Nerve_25.0 || KNJ

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Nerve [Namjoon x Reader]

Prompt-@casnextdoor

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Part 24.5 - Divide

Part 25.0 - Dissidence

Part 25.1 - Wildflower

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Genre - cheating; aftermath; husband au;

Summary - You would never expect it really. He’s doting. He’s sweet. He’s hardworking. But he’s forgotten his morals. Suspecting it is one thing, but when he confirms it, will you stay or walk away.

Warning - Cheating(Aftermath);

Word Count - 4.6k

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A/N - Ah! Finally!! Apologies apologies, I did the most on this five-part update and took TIME. It was,,, fun.

But anyyyyywayy, 25.0 update tells all, so there’s no actualsuspense about what went down, however,,, the night of bachelor and bachelorette parties are supposed to be drunken and fun and carefree,,, right? sooo what happened and how it happened and with who,,,hmm

Thank you for waiting,

xoxo Dee

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‘Here’s the last of the footage.’ Bree handed Kenta the hard drive housing Orbit’s camera footage. 

He thanked her absently and examined the rectangular box in his hand. The drive looked easy enough to work with, so backtracking wouldn’t be a problem. 

Lifting his head up he watched as his team recouped in the small boardroom. He’d focus on the footage later. ‘We won’t be long, Bree.’ He added as she turned to make her way out the door.

‘No worries. Take your time.’ She offered a warm smile. ‘I’ll touch base with my staff and then keep Yuna company.’

Kenta appreciated it. He gave a curt nod and shut the door behind her. He kept his hand on the door. Something solid to keep him steady. 

Yuna had stormed into Bree’s office for sanctuary when shit hit the fan. He heard her exchange with y/n and hadn’t seen her since. He didn’t go after her because she needed time to cool off and he needed to collect his team. 

It had been one of the most fucked up nights of his life. Top five. Definitely. Huru and Namjoon, Y/n and Maiya, Y/n and Yuna, Yoshi …

He pulled out his earpiece and ran a hand through his hair. The most fucked up part, was Maiya’s trump card. 

Yuna, Y/n, Yoshi… He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. One thing at a time. One. At a time. 

The tension rolled off him in waves. He knew his team could feel it too and he would not waste his time hiding it. 

He couldn’t sit. So he made his way to the head of the long table. Placing the hard drive on the table he removed his jacket and hung it on the chair and folded his arms across his chest to survey the carnage.

Yeon and Zwahn stood up against the wall on his left, one foot across the other, both hands in their pockets. Their heads hung low, silent, despondent and disappointed in themselves. Kenta hated to see some of his best hanging their heads in such a manner but he held back his need to assure them. 

Kiri sat on the chair at the other end of the table, dressing Xan’s wounds. A black-eye, a few bruises, a busted lip, nothing serious enough for Kenta to rein in his displeasure. Did Kenta want to fuck up anyone that ever dared to lay a hand on his team? Of course. But the kid didn’t have to know that.

Kenta closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Yoshi was at the hospital. Kenta would head there soon enough. He would have postponed this meeting if Yoshi was alone, but Kae-Lee jumped in the back of the ambulance and promised to keep him updated. Kae-Lee knew how this worked and Kenta wouldn’t kid himself – Kae-Lee knew Yoshi best. 

‘Done?’ He asked Kiri, when she finished taping up the gash on Xan’s forearm. She nodded in answer, closed the kit and pushed it to the side. She swallowed hard but her gaze didn’t waver and she didn’t flinch or let any fear show. Her spine made Kenta damn proud to be her mentor.

He looked at each of them. Yeon, the most senior member who worked with Sylo and Huru, probably with more experience than all of them combined. He was supposed to be leading his own team, but he chose to work with Kenta instead. Actually that was a lie. Kenta all but dragged him away from the precipice he was heading toward. Where Huru and Kenta had a weird mentor mentee bond, Yeon and Kenta formed a kinship over violence and the darkness that came with it. Yeon had killed, tortured, and lived in nightmares. Kenta knew firsthand that taking a life changed a man in a way nothing else would, so killing multiple… it was something Yeon could never come back from. Kenta never pried into those encrypted files and Yeon never shared, but everyone knew, under all that apathy was a firestorm, uncontrollable and utterly terrifying. 

Zwahn was a wild card recruited by another one of the senior members. He’d protected his fair share of celebrities worldwide, and knew the consequences of small mistakes. Zwahn lost someone he loved when he was younger. His detail was an art perpetrator in his prime, son to a well-known museum director and had his fingers in sorts of pies. Artifacts, jewels, ancient texts… Unfortunately, the young man’s life was less valuable than the goods he was transporting. Zwahn tried to save him, but he carried his own set of injuries from the blast and woke up from a coma three weeks later, a former shell of himself.

Kiri, having left under honorable conditions, was fresh out of active duty. In exchange for the military paying for her medical degree, she had to do four years of active service and found a new passion in the field of guns and combat. She had it hard with her family; they expected the Doctor, the name, the money, the stethoscope and the pride of saying their daughter was a doctor. Kiri was a warrior for defying all of that and then some. It would never be Kenta’s story to tell, nor his right to know, but Kiri was non-deployable during her pregnancy and despite taking precautions, lost her baby. She left the military soon after, never said a word about the father or who he was and as far as anyone knew, she hadn’t had a boyfriend either. 

Anyone could put two and two together. 

Xan was… a lot. Kenta was not hard-assed or exaggerating. Xan had a hot head, a hot temper and wanted to prove himself in every task thrown his way. He wasn’t sure of himself. He was too young and life hadn’t handed him his ass like the rest of the team. Kenta knew why Sylo saddled him with Xan; Sylo wanted them to cool him down, strap some weights to his feet and remind the young man that the ground was stable, that he needed to crawl, walk, run and then jump when he was ready. It had been a hard year. Not to say Kenta would ever give up on him, the kid had remarkable potential, but he needed a wake up call. Badly.

And the baby of their team – Jinx. Kenta’s little minx. Yuna’s favorite. Y/n’s babygirl. And how could she not be. Jinx was her father’s daughter, Sylo’s one and only. She was smart, but as wet behind the ears as Xan. Temper. Tantrums. Attitude. Pride. Resilience. And she absolutely refused to be known as her father’s daughter. It was information only a select few were privy to. At the very least she didn’t lack maturity. Jinx would charm the world with her smile and be a dissident leader when she found herself. 

Yoshi was, by definition, Kenta’s golden child. Despite his emotional intelligence, Kenta didn’t bother to hide how much faith he had in Yoshi. Five years in y/n’s team, eight in the industry overall, Yoshi was a young Kenta. Sort of. 

He followed the rules and knew when to break them. He kept his emotions in check and physical responses under control but knew how to protect and defend. Yoshi with the stars in his eyes and the twinkle in his smile didn’t let the world get him down, moved forward even when life weighed on him and above all, respected y/n. 

Yoshi didn’t have a savage past, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have his fair share of life to deal with. Kenta’s second, at a moment’s notice would be Yeon. In a diastrate situation Yeon knew how to keep the team together, but only until Yoshi was fit to step up as next in line. 

It was archaic. Heirs, the next in line, passing of the torch, and whatnot, but this was life, and death could happen anytime. Sylo had a second in command in Huru, who he’d call back at the helm unless he considered Kenta to lead the security company, the band had a second leader in Jin until Hoseok formally took the title, and y/n would give Ria power of attorney when the time was right. 

This team, these people, they knew about hard life, they were strong, they were fighters and loyal to the bone. Maybe compared to what they had already been through, protecting y/n was child’s play, but despite their experiences, Kenta knew they took their job seriously. And y/n was easy to love, easy to want to keep alive. 

'So,’ Kenta started, 'who’s going to give me the rundown?’

Silence. 

He placed both his hands on the office chair in front of him. 'Don’t raise your hands all at once…’ he muttered. 

When neither of them spoke, the frustration that coursed through Kenta pushed to the fore and for a second he forgot all about their lives and backstories and who they were. 

'Y/n was held at gunpoint!’ He banged his fist on the table in front of him. 'Not only her,’ he spread his arms out, 'but the people associated with her.' 

He straightened up and stalked each of them. 'Lirrah, a well-known idol, a loved, living, breathing representative of this country.’ He turned from Yeon to Zwahn. 'Ria, an architect, the COO of Arem Architecture and Design, a spokesperson for women’s rights and a UN Ambassador.’ He walked away from them towards Kiri’s chair. 'Kae-Lee, a concept artist, in-demand, known for her collaborations with other artists around the world, partaking in movies, high-end photography, and raising money for her local animal shelters.’ He stopped right behind Xan and looked to the floor. 'Yuna. Mei.’ He grated the name out. ‘Producer. Director. Screenwriter. Best-selling author, and motivational speaker.’ He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. He had to steady himself. If he even considered any of the ways this night could have ended, any of the worst case scenarios, losing Yuna… No. He shook his head and walked slowly back to his place. 'And Kim Y/n.’ He raised his head. ‘Your boss! CEO of Arem Architecture and Design. UN Ambassador. A model for branded clothing lines and campaigns. An influencer, an activist, a spokesperson, one of the youngest female millionaires and still climbing the ranks.’ Kenta let out the coldest laugh. ‘Wife to Kim Namjoon, leader of the biggest boy band in the world, and she. Was held. At gunpoint!' 

He was furious. But more so at the circumstances than at his team. Because there was only so much they could have done. 

He already knew how things played out, what went down, but this was a formality. It needed to be done. They needed to understand that despite the stacked odds against them, it was life or death and this could never happen again. Failure in their line of work meant injury, slander or worse. 

