#I'm going to keep doing this year after year (hopefully)

[askthefamous8]

Even if I haven't been very active lately, 9 years is still pretty significant- happy birthday to the blog!

So like Percy up there I'm gonna do so dome reflecting. This blog's where I've often done that for some reason, but here's the tl'dr for blog related stuff.

• I would like to keep drawing stuff but feeling generally unsure in myself, and I'm wondering if all the years of fandom harrassment have caught up with me • I have one big project in mind, I've been dipping my toe into what I'd need to do it. No spoilers but it was one of the first things I played around with this series, so do with that what you will • If I can keep myself drawing, I want to use more of the original source material since I'm struggling with original ideas. So stuff like redraws, hOpEfULlY even animatics, just like what originally got me so into trains yknow? Because that's fun and sparks joy. And that always goes down a treat with you guys so bonus • As always I appreciate you guys not coming after me for being so inconsistent

The rest of this is me doing what Percy's doing in the drawing and reflecting, as there is indeed much 2 think about. It's also a little sad and venty so, there's your warning there.

.

Ok so obviously a busy year, we moved into our new house that we actually own, I spent most of the year planning our wedding, and then got married. Big stuff. Also! I came off antidepressants in the summer. I've been on them for...basically as long as this blog, 6 months after I started it I think. Which also means I'd been on antidepressants my entire adult life. Feels like a big deal and I guess I'm still adjusting.

Another big thing, but sad, is that my dog died about two weeks ago. If you follow me on twitter you'll have seen her but she did make an appearance here a few Halloweens ago

I got her when she was 13 and had her 8 years after that. So that's been difficult. Unrelated to that (probably), but I just feel...really mediocre. And before you point out the obvious, this has been present even before I came off antidepressants. But yeah just... mediocrity. In myself as a person, how I look, what I draw, my whole life really (barring my marriage thankfully). What have I achieved? I'm 26, I'm not working, I don't feel well, my art isn't good (I don't think so anyway- like yeah it's technically fine I guess but it's not, and has never been, very stand-out or impressive). And lately art doesn't bring me the same joy it once did, and I'm wondering if all the years of harrassment from this fandom (mostly the twitter side, tumblr's been pretty good to me) has finally caught up with me and put me off the whole thing. Or worse, that I just don't have as much of an interest in it anymore. I don't think I'll ever be like "ok yep I'm officially done with this blog" because I'm so stubborn but idk. I want to make things and be creative, I want to make more train art, but it doesn't feel the same. I don't know what's wrong. What do you listen to? What you want vs what you feel? I still enjoy train stuff, I love going to Awdry Ex every year. It's been like this for awhile. It's not even like I have a strong feeling of what I'd rather be doing as far as careers go. And even if I did, oh yeah I'm sure my two degrees in animation will be very relevant in another field (sarcasm). I feel adrift. My sails are open but there is just no wind. Planning my wedding gave me something to do and work on and just, feel useful but now that that's over I feel lost again. Losing my dog, who had become the center of my life because of how vulnerable she had become, hasn't helped.

On the more creative side of things, I also don't really know what to do with this blog's story either. The show's ended as far as most people are concerned, and I kiiinda wrote myself into a corner because once Thomas turns 18 he's going to leave for university, and that sets off this whole arc with James but basically the problem is it involves characters leaving and for some reason that feels like a no-no here. Don't get me started on the timeline lol. But Thomas works on a railway on Sodor, that's how it has to be...right? I guess I'm sort of at a crossroads of, ok do I want this to be close to the source material, and thus easily digestible to newcombers? Or do I want to make it more and more my thing and distanced from the source material? I doubt there's many new people coming since the series ended. And even then, there's a lot more humanization artists around now than when I started, so it's not like I'm filling a niche anymore. Just to be clear it's fine and also good that there's more humanization artists, variety is good, I just don't feel as "needed" anymore (which is 100% in my head and not an actual role that belongs to me or something). I started this blog when I was 17, so my interests and what I relate to have changed obviously. The character designs certainly have. It's never followed a super rigid story plan, but the core of it has always been the central cast doing things on Sodor. I however have always had a scene/project/animatic/whatEver in mind for when this 'series' would '''officially''' ''''end''''. But then what comes after that? I've always tried to run this blog like they are Real People that You interact with. But in real life there is no ending to the story, there's always more stuff to come. You get married, and it's wonderful, and then life goes on. The credits never roll. So maybe that's what I'm having trouble coping with...the progression of time. Ah, my old nemesis. I've always had trouble with letting go of things. There's nothing to say that I couldn't still draw stuff after the series "ends". I guess any story after Thomas leaves could be like... a sequel series or a spin off or something. Spin-off of a spin-off. Famous 8 All Grown Up. Famous 8 Qurter Life Crisis. Who knows. I certainly don't.

I've also been really into an original project unrelated to this but those don't get as much attention and while I'd like to do something with it one day, I don't feel very confident in being able to make that happen right now. But you know... as far my as art not being super spectacular goes... I think my individual talent has always been is my ideas, like the writing side of things. And then brought to life with my art, which normally isn't anything to write home about but is good enough to convey the idea and be not-awful to look at, lifts both of them beyond what they were individually. Maybe that's what I should focus on. Maybe that's wishful thinking.

So....idk. Idk what I'm doing but I'm trying to be gentle on myself and just let myself continue to drift, to heal from this heavy loss, and then in the New Year I'll try and pick myself up. Then there will be no more big once-in-a-lifetime events coming up, no more just-moved-into-a-house-and-oh-no-there's-a-bunch-of-things-that-need-attention-NOW scenarios, and no more big holidays for awhile. I guess we'll see.

If you read all of this I am so sorry but also thank you for reading my ramblings. And thank you for being around, whether that's been for a few months or for several years, but especially if it's been several years

[shina913]

Scions, Ch.9 | Kim Line + JHS

Scions (series)

sci·​on | \ ˈsī-ən \ Definition: (1) a descendant (2) a shoot or twig, especially one cut for grafting or planting

✼Scions Masterlist✼

Pairing: Sister!Reader + Kim brothers; JHS x Fem!Reader; some POV shifts in scenes

Rating: M (🔞)

Genre: ANGST!!!!!! Siblings!AU; Marriage!AU; Family!AU; FWB!AU; exes to ?; siblings' best friend; smut; fluff

Chapter warnings: heavy drama; references to character death (not the members); grieving/mourning; infidelity; references to pregnancy loss; allusions to smut but nothing explicit

Word count: 9.9k

Summary: Four grown siblings return to their childhood hometown after their father is declared to be terminal. They are forced to live under the same roof for days, along with their overbearing mother, to say their final goodbyes. It starts off nostalgic until some unresolved family issues along with an assortment of spouses, exes, and might-have-beens make things even more interesting.

A/N: I'm back (sort of)! I'm happy to have been able to revisit this story, this family, and this AU. There are many moving parts to this chapter--POV shifts over multiple scenes. To think this all happens in a span of 24hrs (in this AU) 😵‍💫

I want to say that this is the penultimate chapter, as this story is about to come to an end. Hopefully, it won’t take me another year to finish the finale 😬

Last year, my family experienced a loss. I channeled much of the emotions from that experience into this chapter. My hope is that you'll find it as cathartic to read as I found it to write.

If you’re still following along (after all this time), thank you for sticking around and I want you to know that I appreciate you🩵

“Would anybody care for some shots?” Taehyung asks nobody in particular after you all walk through the door.

Your mind lingers on what you witnessed before leaving the bar. Though drowning the memory with more drinks is tempting, you decide against it. “I’ve had enough for tonight, thanks,” you say. “If you guys are drinking more, can you please try to keep it down?” you ask your brothers as you head upstairs to check on your kids.

“Welp, since she’s out…” Taehyung looks at his brothers expectantly.

“Sure, pour me one,” Namjoon says.

Taehyung looks at Jin, who sighs and eventually acquiesces. “Okay, but only if we drink something better than that shit tequila from the cupboard!”

“Aww, but it’s tradition,” Taehyung whines. “And, if I remember correctly, it was you who introduced us to that shit tequila!”

“Not by choice!” Jin says wryly, glancing at Namjoon.

“Me? It’s not my fault I caught you sneaking around,” Namjoon retorts with a chuckle.

“Yeah, but then you got YN and him into it—ugh,” Jin groans. Realizing the argument is dampening the mood, he says, “Nevermind. The point is, I have something better!”

He walks up to one of the lower kitchen cabinets and retrieves an unlabeled bottle–no taller than seven inches–containing an amber-colored liquid.

Taehyung picks it up and holds it against the light, eyeing it curiously. “What is it?” he asks.

“A side project I’ve been working on,” Jin answers, his tone filled with quiet pride. “It’s a whiskey that I made using traditional methods. Namjoon gave me the idea for it a couple of years ago.”

A smile tugs at Namjoon’s lips as he recalls the night. Admittedly, it was more of a drunken suggestion than a moment of genius, but seeing Jin’s dedication to bringing it to life fills him with a sense of admiration.

Jin continues, “I finally figured out a great recipe.”

“Do you have a name for it?” Namjoon asks.

“For now, it’s ‘Number 20’—as in, it’s my 20th attempt,” Jin chuckles softly. As his laughter subsides, he turns wistful. “A few weeks ago, before he went to the hospital, Dad took a sip and…he suggested we sell it in small batches. He thought it had the potential to be something special.”

Namjoon and Taehyung go quiet, at the mention of your dad’s memory.

Jin clears his throat, in an attempt to keep the tone light. “Anyway, I can’t think of a better time to share it with my brothers.”

Taehyung carefully unscrews the cap of the bottle. He lifts the bottle to his nose and takes a sniff of its contents, his face immediately contorts in reaction. “Oof…the smell alone feels like it’s going to knock me out for the next couple of days,” he exclaims with a hearty laugh that echoes through the room. He then passes the bottle to Namjoon, whose expression quickly mirrors Taehyung’s grimace as the potent smell hits his nostrils.

Jin laughs at their reactions. “It’s a little concentrated, I know. Dad took a fat nap after we took shots.”

Smiling fondly, Taehyung looks at his older brothers. “What are we standing around for? Let’s grab some glasses!”

Namjoon retrieves three glencairn glasses from the cupboard and lines them up in front of his younger brother, who starts pouring.

“Okay-okay-okay, that’s more than enough!” Jin sputters, scolding Taehyung for his heavy-handedness. “Just go up to here.” He holds his finger up to the fullest part of the glass.

Taehyung snickers, takes the ‘overpoured’ glass for himself, and passes the other two to his older brothers. “The Kim brothers, together again,” he beams as he picks up his drink.

Namjoon smiles warmly at his younger brother’s sentimentality.

“Should we toast to anything?” Taehyung turns to Jin, who looks puzzled.

“What are you looking at me for? He’s the spokesperson of this family,” he points to Namjoon.

Namjoon rolls his eyes. “I think I’ve done enough speaking today, thanks.”

“Why don’t you say something, hyung? It doesn’t have to be deep,” Taehyung laughs.

“Why do we have to say anything at all? Can’t we just drink it?” Jin complains.

“I’m sure you have something in mind,” Namjoon coaxes. “Just say whatever feels right.”

Jin puffs his cheeks out and blows out a breath. He wasn’t poetic like Namjoon, nor was he tender-hearted like Taehyung.

He was ‘just Jin.’ The oldest brother, who took it upon himself to move back home after graduating college to help out in the family business; married his high school sweetheart and bought a house in the same neighborhood as his childhood home.

