already know you won’t be able to refuse him.

Slowly, you walk over and take the seat beside him, leaving only a small distance between your bodies while trying to convince yourself that you’re feeling completely fine.

Then Jungkook finally speaks.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you for the past two days.” Your heart skips a beat.

And before you can prepare yourself, before you can find another excuse or another reason to avoid telling the truth, he asks you the only question you wish he wouldn’t ask.

“Are you in love with me, Y/n?”

───────────

author’s note:

you guys… IT’S FINALLY HAPPENING!!!

i’m sorry for the cliffhanger… actually no i’m not because you all know this is my favorite way to end a chapter 😭

i also barely had time to proofread this one, so if you notice any mistakes… pretend you didn’t <3

thank you so much for reading, and please let me know what you think 💘

[yoongiofmine]

Moonchild 2 | ot7 | Two

This is SEASON TWO! If you haven’t read season 1, check it out here! 

[Main Masterlist] | [Don’t want to wait for the updates? Read everything now, here: Membership]

Pairing: OT7  x f!reader  

Summary: It's been six months since Bangtan walked into your life, changing it forever. They gave you a home, a pack, a mate. It's time to leave the small town hidden between mountains and go back to Seoul, but are you ready to find what the future holds for all of you? Will finally knowing what you are bring you the peace you all crave, or is this just the beginning to become who you're supposed to be?

Genre: Series, fluff, angst, smut, non idol au, ABO, werewolf au. 

Chapter Warnings: And you thought the mysteries were over…

WC: 1.9k

← Previous | Series Masterlist | Next →

The sun filtering through the entrance of the cave was light and weak, meaning it was on its way down the sky. As you stepped out of your own little hole on the wall, leaving your mate behind while napping in wolf form, other pack members walked around the common hallways to light fire torches. 

You knew that the wolves had no problem seeing in the dark, but ever since they were able to turn into people, like you, they started to use the fire that you taught them how to make as a way to illuminate things –besides cooking, source of heat and making weapons. 

You bowed and greeted members of your pack as you passed by them, offering an older wolf to find a new blanket for his nest, as well as helping a younger woman to pick up edible berries in the forest the next morning. 

Growing up in the cave and being raised by the wolves had installed in you a sense of community that you knew the humans lacked. You couldn’t see yourself going back out there to live with your kind, no matter how many times your brother promised you he’d keep you safe if you returned to the palace. 

You could never leave your pack and you would rather die than to leave your mate behind. 

“Hello?” you called softly as you approached a familiar cave-hole. “Mr. Sihuk-nim?”

“Come on in, princess!” it was a female voice that invited you, Mrs. Yesoo looking confused to see you, but glad nonetheless. “What brings you here?”

The woman was sitting on a floor mat that had seen better days, but you knew she refused to get rid of it. The five wolf pups that were laying on it next to her jolted up and rushed towards you as soon as they saw you in their home, chirping and letting out high pitched howls of excitement. 

“Mr. Sihuk asked me to watch over the babies tonight.” you explained as you crouched down to pet and tickle the cubs. 

“Oh, I’m sure he’s mistaken–” the wolf mother started to speak, but her husband appeared from one of the inner halls of their cave.

“No mistake has been made, yeobo,” the grey haired man smiled at his wife and bowed to you to say hello. “It’s our mating anniversary. I want to take you to the lake for us to celebrate… Without five flea-bags being in the way.” 

Appa! Who are you calling a flea bag?! Soobin, the second oldest, huffed. 

“No one.” the man laughed at his son’s attitude and turned to his mate again. “So what do you say?” 

Yesoo was smiling from ear to ear, standing up and nodding. But it took one look at her babies sitting by your feet to make her question herself. Then she looked at you for confirmation:

“Are you sure you can watch them?” 

“Of course!” you waved off her concerns. “I promise to take good care of your babies.” 

It wasn’t your first time looking after them, and you had been the one to find Kai and save him from the palace hunters that time he ran away to catch fireflies on his own. You loved these five boys, so it would be no trouble at all to spend a couple of hours with them to let the parents have some alone time. 

Yesoo was reluctant, but agreed after a few words exchanged with her husband. 

Can we go play in the hot springs? Beomgyu suggested once it was only you and his brothers inside their home. 

Yuck, I don’t like the water. Yeonjun, the eldest little alpha, shook his little furry body as if the thought of going to the springs gave him shivers. 

Taehyun sniffed Yeonjun’s pointy ear and snickered: We can tell you don’t like water. 

It caused his other brothers to laugh and you had to muffle a chuckle as you sat down on the dirt floor to watch them play. Yeonjun barked a complaint and jumped on top of Taehyun, being joined by Soobin and Beomgyu who wanted to be a part of the roughhousing fun. 

The five wolves were the same color of grey, white and a few darker spots of black fur; all in different patterns, which made it easier for you to tell them apart. Yeonjun was the biggest one out of them, being the eldest, but Soobin was shaping up to beat him in height. 

You felt a cold nose pressing against your forearm, looking down to see Kai bumping his head against you as if asking for pets. The wolf still had a couple of years before his gene presented itself, but it wouldn’t surprise you if he was an omega from how sweet he was. 