He inhaled and counted to ten before he exhaled. 'I know how capable you all are. I know how serious you are. I know most of what you’ve been through to understand that there’s a determination within each of you to carry out any task and protect to the best of your abilities. So I ask you again, what the fuck happened?’ His eyes darted to each of his members, and decided to start with the oldest. ‘Yeon?’ He prompted. 

The inferno-infused male didn’t waste any time. 'I was at the back of the club, outside in the alley. Standing in as bouncer, and leaving my position, I dealt with a male being forceful with his girlfriend. I made sure he left and then got her a cab so she could get home safely. By the time I realized there was an emergency, the door was shut with y/n inside.’

Kenta nodded at the robotic explanation. No one could fault Yeon. Kenta would have broken the guy’s nose and he wasn’t afraid to admit it. None would ever raise their hand on a woman in front of him and not bear the consequence. He folded his arms again. 'Zwahn?' 

The man in question licked his bottom lip, contemplating before answering. He even chanced a look to Xan before opening his mouth. Kenta could appreciate the loyalty. 

'It was me.’ Xan answered for him, keeping his head down. 

'What’s that?' 

'It was my fault.’

Kenta narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. 'I’m sorry Xan, you’re speaking to the table, not to me.’

The younger male finally lifted his head and made eye contact. 'A fight broke out at the bar, between me and another male. I jumped him, his friends got involved and Zwahn had my back.’ Xan glowered at Kenta’s condescension. ‘Zwahn was busy with me. It was my fault,’ he clarified through clenched teeth. 

Tamping down his fury, Kenta turned to Kiri and merely raised an eyebrow for her explanation when he met her gaze. 

She blinked under his scrutiny and averted her gaze before answering. 'Someone got handsy with me at the bar. We were aware of him. But he was on something. He didn’t back down,’’ She closed her eyes and inhaled sharply. 'I froze. Xan was defending me.’

That probably took a lot from her to admit considering she was very capable of defending herself. But freezing in the field, meant there was a war she had been fighting by herself. One she needed time for or help with, or she would lose. 

Kenta would table that for later. 'Are you okay?' 

A short nod, 'I am.’ Not even remotely surprised at his question. 

Kenta  took care of his team, whether he was angry or not. 

Satisfied with her answer, he spared her. For now. 

Unfortunately, work was work. She needed to talk, to take time off, to go to therapy, to be offered alternatives if there was a need, and if all else failed, she would have to leave the team behind. But that was a last resort and Kenta had no intention of losing anyone in his team. 'Tell me about Yoshi. Anything any of you know.’

'He was still on the second floor when I left’ Yeon made no move, and there was no indication of any change of tone, nothing. If Kenta didn’t know Yeon, he would think he didn’t care. But he was beating himself about this. Slightly curled lip, tense shoulders, a hauntedness in his eyes as he looked at the floor, yeah, Yeon would be going hard in the ring for the next few weeks. 

'We were startled to see Yuna and the rest being rushed out of VIP3.’ Kiri spoke. 'When they spoke of Maiya and a gun, and we realized the room was locked and there was no way to get in, Yoshi was already heading to her. Vents.’

'Xan and I followed him,’ Zwahn motioned to the kid absently, 'while Kiri and Yeon stayed outside the door.’

'We thought about breaking the door, but we didn’t want to cause a scene. And you showed up not so long after. Then we actually did break the door down.’

'Yuna texted me.’ Kenta answered Yeons silent question. 'And I placed a hidden camera in the room when I scoped it out earlier.’ He hadn’t been able to keep tabs during the night. If Huru and Namjoon… no,this wasn’t about blame. He put his bachelor party behind him and listed out a set of bullet points in his brain, noting the different distractions and how well they were timed. 

He thought back to the video feed on his own tablet that he checked out as soon as y/n left the club. 'When Yoshi got in, he hid, had every intention of disarming Maiya, but y/n lost her temper. Yoshi jumped in front of y/n.’ The whole scene played out in front of him, almost in slow motion when they’d busted through the door. ‘Thankfully the bullet didn’t hit any vital arteries. He’ll be fine.’

Kenta felt the need to assure them, and for good reason. He watched as relief swept across his team at the medical update. He kept it to himself until he had every facet of what happened here tonight, because guilt was a hell of an emotion to deal with. 

'I have the video feed. We need to find the couple you had to deal with,’ He addressed Yeon, 'bring them in for questioning. 'He glanced at Xan, 'same for you. Sylo is back at the office. He’s going to be dealing with statements and reports. I need to go see Yoshi. Kiri I’m going to need you to –,' 

'Do you think we wanted this to happen?’

He turned to Xan, hoping for the kids’ sake, he heard wrong. 'Excuse me?’

'You heard me.’ Xan stood up and faced him. 'This wasn’t our fault. And you know it. It’s not like we wished for some psycho jealous chick to aim a gun in Noona’s direction. Yoshi hyung jumped in front of the bullet, and that’s big of him, but we had actual real problems on our hands, we didn’t –,' 

'Shut up.' 

Kenta didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t shout. He just cut him off. The kid steamrolled through his speech and once he realized what he said, it was too late to take it back… or keep his mouth shut. Kenta could see the instant regret. He watched as Zwahn’s mouth hung open, and Kiri tugged on Xan’s arm, even Yeon arched his brow.

The kid must have thought it too late to back off, because he continued. 'She snuck in as a waitress. We can’t tell –,' 

'Xan, shut up.’

'But hyung, I was defen –,’

Kenta got face to face with his youngest, most spoiled teammate and gripped his nape in an unforgiving hold.

'Be quiet!’ Kenta barked. 

He dragged Xan by his neck, taking care not to inflict any more pain or brush across the taped up gash in his shoulder. Stopping next to Yeon, he let go. 

'Look at Yeon.' 

Xan stared at him defiantly. 

Kenta grabbed his chin and turned his head toward Yeon. 'Look at him.’ It was the easiest example. 'How many years has he got on you?' 

Xan swallowed hard. 'Fifteen.’

'Fifteen.’ Kenta reiterated. 'Has he given me bullshit excuses?' 

Kenta’s eyes darted back and forth as he waited for Xan to answer and he couldn’t help but snarl at the lack of response. 'Has he?’

Xan shook his head. 

Tugging the front of Xan’s shirt, Kenta took three steps and stopped in front of Zwahn.

'How many years does Zwahn have on you?' 

'What’s this supposed to prove?' 

'How many!' 

Xan flinched, but answered a second later. 'Eight.’

Kenta repeated the number. 'You’re barely a year, Xan.’ Kenta let go of his shirt and pushed him backward. The shove wasn’t hard. Just enough for the kid to be reminded that he was in no position to question Kenta’s authority. 'Now, if a man, that’s eight years, okay fuck eight, let’s use fifteen, fifteen years your senior knows he fucked up and he’s keeping his mouth shut, what in the fuck, gives you the right to open yours.’

'The situation –,' 

The kid needed a fucking backhand honestly. 

'A ‘crazy lady’ walked in on your charge and her friends. She bypassed all of you. I’m not denying that you all had real issues to tend to tonight, but a bullet was shot, it was aimed at the person you needed to protect the most, and it’s being removed from your soon to be leader, as we speak.’ He stopped, affording some time for the gravity of his words to be felt and understood. ‘It’s a fucked up situation.’ He sputtered, wide-eyed in his discomposure. ‘There is no apology. There is no explanation. It’s done, Xan. You can’t make this shit up, and you can’t make it go away.’

Finally, fucking finally, the kid said nothing more. 

Kenta knew he was crossing a line with his next words, but he couldn’t stop himself. 'What if y/n was your sister, or your mom –,' 

'You don’t know my mom –,' 

’… or a close friend,’ Kenta pressed, 'and they were being stalked, or hated or fucking universe forbid, attacked for being only themselves? Would it matter then?' 

'It does matter, hyung.’ Xan’s voice lacked its initial level of defiance. ‘Noona does matter –’ Fuck knows when y/n gave him permission to call her that. ‘ – and I would do anything to protect her. But you’re not understanding how this played out. It’s all off. It was too perfect—almost choreographed. You need to understand.’

'No.’ Kenta wouldn’t let up. 'I don’t.’ Not tonight. Not now. 'My fiancée was in the line of fire tonight.’ He hissed. It physically pained him to admit such a thing. ‘Our charge, our detail, y/n, someone important to me, was almost shot. My teammate, my second-in-command, was actuallyshot. There is no understanding of anything.’

He turned away from his team, placed his hands on his hips and looked at the ceiling. ‘That I am being rational right now, instead of squeezing the life out of that bitch…’ He grit his teeth. Compartmentalising was particularly hard for him when Yuna was concerned.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, looked back to find Kiri at his right. 

'You need to take Yuna home, boss. I know we aren’t your favourites right now. But you need to assure yourself that she’s okay.’

His protest was at the tip of his tongue.

‘Kiri is right.’ Yeon pushed himself off the wall and came to stand next to him. ‘You’re still officially on leave. We’ll meet Sylo and do our reports. And we’ll check on Yoshi.’ 

‘I’ll check on y/n and make sure she’s home safe.’ Zwahn added.

‘She is.’ Kenta was notified as soon as two vehicles crossed the boundary of her house. Her family was with her. God, Y/n. For years he kept her safe, took care of her, and watched over her. The one day… onefucking day… Kenta swallowed hard.