The one who constantly looked in on his retired parents while all of his siblings flew the nest to pursue opportunities away from home.

Shaking his thoughts away, he raises his glass, and his brothers mirror his gesture. “Alright, alright.” He clears his throat before continuing. “At the risk of sounding cheesy, I’d like to say that although this may not have been the best circumstance to bring us all together, I’m still glad that we’re all together. And I hope we can do this more often, even without dad or mom prompting us.”

Namjoon and Taehyung stare at Jin with goofy smiles on their faces.

He groans in mild annoyance. “See, I told you guys—”

“That was beautiful, hyung,” Taehyung remarks.

“I agree. Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Namjoon adds.

Jin’s ears turn red with a mix of embarrassment and pride as his brothers shower him with compliments. In his heart, he hopes that their beloved father, wherever he is, can see this moment.

“Cheers!”

His younger brothers clinked their glasses against his, then tilted them to their lips for a sip.

********

You’re in bed, tossing and turning. You feel tired, but sleep won’t come. You wish you had accepted Taehyung’s offer for a night cap. It might have helped subdue all the racing thoughts in your head and the emotions you’ve been feeling all day. From your dad’s memorial to the shock of Sam’s divorce filing.

That kiss…

You squeeze your eyes shut at the memory. Grabbing a pillow, hold it to your face, and muffle your frustrated groans into it. Then with a huff, you roll out of bed.

When you step out into the hallway, you pad your way to your parents’ bedroom first. You poke your head in to find your kids peacefully asleep with your mom. The sight of it is heartwarming, despite the chaos swirling in your head.

You head downstairs to the kitchen and make your way to a specific cupboard. There, hidden behind some condiments, you find the communal tequila bottle. This is the same bottle you and your brothers used to sneak sips from, always making sure to top it off to the marked level so your dad wouldn’t notice.

That was, until one fateful night when Taehyung not only left it out on the counter but also forgot to refill it. Your dad was furious, and Jin, being the noble brother he is, tried to take all the blame. Despite his efforts, the guilt got to all of you, leading to a group confession. In the end, instead of scolding you, your dad found it amusing. When Taehyung finally reached the legal drinking age, he decided to make it a family tradition, insisting on keeping the ritual of refilling the bottle.

You fondly stroke your thumb over the smudged marker on the bottle’s label, chuckling at the thought of this silly but beloved family inside joke.

You’re about to pour yourself a shot when something on the kitchen counter catches your eye—a bottle that is less than half-filled with some amber liquid. You unscrew the top and bring the bottle closer to your nose. It smells like whiskey, but a bit more fragrant than you’re used to. You decide to pour some into the cap and take a tentative sip. Convinced, you grab a glass from the cupboard and pour yourself a generous shot.

As you let the alcohol settle into your bloodstream, you glance out the kitchen window towards Hobi’s house, where the porch light is on. You blink and squint, trying to focus.

You pour yourself another hefty shot and toss it back, shuddering involuntarily from its potency.

Maybe it’s the alcohol, but it almost feels like the porch light is glowing more brightly than usual, like it’s calling you. Before you know it, your feet, seemingly moving on their own, carry you across the street.

********

Despite your stomach churning, you do your best not to ruin the nice patch of azaleas next to you. You know you shouldn’t be here, especially not in this state. Nevermind that you’d already embarrassed yourself earlier this evening when you picked a stupid fight with Hoseok at the bar. To make matters worse, you kissed him!

However, as messy as you were, that kiss made you realize how much you missed that kind of intimacy and connection with someone. Then again, it also feels wrong to think about it, because it’s completely self-serving. Truth be told, you weren’t in a position to be selfish.

You groan from the pounding in your head, likely caused by whatever mystery alcohol you just had. If you ever remember anything from this evening, you make a mental note to ask Taehyung what the hell that was.

I should head back, you tell yourself, trying to hang on to the last bit of reason you have. You grab onto the iron handrail and manage to stand up, even though your legs feel like jelly.

And yet, you make no effort to move. It’s as if a part of you knows you still have unfinished business to handle, and that’s what’s keeping you here.

Seconds later, headlights round the corner. The intense brightness temporarily blinds you, so you shield your face. The car pulls into the driveway, coming to a stop right where you stand. The engine and lights shut off, and the driver’s side door slams in the quiet night.

As you lower your hand, you’re faced with your unfinished business standing in front of you. The tension between you is palpable, with years of unspoken words and repressed feelings threatening to spill out of you.

“I’ve got some leftovers from the bar. Want some?” Hoseok offers.

The mere thought of food makes you nauseous. You shift uncomfortably, seeking some form of stability, but nothing helps. Your surroundings start to spin, and just when you think you’re about to fall over, he rushes to your side to hold you upright.

“Okay,” he says with a light chuckle. “Why don’t we go inside and have a good hurl first, hm?”

********

Sitting in this kitchen felt…strange. The space had changed so much since you last remembered it that it seemed like an entirely different house.

Namjoon had told you that after Hoseok’s mom retired and bought a smaller apartment across town, he had transformed his childhood home into a bachelor pad of sorts.

The first floor’s layout felt more open now that the divider wall between the kitchen and living room had been knocked down. The plastic-covered plaid furniture was gone, replaced by more modern fixtures that complemented the interior’s neutral palette.

You wonder if the changes to this home mirrored the changes Hoseok himself had gone through the years.

“Want some more coffee?” He leaned on the kitchen counter, watching as you stared at the table. The family’s original dining table stood out as the only contrasting piece of furniture. It was the sole item he had kept from the ‘old house.’

This table was where you and your brothers had done homework while waiting for your dad to finish work, where they had hosted your family for countless dinners. It held memories of many conversations and laughs.

You glance at your mug and chuckle at his offer. “Thanks, but I’m good. I should get going soon.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to lie down for a bit?” He’s concerned, but doesn’t want to come across pushy.

That might help, but you worry that if you stayed any longer, you’d end up passing out for the rest of the night—and that probably wouldn’t be the smartest move for you, knowing your kids would be looking for you in the morning.

You shake your head, politely declining. “Thank you, though.”

“Alright. Just trying to be a good host, that’s all,” he says with a warm smile. “Guess this means your alcohol tolerance hasn’t changed. Still a lightweight, huh?” He jokes.

You roll your eyes. “Please,” you scoff, finishing your coffee. “I had a couple shots of unlabeled whiskey without knowing how strong it was. My body was just a bit shocked, that’s all,” you say defensively.

He gets up from his seat and moves towards you. You steel yourself as he leans in... to pick up your empty mug. “I’m only teasing. Sorry about that,” he smirks before walking away.

Smiling nervously, you massage your temple as he heads toward the sink.

Despite the seemingly lighthearted tone of this exchange, there’s still an undercurrent of tension. You can’t easily forget about this evening’s confrontation—it’s mainly why you stumbled here in your inebriated state. The other reason?

“Are you and Dara a thing?” The words tumble out before you know it.

The steady stream of water from the faucet is the only sound that fills the room while he mulls over your question.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you blurt out, regret washing over you. “I-I should leave.” You stumble to your feet, your legs unsteady, your head pounding as you make for the door. A nagging voice in you reminds you that, given your complicated history, you have no right to pry into his personal life.

“Was that why you were sitting on my front stoop, drunk, in the middle of the night?”

You freeze, your hand hovering over the door latch as his question lingers. Torn between the urge to flee and wanting answers, it gave you pause.

He calls out your name.

Slowly, you turn to face him, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Would you believe me if I said ‘no’?” you wince.

Hoseok chuckles wryly. “You know you can’t bullshit your way through this.”

There’s no turning back now. Shoulders slumping in defeat, you admit, “I saw you and Dara having a moment as my brothers and I were leaving Hangsang.” You shrug, adding, “Looks like you guys got closer over the years.”

He stands there, an unreadable look on his face as he processes your words. When you realize he was making no attempt to deny it, you come to a hasty conclusion. You couldn’t disguise the disappointment from your tone.

“So, it’s true? You and Dara are—”

“Were,” he corrects you. “Past tense.”

Hoseok had hoped he didn’t need to have this conversation with you, but since you brought it up, there was no point in avoiding it.

“She and I were intimate a few times, but it didn’t go beyond that." He clears his throat, expression softening as he moves from behind the counter towards you.

“We found comfort in each other. I was watching my dad fade away, and she lost her husband,” he trailed off. “It just…happened. But we’re not in any kind of relationship.”

“And you’re sure she understands that?” you ask, recalling how Dara had tenderly stroked Hoseok’s face.

“She does,” he replies. “I made it clear I couldn’t offer her anything more. I wasn’t in a good place emotionally, and I knew I wasn't ready to open my heart to anyone.”

His admission weighs on you, but you try not to dwell on it. After all, Hoseok is a grown man capable of making his own decisions.

“Thank you for being honest,” you say quietly, at a loss for words.

“You know I can’t lie to you. And I won’t, because I have no reason to. Besides,” he says, stopping mere inches from you, “as Dara put it, when I look at her, I see someone else.”

His gaze coupled with his proximity sets your pulse racing, and the room seems to shrink, filled with emotions you’ve tried to bury for years. His warm breath on your skin makes you want to close the gap between you.

“You’re it for me,” he says softly. “Without you, I was ready to spend the rest of my life walking around with a hole in my chest.”

His confession overwhelms you, causing a lump to form in your throat.

“Am I pathetic or what?” He chuckles wryly.

You shake your head. “Not in the least,” you say softly.

During a marriage counseling session, Sam said your love for him felt limited—contrived, even. You disagreed, insisting that having a second child proved your full commitment to him, which you genuinely believed at the time.

As time passed, you and Sam drifted apart. Returning to your hometown has only magnified the disconnect in your marriage. It's not that Sam is a bad partner; you just aren't fully present. A piece of you is missing, and that's what's keeping you from giving your all.

Now you realize what you've known all along—the person before you has always held that missing piece.

“It’s always been you, sunshine. Always.”

Your breath catches as you choke back a sob. “Hoseok,” you breathe out.

He cups your face, gently wiping away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. His warmth envelops you instantly. He may call you “sunshine,” but he was always your source of light. You decided then that you were done hiding in the shadows, and it was time to step back into the sun.

You lean in and kiss him, pouring all your angst and pain into it. As your lips touch, it feels like no time has passed. The connection between you is still there, as strong as ever.

He tightens his grip on you with his free hand, pulling you closer until no space remains between you. You both move towards the living room. Eager and breathless, you stumble onto the couch—a tangle of limbs and ragged breaths. The outside world fades away as you lose yourselves in each other.

********

Jin heads back upstairs to his room after having a few drinks with his brothers. He opens the door to find his wife, Yoojung, sleeping peacefully in bed.

He leans against the doorframe, watching her chest rise and fall in even breaths. He thinks about how lucky he is to have somebody like her as his partner and how amazing she’s been over the past couple of weeks.

He strips off his clothes and crawls into bed, pausing to kiss her forehead before settling in.

She stirs, her hand blindly feeling around for him in the dark. When she finds him, she slowly opens her eyes, smiling drowsily.

“Hi,” she croaks out.

“Hi,” Jin answers. “Feeling any better?” She’d been under the weather for a few days.

“Yeah,” she replies.

“Are you sure you’re not just saying that to make me feel better? I can take you to see the doctor tomorrow.”

She shakes her head slowly. “I’m fine, really,” she insists. “I think the last few days just caught up with me.”