Moving your arm away, you allowed him to jump into your lap and settle happily on your legs. You scratched behind his ears, hearing him growl a tiny sound and turn around with his belly up, trying to hold your fingers with his paws and nibble on them. 

“What do you guys want to play?” you asked them when the puppy fighting was getting too much. 

Can you tell us a story, noona? Kai asked from your lap, which caught the attention of the others. 

Yeah! Tell us what the palace is like! Soobin suggested; the biggest fan of your adventures to steal food and objects from the palace nearby. 

Yeonjun sat down with his tail whooshing from side to side as he asked: Can you tell us how you got that scar? 

Is it true you got it while running away from monsters? Taehyun wanted to know. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you…”

You sucked in a deep breath, as if you were just breaking the surface after plunging into cold, dark water. You expected to find a hard ground, a dark cave, wolves everywhere. 

As you opened your eyes your heart was in your throat and your mouth felt as dry as if you had swallowed sand. 

Yoongi was with you in a flash, hand taking yours and eyes searching for yours as if to see if you were really there. His own relief washed over you and settled in your chest, making your own body let go of the alert state you found yourself in. 

It happened again. You passed out and fell into a dream. 

“Yoongi?” you tested your voice as his lips pressed against the back of your hand and he inhaled your scent. “What happened?” 

“You still like scaring me, huh?” his eyes were closed when he brought his nose to the inside of your wrist and you let him scent you as much as he needed. “How do you feel?” 

“Like I just had a fun night of drinking.” your stomach was turning uncomfortably, the right side of your forehead was throbbing and your mouth was dry. “Minus the fun part.” 

Yoongi helped you sit up and you realized you were in the guest room bed, your scent and his were mixed in the sheets and pillows behind you. He picked up the water bottle that you kept in the nightstand and gave it to you so you could drink from it.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” he asked softly, as if trying to not overwhelm you.  

“Your aunt.” you said before coming back to a new chug of the water. After you were done, you let Yoongi take the bottle from you and you told him: “She was gone and I just knew she went into the forest, so I followed... She talked to me, Yoongi.” 

Yoongi nodded as if it didn’t surprise him. “Aunt Yesoo hadn’t said a word in years.” 

“She wasn’t always like that, was she?” you whispered and he shook his head. “What happened?” 

“Aunt Yesoo was the first of my mother’s sisters to find her mate.” Yoongi sat up a little straighter, shoulders slumped as if talking about this made him uncomfortable. “She was also the first one to lose them. Her husband passed away under weird circumstances only a few years after they met.”

“That’s what put her in that state?” your own voice was choked as a deep sense of longing settled in your chest, of fear. You didn’t know if it was yours or if it was coming from Yoongi. “I couldn’t imagine how she must've felt…”

“After uncle died, imo swore she wouldn't be with anyone else.” Yoongi kept going. “A few months later Sindeok showed up.” 

“The elder, Sindeok?!” 

You already felt nauseated, but the thought of the elder that was responsible for your almost death by poisoning made you want to throw up. 

“Sindeok offered to train my aunt to become one of them.” Yoongi explained with a lock on his jaw. “It was a great opportunity for her to find purpose in her life, everyone in our pack thought so.”

“Why do I have a feeling that it didn't end well?”  

“That’s when imo lost her mind. Literally.” Yoongi was having a hard time getting the next parts out, so you reached for his hand and cradled it between yours. It was a family matter and you wouldn’t pry if you didn’t need to know more. “The training… She couldn’t handle it. Aunt Yesoo got lost in her own mind, like she was trapped there, no longer talking, barely moving. The elders explained that she started having visions, but we didn’t believe them back then.” 

“Visions?” your heart started buzzing in your ears. “Yoongi, that sounds like…”

“Like your dreams, I know.” that was one of the few times where you saw panic in Yoongi’s eyes.  

“In the forest, she– she said I’ve seen her babies.” you recalled your encounter before you passed out. “She looked at me like she knew me, and I think she does. The same way I know her.” 

You let it all sink in. 

If Yoongi’s aunt had the same visions as you did, if she saw her dead husband alive and well and the babies she would never be able to have in this life… It would have been so easy for Yesoo to get lost in that fantasy. 

She got stuck inside the dreams, inside the visions of a life she once had. And you were pretty sure she chose to. 

“I sound insane, don’t I?”

“Cub… If what you’re saying is true–” Yoongi sighed, resting his head against your shoulder. His nose was running along the mark on your neck, his way to ground himself and to think straight. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes, Yoongi, I swear.” you needed to hold him just as bad, sinking your hands into his hair. “I know this is crazy, but I’m sure.” 

“Maybe your dreams aren’t dreams at all.” he whispered, as if scared to say those words out loud. “Maybe they are visions from the past.” 

“You’re saying I’m having glimpses of my past life now?” you chuckled, but it honestly didn’t feel as crazy as the rest of your life. “That I’m the actual lost princess?” 

“I don’t know what this means, but if you’re having the same visions as aunt Yesoo, then maybe we have bigger worries than that.” Yoongi lifted his head to press his forehead against yours. “If the same happens to you–”

“It wont.” 

“You can’t know that.” 

“I do. My dreams… My visions, I’m not scared of them.” you cradled his cheeks and stared right into his eyes. “Your aunt chose to live inside her visions, because that reality was better than the one she has now. She still had her husband then, she had children. My reality is so much better than any vision from the past because I still have you here. And I have the others too.” 