He shoved off the heavy emotion and regarded his team firmly. He wanted to stand in front of them – a natural reaction. Sylo was not easy to handle. Their boss had a piercing gaze and his presence filled a room with a dangerous confidence that some mafia lacked. Sylo liked statements and face-to-face briefings because he read body language, facial reactions and read between the lines. But his team could hold their own. Sylo would never fire anyone in his team without first speaking to Kenta, because there was a heavy amount of respect involved. So that was not an issue. 

In the face of their fuck up, their boss would be a bit more intimidating, but they needed to be honest and let Sylo be thorough with his report. Sylo would be the forefront for the allegations and semantics that would greet them from the studio and Lirrah’s and Kae-Lee’s managers. 

Sylo would be a lot. They would have to handle it. He trusted that they could. 

Kenta looked at Xan and thought back on his words. It was all too perfect. If everyone stayed in their positions, without the perfectly timed distractions, there was no guarantee that they would have caught Maiya out before she entered the VIP room. A fucking VIProom. She had Orbit’s standard uniform, somehow, a wig and a concealed firearm. Kenta couldn’t place all the blame on Xan or anyone else. 

He needed to have a word with Bree about her security protocol. Concealed weapons and staff that weren’t actually staff was her problem. A pretty big one if not dealt with immediately. He would see to the matter himself, before he left for Spain.

'Give your statements. Vouch for each other.’ Kenta sighed and glanced at his team. ‘There’s a line of individuals that I’m about to piss off, but none of you get to leave this team.’

‘Xan.’ The kid didn’t flinch this time, instead he went ramrod straight, bracing himself for whatever came next. ‘You are not going to be promoted anytime soon. No solos. No stakeouts. Nothing fun. I might even throw you back into training.’ Kenta gripped his nape again and bent his head. ‘But you’re still one of mine. And you have earned the loyalty of this team for standing up for one of your own.’ He waited for Xan to meet his eyes. ’You have a long, gruelling road ahead of you. Smartass.’ Kenta looked away when the young male relaxed in his hold. 

‘Kiri,’ he scanned her from head to toe, trying to gauge any physical injury she had too much pride to admit to. ‘We need to talk sometime next week. Before I leave.’

A barely perceptible nod was all he needed. He held his hand out and watched her hesitate before placing her hand in his. He gave it a gentle squeeze. It was enough of a promise, that he would be with her through whatever happened next.  

‘Yeon and Zwahn, steady,’ he looked at Yeon, ‘stable,’ he moved over to Zwahn. 

‘Always, boss.’ Zwahn drawled, his dark sense of humour creeping up.

Kenta felt a bit sane, knowing this one thing was out of the way. ‘Do what you gotta do.’ He walked over to get his jacket, and pulled it on. ‘Question those individuals. Get Huru’s help if you need it.’ He handed the drive to Yeon and headed toward the door. ‘I’ll drop by the hospital on my way home.’ He called over his shoulder. Yoshi was non-negotiable. He would check on the status of his second with Yuna, and then head home. 

He paused when his hand closed over the doorknob. ‘This is a first and last of its kind.’ He looked up so they could see his face and read him as clear as day. ‘You have never let me down.’ He twisted the knob and swung the door open. ‘Moving forward, let’s make sure you never do.’

He didn’t wait for an answer before walking out. He couldn’t. His world stopped when he read the text from Yuna. For work, he would agree that Lirrah, Ria, Kae-Lee would require protection. But Yuna and Y/n, his life revolved around them. He didn’t know when or for how long, but at some point, he realised he loved Y/n. As a person, as a sister, as one of his closest friends. Kenta didn’t know how to feel really, he just knew life wouldn’t be the same, that losing y/n would be like losing a part of his life – an integral part. 

As for Yuna… He had never let anyone get as far as she had, reach straight into his heart and wrap around his fucking soul. His firecracker of a fiancée, did exactly that. Yuna’s fire lit up his world – any threat on her or her life, would eclipse any good part of him. He was beyond pissed but the fear of her loss clouded any functional part of him. He needed to get to her, before he did anything else. 

Tomorrow he would handle the world, let himself feel the satisfaction of that bitch being put away for second-degree, at least. Then he’d find her accomplice—or mastermind. Maiya Song was not smart enough to sneak into Orbit of all places, uniform, wig, a weapon, and keep his team distracted; individuals that the public had no knowledge of being bodyguards. 

Wheels turned and the friction caused sparks in his bloodstream with a million thoughts racing through his head, but he would get to the bottom of it. He had to.

Because losing Y/n meant losing Yuna and losing Yuna was as good as losing himself.

Taglist - @casnextdoor@jaysdimples@belliebelle@pinkcherrybombs@sweetjellyfishland@blushingatyou@jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue@somewhereinthestarss@k-brownsugar@namsona17@taejinxkoya@notsooperfect@zae007live@its-hopes-world@shina913@bri-mal@piecesofapril11@kissme-ornot@toriluvsfics@agustdmwah@lochness-butmakeitsexy@petalsofink@definetlythinkimanalien@masterpiecejoonie@gcintia@danietoww04@roguesthetic@rjsmochii@amymikaelson@hello-kittyy@mschievous247@onlythehobi@deliciousdetectivestranger@daddypkj@callmemadhatter@rkivecenter@codeinebelle@creolesoul2seoul@nochelunaxx [open till the end of Update 25]

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Part 24.5 - Divide

Part 25.0 - Dissidence

Part 25.1 - Wildflower

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Nerve_26 || KNJ

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Nerve [Namjoon x Reader]

Prompt-@casnextdoor

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Part 25.5 - Cold-Blooded

Part 26 || Ascension

Part 27 - coming soon

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Genre - cheating; aftermath; husband au;

Summary - You would never expect it really. He’s doting. He’s sweet. He’s hardworking. But he’s forgotten his morals. Suspecting it is one thing, but when he confirms it, will you stay or walk away.

Warning - Cheating(Aftermath); (Not! Implied!) Smut; SMUT!;

Word Count - 7.8k

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The following update contains scenes of a sexual nature. To bypass the scenes skip through the portion between the following ’###’.

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‘You have got, to be fucking kidding me.’ Bree laughed and rested both palms in her office desk. 

'It’s right in front of you,’ Kenta motioned to her monitor. 

'I know that, Ken!’ She snapped. 

'Hey,’ Yuna bristled, her legs stretched out in front of her on the chair across from her. 

Bree sighed. 'Sorry, I’m just,’ she circled her head with her finger, 'it’s just surreal.’ Her eyes grew wide, 'it really shouldn’t be this deep,’ she clicked her tongue. 

Yuna knew exactly what Bree was on about. Kenta had shown her the footage as early as 7am, despite the long night they’d all had. 

He had gone to bed with her, both of them needing each other’s comfort, each other’s presence. But she wouldn’t put it past him to have waited for her to fall asleep and go off to do his own thing. 

She couldn’t blame him for that either. Protecting y/n, solving mysteries, putting the puzzle pieces together, it was in his blood, in his bones. And he’d honed his skills to a phenomenal level. 

So to have no answer, no end in sight from an issue that came across as a simple – a crazy lady with a gun, there was no way he had any sleep last night. 

And for good reason. 

Bree was losing her mind about the footage from her club last night. Kenta identified the entrance Maiya used, her route inside the club from change up, to the bar, and the two times she entered VIP3. Kenta logged the time, she had y/n cornered, her position, and tracked everything that had happened in VIP3 with his own hidden camera, that Bree didn’t have to know about, right up until Huru escorted her out later that night. 

There were three major issues. Maiya had entered as a guest, and gained access as an employee. But how? When all of Bree’s employees had a bracelet with a chip that could be scanned for identification. She couldn’t have gained access to any of the back rooms, the change room, or anything else, unless she had one. And she didsport a silver bracelet in her hand when she left. 

The server that was originally meant to be the waitress of VIP3 had unexpectedly called sick, that very day, and couldn’t show up for work. 

But she had sent a replacement. 

The third issue was that Maiya had approached the bar, the one that Kiri wasn’t attending, empty handed. 

The exact same camera, facing her direction, showed her leaving the bar, with a device, and a bracelet. 

'So wait,’ Bree chuckled coldly, 'You’re telling me,’ she held her fingers up, pinching her thumb and forefinger together as if trying to keep her peace from leaving her bubble, 'that the bracelet and the recording device, dropped out of thin air.’

Kenta walked toward the window of Bree’s office and looked out. 

Yuna knew her fiance was ready to blow a gasket. But Bree’s incredulity was just the tipping point. He’d been tense ever since visiting Yoshi. 

'Because clearly,’ Bree hit rewind on the footage for a few seconds, and turned the monitor forcefully in his direction, 'she has nothing but her phone on her. She doesn’t even have a coat. No pockets, no bag.’ Bree but her lip and lowered her tone. 'How the fuck…' 

'The footage was spliced.’ Kenta shoved his hands in his pocket. 

Yuna’s heart ached for him. He was beating himself up about this. But he couldn’t have known and he couldn’t have done anything even if he was there. 

He was worried about Yoshi. And some part of Yuna was absolutely terrified that he was going to back out of Barcelona. It seemed like a selfish thought, but she wanted him to herself. He deserved a break. 

But she also knew he was the best at what he did. He would be so double-minded about leaving. He would constantly be worried about Yoshi and his team, and y/n. 

Yuna wouldn’t lie to herself either. Kenta was the best choice to keep her best friend safe.

Yuna shut her eyes tightly. Ugh. Kim Y/n.

Guilt was eating at Yuna for the way she’d treated her best friend the night before. 

Her emotions had gotten the better of her. 

And she felt even worse when she’d talked to Kenta that morning. 

*

'You gonna see y/n, today?’ He asked without looking up from his tablet, coffee in hand. 