She’d been constantly on the go, shouldering the burden of caring for the entire household while the family grieved.

He strokes her cheek, feeling guilty about how much she’s done for his family. “I’m sorry. My siblings are here for a couple more days, and once they leave, we can go back to our own home. Back to peace and quiet,” he says with a hint of humor.

“You don’t need to apologize,” she reassures him, “but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward coming back to our own place.”

He goes in for another kiss, this one more intense than the first. His lips move against hers, tender and loving, showing how much he appreciates her without saying a word.

When they come up for air, they’re both breathless.

“Wow, what was that for?” she asks, her cheeks flushed.

“Just a thank-you for being the best,” Jin answers. “I know being around my whole family is chaotic, but I’m grateful that you’ve been so patient in putting up with them.”

Yoojung’s lips curve into a gentle smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I don’t put up with them. They’re my family, too. I was happy to take care of everybody.”

Jin’s chest swells with so much love for her. He caresses her cheek, saying, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Without me, you’d be stuck eating leftovers from the restaurant every day for dinner,” she jokes.

Jin throws his head back, laughing heartily. The alcohol has loosened his inhibitions. Yoojung quickly covers his mouth, shushing him to avoid waking the entire house.

“The kids are asleep,” she whispers harshly. “You need to keep it down.”

He can’t explain why, but her scolding turns him on. The alcohol seems to also have made him incredibly horny.

“Oh yeah?” His eyebrow quirks. “Why don’t you shut me up then?” He gives her a look—that same smoldering look that makes her core tighten in response.

Her breath catches, but she hesitates, mildly aware of how close their bedroom was to his parents’ room. Besides, her fertile window wasn’t for another day or two. “We can’t—”

“Please, yeobo…”

He moves closer, lowering his head to kiss her neck. Her lips part with a soft sigh when he begins to suck on the sensitive skin there.

Yoojung’s instinct is to reach for her phone to check her fertility app, but Jin’s neediness proves too irresistible for her to wait for her body to reach the ideal basal temperature. She was hot for him now.

Jin’s hand glides past her waist. She shifts slightly, hooking her leg on his waist, giving him better access as his fingers slips between her thighs.

Trying to stay quiet intensified their senses. Jin made Yoojung come twice. The first time, she sank her teeth into his shoulder to muffle her cries. The second time, she buried her face in her pillow while he groaned into her ear, reaching his own release.

It had been a while since they’d had sex purely for pleasure. The fertility treatments and constant focus on conceiving had turned these intimate moments into more of a chore, taking away the romance and passion.

Tonight was different. They savored each other, relishing every touch and sensation. Afterward, they lay together, content and happy.

“I love you,” he murmured between kisses, “so much…”

“I love you, too,” she sighed softly before they both drifted off to sleep.

You and Hoseok lie together, bodies entwined, hands brushing over bare skin. You bask in each other's presence as time seems to stand still.

He brushes over the curve of your eyebrow with the tip of his finger, his touch sending a flutter through your chest.

"Do you ever wonder how things might have been between us?“

“Yes,“ you respond without hesitation. "It's embarrassing how often I've thought about it." A pang of guilt hits you. This admission feels unfair to Sam and your marriage, but you're only human. During arguments with him, you find yourself seeking comfort either in your children--or in thoughts of Hoseok.

”I'm not judging,” he reassures you.

Your eyes locked for a moment, and you lace your fingers with his, studying every groove and contour. Curiosity sparkled in his gaze as he asked, “What are you thinking about now?”

“That my hand fits perfectly with yours.” Something about him brings out all the cheesiness in you.

Intrigued, he leaned closer, tilting his head slightly. “Does it?”

Smiling, you brought his hand to your lips, brushing a tender kiss against his skin. The warmth from the sensation fills his chest, and without hesitation, he leans in for another kiss.

Even though you wish to stay like this all day, on his couch and wrapped up in his arms, daylight was peeking through his living window, much like the reality of the situation.

“I need to get back before Jooni wakes up looking for me,” you say with much reluctance.

At the mention of your daughter, Hoseok nods understandingly. He gives you space to disentangle yourself from him, his eyes following your bare form as you cross the room to retrieve the clothes he’d stripped off you earlier.

As you pull your top over your torso, you catch him watching your every move while you dress.

You pause, your face scrunching in amusement. “Can I help you with something?”

“Don’t mind me. I’m just enjoying the view.”

You gesture at your body. “Oh, you mean this old thing?”

“I don’t care. I love it. You’re beautiful.” He says it with so much reverence that it makes your heart flutters. You crouch down, gently stroking his cheek before kissing him.

You squeal in surprise as he grabs your waist and pulls you back onto the couch, onto his lap. You gaze down at him, taking in the sight of his tousled hair and sleepy eyes. He lies beautifully beneath you, not quite fully awake.

“Now this looks familiar…” he says playfully, his hands squeezing your thighs on either side of him. “It’s like déjà vu or something.”

You giggle at his teasing, resisting the urge to rock your hips against him. Earlier, your self-control had been far less restrained—non-existent, even. Memories flood your mind like a vivid highlight reel: echoes of pleasure-filled moans, fingertips tracing paths across sensitive skin, igniting sparks of arousal. It’s been ages since you’ve allowed yourself to be so completely swept up in the moment.

As difficult as it was to pull away from him, you find the strength. “Okay, I really, really need to go,” you murmur, suppressing a grin. You hop off him to finish dressing, then head to the bathroom to freshen up.

When you emerge, you find him sitting up. He’s pulled his bottoms on but his chest is still bare.

He raises his head, and you see a grave look on his face, worrying you.

“Hey… are you okay?” you ask, approaching him.

His gaze lingers on you—tracing your eyes, then your lips, then the curve of your cheek—as if he’s committing every feature to memory.

”What's wrong?” you ask again, growing more concerned.

“I’m scared that if you walk out that door, I won’t see you again,” he whispers. “But I know I can’t be selfish.”

Your impending divorce will undoubtedly complicate things, and you’re wary of clinging to false hope—for his sake and yours.

The reasonable thing to do is to return home, pretend last night never happened, and continue existing in your familiar reality.

After that final conversation with your dad, you decide you no longer want to merely exist—you want to truly live.

“We can afford to be selfish once in a while.” You brush your thumb across his lips, finally accepting the truth you’ve tried to escape for so long. “You’re it for me, too.”

You draw his mouth to yours and kiss him again. It feels right.

You run across the street, heart pounding furiously in your chest as you return from spending the night at Hoseok’s house. You peer through the kitchen window, checking if anyone’s awake—it seems early enough. Convinced the coast is clear, you slip in through the backyard’s side entrance to access the door that leads into the kitchen.

Unbeknownst to you, Jin enters the kitchen, coffee in hand, and settles at the counter to scroll through his emails. He’s in a fantastic mood—brought on by last night’s escapade and a hot wake-up call from Yoojung this morning.

His head whips around at the sound of the creaking door hinge. Amused, he watches you comically shut the door, trying your best to be stealthy. As you turn around, your heart leaps into your throat when you finally spot him.

“Ah! What the fu—” You clutch your chest.

“Well, good morning to you," Jin greets you, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

”Oppa...” you say carefully. You have no clue how much he's seen or how long he's been sitting there.

He can’t help but chuckle and take this opportunity to tease you. “I feel like I’ve just been transported back 15 years ago.”

You feel like a teenager again, caught sneaking around with Hoseok in the early days of your relationship.

Before you can come up with an excuse, the sound of feet shuffling announces the arrival of your children. Joobin and Jooni come down the stairs with your mom in tow.

“Mommy!” Jooni exclaims, running into your arms.

“Hi sweetie pie, good morning!” you reply, enveloping her in a warm hug.

Joobin, ever observant, asks, “Where were you? We woke up and you weren’t in the room.”

Thinking quickly, you make up a story.

“Well, uhm, I thought I heard a noise coming from the backyard, so I went downstairs to check on it.”

The kids, still curious, pepper you with more questions, but Jin comes to your rescue, deftly distracting them.

“Who wants pancakes?” he interjects.

The kids erupt in cheers, eagerly volunteering to assist their uncle in the kitchen.

You shoot Jin a grateful look, silently thanking him for the intervention. While the kids help him grab utensils and ingredients from the cupboards, your mom sidles up to you.

“Do I want to know where you’ve actually been?”

You make a beeline for the coffee machine. “It’s better you don’t,” you reply, in desperate need of caffeine.

As the pancake batter is mixed, Jin can’t resist one last playful jab. “Namjoon was right. You do get a great view of Hobi’s house from here,” he teases, leaving you to wonder how much he knows about your late-night activities across the street.

The kitchen is buzzing with morning energy when Taehyung trudges in. His hair looks like a bird's nest, and his eyes are barely open slits.

Jin couldn’t resist a little teasing. “Kids, say good morning to Uncle Tae!” he chirped.

Oblivious to their youngest uncle’s state, they shouted enthusiastically, “Good morning, samchyonie!”

Taehyung winced, his hands flying to his ears. “Heyyy kiddos…not so loud,” he croaks, his words slurring together. As he passes them to rummage through the cupboards, he plants a gentle kiss on top of each child’s head.

Jin’s trademark squeaky laugh filled the air. “Let’s keep it down, guys. Uncle Tae is hungover,” he explained, clearly enjoying the situation.

“Mommy, what’s ‘hungover’?” Jooni asks innocently.

You glared at Jin, which only made him laugh harder.

Joobin piped up, “Does that mean he’s drunk?”

Taehyung, summoning what little energy he had, corrected them. “It means I was drunk yesterday,” he says, dragging himself further into the kitchen until he finds the tea bags.

Jin couldn’t resist one more jab. “Actually, it seems like you’re still drunk right now,” he muttered under his breath.

“I heard that,” Taehyung grumbled, before turning his attention to you. “Is there any hot water ready for tea? And maybe some Tylenol or Advil?”

“Honey, did you check in my bathroom? I have plenty there,” your mom offers.

Taehyung shakes his head. “I don’t think I’m ready to go back in there yet.” The morning’s lighthearted mood shifts. Your mom’s face falls slightly, realizing he still can’t bear entering that room without thinking of your dad.

“I have some in my bag,” you offer. “Just check in my room.” Taehyung mouths his thanks and walks over to retrieve the pills from your purse.

********

Namjoon is startled awake by his phone buzzing. Groaning, he reaches for it along with his glasses. When he puts them on and sees the caller ID flashing on his lock screen, he picks up the call immediately.

“Vee?” He croaks.

“It's happening again!” her panicked voice rings out. “I'm bleeding...I’m going to lose the baby! What do I do?” she says over and over, sobbing uncontrollably.

Namjoon breaks into a cold sweat, instantly forgetting the pounding headache he woke up with. He sits up and keeps his voice even to calm her.

“Hey, listen to me. Let’s focus on your breathing, okay?” he says soothingly. “I’ll call an ambulance to the hotel, and I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

He knows it would be faster for her to go directly to the hospital rather than wait for him to pick her up.

“Do you understand?”

“I… Uh… yes...okay,” she agrees shakily, scrambling to gather her things.

“Hang in there, baby. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

She agrees with a whimper before the call ends.

As your children enjoy their breakfast, Jin and Taehyung’s playful banter continues. You can’t help but laugh at your brothers while sneaking a few bites from Joobin’s plate.

“I don’t think I can look at another bottle of whiskey again—especially those Jin-hyung concocted in his basement,” Taehyung groans as he massages his temples.