[00bamc]

dishonesty;03

don't hurt yourself

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

pairing: kim seokjin x reader (infidelity au)

inspiration: “anger” written by warsan shire, don't hurt yourself by beyoncé.

warnings: grammatical mistakes, cheating, profanity, violence, strong language.

a/n: chapter three is out! this bad boy was a ride and probably i will be back later for some corrections. however, i hope you enjoy it. as always likes, reblogs and your commentaries are always appreciated. happy reading!

"if it's what you truly want ... i can wear her skin over mine. her hair over mine. her hands as gloves. her teeth as confetti. her scalp, a cap. her sternum, my bedazzled cane. we can pose for a photograph, all three of us. immortalized ... you and your perfect girl.

why can't you see me? why can't you see me? why can't you see me? everyone else can."

His side of the bed is cold and empty at dawn.

What a fucking surprise! Your dear husband leaves in the morning without a goodbye. Honestly, you would have called him to tell him he can go and fuck himself if it weren’t for the pounding on your head because of all the crying you did the night before, as a matter of fact, it was his fucking fault.

As if he were to feel guilty.

You wonder if the blonde with nice tits is giving him a nice blowjob right now; hopefully and if you are lucky enough, she will rip his dick off with her teeth. What a sight would be.

Mindlessly stirring your cup of steaming coffee, you enjoy the quiet morning by yourself. The warmth of the sun entering from the kitchen window and the beautiful sound of birds chirping - a rare sound in a busy city like Seoul - brings peace to your wounded soul. The calm before the storm, still, you are going to enjoy it no matter how long it will last. You let out a sigh before raising the cup to your lips, enjoying the delicious aroma of your beverage, but sadly when you are about to take a sip of the bitter yet relaxing taste, your phone rings. Kim fucking Seokjin’s face is shown on the screen.

He couldn’t just leave you alone, couldn't he? As if he hadn't fucked up your marriage enough, and now he wants to shit in your morning too. Great. Just fucking great.

You really make a giant effort to bite back the curse at the tip of your tongue when you hear his breathing at the other side of the line. “What?”

“Love-” Seokjin’s voice sounds croaky through the speaker, “I am sorry for not saying goodbye this morning. There—” he pauses, gulping down saliva, “was an emergency at work.”

“Right," the sound of his voice unpleasantly irks you while his pathetic excuses make you sick. Now the truth is out there, you can't stand his act of caring husband. “If you have nothing else to say, I will hang up,” you take your phone away from your ear, ready to end the call and return to the rest of your already ruined morning.

Seokjin cries out from the phone, "Wait!”

You put him on speaker after a roll of your eyes, deciding to start with your breakfast. You are not going to starve just because he wants to cry a little on the phone. “Are you mad at me? I am sorry, my love. I know I have been acting like a dick for the last months,” you suppress a mocking laugh while stabbing with a fork a cut piece of fruit and taking it to your mouth. The sweet taste of the strawberries calms your nerves as, against your own will, your heart warms a bit at his half-assed apology.

Fucking traitor.

“Now you realize?”

“I know I have been acting like a bad husband. Work has been rough and instead of running to you, I have been pushing you away. I am so sorry.”

You don’t understand the sudden change of heart. He was smug and defensive about his hidden side chicks last night, but now he wants to mend broken bridges? Fucking psychopath.

He continues with a slight tremble in his voice, “But I have been true with my heart. You don’t need to worry because you are the only woman I love.”

Your grip on your fork tightens, turning your knuckles white. He is lying like he always does because you definitely don’t do something like this to someone you love. If he loves you so fucking much, why he was sticking his dick and burying his tongue in fresh pussy? You breathe through your nose, already feeling tired of his bullshit.

“There is not another man above you, Seokjin. Do you know that?” You heard him take a shaky breath through the speaker. Good. At least he has the decency of feeling guilty. “Don’t pull that type of shit again. If you do, you are going to lose your wife.”

You hope he catches the double meaning of your words.

“I know,” he lets out a painful sigh before he changes the subject. “This emergency at work has obliged us to advance the concerts in Tokyo. I will leave today and not next week,” you frown, how strange, yet you let the worry go away. Maybe he has promised a fuck-vacation to one of his mistresses. Son of a bitch, he probably gets off with deceiving your sacred vows. “In an hour, I will be at our home for my luggage. I was wondering-” he trails off nervously. “If you can come with me to the airport. I want to see you before I have to go.”

The audacity of wanting your affections. Fuck him.

“I am busy today.”

“Oh,” he sounds disappointed, but you don't have the desire to please him, to bend your wants and needs just so he can feel better. He lost that right. “It is okay. Don’t worry. Just work hard like always. I will call you when I arrive, okay?” You hum, taking a sip of your warm coffee.

“I love you.”

You hang up, not even bothering to say it back.

Surprisingly, Seokjin is true to his promise about calling you when he arrives at his hotel in Tokyo.

If only he had been true to the promises of love and loyalty, he made you in the fucking altar.

Your phone rings around four times, but you don’t bother reaching for the device even when it lights up in the darkness of your room. Talking to him is the last thing you need or want. Instead, you decide to close your eyes and turn to your left side, your back towards the night table, where your phone keeps vibrating with the useless efforts of a man who is too late.