'I had no plans to leave the house today.’ Yuna nursed her own mug, and read through updates on the group chat for the project. 

'Yuna.' 

Kenta didn't… scold her. Not the way he would scold, y/n. No, the tone he took with her was always so soft, but held a tad of reprimand, as if to say 'Yuna you know better.’

And Yuna did know better. But some things took time. 

'Kenta.’ She replied, doing her best to push aside the nagging voice in the back of her head that agreed with him.

Yuna sighed when Kenta put his tablet down and crossed the kitchen toward her. 

He circled his arm around her waist, and aligned her against his body. 

Yuna straightened up, and though she had every intention of breaking his hold so she could think more clearly, and negate any chances of being coerced into doing anything she wasn’t ready for, her body sunk into his hold. 

'I saw what happened last night,’ he whispered to her, his breath tickling her nape. 

'So?’ Yuna bit back. 

'You asked her,’ he dropped a tender kiss on the exposed skin on her shoulder, 'how would she feel, if she was you. But Yu, what would you do, if you were her?' 

Yuna swallowed hard, doing her best to hide the breath that was knocked out of her. 'I would have given her a choice.’

Yuna gasped as Kenta bit her. Hard. 'Liar,’ he murmured against her skin. 

Yuna blinked back tears. Because Kenta was right. If she was y/n, she would want y/n safe from harm. Removing her, and her safety, and any other weakness, would help her think, find a way through the situation. 

Especially if she was the only one meant to be looking down the barrel of a gun. 

Because collateral damage was a bigger burden to bear. 

But Yuna would still be stubborn. She just needed a day. One day. Just to wallow in her self-pity before making things right. 'I’ll see her tomorrow.’

Kenta stopped with his ministrations. Yuna almost heard his jaw snap shut.. 

'Maiya played a recording of Namjoon and her. Of that night.’

Yuna whirled around, the shock jolting her out of her internal war. 'What the fuck?!' 

Kenta nodded solemnly. 'She played it. In front of everyone.’

Ohmygod. Yuna covered her mouth with her hand. The pain and the humiliation. It was nothing short of a nightmare. 

'And they were just about making things work.’ She leaned into Kenta and placed her head on his arm. 'What did y/n do?' 

Kenta’s arms came around her. 'Y/n slapped her.’ Yes, y/n! 

He placed a tender kiss on Yuna’s head. 'Had to hold her back from doing more.

Then I let go, which was what she was waiting for, Huru took over, then Namjoon punched him…’

'God, what the hell didn’t happen last night?’ Yuna pulled away. 'And what do you mean Namjoon punched Huru, for what exactly?' 

'Well, Huru seems to have finally found someone he likes. Someone that gets past his cold robolike exterior.’

Yuna fisted her hands in his shirt. 'No.’

Kenta sighed, dropping his head. 'Yeah.’

'Are you fucking with me?’ Yuna bent her head and looked into Kenta’s face to make sure. 'Y/n? Kim Y/n? Married to Kim Namjoon, Kim Y/n?' 

The situation would have been comical in any other setting. 

'Holy, fuck.’ Yuna turned away and held her head. So much had happened. So much had gone down. And instead of being there for her best friend, Yuna pushed her away, giving in to a vindictive part of herself she told y/n to leave her alone, all when y/n needed her the most. 

'How,’ Yuna burst into tears. 'How the fuck, does she go through these things?’ Kenta closed his arms around her again and held her to him. 

'How, Ken!’ Yuna sobbed. 'She’s been through so much, so fucking much. How does she survive this? She looks at him like he’s her whole world. She’s discovered so much about herself, based on his existence, based on his work and music, and his whole… persona. How does she recover when all of that is shattered? Who does she go to?’

'We just gotta remind her she still has us, baby.’ Kenta swayed from side to side. 'She’s strong.’

'But just because a person is strong, it doesn’t mean they should be pushed until they break. It’s not fair! Fuck!’ He shook with the force of her frustration. 

'Hey, hey, this is your soulmate we’re talking about, she is capable of… well anything at this point.’

'I know.’ She did know. Y/n never gave in. And she never gave up. 'I know she won’t leave him. We know she won’t.’

'So she’ll get through it.’ Kenta bent his head to nip at her lower lip. Grounding her in his own way. 

'That’s going to be so hard.’ Yuna learned further into Kenta’s hold, fearing for her best friend, and what came next. 'And we’re leaving soon.’

Yuna knew y/n. She wouldn’t turn to anyone. She would confide in her husband, and her family, but none of them were Yuna, and they could never be Yuna. 

'We’ll remind her that we are just a phone call away.’

Straight to the point, her fiance. 

It’s not like she could deny it. She couldn’t walk away from her own project and she wouldn’t live with herself if she did. Not to mention, y/n, angry or not, would kick her ass. Literally. 

That only left making amends. Yuna and y/n had to be on the same page. So y/n knew that her soulmate actually was just a phone call away.

'You always get your way.’ Yuna complained, knowing she was about to leave her house and do exactly that. 

Kenta chuckled lightly. Understanding her. Knowing her. Foreseeing her next step somehow. 'Funny. I feel the same with you.’

*

‘Where the hell did she get someone with that type of knowledge?’ Bree paced and made gestures with her hand.

Yuna could tell, Bree wasn’t just mad about the fact that someone had bypassed all the safety measures she had in place at Orbit, but Bree seemed to be pissed on y/n’s behalf. 

And Yuna couldn’t blame her. Y/n was very…dependable. It was easy to pick up the phone and dial your best friend. For a favour, a helping hand or an ear to listen. 

Y/n seemed to be a human reminder that no matter what a person thought or felt, or did, and no matter what they were going through, they weren’t alone. 

Yuna had her fair share of bouts of jealousy when people flocked to y/n for life advice or career advice and offered her shoulder to cry on when their hearts were broken. Yuna would be lying if she didn’t admit that she always had an insecurity about her position with y/n, but not because of y/n herself, or anything she did, but because y/n was such a better person than she was.

And she thought that many more people had better to offer y/n.

‘They had to have some sort of tech background.’ Kenta turned back to them. ‘Maybe tech, or even security… it’s very clean.’

His tone sent a shiver up Yuna’s spine. But he was right. Yuna watched Maiya approach the bar, sit down, nothing in hand except her phone as Bree stated, and a second later, her hands were full and she was leaving. 

Whoever Maiya had met clearly didn’t want to be seen, but that would mean that this was deeper than it looked. Maiya was a pawn. 

Almost too perfect. 

Kenta had been repeating that since last night, because he’d had an inkling that Maiya was not the mastermind. The crazy lady with the gun was supposed to look like ‘a’ crazy lady with a gun. 

'This puts my whole club at risk.’ Bree placed her hands on her hips and bit at her bottom lip. 'What do you recommend, Ken?' 

Kenta didn’t answer immediately. And Yuna being Yuna, knowing Kenta like the back of her hand, understood that the tick at his jaw meant he was trying not to snap at Bree. 

And with good reason. Bree was as much of a victim as anyone. 

No one could have predicted any of what took place the night before. 

'I think whoever got through your systems only did it for that specific incident. All the evidence points to it being planned. And as such, they or he or she or whatever, has no reason to do it again. As long as y/n is not in the club or her activities pertaining to Orbit are not broadcasted.’

A slow blink from Bree. 'Are you trying to tell me that this happened because it was a known thing that y/n was gonna be in my club?’

Oh no. 

'It certainly made things easier.’

'I can’t believe you.’ Bree huffed a laugh. 'Y/n frequents Orbit even if she’s not sticking around to party, and you know that.’ Bree pointed to herself, lip curled up in a snarl. 'It happened in my club. MINE! My walk-ins can afford to buy me out, that’s how rich they are. And if they’re that rich, they’re thatimportant.

The safety of every woman in VIP3 last night was my responsibility and I get that! But I didn’t see this coming and neither did you! So stop trying to act like you’re the only one that gives a fuck!’

'Oh-kay!’ Yuna stood up and clapped her hands together. 'Let’s keep level heads, it’s no one’s fault. Y/n would bite your head off for insinuating it,’ Yuna side-eyed her fiancé. 'And, Bree, what you can do, is maybe invest in a new system, or even upgrade, because I can tell you’re not very satisfied with the off chance that anyone could get into your system when the mood strikes.’

'I’ll give you some recommendations if –,’ Kenta started 

'Don’t bother.' 

Yuna raised her eyebrows and stared Bree down until she relaxed her defensive stance. 

'I mean yes, sure, you can.’ Bree finally gave in, but didn’t look back at Kenta as she addressed him. 'But it’s secondary to what you actually need to do right now. Which is to figure this shit out.’ She motioned to the monitor. 

Speaking of… 'Did anyone get in contact with you to reimburse you for the damages? The vent, the stock at the bar where the team had their scuffle, and the door of VIP3, and whatever else…?' 

Bree chuckled lightly. 'Yeah, in fact Ria called me to do that, on behalf of Arem and Jin did the same on behalf of the band, but Sylo already got on it by the time they called up.’

Yuna was glad. Bree wouldn’t claim on account of her being a friend. And she had the money to make up for whatever the costs were. But Y/n and Yuna always agreed on the inch spacing between business and personal life. 

'Well then, if that’s out of the way, I think I’ll go and find my best friend now.’ Yuna pulled Bree in for a hug. 'I’m so sorry this happened at Orbit, Bree. I’m sorry about last night’s loss on account of’ throwing people out and shacking up in your office,’ Yuna looked up at the ceiling, '… all of this.’

'Shit happens.’ Bree pulled away and shrugged. 'I’m just honestly glad Y/n’s okay.’