Your eyes widen at this revelation. Looks like you may have found the answer to the mystery alcohol you drank yesterday after all!

“It was not made in my basement,” Jin contests. “I partnered with a local brewer, so the casks are stored in their facility. It's artisan-level–”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Oh, excuse me–it’s a stranger’s basement whiskey then? Right, that sounds way more comforting.”

Jin puffs up indignantly. “It’s a craft spirit! There’s a difference. The process is—” he pauses, then puffs out a frustrated breath. “You know what? There’s no point in arguing with you. You’re impossible when you’re hungover.”

Taehyung grins triumphantly, taking another sip of his Bloody Mary that your mom made for him.

“Uncle TaeTae, can I try your smoothie?” Jooni wonders curiously.

Your mom shakes her head. “You don’t want that, darling. Only grown-ups who made bad decisions the night before can drink this special smoothie.”

“I’m happy to declare that I actually made some good decisions last night,” Taehyung says proudly.

Just then, you are startled by Namjoon’s heavy footsteps coming from the basement stairs.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck...” he mutters repeatedly, nearly stumbling on his way to the front door.

Jin pops his head out into the hallway. “Whoa—where’s the fire?”

“It’s, uh... it’s Vee. She—I mean, the baby—the baby’s in trouble.” He’s frantically wrestling with his keys on the wall hanger until the entire thing crashes to the floor.

Taehyung rushes to help as Namjoon lets out a pained growl and buries his head in his hands in frustration.

“I don’t need to know all the details,” Taehyung says calmly. “Just tell me what I can do to help.”

“I need to go to the hospital. Now.” Namjoon answers as evenly as he can manage.

“Okay. I’ll drive—”

“You’re not going anywhere, Kim Taehyung! You just had a drink!” you scold him.

“Ah, shit,” Taehyung mutters, squeezing his eyes shut when he realizes this.

“It’s okay. I’m... I’m fine to drive. I’m fine,” Namjoon stutters.

Before Jin can volunteer, your mom appears at the foot of the stairs, wearing a coat over her pajamas. When did she even go upstairs? you all wonder.

“I’ll drive,” she announces, slipping on her sneakers by the front door.

“M-ma, I said I was okay. I can—” Namjoon’s protests are cut short as she snatches the car keys from Taehyung’s hand.

“No time to argue. Let’s go.” With determined strides, your mom marches out the front door, car keys jingling, and heads straight for her car in the driveway.

Namjoon is frozen in shock, his eyes darting between you and your brothers.

“Hello?!” Your loud voice not only jolts him back to reality but makes Taehyung and Jin flinch as well. “What are you waiting for? Go!” You practically shove his broad frame out the door.

With a grateful glance towards you and your brothers, he turns and hurries after your mom, anxious to face whatever awaits him at the hospital.

Once Namjoon arrives at the hospital, he runs toward the reception desk while his mom searches for parking.

“I’m here for Victoria Lee.”

Before the nurse searches her system, she asks, “And what is your relation to the patient?”

“I’m her, uh—” Namjoon hesitates, his breath catching. He quickly recovers, stating more firmly, “I’m her husband.” With their divorce papers still in process, this is technically and legally accurate.

The nurse eyes him suspiciously and asks for his name and identification, which Namjoon provides. Once she enters his information, she verifies that Namjoon is listed as Victoria’s emergency contact.

She hands his identification back to him. “Thank you, Mr. Kim. Just take the elevators up to the 3rd floor and she’ll be in room 9.”

Just as he utters his thanks, his mom walks through the sliding doors and they head up together to where Victoria was.

********

When Namjoon walks through the door, he sees Victoria on a slightly reclined bed. Her hospital gown is bunched up under her chest, exposing a subtle swell on her belly just below her navel.

She sees him, a mixture of shock and relief washing over her face.

“Joon!”

“Hey.” He rushes to her side and unwittingly gives her a quick peck on the lips. It catches them both by surprise. Namjoon apologizes under his breath but is interrupted by the doctor, who has just entered the room.

“Hi, are you the dad?” The doctor asks.

Namjoon nods.

“Great! I’m Dr. Yoon,” the doctor introduces himself. “You’re just in time for the ultrasound.”

“Ultrasound?” Namjoon asks, his voice laced with apprehension. The last time he looked at an ultrasound screen, it brought bad news.

“Yep,” the doctor responds. “This is going to be a little cold,” he warns Victoria before squeezing a bluish-green gel on her stomach. He turns back to grab the transducer probe off the hook, then begins to slide it over her belly. His free hand programs some settings onto the control panel until the screen comes to life.

Namjoon and Victoria hold their breaths in anticipation.

The doctor moves the probe to a different position to get another visual. It looks static from their viewpoint.

“Now, if I can just find the heartbeat, here,” the doctor mumbles.

“What if there’s no heartbeat?” she whispers shakily, eyes pooling with tears.

“Sshh,” he says, squeezing her hand gently. “Let’s not jump to conclusions yet. Give it some time.”

She begins to whimper. “I can’t believe this is happening again. What’s wrong with me?”

At that moment, Namjoon decided to reach for a white lie. “It’s all going to be fine, okay? Trust me.”

He didn’t know that for certain, of course, but the reassuring look he gave her was convincing enough to calm her down. In a way, it calmed him down too.

“Okay, let’s keep our voices down,” the doctor interrupts. “I’m having a hard time picking up anything on the monitor.”

Following the doctor’s instructions, he turns a knob on the control panel. Seconds later, a whooshing sound fills the room through the speakers. The baby’s heartbeat is strong and steady.

Namjoon and Victoria gasp in surprise and relief.

“Ah, there we go!” the doctor exclaims, pointing to the static blob wiggling on the screen.

“That’s—woah...” Namjoon stares in awe at the little bean flickering on the monitor.

“Oh my god,” Victoria whispers. She tearfully glances up at him with a small smile. It dawns on her that this is Namjoon’s first time seeing the baby’s scan.

“Wow,” he says again, completely at a loss for words.

“Music to my ears, and yours too, I’m sure,” the doctor smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. The rhythmic whooshing sound continues to fill the room and Namjoon can’t help but return the smile, feeling an unexpected rush of emotion.

The doctor carefully repositions the probe, gliding it across Victoria’s gel-covered belly with ease. His eyes remain fixed on the monitor as he meticulously checks the baby’s vital organs and physical features, occasionally pausing to take measurements or adjust the angle for a clearer view.

After a few more minutes of observation, Dr. Yoon leans back with a satisfied nod. “Spotting aside, your baby appears to be doing just fine.” Hearing this, both Namjoon and Victoria visibly relax.

The doctor presses a few more buttons and prints out several images. “Here we go,” he says, detaching the sonogram printout and handing it to them.

They take the images from the doctor and gaze fondly at the picture of their baby.

“I’ve reviewed your bloodwork,” Dr. Yoon adds, “and noticed your progesterone levels are a bit low. I can prescribe something to help with that and so we can keep you and your baby safe. Sound good?”

As the doctor continues discussing the treatment plan, the door bursts open.

“Sorry, sorry! I got here as fast as I could. The GPS—”

Jaxon’s entrance instantly shatters the joy and euphoria Namjoon had been feeling. “Ah, fuck….”

Namjoon turns to her, his anger brimming. “You called him?”

Before discovering she was bleeding, Jaxon had already planned to meet Victoria at the hotel. In the midst of the emergency, she’d texted him about going to the hospital.

“Shit—Jax,” she utters in horror then turns back to Namjoon, trying to cobble up an explanation. “I—this isn’t—”

Namjoon rises from her bedside, anger bubbling in his chest. “No, no, no,” he says, shaking his head. “I can’t do this. I don’t even know why I came here...”

“I’m sorry, what’s going on here? Who are you?” Dr. Yoon asks, pointing to Namjoon.

“I am her husband!”

“And that makes you...?” Dr. Yoon turns to Jaxon.

“The guy my wife cheated on me with,” Namjoon said through gritted teeth.

Mortified, Victoria tries to plead with him. “Joon, please. Let’s not ruin this moment—”

Namjoon is incredulous. “I’m ruining the moment?” All the warm, sentimental feelings Namjoon had after seeing the sonogram vanish, were replaced by the contempt he felt when Victoria arrived unannounced to tell him about the pregnancy.

Jaxon, oblivious to the gravity of the situation, chooses this moment to interject. “Look, man, I had no clue–”

“Un-fucking-beliveable!” Namjoon growled.

Seeing the panic and distress on his patient’s face as she tries to calm both men, Dr. Yoon intervenes. “Alright! Both of you—out—now!” he says sternly. “I can’t have my patient under this kind of stress.”

Namjoon looks at Victoria. She drops her eyes to her hands, not arguing. It takes all of his energy to rein in his anger.

This isn’t the time or place, he says to himself. Squaring his jaw, he sidesteps Jaxon on his way out the door.

********

Lina rises from her chair when Namjoon arrives in the waiting area, his face contorted with rage.

“Honey, how is she? How’s the baby?” she asks, her voice tinged with worry.

“She’s fine,” Namjoon replies curtly. “Let’s go.”

“Wha—is she stable?” His mom, confused by his behavior, tries to piece things together. “What happened?”

“Ma, please!” He snaps.

Sensing his distress, she doesn’t push further and follows him toward the exit. As they stand before the bank of elevators, a voice calls out to Namjoon.

“Namjoon! Namjoon, wait up!”

He ignores it, but his mom glances past his shoulder, recognizing the man calling out.

“I hate these fucking elevators,” Namjoon mutters as he repeatedly jams his finger on the button until the doors finally open.

“Joon, Joon—wait!”

They both hurry inside, but a hand wedges between the closing doors, forcing them apart.

Namjoon curses under his breath as Jaxon steps in, attempting conversation. “Bro, I swear, I didn’t expect you to be here. Vee and I were supposed to meet up and—”

Namjoon’s mom looks on as he seethes within the cramped space. Though he could easily silence Jaxon with his fist, he restrains himself.

When the doors open to the lobby, Namjoon pushes past Jaxon, who is right on his tail, yapping away, badgering him for a response.

“C’mon, man—I’m trying to extend an olive branch here and you’re just shitting on it. I thought we were friends, bro?”

Namjoon turns around with a menacing glare. Jaxon’s words strike a nerve in him. They had indeed been friends and artistic partners once. But Namjoon knew Jaxon’s true nature all too well. The worst part of Victoria’s infidelity was that despite his warnings about Jaxon’s toxic behavior, she still chose to betray him. It was like getting stabbed in the back with a rusty knife and twisting it repeatedly for good measure.

“Jaxon, why don’t you take the hint and stop following him,” his mom interrupts, stepping between the two men. “He clearly doesn’t want to talk to you.”

Hospital security begins to approach, drawn by the commotion.

“And who the fuck are you, lady? Barking orders here like you’re the boss of me?” Jaxon yells. In his narcissistic haze, he’s forgotten Namjoon’s mom’s face, despite having met her a few times before.

Fully aware that this is the same asswipe who contributed to her son’s marital breakdown, she cocks her head and replies coolly, “I am his mother, and you are not allowed to speak to me that way!”

“Or what?”

One thing about Lina Young: if challenged, she would most definitely would rise to it.

Without hesitation, she balls her hand into a fist and throws a punch—the large gemstone on her ring landing squarely on Jaxon’s surgically enhanced nose. He lets out a pathetic whimper, clutching his face.