The next day he calls you again. Midway working in some correction of an open Word document, you heard the first keys of a piano, followed by the voice you had come to adore in all these years, but now instead of the butterflies in your stomach and the strong sense of pride, you feel a heavy knot form on your stomach.

After taking a deep breath, your fingers hover over the “accept video call”, debating if you had the guts of talking with him. If you are able to have a civil conversation without cursing him out and blurting that you know his dirty little secret.

“A lion is still a lion even in a cage.” Grandma was a fucking badass, and you have her blood running in your veins, so in a bravery streak, you accept the call.

The first thing to greet you is plump heart-shaped lips curved in a bright smile and beautiful almond eyes sparkling with undying adoration. His black hair falls on his forehead which gives him a youthful look. The man greeting you through the screen reminds you of the man he used to be before he frayed the string tying you together.

The man who blushed prettily and stuttered when he spilled coffee all over himself on your first date. The same man who gazed down at you with stars in his eyes when he lifted your white veil.

How dare he? How dare he look at you as if he was the same man?

“Good morning, my love. How are you?” He brightly cheers, the camera moving a little as he sits at the bottom of his bed. You give a look around, since the limited view, you have of his hotel room. He looked relaxed, even when he spent a lot of time blowing your phone last night. You wonder if one of his side chicks followed him to Japan. God spare you from catching a glimpse of a naked woman walking around.

“What do you want?” The smile on his face falters a little, but the look in his eyes does not change. You know he can see in your face all the anger slowly building up, meant to explode in an ugly way.

If he is taken back by your harsh tone, he doesn't show it.

“Are you still mad at me?” He asks patiently, a soft expression taking in his beautiful features.

You feel heat rise on your spine. Does he expect you to be happy and proud about the fact that your husband is going around your back and fucking a different girl every night?

“I am not mad, Seokjin. I am just busy. I don't have a lot of time to spare.”

He ignores your dismissive tone, and how your eyes stay on your laptop screen.

“Are you working on your new manuscript?”

“Yes.”

“Did you fix the problem you had about that scene of the lake? I know you were so stressed about it.”

“Yes, I did.”

He tries again.

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Yes.”

You know you are being petty, but you are not in the mood of entertaining him in pleasantries. You want to cool down a little because if you are going to chew his head off it is not going to be through a video call and when he is in another country.

After a few more seconds, you hear him sigh painfully as if you were hurting him. As if he wasn't the same to you just a mere few days ago.

“Love. Look at me, please.”

You turn your face towards the phone screen whilst feeling hatred towards yourself. Why do you keep being weak for him?

“Seokjin, I-”

“I am sorry, I know I have been horrible to you, and you don't deserve the way I have been treating you. But I don't want to lose you over something like this.” He breathes out, head facing down for a second. And you wonder why he suddenly looks so conflicted, however, the expression of agony on his face is gone before you can ask about it. He continues with a fervent tone, “Tell me what can I do to make it up to you? What do you want? I would do anything you want.”

Anything you want? You wanted his loyalty. You wanted his respect. You wanted his love. But it is too late for that, isn't it?

You open your mouth to speak, yet a sudden knock on his door, followed by a man's voice calling his name, interrupts you. Your time is up, and low-key you are grateful for it because if it wasn't for it, you probably would reveal that you know about his indiscretions.

The inevitable confrontation is yet to come, but you want to hold in this anger a little longer.

“I have to go.” Your husband announces apologetic while rubbing his forehead with the hand not holding his phone. “I will call you later, okay?”

You give him a simple nod, not having anything anymore to say.

His gaze softens, chocolate irises melting in love and adoration. Why does he keep hurting you like this?

“I love you.”

You smile politely at him, before disconnecting the call.

That is how your routine is established for the next few days. Every day or night, he calls to ask about your day, and you give quick answers, working on your manuscripts as he talks. Then you ask about his day, and he tells you about it. Your conversations are cordial and civil, but both of you know that things are not right between you. He sees it in the way you ignore the tenderness of his voice when he says he loves you with all his heart, and in the way, you cannot bring yourself to reply to the words.

He doesn’t hold it against you. It is like an unspoken agreement between you two about forgetting these last months. He is too much of a coward to confess his sins against you, and you are too much of a lovesick fool to bring it to the table.

Five days after he has left, he finally has the courage to take the next step toward a reconciliation that doesn't feel right. That day you wake up to a beautiful bouquet of violets delivered to your home. Violets. Loyalty and Love. You almost laugh about the irony. The bouquet is gorgeous, and you put the flowers in a vase with water, so they could live a bit more, although, you can help but see it as an “apology” for the woman he probably is fucking in Tokyo.

Later in the day, you meet with Jia and Sooyoung, your two closest friends, for lunch.

“Is everything okay with Jin?” Jia, all pretty in her pink blouse and white mini skirt, asks midway, inhaling her piece of chocolate cake. Her manicured fingers drum against the table when she lets the dessert invade her taste buds. Sooyoung next to her shifts her sharped gaze from one of the cute servers to you. You get distracted a little by how alluring her eyes look with her eyeliner.

Apart from his cheating ways, everything is wonderful.