Yuna thought the same.

Kenta cleared his throat just as Yuna was grabbing her bag. 'I apologise.’

Yuna almost smiled at the random apology. Kenta was like that. Once he knew the next step, and what needed to be done, rather get it out of the way. 

'Noted. And ditto. I was… frustrated.' 

A curt nod and Kenta was holding the door open for them to leave. 

'I’ll keep you updated,’ Yuna heard him call over her shoulder. 

'Appreciate it. I’ll touch base with the employee that called in sick last night, and let you know if I learn anything new.’

Yuna would have asked why the harddrive would stay in Bree’s office, but she knew her fiancé a little too well. A copy of his own would be stored away somewhere, he would have made sure of it. 

———–

The Kims - the night before…

-Prisoner - Raphael Lake, Aaron Levy, Daniel Ryan Murphy

###

'Mmhhh,’ he moaned, and he leaned further into the sensations he felt. 

Delicate fingers on his chest, and thighs encasing his own. 

But y/n’s lips were the real reason he knew he had to be dreaming. She nipped at his jaw and left a trail of open mouthed kisses along his neck down to his shoulder. 

He was helpless in need of his wife. She turned him inside out, with his love and his words and her touch. 

He loved when she caressed his arms, and nipped at his lips when she kissed him, marked and played with him and peppered sweet nothings on his skin, making sure that he knew how much she loved him as he was, scars and all. 

He loved being adored by her. 

And it had been a long time since he was shown that kind of attention. 

'Fuck,’ he bucked up into the warmth he felt between her thighs. She was open, and pliant and rubbing her core against his cock, and it was all too good to be true. 

He had to be dreaming. 

Some sort of double back from the events of the night and his mind’s way of providing a perverse sense of  comfort. 

'Joon, I need you.’

His eyes flew open and as heated as he was moments ago, he felt like he’d been doused with cold water. 

It was real. His wife was on top of him, on his cock and she was fucking naked. 

He panicked. 'Y/n, what are you –,' 

He broke off with a groan as she scored her nails over his pecs and down to his stomach. 

Fuck. It had been so long, too long.

His fingers fisted in the sheets. If he reached for her, touched her, gripped her thighs, or made any contact at all, he couldn’t trust himself, he would not be able to hold back. 

'Baby, what are you doing?’ His sleep ridden voice was rough, even to his own ears. 

'God you sound so sexy like that,’ she lowered her lips and kissed her way down to his navel. 

'You need to move, y/n,’ he growled, 'we can’t do this.’

She stopped. Thank fuck. But only to lift her head and regard him. 'Do you not want me?' 

What the fuck? 

'Of course I want you,’ he replied sharply, 'but this…this-isn’t the right time.’

'But I want this.’ She dropped her gaze and trailed a finger below his navel, down to his cock. 

Hell if she thought this conversation was over. 

He lifted his body up, knowing full well he’d be able to carry her off him, and put some distance to get their heads screwed on straight. 

She just needed a bit of space, then she would start thinking again. 

She pushed him flat on his back and she rocked into him, making his cock jerk. 'I can do all the work, I want this, I want you inside me.' 

It was all he could do not to grab her round ass and pull her onto his hard on – it would be so easy to find his way home. 

This was such a bad idea. They’d both been through hell and back, in their lives and their marriage, and sexual deprivation at this point was an understatement. 

'It’s not about the work, y/n. Fuck, baby, please you’re driving me insane.’

He couldn’t resist, as her slick entrance coated his cock and he grit his teeth, doing his best to breathe through his body’s instinct to give into what he craved. 

He had to hold back. He had to. When she woke up, when she opened her eyes and her brain was less foggy, she would hate him. She would hate him for taking advantage and for giving in and not doing more to stop her. He couldn’t handle seeing that look of disappointment in y/n again.

'Touch me, Namjoon.’ She grabbed his hands and placed one at her waist and the other on her breast – it took everything in him to let it fall away. 

She frowned at his hand then whispered softly, 'You want me? Right?' 

A flash of pain tore through his chest. 'It’s not that simple, baby.’

'It is,’ she forced the issue. 'You think I’m beautiful,’ her pout almost did him in. 'You want me, I know you do,’ she took his length in her hand. 'This tells me everything I need to know.’

Throwing his head back at the feel of her fingers around him, after weeks of wishing and imagining and dreaming about this, he was embarrassed to admit he was so close to cumming right there in her hand as she stroked him. 

'Y/n, please,’ he choked out, 'baby we need to talk about this. We aren’t ready.’

He was sure his cock was about to explode and he was losing his fucking mind. 

'We’ve talked enough,’ her gruff tone doing all sorts of things to his dominant side. ‘I don’t want to talk. I want to make love with you.’

Warmth seared his blood at her words. 

'I love you, y/n. And there’s nothing more that I want, then to be inside you, to claim you and remind ourselves who we belong to.’

'Then do it, make me wet, make me moan, make me cum so hard that my body shatters for you.’

His wife sounded so soft, and so lost and so vulnerable. It was all he could do not to gather her in his arms and hold her to him, to hide her from the world. 

He shook his head, willing himself to be strong, not trusting himself to say the right words. 

'Fine!’ The sudden coldness in her tone, had him gaining some sense of clarity. 'I’ll do it myself.’

At first he thought she meant she would touch herself. And though he’d seen it before and he would love to watch, he also knew what kind of torture it was for y/n to stroke herself to orgasm. 

True to herself and her nature, y/n knew her body and how slow or how fast she needed to go to draw out her pleasure or give herself a hard and fast release. She knew her spots, how deep and the exact pressure necessary for her clit. 

Namjoon was a fast learner.

Which meant that he could be doing the exact same thing to her, pleasure doubled – for her because he knew her inside out and for him, because he was the only one that did. 

But his wife did him one better. True to her words from earlier, about him being hers, and only hers, she gave his cock an experimental squeeze that had him seeing stars for a second and he felt her move to position herself above him. 

He blinked and when found his cock lining her soaked entrance, he had to  muster whatever last bit of logic he had left to do what he did next. 

'Y/n!’ He grabbed both her wrists and pulled her on top of him. 'You’ve had a fucking long night.’ He glared at her down his nose, and pushed aside the fact that her amazing breasts were flush against his chest. 'And you are not thinking straight right now. You need to stop!' 

But to his surprise, her face screwed up in pain. 'I want you to touch me, Joon. I want your hands on my body,’ she whimpered. 'I want your fingers inside me and I want to feel you, all over, until there’s nothing and no one else.’ She didn’t cry, but he could tell she was at the edge. 'I need this. I need you.’

Her words reached into him and latched onto his soul, into a part of him that no one else could ever touch, could ever have access to. ‘I don’t want you to wake up and hate me, y/n.’ He cupped her cheek. ‘I don’t have that in me.’

'I’m thinking straight. I am.’ He heard her words, but he was still hesitant. 'I could never hate you. I would never.’ She whispered against his lips. 'We’ve already established as much. Whatever mistakes, whatever regrets we’ve had, you will never be one of them.’

He breathed hard. 'Y/n.’

She carefully lifted herself off his chest, and pulled him up with her. 'Please.’ All she had to do was whisper the plea, and he was mush, he was a goner – he obeyed her willingly. 

Taking his hand again, she brought it to her breast, and squeezed the mound with his hand, and this time he reveled in the sensation. He loved his wife’s body. He loved when he could grip the supple flesh like he owned her, which in his mind he did. He loved showing her how much her scars and her stretch marks and any mark marring her skin wasn’t as relevant as the ones his fingers and his teeth made to mark her as his own. 

He loved trailing his tongue through every nook and crevice and reveled in her whimpers and her soft sounds of satisfaction as he slowly brought her to the edge, making her lose herself in the pleasure he could give her. 

By her reaction, when he pinched the hard bud between his fingers, the way she tilted her head back and left her body open to his eyes and his exploration, she would allow him to do as he pleased. 

The need put him together, her trust ripped him apart and he didn’t have the strength to fight the need anymore. 

Flipping her onto her back he grabbed both her wrists and held them above her head in one hand. He let her feel his strength, his body holding her in place. 

He’d made some fucked up mistakes already. Broken promises that would forever change their bond and make who they were before all of this something irreparable. 

But he would have to trust her. 

She came to him, and asked of him, only something he could give her. And if he could help, make it better, in anyway, in any form, even if it was sex, even if some part of him knew it was a temporary fix, he would give it to her. 

He reached between their bodies and used his freehand to play with the bundle of nerves between her wet folds. Her gasp was music to his ears, and he almost lost it when he slid a finger inside her to find her so ready for him. 'So warm, so wet, all for me,’ he kissed her cheek lightly when she replied with an 'only you’ and slid a second finger as she lifted her body to meet them. 'Are you sure, baby?' 

He needed to ask one more time. It was a long shot, and he didn’t know how he could turn back now when his fingers were deep inside her, but he had to ask. 

She kept her eyes closed as she nodded and he bent down to nip at her earlobe. 'Look at me, and give me an answer.’

Her eyes lit up with the type of  ferocity he would welcome any day over the sadness and the pain. 'Yes, I’m sure,’ she lifted her head to bite at his bottom lip, 'now fuck me!' 

In his head his pride struggled against its chains, and his ego sported a feral smirk.That’s his y/n. 

Her demand blazed a challenge in his blood. It had been too fucking long since he’d claimed her. 

He pumped his fingers and played with her just the way she liked it. Hard circular motions on her clit, and fast pumps with his fingers. 

He felt her thighs quiver, and watched her face contort with a flurry of emotions. 

It had been too long. For her and for him. 