Namjoon’s jaw drops, his hand flying up to cover his mouth. He barely suppresses a guffaw as he watches his mom shake out her hand while security rushes to break up the commotion.

She raises her hands as they attempt to escort her. “I can walk myself out, thank you,” she says, straightening her coat. Reverting to her usual classy demeanor, she exits the building as if she hadn’t just made a man—a whole foot taller and 30 years her junior—cry.

Namjoon bends down to pick up her watch and bracelet, which she’d dropped in the scuffle.

“You’re just going to let your mom hit me?” Jaxon shouts as nurses tend to him.

“You bet I am! She’s a good shot, too,” Namjoon retorts, laughter echoing through the doors as he follows his mom to the parking lot.

Your mom smiles warmly from her seat at the dining table, watching Jooni hand an ice pack to you.

“Thank you, my darling girl,” she says to her granddaughter, wincing as you press it against her bruised hand.

When she and Namjoon arrived home, he led her straight to the kitchen to nurse her hand. Naturally, your children asked what was wrong with halmeoni. Namjoon quickly came up a wild story about her punching a vending machine when her chocolate bar got stuck.

“Halmeoni, please be careful next time. Daddy says you’re not supposed to hit the machine if your candy gets stuck. You have to call a worker to help you,” Joobin says, showing concern for her swollen hand.

“Thank you, Joobinie. I will remember that next time,” your mom replies sweetly.

You tell them to move to the backyard and continue playing, but not before Jooni gives her hand a light kiss before running off.

Once the kids are out of earshot, you decide to get the facts. “Care to tell me what really happened?”

Namjoon relays the events from the hospital, which ended with your mom sucker-punching Jaxon.

You gasp in horror and disbelief. “Oh my god, ma?!”

“What?” she says innocently, not seeing the problem. “It's not like he didn't deserve it! Besides, I never liked that piece of shit coming to my house anyway. I knew he was trouble, so he had it coming!”

You and Namjoon stare at her wide-eyed.

She rolls her eyes at both of you. “Oh, come on! You kids didn’t get your potty mouths from your father, that’s for damn sure.”

Before you can argue, you hear Jooni yelling for you from outside. You excuse yourself to check on what the kids might be arguing about this time. On your way out, you poke Namjoon in the ribs and mouth, “Promise you’ll tell me later?”

Namjoon gives you a nod, before you run out to check on your kids.

They enjoy a few moments of silence until Namjoon, who was standing before, moves to take a seat.

“Here, let me.” He takes the ice pack from her and presses it to her hand. She smiles fondly, watching him dote on her, as it was a rare sight.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” he mumbles, peering up at her.

“You know, I used to do my own stunts back in the day,” she quips, eliciting a laugh from him. She loved seeing the dimple in his cheek deepen. It mirrored her own on the opposite side.

As they settle into a comfortable silence, the gears in Namjoon’s mind continue to spin. She removes her hand from beneath the ice pack to take off her ring, hoping to ease more of the soreness and swelling. His gaze shifts to the jewelry she sets down on the table—a solitaire emerald symbolizing his parents’ 35-year anniversary.

He recalls the day his father proudly showed him the ring before giving it to her. It was the same year she stepped back from her acting career, coinciding with his diagnosis, only known between them.

Though it seemed like an extravagant piece, his father insisted on gifting it to her. “It’s perfect,” he’d said. The ring not only represented their deep love for each other, but also symbolized growth and new beginnings—a celebration of their marriage as it truly deserved.

It made Namjoon reflect on his own marriage. “Mom?” He pauses, wondering if this is an inopportune time to talk about his thoughts.

“What is it, hun?”

He takes a deep breath, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “When you were away for work, did…” He trails off, the words catching in his throat.

She waits patiently, her eyes filled with concern. “…Yes?”

Finally, he musters the courage to continue. “Did you ever think about cheating on dad?”

Her eyes widen, clearly taken aback. “Oh…”

Immediately regretting his question, he backpedals. “Fuck, I’m sorry. That was completely out of line,” he shakes his head, mentally kicking himself. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Despite her initial shock, his mom’s expression softens as she realizes that his recent experiences with Victoria have left him questioning things.

“No, no. That’s...” She clears her throat, composing herself. “It’s a fair question. I understand why you’d ask.”

“No, it was a dumb question. I’m sorry,” Namjoon stutters, his eyes dropping to the floor in embarrassment and regret.

She regards him silently, taking in his pained expression. She thought about her answer carefully, hoping that whatever he says would help him work out his feelings.

“Well,” she begins after a few beats, “when you’re away for long stretches, fatigue and loneliness can set in. One might think that’s a recipe for disaster. But your dad and I were always open about our feelings. I think our constant communication gave us both reassurance and eased much of the loneliness we felt. So, to answer your question—no, cheating never crossed my mind.”

Namjoon found himself questioning every aspect of his relationship. For months, he replayed conversations and actions from the past year, scrutinizing them for any misstep that might have driven his wife to cheat.

“I don’t know Victoria’s reasons, and I don’t care to. You’ve made your decision, and I’m not going to complicate things further.”

He sighs wearily. As you reminded him not so long ago, he didn’t do “complicated.” He avoided the road less traveled and always stayed on course.

“Sometimes I think about the past year, replaying things in my head,“ Namjoon says, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought I was being a good husband—I provided for her, fully supported her career, and never made her feel suffocated. I showed and told her every day how much I loved her.“

He looked up at his mom, who listened to him intently as he poured his heart out.

“I can’t seem to figure out at what point she decided I wasn't enough.“

Her heart breaks watching Namjoon’s broad shoulders slump, his tall frame reduced by the weight of his frustration. She reaches up with her uninjured hand to run her fingers through her second-oldest son’s hair. It’s the first chance she’s had to console him since he revealed his divorce to the rest of the family.

“Namjoon,” she begins softly, “when you love someone long-term, it means witnessing and mourning their many versions. People change, outgrowing their old selves or dreams they once had. It’s normal to miss those old versions and wish they would stick around—because those versions made us happy. We don’t get to choose when or how they change, but we can choose to walk with them and learn to embrace whatever version they decide to be.”

Namjoon gazes at her intently. These were the kind of talks he typically had with his father.

“That sounds like something dad would say,” he says with a gentle smile.

“Oh honey, that was all me,” she says with a playful touch of pride. Turning serious once more, she adds, “Somebody who loves you unconditionally will choose to stick around for all those versions of you.”

Namjoon’s mood turns sullen, suddenly regretting all the years he felt he needed to be angry at his mother.

“I’m sorry for being unfair to you for a long time, eomma. I…” his voice wavers as he’s caught between remorse and resentment toward the women in his life.

His mother wished, at that moment, that she wasn’t dwarfed by his 6-foot-tall frame and she could pick him up and hold him like she used to when he would fall over and bruise himself.

It’s been a long time since Namjoon allowed himself to be this vulnerable in front of her. Since his teen years, he’s been closed off and aloof. But all this time, she’s waited patiently for him to let his guard down.

She cradles his cheek in her hand. “Shh…” she says soothingly. “I want you to know that I have been and will always be here for every version of you.”

He gazed at her with sad eyes. These were times when he typically relied on his father, who was always there to help Namjoon get back on track. For years, his mom had longed for the opportunity to offer that same support.

Without a second thought, she stood and wrapped him in a warm embrace. It marked a turning point in healing their own relationship.

Finding comfort in her arms, he finally lets go of all his pent-up frustration and grief.

After putting the kids to bed, things begin to settle down. Your hangover is finally beginning to dissipate.

You walk downstairs to get a drink of water when you notice the door leading to the backyard is ajar. You go to close it but pause when you see someone sitting on the deck.

You step out and join Taehyung, who looks up from his wine glass, mid-sip.

“Back for more, huh?” You nod at his drink.

He chuckles as you take a seat next to him.

“You know, I didn’t bring an unlimited supply of Advil in my purse,” you joke.

“I know, noona. This is just a little something to help me fall asleep.”

You hum skeptically. “As long as you don’t overdo it. Otherwise, you’ll have to go into mom’s medicine cabinet to get more meds for your hangover.”

He nods, giving a half-hearted smile at your remark, then continues to stare off into the distance.

You study your him for a moment. Despite him joking around today, you know him well enough to recognize when he’s masking his true feelings. It’s clear to you, based on his comment this morning about avoiding your parents’ room, that he’s grappling with something deeper than he’s letting on.

“Do you want to talk?” you ask, your voice soft and encouraging.

His shoulders tense and his gaze drifts downward as your question hangs in the air.

“I don’t know if that would help,” he says quietly.

You were all reeling from your father’s death and dealing with it in different ways, but Taehyung seemed to be taking it the hardest.

“I don’t know either, but there’s no harm in trying, right?”

He doesn’t respond, so you don’t push him. “Or I could just sit here with you until you feel sleepy.”

He chews his bottom lip, wrestling with his thoughts. Finally, he puffs out his cheeks, letting out a long sigh. “I can’t even go into his room,” he says. “I—” His voice cracks, making him curse under his breath.

His pain tears you to pieces. You rub soothing circles on his back, feeling his body tremble with each heart-wrenching sob.

“I wish I could have saved him,” he croaks, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I feel like shit for not doing anything.”

By the time you discovered your dad’s illness, it was already terminal. There was nothing any of you could have done apart from making him feel comfortable and loved during the last few moments of his life.

“We all wished we could have done something, but it was out of our hands,” you say, your eyes brimming with tears at his raw emotion.

“I just…” he choked out, “can’t believe I’m never going to see him again. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay with that.”

Coming to terms with your father’s absence would be an uphill battle. Yet, knowing him, he’d be heartbroken to know that he was the reason for your sadness.

Swallowing hard, you gathered your strength to ease your brother’s pain.

“It’s okay not to be okay,” you begin to say, “But you know, we had 30-something years with him. If we were sad all the time, it would be as if those years he gave us meant nothing. The best way to honor his memory is to try our hardest to live well and be happy. And I believe that’s what he would have wanted.”

Taehyung’s tear-filled eyes meet yours. “But that seems so impossible,” he laments softly.

The idea of moving forward and carrying on with life seems unimaginable—and admittedly, it feels that way for you, too.

From this point on, whenever you make one of your dad’s dishes or Taehyung plays one of his records, that wound will reopen, just when you think it has healed.

The pain of loss never truly goes away. There will be dark days and there will be bright days. You learn to coexist with it. Just when you think you’ve made progress, you might find yourself back at square one.

Grieving is an ongoing process and there’s no right or wrong way to do it. What makes it bearable is having people to lean on.

“And that’s when you pick up the phone and call me,” you reply ruefully, “as long as you’ll let me call you when I’m struggling.”

He nods, a hint of a smile crossing his face, as he agrees to be there for each other through the ups and downs. “Of course,” he adds softly, reaching out to give your hand a gentle squeeze.

You wrap your arm around him and pull him close. He instinctively rests his head on your shoulder. Together, you sit and stare at the starry night sky, hoping your father is looking down on you both with pride.

Tagging: @internetjunkdrawer @roaminginthenights @majamarantha @ayoo-bangtan @noelleydances @carriereadsbooks

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Thank you for reading!

Interaction/feedback is appreciated but *not* required. But just in case you feel comfortable enough to comment or just say hello, my inbox 📩 is open 💜💎

[maddiem4]

Well, I wanna be working on a novel right now, but apparently it's time to make a certain kind of post again, as is periodically necessary, because young queer folk keep trying to reinvent the Hayes Code for a variety of misguided reasons. So you know what? Let me lead with the TLDR, and then give my reasoning. If you DNI stuff like incest, I am not just going to unfollow you, I am going to block you.