You shrug, enjoying your lemon pie. “He is in Tokyo, like Yoongi.”

Jia smiles dreamily after hearing the name of her boyfriend, a love-struck expression forming on her face at which you lower your gaze as you scratch the fork you have been using against your dessert plate. You hate the sound, but it distracts you from the invasive thought of the way your relationship with your husband used to be. However, her happy expression doesn't last because soon Jia´s face turns serious, eying you in worry after she hears your flat tone. Maybe because she is used to you talking about Seokjin as if he hung up the stars in the sky.

“Yes, I know, “she shares a look with Sooyoung, one you pretend not to notice. ” Yoongi has been secretive these days. I know something is bothering him, but he doesn’t want to spill,” she pouts, fork catching another bite of chocolate. “My baby works so hard.”

You roll your eyes at seeing how sure she is about her boyfriend’s loyalty.

“Maybe they are stressed,” Sooyoung chirps, gaze going back to the blonde girl taking the order of an old couple. “Probably is hard to do concerts much earlier than expected.”

“It was strange.” Jia agrees, chin resting on her right palm, with her pinky flexed against her cheek. “Hope everything is good. Let me know if you figure it out. "Your friend gives you a comforting smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes, as if she suspects something was not right.

You don't question it, instead, you give a simple nod of your head in acknowledgment and feel relieved about the conversation wavering to Sooyoung, who is getting ready to hunt the server she has been eyeing. Yet, a few hours later, when you give Sooyoung a lift to her house, she asks again if everything is alright. You provide the exact answer you have given your parents, and everyone else.

“Everything is going well.”

You won’t find the strength to confess to either of them the truth. How could you do it? How could you tell them you weren’t able to keep your husband from straying? Your parents would feel disappointed if they discover that your marriage has been a complete failure, especially since only happy couples exist in your family.

Happy, long marriages without unfaithful husbands.

Sooyoung does not ask more questions, even when you see in her face the itch of doing it. But she doesn't miss the opportunity of hugging your goodbye, much tighter than other times.

“Whatever has happened with Jin, it is his own fault. You always have been too much for that fucker.”

You laugh at her remark even when deep down, you wonder if that is true.

As if you were a part of a bad fucking movie, the dirty secrets of your fucking husband spill out of the bag in the worst possible way.

On the exact same day, he returns from Tokyo, the news caught you inside your car parked in front of the coffee shop where you usually meet with your editor. Your phone rings midway sending her some details of your recent manuscript; a notification of an incoming call from “Jia '' appears suddenly at the top of the screen.

She is calling even when she knows you had a work meeting. Something she never does, not even at that time when she fell down on her work stairs, broke her ankle, and needed someone to pick her up from the hospital because Yoongi was out of town. You remember a receptionist of the hospital had to call you because her stubborn ass was worried she would interrupt you.

You immediately pick up.

“Where are you?”

You frown at the urgency of her voice, putting the phone on speaker, and turning the car around, starting to drive towards her place, “Are you okay?

“I am okay, but where are you? Are you home?”

“No, I just met with my editor.”

At that exact moment, a call from her enters. You quickly declined it while making a mental note to return it later.

“Go home. You are not safe in the streets!” She screams through the speaker, a quiver in her voice that makes you realize she is making an effort to hold back tears.

You open your mouth to ask her again if she is okay when you hear a deep voice talking in the background.

Yoongi.

He calls for Jia, a fade “Baby, please, calm down” reaches your ears followed by more hushed words. A heavy knot forms in your stomach when you hear your name being spoken between aggressive whispers.

Something is wrong.

As you stop at the intersection waiting for the traffic light to turn green, fingers nervously drumming against the steering wheel before you heard Jia´s usually sweet voice answer with a “Get out of my house and go fuck yourself, you selfish bastard.”

You feel drops of sweat slide down from your neck to your back. Your Jia is not aggressive, much less to Yoongi, the man she is hopelessly in love with.

“Jia, what is going on?”

Silence is your only answer before you hear her tapping on her phone. One second later, a notification of a message from her appears on your screen. “I am sorry, baby. I am so sorry. If I had known I would have told you.”

At the painful tone of her voice, you don't waste a second yanking your phone from its holder as you rush to park on one side of the street. Jia´s irregular breathing falls to your ears as you open the text message and click on the link she sent you. Your heart contracts, lungs being crushed by the sudden press on your chest as a sob gets stuck in your throat.

“Scandal! Kim Seokjin´s and Park Minyoung’s infamous sex tape goes viral!”

“The actress of the new drama “Love is in the air” just like you have never seen her before. Click for more spicy details of this new scandal!”

“I will call you later.”

Jia cries out your name, but it falls on deaf ears as you hang up the phone without waiting to hear what she has to say. Eyes fixed on the gossip article, you let one trembling finger hover on the link to the video that you know will hurt you deeply.

Is it really worth it to put you through that torture? What is better . . . Know or not to know? Being kept in the dark?

You shut your eyes close for a second, reuniting the courage needed, and after letting out a jagged breath, you finally press play.

It is worse than your nightmares.

She lies on her back, ebony long hair thrown on the pillow, plump breasts with taut nipples moving with every impact her slim body receives between her open long legs placed neatly over broad shoulders.

“Shit, you are sucking me in, slut.”