He hadn’t been inside her for months, the same way she had felt empty without him filling her.

She bit her lip to keep her moans at bay, but he hit her sweet spot to make sure that didn’t happen for long. 

'Oh god, right there,’ She tried to struggled against his grip on her wrists but he didn’t let up. She wanted to lose herself in sensation and he would give her that.

'I love when you ride my fingers, y/n. So fucking beautiful.’ The temptation was too close and too much to bear so he bent his head and took a nipple in his mouth. She hissed and arched her body toward him as he rolled his tongue over the hardened bud and teased by grazing his teeth across the edges. 

'Fuck, I’m close.’ She said as she continued to rock to meet his fingers. 

He felt it, he felt her muscles contract around his fingers and just when she was about to go over the edge, he pulled out. 

'What the fuck!’ She was furious enough to break off his hold. 

He wanted her that way. He needed her to be angry. He needed to hear her. He needed her. He needed her so much. 

Gripping her thighs, he opened her legs and positioned himself at her entrance.'You’ll come when I tell you to come.’ He ordered. 

'Like hell!’ She lifted her body off the bed and raised her chin in challenge. 'I can easily get off with my own fingers if you won’t do the job, right.’

'Oh yeah,’ he kept his eyes on her and he ran his tongue across her neglected nipple, 'Then why did you come to me?’

Her mouth shut and her lips screwed up tight and her body followed his mouth when he pulled away. 

He rested his body on his hands, ghosting his lips against her jaw, against her chin. 'It’s me, it’s always me. It’s always been me.’

She swallowed audibly. 

'Admit it,’ he growled, as he held himself above her, making it clear that he would be inside her already if she would stop being stubborn. 

This was the thrill of it. This was the intimacy and the love and the chemistry involved. A compliant y/n was not actually y/n and it wasn’t any fun. 

But making her admit it, challenging her and pushing her and edging her, that got her off as well as him. 

He peeked down between her open legs, her pussy called to him. The musk of her that was so uniquely y/n made him feel heady and out of sorts, but he waited it out. He would always wait for her. Because y/n would always give in, only ever to him. 

His fingers circled his cock and he teased her entrance, coating the tip with her juices, knowing that the simple ministrations would drive her insane. 

He knew when it happened, when she gave in. He didn’t know how, and he didn’t want to question it, nor could he describe the change. But somehow she was… softer, more… breakable. 

'It’s always you.’ She met his eyes and the moment would forever remain etched in his mind. 'It’s only ever going to be you. I need you.’ She squirmed and pushed forward to meet his length, but he pushed her flat on her back, splaying his large hand over her abdomen.

Never one to just roll over and take it, y/n raised her hips to meet his cock. 'Now, please fuck me,’ her hands caressed his back and she let him feel her nails, to drive her point home, 'please let me come.' 

He snarled at the slight sting. Fuck any right or any possible wrong in that moment, because he couldn’t hold back any longer. 

He grabbed her ass and heard her cry out as he buried himself deep.

His forehead dropped to hers, and he stilled trying catch his breath, catching hers instead, and let her adjust to his size again. 

He felt her fit so perfectly around his cock, her muscles adapting around him, squeezing him already. She was only ever made for him. 

'I missed you.’ Y/n admitted, her face screwed up in a mix of pleasure and pain. 

He hummed as he pulled out slowly, and slammed back in and he knew right then, that slow and easy was not gonna cut it. Not this time round. ’Fuck,there’s no way I’m going to last long.' 

Her fingers found purchase in his hair, tugging lightly in exquisite pleasure-pain. 'Then you better get going.’ Her nose brushed against his. 

He thrust once, twice, and then set a pace as she met his hips with her own. 'Harder,’ her own hands pulled him impossibly further into her body, 'yes, d-don’t stop!’

Her nails scored down his back and he thrust himself right to the hilt. Fuck. 

His wife’s body, her plush breasts that she squeezed just the way she liked as he worked her pussy, her openness and vulnerability, it was all his. Only his. 

'Oh god, yes. Oh fuck!’ His balls drew up and he knew he was almost there. But hell if he wasn’t going to take his wife with him. 

He reached between their bodies again and stroked her bundle of nerves until she contracted around his cock, bringing him more pleasure than he could fathom. 

'Namjoon,’ she arched up into his hand, her hips clamped down and he knew she was at that point. 

'Let go for me, baby. I’m right here. I have you.’

She continued to hold onto her release, and some part of him knew it was because of instinct, because if she let go now, if she let herself feel, if she let herself shatter, there was no going back. 

Sex with y/n was never just sex, would never just be sex, every aspect of her emotional spectrum was tied to it. 

He knew he’d have to push her over. She clenched around his cock and he almost saw stars. Using iron grit to keep himself from cumming before she did. Combining his thrusts, and his fingers circling her clit, he bent his head and bit down on the sweet spot between her shoulder and neck.

Immediately, he felt her body give in for her and he watched as she cried out breathlessly.

She squeezed her eyes shut, her back bowed, and her arms held onto him for dear life as the force of her release clamped down on him. 

The contractions around his cock were almost too much as he reared up and continued to pump in and out of her as she rode out her orgasm. And he would have held on a bit longer, somehow. 

But y/n shifted, brought her lips up to his own neck, and bit down… hard. 

And he snapped. 

He roared and went blank with the pleasure of his own release and fell into his wife’s waiting arms. 

###

———-

Present day

Namjoon awoke with a sense of warmth, a sense of stability he hadn’t had in a long time. 

He’d found his wife’s naked form curled up against his body, her head on his chest, their legs tangled around each other with the blankets somewhere in between. 

It was warm. It was heaven. It was everything. 

He knew how he felt. The sex was the right move, because words were one thing, and promises were a step up, but the night before, with all the pain and the pressure and the rampant emotions, sex somehow… felt like that last step, that brought them together, that made it real. 

But he needed to wait and see what y/n’s reaction was. 

He stared at her sleeping form, watching her breath softly, and scrunch her nose and he could be kidding himself but he knew she felt safe in his arms, and he felt like there was a certain sense of peace across her features. 

He didn’t have to wait long, before she slowly started to wake. 

'Mmmmh,’ she opened her eyes and did a luxurious stretch, then snuggled back into him. 

She rested her chin back on his chest and peeked up at him. 'Morning.’

Cute. Her voice was muffled and riddled with sleep. Her hair was tousled, bed head combined with a bit of hair pulling and lax, a contrast to the usual rigidity of her shoulders that conveyed her guards were up. To Namjoon’s eyes, she looked fucking gorgeous in this state.

'Hi,’ he offered a hesitant smile. 

She frowned and lifted her head. He knew she could tell that the gears in his brain were already spinning. 'You’re worried about my reaction, aren’t you?’ She cut straight to the chase. 

He gave a solemn nod. 

They were well beyond the 'between the lines’ and words saying one thing and meaning another. 

Instead of answering, she moved to straddle him, his hands easily closing over her thighs. And his cock twitched, but holding onto his self-control, he ignored it for the moment. 

She gathered her hair and threw it over her shoulder, then placed her palms on his chest. A smile grew ever so slowly on her face and he couldn’t help but return it. Seeing Y/n happy, meant his world was somehow intact. 

She giggled. 'That was actually pretty amazing.' 

He had to agree. 

Playing. She was playing with him. He didn’t know… how to feel about it. It was a good sign, that was for sure. 

She stretched her body languidly atop his and he squeezed her thigh in a possessive hold. 'I missed you,’ she murmured, tickling the skin on his chest. She belonged in his arms. She fit so perfectly against him. 

Shifting further up, she closed her eyes as her center brushed the tip of his cock. 'No regrets. I promise.’ She whispered against his lips, when she opened her eyes again. 

The relief that surged through him threatened to bring him to tears. Unable to help himself, he switched their positions much like the night before, and covered her with his body. She giggled as he planted kisses on her forehead and all over her face then he stopped. 

Did she think less of him, after hearing what she heard? Maybe she did and she wouldn’t admit it to protect his feelings. What if her feelings had changed at all?

Looking down at her, he berated himself, because if any of that was actually true, it would be his fault. 

He wished he could turn back time. His wife, his y/n, his love, the light of his life, the song in his soul, he wished he could have done so much better by her. 

‘Hey,’ she enclosed his cheeks in her palms, ‘Are you okay?’

The question surprised him. Was he that transparent? Of course he was, y/n knew better than anyone else, maybe better than he knew himself. 

He still tried to play it off. 'Me? You’re the one that was held at gunpoint.' 

'Humiliation,’ she started, her knowing eyes searching his face, her honest concern shining through her own, 'for someone held up in high esteem, is as close to death as one can get.' 

He dropped his gaze, battling the emotions inside his body, not wanting to feel any of it. 'I deserved it.’

'No.’ Her response was resolute. 'That was taking it too far. I never asked about the details, because I thought I didn’t really want to know, that it would be too painful. But now I know why,’ she brushed her nose against his, 'it’s not fair to ask you to relive a nightmare.’

'You’re letting me off easy.’ He retorted. He ached inside. Through all the pain, through everything, she still protected him. 'Like you said, she had the ability to use it because I gave her the leverage.’

'You can’t suffer for the same thing twice.’ She ran her fingers through his hair, comforting him. 'What happened yesterday, was not you, it was not about you. You were just collateral damage. But it was damage.’ She placed a tender kiss on his jawline. 'And damage is one thing, we have to work on together. You’re never gonna be alone in anything that you do, Namjoon. Not while I’m around.’