Now, if you're the type to make assumptions, you might be surprised to hear that I'm not into incest. Sorry to disappoint. Well, unless you count selfcest, but people don't usually lump those together except by technicality. But incest is really not my thing.

That said, I have mutuals who are into it, and harmless about it. Whether it's fictional, RP, or consensual, it's not my business and it hurts nobody. Get used to those words, they're gonna be a mantra here. Further, I've seen how Hayes Queers (hey, I needed a term for them) talk about harmless members of their own community who give them The Ick. The post I'm writing here is a direct reaction to seeing a Hayes Queer post from someone I followed! Reading that, and the comments on it. And lemme tell you: y'all are very quick to throw your peers under the bus with the exact same logic (respectability politics, personal disgust, "making a bad name for us as a larger group", lurking threat to our moral purity) that the conservatives are using to argue for the mass extermination of queer folk. You are bringing pitchforks and tiki torches to the party. So no, I am not going to give you access to my vulnerable mutuals. That's the heart of it. You are a danger to your community, and I'm going to limit the scope of harm you can do. The broader queer/kink communities have worked hard to define harm more carefully than "well I just personally think it's gross." Scat and piss are gross to me, but my mutuals who are into those things do still deserve love and safety, not to be sacrificed on an altar of conservative family values for imaginary "one of the good ones" points. I have a responsibility to look out for my people. So do you, FYI.

So here's the recipe for living online with people whose kinks aren't your business and hurt nobody: learn to scroll past those posts or block those tags, or even block that person. Be an adult. The world does not exist to be personally palatable to you. You are not being harmed, you're being inconvenienced. If you can't handle that, you're the one bringing real-world (rather than imagined) danger to your community. Fuck's sake.

This also finally convinced me to look up what "proshipper" means after seeing it in discourse for years, these dreaded dangerous devils who apparently must be purged from the internet, and... holy fuck, how is this contentious? It literally just means you can disagree about fandom pairings without harassing people? That's just mature behavior in a shared space. That's what the argument is about? Oh my god. If you're arguing about this in 2024, your Aunt Maddie is fully ashamed of you for real.

The dumbest part is that people get doxxed for saying the stuff I'm saying, and maybe it'll happen to me. Guess I'll roll the dice. Which comes full circle: if you're looking at this post and trying to decide how to punish me for it IRL, you are literally being the danger. Stop and think for 30 milliseconds. Maybe I have a point that you are a bigger threat than two trans girls who like to pretend to be sisters for sex reasons. And I don't wanna hear no trauma excuses from any of you little monkeys, fetishes come from trauma a decent percentage of the time, so a lot of the people you're persecuting are victims of the same kind of assault as you.

This is more words than I ever should have to write about a self-evident topic. I know if you're young enough and still figuring out a lot of life stuff from scratch, it may not be self-evident to you. But hopefully it is now before you fucking hurt somebody. Thanks.

[hvrtbroken]

he's glad she stops herself this time , but he hears the whisper of the apology on her lips , ready and fully formed . he waits patiently for her as she tries to form her thoughts . this is something he recognises . he knows this well himself. THEY BOTH KNOW THAT . it takes his minutes to say full sentences , after a lot of stopping and starting and mental umming and aahing . she's always patient with him . it's the least he can do to give it right back to her . " you wanted me . . . so i could have sex with you ? " he asks , slightly confused by how the two correlate . TOUCHING EACH OTHER he understands . everyday is hard . tonight was even harder . he rakes his brain , wondering if maybe by letting down some of his walls ( holding her hand , walking outside , touching her hips ) , he complicated things . maybe he shouldn't have blurred the damn lines . they said to keep work as work . he should have kept his word .

nico opens his mouth . closes it again . her requests are simple enough . he indicates again , but this time instead of turning the corner - he pulls the car over . nico inhales deeply , letting the noise wrinkle the air between them before he turns to face her . his eyebrows dig down , careful and unsure as he drinks her in . she looks even smaller than usual . more unsure . YOUNG . it makes his stomach flip slightly . just when he thinks they get on even footing , on even ground , something disrupts them again . but this is what being in a relationship is . you do the work . you put in the time . YOU TALK TO EACH OTHER . " i will always want you . " he tells her , voice low but genuine . " i'll want you if i see you in an hour . i'll want you if i have to wait a year to see you . " which hopefully will never be the case . nico understands that she wants his assurance , and he wants to give it to her . he needs to find the right words . the exact puzzle pieces to slot in .

a quiet , almost laugh breathes its way out of his mouth . " i don't want anything . " he says , and he means it . " this . . tonight . . it isn't about me , star . " she's always asking him about him , and he's always putting it back on her because he needs her to be her own person . he needs her to figure out what SHE wants and likes and doesn't like , too . every other woman he's been with has been so steadfast and overly confident . it's sending him through a whirl to try and get used to this , and how it's completely the opposite . he's never done this before . but star makes him always want to try . " i'm always going to be here . not just 'cause it's my job . okay ? because i want to be . " he tells her honestly . " but . . i can't be the guy you talk about you ex with , when there's stuff unresolved , which makes you upset . i can't be the guy you sleep with to make a bad memory a good one . " he exhales , puts one hand to his face , rubbing at his tired eyes . " i can't be the guy who tells you what to do . " because he ISN'T that guy . will NEVER be that guy . except , obviously , in bed . and even then , he's trying his best to get HER to be more vocal . " things are okay . " nico tells her softly . " but you gotta make sure you're okay . "

she doesn't know what to do except apologize. feels like it's her fault, that they're here in the first place. shouldn't have acted so impulsively, should have taken a step back to consider like she's used to. not act on her emotions. but that's what she'd become with nico. she gave into them, felt them, fully. maybe for the first time in a long time. "s-" she catches the apology just as the word formed on her lips, doesn't want him to keep repeating himself. star feels her phone vibrate with notifications and wishes she could throw it away, stop it from interrupting her train of thought.

her eyes flit between him and the front window, between him and the way back home. between him and his tapping fingers. she just hopes he doesn't hate or resent her for how she reacted. his words do make her feel better instantly, the reassurance lifting a little weight off her chest. "i know, i should've . . . not. i just . . ." doesn't know what to say, feels like a teenager again, confused and quiet and unable to express herself. it's a feeling that accompanies all the regrets she's had so far. so — in an attempt to avoid it — she reaches for the only thing that makes sense. "i just wanted you. you make me feel good. so i reached out for that." lets out a shaky sigh, swallows the scratch in her throat. keeps going, because that's all she can offer. wants for him to understand her, even if her emotions overwhelm her. "i'd wanted to touch you all night so that combined with the bad emotions. i just . . . couldn't stop myself. "

his question makes her pause. she thinks, lets the silence still before opening her mouth. "show me that . . . things are okay, maybe. tell me that you still want me." because all i ever want is you. keeps the last sentence to herself, doesn't want to be too much. byeol's gaze fixes back on him, on how the streetlights flood over him every few seconds. the way the sight of him makes her heart jump. he's always thinking of her, wants to reciprocate that somehow. wants this to work, and so will do anything to keep her side of their relationship functioning too. can't imagine being without him right now, doesn't know if she could handle that. "what do you want me to do?"

[welcometogrouchland]

(ID in alt) I literally said I was gonna post this month's ago and then never had the wherewithal to describe it and so I didn't Lmao (said with pain). But since I'm thinking of opening my commissions I figured I should remind ppl that I. Yknow. Can draw.

Lots of Steph here (I had major art block making all of these and my brain worms for her kept me going) + some sprinkles of stephcass for Cass nation to enjoy!

[keeps-ache]

gonna keep it shmoovin man

[joyridingmp3]

can my entire family stop being suicidal for one second so I can enjoy my weekends instead of having to monitor their mental wellbeing on my only two free days (/hj)

[kakusu-shipping]

How much icing do you all think is too much icing?

Another year, another attempt at baking a cake. Happy Birthday, Koro-Sensei!

[realboutfatalfury]

it might just be bc it's late and i get sad sometimes when it's late but i'm sad i like feeel soooo bad about several things and i feel like i want to cry but i can't ughh idk...

[ct-hardcase]

okay I know I said it last year but *this* is the year I finally get some cute sundresses for the summer

[weedle-testaburger]

one little pet peeve I have with media is when they don't give any weight to killing people and just go '...yes?' when people ask 'hey is it OK to kill our enemies?' as if it's not a difficult moral question

[daddy-socrates]

i've sent my thesis poster and zoom link to two of my undergrad professors, hoping they have a forwarding email for the retired professor whom i blame for my whole second degree in this shit

[strawberrymatchawhore]

i like freaks

"i'm a freak, is you a freak? cause i like freaks, boo. he ate my coochie, first night, yeah, i made him chew"

sitting on ur favs face!!

from faye- i know this isnt what i usually write, but i wanted to start incorporating other fandoms into my account . hopefully you all stay and enjoy it!! pls keep suggesting and asking :))

warning/s- DUBCON? drunk freakyness, dry humping, face sitting, fingering, aggressive fav!, one night stand, implied sex at the end, multiple rounds, overstimulation, fav wants u so bad he basically creamed his pants from eating you out

:(( switchy fav!, etc…

you always thought of yourself as a girl with higher standards, a girl that was too good for “one night stands”. however after countless days of non stop studying and a mix of work, your friends decided to go on a nonnegotiable girls night out.

why not go clubbing ?

after downing a multitude of drinks and dancing to your hearts content, it was no surprise when your dick deprived ass brought home the finest man in the building.

perhaps it started off as innocent kissing at the club, but the both of you sat here at this moment. sloppily making out on your fluffy couch.

“mmm” you groaned into his mouth, grinding your wet clothed cunt deeper onto his hard on. the both of you only in your underwear, suddenly he grabbed harshly onto your hips and dug his long slender fingers into the fat of your hips. surely to leave marks in the coming morning.

“f-fuck stop.” he whimpered, his soft plump lips slightly open. light breaths leaving his mouth.

“whats wrong? youre that sensitive?” you teased, desperately trying to gain the friction you lost again. he didnt budge though. he played with the band of your panties and with a quick pull he ripped them and lightly tossed you off the couch.

“i want you to sit on my face”

you stood above his laid out body, he smirked at your frame. clearly you were nervous by the way you were clenching your thighs together. never in your long years of life had a man asked you to do that.

what if you were too heavy?

what if you suffocated him with your thighs?

“yeah im not so sure abou- eek!!” you shrieked when his strong arms pulled you to his face. forcing you to straddle over him. you could feel his breath on your pussy, you clenched over nothing. and before you could even let out another protest he drove straight in.

his tongue licked up and down your sopping pussy, his hands massaged your ass and you immediately went to grab at his soft hair.

“oh.. oh my god.” you let out a satisfied moan and ground your pussy onto to his tongue. he continued to lap at it, he teased you by licking slowly up and down your folds and sucking on your swollen clit. practically drinking all the juice that leaked out of your pussy.

you were so fucking wet for him, and he loved how you tasted. he just had to feel you on the inside as well. he used his free hand and reached under your ass, he gave it a harsh smack before using the pads of his two fingers to slowly sink them into your cunt.

matching the rhythm of his tongue he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you. your moans and whimpers filled the room, your eyes were clenched shut at the intense pleasure and pure bliss you were feeling.