Hearing his voice felt like a slap to the face, but you refused to move your eyes from her.

“Do you like it when I treat you like the whore you are? Am I right, dumb slut?” Her hands go to her jiggling tits.

“Yes, I love it. I love being your dumb slut.”

“Fucking whore. Take my cock deeper.”

“Fuck, I am coming, daddy!”

The look on her face is hypnotizing; the way her mouth falls open in a silent scream, the bits of drool leak to her chin, and the way her eyes roll to the back of her head as she loses herself in ecstasy. Bile rises to your throat because as she is sent to cloud nine, another naked figure comes closer to the camera, making it impossible not to see him.

You watch helplessly the way his strong and firm hands grip one of her tights while the other sneaks around her waist as he keeps thrusting, fucking her through her high. His head lowers to her chest, black hair falling on her collarbones as he takes a nipple on her mouth. She cries out, high-pitched screams getting louder when he decides to move one of his hands lower, the rough pad of his fingers rubbing her clit.

God, he used to pull the same move with you.

Nausea hits you followed by a pang of killing pain on your chest, but you don’t stop the video, completely fixed in the way your husband fucks one of his side chicks.

He is close, judging by his grunts and the stuttering of his hips. You know that dance by heart. Finally, he pulls out of her, red cock glistening with her juices.

“Please, give it to me.” He keeps his dark eyes on her swollen pussy as he strokes himself. Once, twice and then he lets out a husky groan followed by spurts of warm and thick cum falling into her toned stomach. She moans at the feeling, looking completely delighted with being bathed by your husband's come. The screen fades to black with the view of her red lips curving in a stupid smile, the epitome of a woman satisfied after being fucked dumb.

Silence engulfs you for a second, your brain trying to process the cruel mockery he has made of you.

Then hell breaks inside you.

Your phone falls carelessly on the floor of the car as you throw yourself out, unfocused gaze and a high pitch on your ears shifting the world around you. Acid vomit returns to your throat leaving a burn behind when you finally double over in a trash can placed some steps ahead of your car.

Son of a bitch. Who the fuck does he think you are?

He has made an idiotic fool of you.

For God’s sake, you let him do this to you.

You kick the trash can with all your force causing the metal to quiver at the force before wiping roughly your mouth with the back of your hand. Blood boils in your veins as you return to your car, fully pressing the gas pedal, not caring about the fact you are driving at over speed.

The world suddenly looks red, a burning fire engulfing everything you see.

The ringtone of your phone obligates you to take a look at your phone. Jia calls, followed by Sooyoung. Yoongi calls next as well as Hoseok and Jungkook. The audacity. Your grip on the steering wheel tightens when you see the names of his bandmates appear on the screen. Now they want to speak. Where were they when your husband was cheating on you?

They knew.

You are sure of it, especially when they spend all day together. All the excuses, nervous words, and pity eyes now make sense. You have done everything for them, have loved them like actual brothers, and they have betrayed you in return.

Seokjin is the last to call.

You block his number immediately.

You arrive at the HYBE building with a scratch of your wheels on the pavement. The guard at the main door doesn’t try to stop you when you burst through the glass doors, instead, he just gives you a glance full of pity. They know. All these people know about your husband’s dirty laundry.

You hold the tears wanting to escape. Suicide before they see them falling down, before allowing him to keep humiliating you.

Your footsteps are loud on the big hallways as you rush towards the biggest dance practice room of the building.

“What are you doing here?” A flustered Soobin greets you at the door of the practice room. The door wide open allows you to catch a glimpse of some TXT and ENHYPEN members inside along with some staff members.

“Where is he?” The boy gulps, eyes going through some people of the staff who avoid your burning stare.

You know these people; you were there when the company was struggling to stay afloat. You used to share laughs, help around, and bring food for all of them too because you recognized their big role in BTS's success. Maybe that is the reason why they don't stop Soobin from blurting out a nervous “Conference Room.”

A yelp of your name escapes Jimin’s lips when he sees you walk past him on your way toward the conference room. His rushed steps mixed with Taehyung’s voice pleading you to wait to make you quicken your pace. Somehow Jungkook’s voice is added to the chase.

It hurts. He was like a little brother to you. How nice of him for not giving a flying fuck about you.

The door of the conference room slams against the wall at your rough push, and as you expected, the fucking couple of the year is inside.

Park Min Young standing there, between Seokjin’s arms. Her slim arms tangled around his neck, her lips against his while his hands grip her waist.

Strike three, you are fucking out.

Everything happens fast. Seokjin’s eyes widened as he pushed Minyoung away, causing her to stumble and hit herself with the large table behind her. Your husband opens his mouth with a dumb expression on his face, but his pathetic explanations are not necessary.

Without a single word, you take off your wedding and engagement rings from your fingers, taking a moment to look at them. They are beautiful, pure gold and a big diamond, but now after seven years and a betrayal, they mean nothing. You hurl them with all your force towards him before turning around on your feet and shoving past Jimin and Taehyung stuck at the door.

“Wait!” Seokjin calls out, “Please, love, wait a minute.” Rushed footsteps and desperate voices dangerously came closer.

You almost break into a sprint when a warm hand catches your wrist, pulling you back towards a hard body that smells like the sweet fabric softener you bought for him in your favorite grocery shop. You laugh bitterly at the realization. He is always going to mean more, always be more important to them than you.