Her words, her concern, her love… it did something to him. Y/n was the one that had been through hell the night before but here she was, checking on him. It was his stability and his strength and his solace she craved and came apart in his arms with a trust that made him want to savage any that dared hurt her, that dare try to take her away from him. 

But her soft fingers held him with such a gentleness, that despite the very strength she looked for from him, his tears spilled over onto her chest.

He turned his face into her palm. ‘I’m so sorry, y/n.’ His lip quivered and much like the night before he let his wife see how much his mistake had actually cost him. 'I’m so sorry.’

———-

You held Namjoon as he fell apart and hid his head in your neck and your own tears threatened to spill over.

You weren’t completely out of your mind the night before. 

Vulnerable, and raw and slightly off kilter, but you couldn’t hold back anymore. 

It may have been unfair, the way you went about it, the desperation in which you asked, almost coerced your husband, but you didn’t regret it, and you could tell, he didn’t either. 

Something…changed. 

You had said plenty of words, made plenty of promises about being together, about staying together, but coming together again, that passion, the love, a puzzle piece clicked into place. 

You had no intention of initiating sex at all. But Namjoon, with his lean, hard body, and muscular planes that all but projected a sense of safety – making love with Namjoon, was as much for him as it was for you. 

Last night… 

He knew exactly what to do when you gave the greenlight. He used his fingers and took control, reminded you that he knew your body and what to do to drive you into mindless pleasure, and he knew how to get you to submit to him. 

In every aspect of your life you had it together, had the upper hand, even in your personal lives your husband let you lead the way, but Namjoon was in charge in the bedroom. 

And you loved submitting to him. 

Your pussy clenched at the memory of his fingers inside you, the pleasure, the pain, after weeks of ignoring your body’s natural response to your husband. 

He stretched you, a beautiful pain that you luxuriated in and took advantage of your sweet spot as he plunged deep, only to be an asshole and stop you right there, just before you crossed the edge, causing you to almost bite his head off in frustration. 

You could push Namjoon, fight him, challenge him, force his hand, but one thing he would never relent on, was his control on your pleasure. He’d made it quite clear. 

There were no complaints. You knew your role, to be as y/n as you could be, and he knew his, to put you in your place, always. 

You closed your eyes against the raw hunger you saw in his own eyes  last night. The way he held your thighs open, his growls and groans, the shudder in his body when he finally surged inside you. His commanding voice when he declared he owned your right to cum. 

You needed him between your legs, caging you in, holding you down, the wetness glistening on your thighs, the dirty, hot, sex of him plunging in and out of you. The gasps, the moans, the sounds of his flesh meeting yours, his cock brushing up against your sweet spot deep within your core, it ratcheted your need for him to a fever pitch. 

The contracting of your inside muscles around him, the orgasm that ripped through your body left you limp, sated, exhausted after such a long while. 

You were satisfied. And you knew why. It was an integral need in you, where your body hummed and your blood thundered when Namjoon was near you, like every cell in your body calling to him like a siren song. Sometimes all a woman needed was to rub her body over something hard, hot and male and God you loved being filled. To feel full. And last night you had, because you had only ever given that right to one man. And it would be his right for as long as you lived. 

But even better than your satisfaction, was seeing Namjoon’s face tighten as he released into you and came apart in your arms. Only you were privy to that Namjoon. Only you. Unrestricted, unrestrained, Kim Namjoon. 

And more so, he knew, he knew with every bone in his body and the very air he breathed, you were his, and his alone. 

'I love you, Namjoon.’ You whispered when he was quiet for too long. 'I love you so much.’

You brushed away the treacherous tear that escaped your eye and went back to holding him to you.

'You are more than this mistake, much more. And we can only do better from here on out.' 

He lifted his head, and his red rimmed eyes tore into you in a way no physical wound ever could. 'I don’t understand how you’re so strong.’ He shook his head. 'Last night, saving your girls, buying yourself time, and being able to get a handle on your coping mechanism, and now you’re in front of me, reassuring me, taking care of my heart,’ his voice brittle, ‘when I’m the one that broke yours.’

It was only ever yours to break.

He wrapped his arms around you and crushed you to him. 'I don’t deserve you, y/n.’

You let out a wet chuckle. 'No you don’t.’ You touched his forehead to yours. 'But you have me. You have me, Namjoon. You will always have me.’

Taglist - @casnextdoor@jaysdimples@belliebelle@pinkcherrybombs@sweetjellyfishland@blushingatyou@jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue@somewhereinthestarss@k-brownsugar@namsona17@taejinxkoya@notsooperfect@zae007live@its-hopes-world@shina913@bri-mal@piecesofapril11@kissme-ornot@toriluvsfics@agustdmwah@lochness-butmakeitsexy@petalsofink@definetlythinkimanalien@masterpiecejoonie@gcintia@danietoww04@roguesthetic@rjsmochii@amymikaelson@hello-kittyy@mschievous247@onlythehobi@deliciousdetectivestranger@daddypkj@callmemadhatter@rkivecenter@codeinebelle@creolesoul2seoul@nochelunaxx@serendididy[closed]

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Part 25.5 - Cold-Blooded

Part 26 || Ascension

Part 27 -coming soon

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Nerve_25.5 || KNJ

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Nerve [Namjoon x Reader]

Prompt-@casnextdoor

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Part 25.4 - Killswitch

Part 25.5 - Cold-Blooded

Part 26 -Ascension

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Genre - cheating; aftermath; husband au;

Summary - You would never expect it really. He’s doting. He’s sweet. He’s hardworking. But he’s forgotten his morals. Suspecting it is one thing, but when he confirms it, will you stay or walk away.

Warning - Cheating(Aftermath); Isolation/Panic/ (Implied) Self-Harm/ Graphic Depiction of (Implied) Self-Harm/Negativity/Anxiety/Angst/Self-Depracation;

Word Count - 9.3k

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Please note the following chapter contains a complete representation of OC’s current psyche, her mental state and the drastic measures she takes thereafter. PLEASE!! Proceed with caution as this whole update is a MAJOR trigger warning.

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The Kim’s - present time…

Silence stretched across the car, tense and taut. Your thoughts were scattered… and yet, together. Like a bunch of tiny pieces collected in a bottle. If only it was that aesthetic. 

In reality it was probably like Monica’s closet in that one FRIENDS episode. 

The lights, music and dancing. A gun. A gunshot. Anger. So much anger…then Yoshi. You shook your head. You didn’t want to think about Yoshi. 

The visual of the trees outside the window as they whizzed by and Namjoon’s cologne, somehow kept you tethered to the present. 

You couldn’t handle his presence, but still wanted him with you, near you. You needed him. You should keep him at a distance for the moment but battling that natural instinct withing you, was the least of your problems.

You were aware, but not really. It was like TV static ringing in your ears. The world was closing in, the air was too little, the space too small, the darkness surrounding you, enveloping your body, drawing you in, making you lean forward and fall into nothingness. 

Your skin felt too tight, like a mannequin, immovable, emotionless, still. You were wound up, so unyielding and hermetic, so focused on keeping it together, that one wrong word, one wrong move, a specific touch would cause you to spill over

The thoughts pushed you forward, the pain held you back.

Maybe… 

Maybe you could have done something different. Maybe if you didn’t get mad at her, or say your piece or maybe if you tried harder, or… something. 

Would probably be the one shot right now. 

Would that be any better? Probably not. But it definitely wouldn’t wrack your body with guilt, if you got shot by the bullet actually meant for you. 

You tilted your head back and closed your eyes. The images behind them were blurred out and yet the damaged film reel seemed to keep spinning in your head, replaying it over and over, so you opened them again. 

You couldn’t relax. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe. You were screwed up so tight you practically felt how ready you were to explode. But not really. 

Your face was blank. And you felt more in control than ever. And you breathed easy, but you couldn’t breathe. Did that make sense? No.

Closing your eyes again, you took a deep breath in… See. Perfectly fine. 

‘Wait, ah!’

Your eyes shot open as the remnants of the recording propelled itself to the forefront. 

Blinking a few times in an effort to calm your heart, you wrenched your nausea and your anger and any other feeling you would not give yourself time to identify in a choke hold and shoved it down. 

A laugh threatened to escape you. A classic reaction to the day and the night and events tied to it. This was so unnecessary. The whole fucking ordeal was just so absolutely un-fucking-necessary. Maiya’s face rose to the surface. 

Lunatic. You would look like a lunatic if you laughed now. 

No. You wouldn’t laugh. Or smile. Showing either, would make you cry. 

The malice that washed over you, had you shifting your shoulders slightly. Stupid. Fucking. Bitch. 

Your visceral reaction was justified. You would have done more than slap her back there. 

Despite all your hatred directed to Maiya, some irrational part of you, oddly enough, was mad at the way Kenta and the team got the door down. 

The timing itself was perfect. 

Maiya’s induced panic because of Kenta closing in, pulling the trigger as such… but then again, she would have anyway and Yoshi would have dove in front of you regardless of the timing. 

You were mad at Yoshi. You were mad at him for jumping in front of a bullet for you. So what if it was his job?

It shouldn’t have come to that! 

It was drama. It was uncalled for. It was unnecessary. 

'Mmmh, ah, fu –!’

You closed your eyes and held back a shudder from the fresh playback. 

Was this a nightmare? If so, could you wake up? Could someone, anyone, shout or scream or do something, anything to wake you up so you could open your eyes to the sun shining from your bedroom window, and your husband next to you, still yours. Only yours.

You opened your eyes, but you could feel the thrum of your pulse, whether you imagined it or not, you didn’t care. The beat of your heart got louder and louder and you felt the internal war by means of a headache that threatened to split your skull in half.