“please please please” he moaned into you, lapping faster and fucking his fingers into you at the same pace as well.

“baby you taste so good, are you gonna cum for me?”

“you gonna be a good girl? yeahh keep fucking grinding on my face i dont wanna breathe.. put all your weight on me slut c’mon” he stopped for a second before he started to devour you again.

you basically went nonverbal at the way he was treating you, this man was sent by the gods. how was he good looking and at the same time know how to treat a woman?

“im gonna cum.. fuck fuck fuck! feels so good keep going please. yes yes yes…” you cooed as your stomach tightened, you uncontrollably squeezed your thighs around his head as you came all over his tongue.

he didn’t stop there though, you didnt even realize that he came with you. he was so loud when eating you out. he used his big beefy biceps to hold your hips down when you pushed on the couch arms to try to get yourself out of his grip.

“oh! i think im gonna cum again, please stop.. please. oh shit!” you screamed when you squirted in his mouth, soaking his chin.. his neck.. probably the couch cushions as well.

he finally let you go and you laid down next to him, leg over his. your face rested on his chest, he looked down at you and laughed at you practically almost being passed out.

“dont fall asleep on me now.” he grabbed you and made you straddle his bulge.

“m’ tired, your mouth killed me.” you groaned hugging him.

“whats wrong? youre that sensitive?” he fired back, and you gasped jokingly hitting his chest. you felt his cock twitch and you smirked. grinding your cunny over his leaky tip, he let out a low moan and grabbed your hair to kiss you.

“let me stay the night yeah?”

[jedi-bird]

I have decided that today shall be a do nothing day. I'm tired, I still have a headache from yesterday, and quite frankly I need a me day. I did get a bit done. Sorted out some small boxes of stuff into permanent storage, finished watering the plants, found some important papers (blood draw orders and neurologist referral that's been missing plus possibly a copy of my birth certificate that might let me update my ID so we can fly next year). Started washing the cleaning rags and dish towels, but it's a three step process the way I do it so that's an all day thing. Currently waiting for the pain meds to kick in and then I'm going to try to write. House stuff can wait until I have the mental energy to deal with it again.

[sweetnans]

"You know, for the past few days, I expected to see you sooner than later but It never came to my mind seeing you sitting here in the couch of my vacation home wearing flip flops and swimsuit briefs"

Katsuki was no fool when it came to you.

"What are you doing?" He asked, leaning with his arms into his knees.

"Washing my clothes?" You were dumbfounded by his question when he was watching you closely.

"Uh-uh no, you know what I mean"

You rolled your eyes. There wasn't really a way out of this. Bakugo had known you since you were little toddlers running in the mud and getting bruises and scratches, he knew you like the palm of his hands.

"Fine" You sat in front of him and played with your naked fingers. Yeah, you took off your engagement ring after you ran off your own wedding.

"I'm fucking listening, brat"

A man of patience.

"I didn't want to get married in the first place" you blurted out lifting a heavy weight of your chest. "I solely started to hate him in the process and I thought, hey, that's not cool"

"You sound exactly like Kirishima, disgusting" he rolled his eyes but you knew what he was doing, trying to make everything more bearable for you with his twisted and weird humor.

"I just, I love him really but it's not the quite of love when you see a person and feel all these explosions and you feel that you might be torn apart because of them, breaking down in a meltdown of hearts and flowers and-and confetti" you stuttered. "I know it's lame but, I really think that's what love should feel"

Oh, you just hit the nail. Poor him, he came all the way from Musutafu to Okuto Island to be there for his best friend but instead, he was there watching you describe all his feelings for you.

"Well if you don't feel like that when it comes to that bastard then that's it. You can force it" he shrugged.

Let's face it. He was happy to see you so chill about you splitting something that almost lasted what? four years? but, he was also happy that you didn't get married.

When you told him the news, he felt torn, but he shook the feeling right away to be by your side. When you didn't show up at the church, he couldn't help but feel the happiness rising up in his body.

It wasn't so hard to find you. The first thing that he did was use the spare key you gave him of your apartment and went through your stuff. It was classic you, always leaving tracing marks wherever you go. He found your apartment neat, so he thought that probably the fact that you ran off was something premeditated.

He found the receipts of your plane tickets when he snoop through your mail, and it clicked. He needed to see you.

"I guess you're right." You sighed and clapped your hands in your knees. You stood up to move closer to him and sit by his side. "Anyway, thanks for coming all the way here"

"Of course," he said and felt bold enough to add. "You've always been my girl, and I'll back you up any day of the week, no question asked"

"I'll pack my things so we can go back." You wiggled your toes and caught him staring at your weirdness, you let a laugh.

"Hah? Nah, that won't do. They won't give me back the days I asked to get here, " he said nonchalantly.

"Days? You mean-what? Bakugo Katsuki, are you telling me that you are willingly taking your days off? For me??" You laughed at him, but in a good way, he smirked at you, kicking your feet like a little child.

"Yeah yeah shithead, whatever, let's enjoy this little shack you got." he pressed his big ass hand in your mouth to keep your laughs quiet.

"There's only one bed, tho." You quirked a brow at him, but he just shrugged you off.

"Tch, like we never had shared a bed before," he rolled his eyes. "Now come on, I want to get in the fucking ocean and hopefully get bit by a shark so I can howitzer it to the moon"

"You're joking right now, Have you ever heard of meditation?" you stumbled through his giant feet, and he pushed you. You completely lost your balance but miraculously stayed still. "Oh fuck off you psycho"

"Ha-ha, you think you're funny, don't you?" He followed you, grabbing his suitcase to leave it in your room while you stretched yourself to get the towels.

"I am fucking funny you asshole" you poked your tongue out and threw the towels at his face.

The beach was just perfect. The sun glistening in your face, leaving you with sunkisses marks that would last for a few months, giving you the ideal tan that everyone in your agency will envy. Bakugo was at your side, skin dried after he made a run towards the ocean, trying to catch a fight with any animal or kid that would get on his way. He was resting with a magazine on his face because the sun hurt his eyes.

You took a peek at him, and the memories flooded in your brain. The first time his mom introduced you to play with the only kid that was alone. You remembered thinking how that was possible, well, after he tackled you and put your face in the ground, you knew. After that, and because you punched him in the gut, you were inseparable. You remembered you two walking to school in the morning and then studying together in your house in the afternoon. You remembered when you two got in UA and how excited he was even though he didn't demonstrate it. You remembered graduating by his side and the hangover after you went partying with your shared friends, how he took care of your drunk ass, even though he was drunk too. The nostalgia invaded you, but it felt like it was more than just that.

"You know, I know we don't say this very often," you said while taking off the magazine of his face to make him look at you, "but I love you, Katsuki."

He pretended to gag. He felt things on the pit of his stomach, and it only made it worse the fact that you, for the first time, didn't add the "as a friend" part.

"You are making me sick," he murmured, putting the magazine all over his face again to hide the redness in his cheeks.

"Say it back, you bastard," you screamed at him, tickling his ribs, which was still his weak point.

The gremlin spatted your hand away and then took both of your hands in one of his, locking them behind his head in the sand. The sudden movement made you squeak and land on his perfect and toned abs.

"You damn bastard, let me go!" You tried to release your hands from his grip, but it was useless. "At least tell me you love me too"

He loved you more than anything.

"Over my dead body." he closed his eyes and ignored you, completely zoning off your attempts to get your hands back and to avoid being laid on top of him.

"You're going to pay"

"I wanna see you try," he mocked you pinching your hips.

The thought of having other feelings for your best friend scared the shit out of you, but you knew, deep down, that maybe after seeing him caring so deeply for you, maybe just maybe, the feeling was something mutual.

Do not edit or reupload my works elsewhere! All rights reserved.

[kaysungshine]

𝓛𝓸𝓯𝓲 𝓛𝓾𝓼𝓽 ♡

{ Pairing } - Producer.bf!Jisung x afab.gf!reader

{ Genre } - NSFW; s/f/d(dark)*, PWP, established relationship

{ Synopsis } - Your boyfriend doesn't know any other method of stress relief, other than creating music. He can get so consumed by it, it can become the stressor. So you decide to present him with a new method. That's how you found yourself walking down the street in nothing but lingerie and a long coat.

{ WC } - 2.9k

{ Warnings & Tags } - 18+ MDNI, *forced orgasm/slight dubcon if you squint, everything is consensual but there is begging for more when reader might be at her limit so that's why I'm including dubcon (for those who may find it triggering)*, use of pet names (baby, angel, mine, my love, good girl & Ji), very lowkey needy/soft dom & romantic sub dynamic, worshipping reader, oral (f. recieving), squirting, overstimulation, unprotected piv (do as I say & not as I write, pee after sex too!), creampie, cum feeding & eating, fingers in mouth, pussy worship, I may just have gotten carried away with oral fixations okay? FORGIVE ME.

{ Disclaimer } - This work is in no way associated or depicting the actual life of the members of SKZ. It is a fictional piece of work, and I do not own Stray Kids. All works of fiction are loosely inspired by SKZ, and in no way am I saying it is true to their character.

{ A/N } - I originally was going to post a Hyunjin oneshot next, but I wanted to finish this one in time for Jiji's birthday! It's 2 am on the 14th where I am heheh. Hopefully you all like it. Han producing music will always be hot asf for me personally lmao. Barely proofread.

The air was cool, seeping underneath your long wool coat. In any other circumstance, on a late fall night, the coat would be enough to keep the chill out. Today however, it wouldn't. But you still kept walking, determined to make it to Jisungs studio. 

You focused on the clicking of the heels on the boots you wore. And the sound of the wind picking up, signalling a blustery night ahead. The small sounds calm your nerves. 

You were anxious about Jisung's reaction, he was in one of his moods again. You understand, you truly do. Juggling everything he has to on his plate, it was no easy feat. There were times he'd just let that dark veil take over, and shut everyone out without even meaning to. 

You knew he was in that state again when you hadn't seen or heard from him in three days. It wasn't for lack of effort on your end either. Every phone call sent to voicemail, every text sent by you was met with the same response;

'At the studio, I'll text you after, angel'.

You knew it was time for intervention when Chan texted you that he was only coming home, at 2 in the morning no less, to shower and change. No eating, no resting, just back to the studio afterwards.

This had happened twice before in the almost year you've been dating. Each time you remember talking with him afterwards, he always said the same thing;

'making music is my stress relief.'

That may be true, but it doesn't change the fact that he is also a workaholic. One who easily gets lost in the creative space he has built a career off of. And once that diligence sets in, it's hard to shake off. 

So here you are, ready to try a new approach. Ready to offer a new kind of relief. An alternative. 

You and Jisungs sex life was far from boring. Far from infrequent, you'd say too. But it surely was more... monotonous. You'd never complain about it, and neither would he. There was nothing wrong with it. It just happened at the 'perfect' times in your relationship. 

Before bed, after date nights, on monthly anniversaries, to express massive amounts of love, etc. 

It was never to celebrate happiness, calm anger, or comfort sadness. Never to relieve stress. 

You were determined to change that. There was no reason you could not help him in any way you could. And in this aspect, you knew you could. 

Still, you were nervous. This would be new, he never did well with new. 

Your footsteps stopped, leaving only the sound of the wind in your ears. Until you pressed your badge against the card reader, listening to the beeps, to the gears unlock. 