Nice of them to show their true colors now.

You turn around slowly, encountering a pair of doe pleading eyes staring at you. “Where were you when I needed you to speak out?” Jungkook’s face crumbles, lower lip trembling and eyes watering. “If you had a little love left for me, you would stop him. “

He hesitates for a moment. You see the battle inside his head, and you don't know if it is guilt or leftover affection that moves him to let go of your hand before taking a few steps back. He sniffs, cleaning his nose with the back of his hand. “I am sorry.”

You believe he is.

“I know.”

Your heart rate increases with every step you give, and your keys almost slip off your trembling hands when you try to open the driver’s door, yet, in the corner of your eye, you notice his black Honda parked in his usual spot on the parking agency lot, next to the spot where you parked your own car. You let out a maniac laugh, and maybe it is pettiness, but you don't resist the urge to let your car keys run against one side of the vehicle. The satisfying sound of metal against metal leaves behind an ugly white line on the car’s paint.

His favorite one.

You return home driving at over speed. Time is running out. Paparazzi will be over you soon. Bargaining on your mansion, you don’t waste a second on packing your stuff. Clothes are ripped from the hangers, beauty products sweep off from your vanity, and electronics are picked up from your desk before shoving them in the suitcases that you sloppily throw on the backseat of your car. But before you can take off and leave behind the house full of memories, you remember one of your favorite parent’s portraits inside the house, obligating you to go back.

The portrait is neatly placed in the living room next to the television and photographs immortalizing happier times. Carefully taking the photograph out of its frame, you put it inside of one of your jean’s pockets, and for a mere second, you allow yourself to glimpse at the happier times.

In one, you are next to Seokjin, who has his arm wrapped around your shoulders. Both of you making silly faces to the camera, a glimpse of new and pure love shining on your faces. This is the memory of the time when you just started dating. In another, the both of you are on the floor. One of his arms around your waist and one hand holding yours against his lips, kissing your ring finger, with a sparkling diamond ring on. Hoseok took that photo after you threw yourself at Seokjin, screaming yes, without waiting for him to finish his speech.

The cherry on top was your wedding picture. Foreheads together, arms holding you tenderly, and beautiful eyes admiring you with so much adoration. You removed it from your bedroom when looking at it became unbearable.

The muscles of your back tense as your mouth turns dry and by impulse you let your feet guide you towards the storeroom on the first floor, where you know Seokjin saves his sports equipment.

His baseball bat feels heavy between your steady hands. You are aware of the damage you can cause, the imminent chaos you have to bring to avenge a little part of your broken heart. So, with a scream, you swing the bat, taking down all the photographs and the television. Broken glass smashes to the floor, leaving behind a soothing buzz on your veins.

Who the fuck does he think he is? Bad motherfucker. A selfish bastard who has destroyed your life.

You take a pair of scissors from the kitchen on your way to your shared bedroom, eyes fixed on the closet where only his clothes are still hanging. Your fingers caress the expensive cloth of one of his suits, before merciless cutting one sleeve off. The rest of his suits, favorite shirts, and a Louis knit with that disgusting smell of vanilla have the same faith. In the bathroom, you swig at his expensive beauty products and perfumes, leaving behind a mess of broken glasses and liquid on the marble tiles. Not forgetting to give a good hit to the mirror.

A fucking clown. He has exposed you to the media like that.

His home office has the same fate. The baseball bat leaves cracks on the wood of his desk with every blow you deliver with all your strength. Your range tantrum soon is diverted to the items showing his success through the years.

Music awards, platinum disks, pictures, and music equipment.

It is because of you.

You have helped him to become that man with the world at his feet. Still, he dared to throw you away like a rag doll because he found fresh and young pussy to fuck. He believes he is so almighty, so above you that he can do whoever he wants.

Such a fool with a god complex.

His home office door opens abruptly, letting Kim mother-fucking Seokjin rush inside with disheveled clothes and red eyes. He doesn’t flinch when you slam the bat on his desk.

“Baby,” He breathes out, “Just listen to me. I can explain,” his tormented gaze bores on you, tainted hands trying to reach for yours. “I am sorry, okay? I was so wrong. “He takes a few timid steps in your direction.

“One step closer, and I will break your fucking kneecaps!” His eyes widen at your colorful choice of words. His patient little wife is dead now. He better get used to it. “Leave me alone. There is nothing to explain.” You shove him out of the door, bat dropping to the floor with a loud thud on your way out.

“Listen to me, please. I was going to tell you,” He insists, following you down the stairs and to the kitchen. “I was scared. I love you with all my heart. Please understand. I was afraid of losing you—”

“Who the fuck do you think I am, Seokjin? You didn’t marry an average bitch. Don’t you dare to sell me your cheap excuses!”

His lips tremble at your harsh tone, slightly grimacing at the sight of you violently opening one of the cabinet’s kitchens to take out a bottle of wine. Under his worried gaze, you open it and drink straight from the bottle.

“Listen—”

“What are you going to say now that you have humiliated me?” he shuts his mouth close, lowering his head while his hands turn into fists at his sides. “Not only you have been fucking around with your harem of side chicks, but you also recorded yourself with one of them.”