Once inside the lobby, the clinking of your heels against the vinyl tile filled your ears. Each step matches the thumping in your heart, you find yourself speed walking.

 You smiled and gave a little wave to the staff in the lobby, and they returned it. 

In the elevator, the sound of its melodic music filled your ears next. The whirring background noise the machinery made, stopped, as you reached your desired floor. 

There was silence when you stepped off. The flooring is carpeted now, and soundproof rooms lined the hallway leaving the night quiet. 

You took a deep breath and made your way to the door you knew was your boyfriend's. It was unlocked, thankfully. 

You let yourself in, seeing the silhouette of your boyfriends back facing the door in the blue lighting. 

He was all about ambiance in this facet of life, having LED's lining the ceiling. The only source of light in the room, besides the glowing screens of his monitors. 

He was sat in his chair, headphones on, hood up, head nodding in tandem with his fingers tapping. 

You took the opportunity to slide your boots off. Opting to keep your coat on, you brushed your hair over one shoulder. You took your badge from around your neck, and tossed it on the leather couch that was against the wall. 

Padding your way over to him, you place your hand on his shoulder lightly. He tenses under your touch, and turns his head. He's frowning when he first faces you, eyebrow furrowed together. 

When he sees you though, he softens. The corners of his mouth slightly upturning to a small smile. 

"Baby..." He whispers, sliding his head phones off. Soft lofi music is filling the room from them. 

He grabs your hand off his shoulder, bringing it to his lips. He's pressing soft kisses to your palm, and placing it on his cheek. 

"It's late my angel, why are you here?" He says in a husky voice with more volume. 

Your heart flutters at his gentleness, and you bend down to press your own lips to the top of his head. A musky, yet spicy vanilla scent fills your nostrils. His scent. 

"I'm here to help you baby." You murmur to him softly. 

That caught his attention. He fully swivelled around to face you, taking both of your hands in his. He gazed up into your eyes, a curious look on his face. 

You smiled down on him, feeling nothing but love for this man. You'd relax him in any way you can. You placed a hand on each side of his face, bending down again. No more words were said as you kissed him. As your hands slid down his neck, his found themselves on yours, pulling you closer to him. Matching your eagerness.

You let your hands fully slide off him, and tilted your head to deepen the kiss. Your trembling fingers were working the buttons on your coat. One by one, releasing the fabric from your bare skin. 

You stood up, letting the coat fall from your shoulders.

Jisung lets out a soft gasp, and licks his lips. 

Exposed to him, was his favorite lingerie you owned. It was a bra and panty set, satin and lace. Revealing. 

All white. 

Your boyfriends favorite part. He always said that the contrast against your melanated skin was a work of art. He joked about commissioning Hyunjin, if he didn't have to see you essentially naked.

So here you stood before him, presenting yourself to him. Silently willing him to do as he pleases. To take your body and use you to decompress. You were too nervous to say it.

He traces the swell of your breast with a finger, curving around the delicate lace. It's a simple touch, but it still sends a shiver down your spine. Goosebumps blooming on your skin. 

"So sexy." He mumbles, eyes roving your whole body. 

He stands up, kissing you desperately, and walking you back to the couch. Your knees hit the back of it, and you're forced to sit. Lips ripping away from his, panting at the desire in his eyes. 

All your nerves were gone. New or not, it would never change the fact that Jisung craved you as much as you craved him. 

He held himself up with his hands on the back of the couch, and hovered above you for a moment looking you in the eyes. 

Then he was sinking to the ground, on his knees, between your legs. His hands smooth over your thighs, making them pliant with soft kisses, before he spreads them open. Your pussy is glistening behind the lace, and he licks his lips again. 

His hand glides from your thigh, to your heat. Thumb brushing against that sensitive bud, the friction eliciting a whine from you. 

His eyes snap up to you, and he holds your gaze as his tongue licks a stripe up your clothed core. The tip of it flicking deliciously against your sensitive clit. 

"Mmmm..." He groaned at the taste of you, "All for me?"

You moan at his tongue swiping against you again, and again, "All for you, my love." 

His fingers hook underneath the band of your underwear, and he peels them off you. He's whimpering, watching as strings of your arousal stick to them. The cool air is hitting your sex, before puffs of hot air from his mouth is. And you're shivering again at the sensation. 

A gasp escapes you when his tongue slides between your folds. Lapping up your juices, and suckling at that bundle of nerves. You listen to the wet sounds his mouth is making against you, along with the broken melody coming from his head set. You get lost in it. 

Your hand finds his hair, and you're grinding against his mouth. He's whimpering and moaning with you, one hand palming at his bulge. The other has fingers teasing your entrance. 

You let out a loud moan when two fingers push into you, and your grasp on his hair loosens. He takes the opportunity to get air, panting, mouth hanging open. His cheeks, chin and lips all shine in the dull blue light. 

His fingers continue to pump into you as he watches your face contort for him. He's smiling with lidded eyes, basking in the fact that he's making you feel so good. 

"Ji..." You moan, needing more.

"My beautiful baby, let me worship you a little longer." And he's diving back down.

His tongue focuses on your clit, and fingers coaxing that gummy spot inside you. He's pulling moan after moan from you, making out with your lower lips, bringing you closer to the edge. Your thighs start trembling around his head, and he has to grip the fleshy part of one of them to stop you from squeezing him before he's finished. 

You're spilling over the edge, body alight and your release coating his fingers, and face. He's lapping up every little bit, determined to taste your pleasure on his tongue. Only when you start to whine from constant overstimulation does he stop. 

He's kissing his way up to your lips, leaving a wet trail behind him that you couldn't bring yourself to care about. 

You're not sure when he managed to discard his pants and boxers, but you feel his hard, bare length pressing against your inner thigh. 

He's rubbing his member against your pussy now, letting your slick and his saliva cover him. Kissing your neck as he's rocking against you, he whispers, "Angel, do you have another one for me?"

Of course you did, you knew you did. You needed to feel him, you needed to please him. So you started nodding fervently, eyes rolling in the back of your head when he sucked lightly near your ear and jaw. 

He had a grasp of his cock now, dragging the head through your folds with added pressure. Each squelch of your juices sounds like music to your ears, anticipation building in your body.

"'Gonna make you feel s'good." He's whining into your neck. 

He has your legs around him now, as he fills you slowly, both of you savoring the sensations it brings. Your pussy spasms around him, and it has him grunting. 

"Always feel so good squeezin' me..." He mumbled, letting you adjust, "...exactly what I needed..." 

Then he was pumping into you, and you felt it. All the frustrations he was holding onto, all the stress, all the vexation. He was translating it into the energy he used to pleasure you. Letting go of it all. 

You couldn't hear the soft lofi music coming from his head set anymore, instead the slapping of skin and heavy breathing mixed with moans were filling the room. You'd never be more thankful for a soundproof space. Neither of you were holding back. 

Your moans only being interrupted by quiet curses, and his being peppered in between praises of how good you feel for him. He made it known he was chasing your high before his, begging you to cum for him. 

"Please angel," he whispers against your lips, "need to feel you cumming on my cock."

His pace became quicker as he kissed you, and his hand slithered down to play with your clit. Your back arched off the couch at that, angling him deeper inside you. He groaned, and his thrusts faltered for a second indicating he was close. 

Regardless he was determined to finish you, and his tone grew more demanding, "Be a good girl... cum for me, angel."

And that was all your body and mind needed to let go, legs locking around him and body shaking. Your hands slid under his hoodie, and nails dug into his back. It was the kind of intense orgasm, that your moan got stuck in your throat, instead a rough growl coming out. 

You sounded absolutely feral for him, and you were. 

That was what pushed him over the edge, a slew of curses leaving his mouth as his hips stuttered. With a final harsh thrust, he cums deep inside you. All of the negativity has dispersed from his body, and he collapsed back to his knees. 

You're both panting, trying to catch your breath. You jolt when you feel his fingers in your folds, over sensitivity taking over yet again. He's spreading you open, hypnotized by the way his cum is drooling out of you. 

"So perfect, fuck." He says as he drags his finger through it. 

He's bringing it up to your lips, and your mouth opens instinctively. You're sucking his finger into your mouth, his essence salty but familiar on your tongue. 

His eyes are locked to yours as you work his finger, licking it clean. He slips a second finger in your mouth, letting you cover them in your saliva before he dips back down for a taste himself. 

You're whining around his fingers when his tongue glides against your clit, and your hips try to retract into the couch. Quickly, he has both hands on your hips, securing you in place so he can continue tasting you. 

"We taste so good together, my love..." He's mumbling against you. 

His words will never fail to coax submission out of you.

Your hand flies back to his hair, as good as it feels you're trying to pull him away. He's just burying his face deeper, tongue dipping into your entrance to make sure he's tasting everything. 

"Ji... s'too much... I can't-" You're pleading, even though you feel yourself succumbing to the overwhelming brushes of his tongue.

He hisses when you finally succeed in pulling him off you, "Please angel," He's begging again, "Just one more. I know you have one more for me." 

"Fuck, Ji, I-" 

He silences you with his tongue flat against you, another lick up to your clit "Please, need to hear you cumming one more time for me." He whines and starts leaving sloppy, wet kisses on your pussy. 

You always knew he was more of a giver. That even though it was you who had cum twice, and he only once. He preferred it that way. Even if he was the one needing the release more, he thrived more on your pleasure.

"Just be gentl-" You try to say, but cut yourself off with a groan. 

He's eagerly slurping at your core. Lost in the moment, all he has is your pussy on his mind now. Messily licking and lapping at every inch. He's shaking his head and moaning into it, keeping you pinned in place by your hips. 

You feel another orgasm starting to build quickly, clenching around nothing. He risks you bucking your hips roughly into his face, and takes a hand off your hip. He's pushing two fingers into you yet again, and you're seeing stars. 

His fingers curl, and his lips close around your clit, sucking lightly. You feel your release slip away from you, and your cumming on his face again. Yelling his name. He only grows more determined.

He leans back so he can watch the beautiful, writhing, mess he reduced you to. The thumb of his other hand is replacing his mouth, continuously flicking your bud. He doesn't slow his movements as you ride out your orgasm, instead picking them up. 

Your world turns white, and you feel yourself squirt on his hands. He's watching you in awe, whispering more praise for you as your juices spray over him. 

"So fucking sexy, my good girl."

"That's it, let go for me, let it all go."

"Knew you had one more in you, all for me."

"My perfect angel."

It's when you start to slip into that floaty space that he finally stops. He doesn't want you too gone, he's limited in the care he can provide here.

He's positioning you to lay on the couch, and he's laying behind you. You're both wet and sticky, and heaving for air. Yet, it's blissful. 

You lay there for what could've been minutes or an hour, you weren't sure. You were content in each other's touch. Your arm reaches back to caress his head, fingers combing through his hair. He's humming. 

"I love you." You finally murmur. 

"I love you more, angel. Thank you for this." He says, and kisses your shoulder. 

"You caught on quickly to my idea." You giggled.

He laughed with you, "I caught on halfway through it, actually. I was just beside myself with desire for you." 

You blushed at that, and you were thankful he couldn't see it. 

"I mean you showed up in my favorite set..." He whispers and starts toying with the lace on your bra, his finger slipping underneath to flick your nipple, "In ONLY my favorite set. How could I not show you how much I admire you." 

You felt his length harden against you again, and he rolled his hips slowly as he gripped your hip. 

You knew the night was far from over. 

As for how you were both going to escape and clean up? Well that was a problem for future you. 

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