He snaps his head to you. “I-“

You let out a sardonic laugh. “I have been aware of this mockery for months.” Bitterness drips from your tone, “And I did nothing because I loved you. I forced myself to believe your lies, so I could keep you. I gave you everything about me and still wasn’t enough for you!”

“You were enough! You have always been more than enough!” Seokjin rushes towards you, trying to take you between his arms. He won't touch with the same dirty hands that pleasured another woman. Afraid of feeling his touch, you reach for one of the dirty dishes inside the sink, tossing it at him. The plate crashes on the floor when he ducks it in time. “You have always been my love. I have always loved you. I am sorry!”

“Kiss my ass, Seokjin! I don’t believe a fucking word that comes out of your dirty mouth.” You step back when he tries to come closer to you, but he is faster because this time he manages to place his hands in your arms. “Let me go! Fucking let me go!”

“Listen to me, please!”

“I don't want to! How can I even smell her on you? Did you fuck her today?” Seokjin stumbles back at your desperate rough push. His face pales after hearing your words but doesn't try to defend himself. “Coward. You can’t even admit it to my face.”

So many emotions pass through his face, and then you see a dangerous glint take over his eyes. Anger he doesn't deserve to feel, not when it is because of him that you both are in the eye of the hurricane.

“I did it! Is what you want to hear? I fucked her in the studio. I ate her out, then I fucked her until she was begging me to stop, and I fucking enjoy it—”

Who the fuck does he think he is?

The loud sound of your hand against his cheek breaks his trail of words, face jerking to the side.

You stay there, hand still in the air accompanied by a burning sensation all over the skin of your palm. A deep feeling of regret starts to lie heavily on your chest, regret that you obligate yourself to stubbornly swallow.

After an excruciating second, he looks back at you with watery eyes and his large palm against his burning cheek, and soon the regret turns into disgust when you catch a glimpse of the shine of his wedding ring. The ring he wore on his finger every time he fucked around with his mistress, the ring he saw every time he betrayed your trust, but it wasn't enough to stop him, to make him think about the pain and humiliation he would bring you.

He looks pathetic.

As if some tears would be enough to fix this mess, enough to fix your broken heart, enough to turn back in time and erase all the disrespect and humiliation he has brought you.

He can cry you a fucking river if he wants, but it would not make a difference.

You take a menacing step towards him, voice low and dripping venom.

“When you hurt me, you only hurt yourself. Don’t you realize?” He bites his lower lip, pathetic tears clinging to his long eyelashes. “You are free to go back to keep fucking your harem and keep recording sex tapes with them. I don’t care, but I will tell you this: you could never recreate me, Kim Seokjin. You would never find in another woman what you had with me. And you would never find a woman who loves you the way I did.”

Both of you know the absolute truth in your words.

The noise of a commotion outside adverts your attention to the large window in the living room. As you had expected, a flock of paparazzi, as well as reporters, are fighting to enter your property. You turn to your husband with a smirk.

“Look at that,” you point at the scene happening outside. He keeps his eyes on the floor. “This is what you wanted. You can call Minyoung, so we can pose for the photographs together. Immortalized, my love. You, me, and one of your perfect girls.”

A whimper coming from him is your only answer.

You can destroy them if you want.

Tear them apart like a lion. Use their skin over yours. Their hands as gloves. Their fucking teeth as confetti. And that bitch’s sternum, proudly shown with hickeys once, could be your bedazzled cane.

Yet, it would be useless to vent your anger at them when the only one who owes you something is him.

You take another swing at your bottle of wine before opening the door with a sickly-sweet smile painted on your lips.

Showtime.

Behind you, Seokjin stumbles and hits himself with the kitchen counter as he desperately tries to catch you before you open the front door. His fingers graze your arm causing you to snatch it out of his reach.

“Where are you going? Come back, we have to talk about this!”

You don't look back at him, not even when you hear the loud thud of his knees falling down to the marble floor.

It is one of his tricks, another manipulation to make you come back to him.

He has to realize he was no longer the deity he used to be in your eyes. He has fallen down from the worship altar you had put him on once upon a time.

Ignoring the way your heart hurts at his heartbreaking cries, you focus your gaze on the chaos taking place outside. His security staff is all over your front yard, protecting you from the frenetic reporters, who scream questions and direct their camera lenses at you.

As if you were a circus freak.

In a twisted way, he has turned you into one.

You have been the biggest clown of the circus, and Seokjin has been playing the role of the headmaster all this time.

"Please, don’t give up on me. I love you.” He sounds so small, so defeated, and you fight with the part of you that still loves him. The part of you that wants to fall down on your knees in front of him, take him in your arms, and erase the pain he is feeling now. “Please. I love you. I love you so much.”

It feels like a blasphemy the way he throws those sacred words in an attempt to save himself. You don't believe him, not when he is the one who tainted the meaning behind every “I love you”.

You won't feel sorry for him.

You won't.

Not when he is the one who has obligated you to turn your heart on ice. Not when he is the one who has obligated you to carefully choose every word and inject all the malice you can in every syllable. Not when he is the one who has obligated you to face the people outside and offered them the show that they have come to look for.

Not when the look on his face when he hears your next defying words is so satisfying.

“Watch me bounce to another dick, my love.”

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