Blinking at the fresh sounds of ‘Chicken Noodle Soup’, you notice your phone ringing in your lap. You barely have any reaction when you bring it to your ear upon seeing Kenta’s name flash across the screen. 

'Yoshi’s fine.’ He cuts to the chase. ‘Bullet was extracted safely. But it was lodged into his brachial plexus. He’ll recover. It’s just gonna take some time and maybe a follow up surgery for any complications.’

'That’s good to hear.’ You sounded robotic even to your own ears. In the back of your mind you noted that Kenta was talking about the nerves in Yoshi’s arm – shoulder and spinal cord. Then it was serious and it really would take surgery to repair them. Multiple maybe. 'I’m taking full responsibility. I’ll cover medical bills and make it clear to Sylo he’s on paid leave until he makes a full recovery.’

'We have provisions for these types of things. But we appreciate it.’ He paused. 'How are you? Are you gonna be okay?' 

Your lip quivered. You bit it, hard enough to draw blood, but it was enough to keep yourself at bay. 

'Yeah,’ you breathed. You swallowed hard and added a clipped ‘Thanks.’

You ended the call without waiting for an answer. You couldn’t listen to his voice. 

Kenta was safe. So safe. So safe that some vulnerable part of you would reach out for him, and you couldn’t have that happening. He knew your past. He knew you as Sung’s daughter, before he acknowledged Y/n Y/l/n. He’d held you through breakdowns. He’d kept you safe through any and all comers. By the sound of his voice, you could tell he knew you were in your emotional state… what else would you call this really…

Nevertheless… 

You were no longer Kenta’s responsibility. And you would not be selfish or hurt Yuna anymore. 

No one in the car had asked you anything. Yet. It was so quiet, they would have probably heard the other end of the conversation already. 

And really, you didn’t have it in you to respond to anyone. You would have acted like you hadn’t heard. Even when they repeated themselves. 

'Yuna –,' 

'I can’t, y/n. I can't… it’s too much.’

'Yuna, please –,' 

'Just, just, leave me alone.’

You had no reaction to the Yuna thing. Instinctively, you knew it was too painful to even analyze. 

You couldn’t actually explain the logic that shielded those feelings, either. Because you didn’t even know if you wanted to fix things with her. 

How? Why? She was going to leave. Her wedding was planned out already. So fulfill your duties, and let her be on her way. 

Let her rip out half of your heart and take it with her. But she would be safe, better off, maybe even a bit happier. 

Maybe everyone would be happier without you.

You shoved off the voices of your old self. They had no place here. 

Your cheek touched the car seat, as you continued to stare out the window. 

But really… would Yuna have pitied you? Would she have pushed aside her anger if she knew what exactly happened in that room? Would she have left you alone if she heard the recording or learned that it existed? 

In any case, did you really even deserve her pity?

A tear cascaded down your face. Pathetic.You didn’t flinch as you felt the waft of the cold air against your cheek. You didn’t wipe it away. It was there, then it was gone. 

It was water. It would dry up. Wiping it away, made it real. And right now you didn’t know what was real. 

Truthfully… you wanted her to feel sorry for you, hold you together, be with you as you fell apart. 

Selfish.You were selfish.Wanting to take away her right to be angry. She had every right to be upset. 

Her proposal. Her sister. Her bachelorette party. God knows what other mess you’d bring to the wedding, y/n. Should you even go? Did you have a right to go anymore? 

Anymore… 

Were things going to change now? Yuna’s angry. She will hide it for the sake of her wedding, but for how long will she be mad? She was scheduled to leave next week. Would that cause distance? Would that give her clarity? Where she would realize she never should have chosen you in the first place, run back to her sister… And you would be alone. 

Who else did you have? 

Kae-Lee? Who lived halfway across the world now… practically a baby at her age. Ria? Who encased her heart in a concrete block. Lirrah? Whom you didn’t know at all, before tonight? 

Look at you. Looking for a replacement because you’re all alone. 

Because no one could understand. 

You also didn’t want anyone to understand. Your pain was yours. You had every right to feel it. 

You were confused. You were on the verge of a breakdown. You knew this. But you stood behind a pane of glass, watching the world move on the other side.

You wanted to laugh again. And you would laugh; if the numbness was any indication, it would be fucking hysterical. But if you made a sound, if you even opened your mouth, you’d be done for.

‘All you had to do was leave your husband!’

It would have been easier. This would have never happened if you left. It would have been easier if you fell out of love with him. It would have been easier to have never heard the recording. 

It would have been easier if you were never cheated on in the first place. 

How did you feel? Really. 

No. You couldn’t answer that. 

Did this put a dent on any of the progress you both had made thus far? Was this the end of you and Kim Namjoon? You didn’t know that either. 

Was it an empty feeling, that also felt too full, too much, gut-wrenching and mind-numbing at the exact same time? 

A part of you knew this was temporary. That in a few minutes or hours you would be able to think.That after a good night’s sleep you could take action. That come tomorrow morning you would still love Namjoon with every single fiber of your being. 

But this was now. And right now, you felt. And if you could actually begin to describe what it was like under all the ice, you would admit that your heart had been completely shredded. It had been ripped out of your chest and you were staring at it bleeding out, becoming obsolete and bloodless. 

You turned your head further away from any of the men in the car as another tear dropped from your eye. You didn’t want them to see your tears. You didn’t want to show yourself. You didn’t want to be seen. Again, you had no reaction to the tear whatsoever.

It never happened.

If it didn’t happen, you didn’t cry, you didn’t leak, you didn’t have a reaction, and if you didn’t do any of those things… you wouldn’t break.

You didn’t want to break. 

But how. You were already broken. 

———-

Pretend. 

It’s okay, y/n. You can pretend. You can play pretend. You did it with mom. You did it with dad. You did it with Kwang. You did it at work. You did it for the world. You could do it in front of your boys. 

You could keep a strong front. You could clench your jaw, grit your teeth and walk on your own. 

Grit your teeth. 

Your body felt foreign because it was working on autopilot. And that was okay. But the gnawing in your stomach and the pressure in your chest made you feel like you would keel over at any given moment. 

It was okay.

You opened the door carefully and stepped out of the car. If you stayed in, one of them would have carried you and if one of them carried you… 

Physical contact was a no-no. You were glass and glass would shatter.

The cobblestones felt cold, the ice on the ground somehow taking the edge off the throbbing ache in your skull. You take a shuddering breath, at the burn of the ice, as you take each step and carefully avoid eye contact.

It was okay. Pretend. Keep it together.

Taking a second, and keeping your eyes zeroed to the ground, you glance left and right, you realize seven pairs of shoes are within your radius. All seven of them had come with you. 

Why?

No. If you asked questions. They would reply and it would be an opening and then… you wouldn’t know what to do or say and it would just – Shh, y/n.

You blew out a breath of air. Slowly. Shhh. You imagined some other version of you whispering the words. 

Youjust – your freehand clenched at your side–you couldn’t do questions just yet. In fact, you couldn’t do questions at all. 

No matter. The house was huge. They all had spare clothes. There was enough food. You just needed to get into the house and up to your room, straight through your bathroom and hide. 

Then what?

'Y/n.' 

No. Absolutely not. Jin could not get near you. 

Shh. Shh. It’s okay, y/n. You felt yourself starting to panic. Breath.

He reached out and you took a sharp step to the side completely avoiding his hands. Then you started walking. It was okay. Pretend.

Don’t look up. Don’t look at his face. Don’t imagine the sting of rejection you would find there. He’s fine. He’ll be fine. He’ll get over it.

They can’t notice. You shouldn’t show them how this affected you. You didn’t even know how this had affected you. They just couldn’t see. They shouldn’tsee how fucked up it was how you didn’t have a plan of how to go about losing your fucking shit. 

You blinked. How would you go about doing that?

What does one do when they hear a recording of their husband getting off on another woman? 

How does one feel? 

Do you wail? Do you scream? Do you pretend it never happened? Do you yell at him, bang your fists against his chest or deck him? Do you get a knife and commit murder or turn the knife on yourself instead? Did the embarrassment matter? Should it matter?

Maybe you should Google it. 

'Y/n! Your feet!’

Nuh uh. You didn’t even flinch at his harsh tone. You walked faster.

Hoseok was a weakness. You loved him. It was that clean. That clear. That simple. That real. He was as real as Jin. 

A number of voices called out to you in the background, your own thoughts too loud to allow them to break through. They picked up the pace.

Run. 

But run where? Where to, y/n? You walked faster anyway, the icy burn on your feet keeping you afoot. 

Yelling. You heard yelling behind you. What did they think you were going to do? Where were you going to go? 

Die? 

Hah. That was rich. You couldn’t do it when your dad locked you up in your room and turned everything important to you, into ash. You couldn’t do it when the only man that ever paid attention to you and made you feel seen, tried to get into your panties. You couldn’t do it then. You wouldn’t do it now. 

But how you feel now… you might as well be dead. 

'Y/n. You’re bleeding.' 

No.Fuck.

‘Noona!’

You felt the wetness. Probably nicked it on something under the ice.

‘Y/n, sweetheart –,’

Aware that they were a few steps behind, you punched in your code to the door, muscle memory not failing you for once, you opened and slammed it shut in one go. ‘Y/n!’

You stared at the door. That was stupid.

They all had codes to this house. This was their leader’s home. 

‘Baby!’ Namjoon called, much like the day he confessed and you slammed the door in his face.

You shoved your fist in front of your mouth to keep from crying out. Think. 

Think. Think. Think, y/n! For how long would you run from this? They were at your house, there were seven of them, and none of them would rest without knowing you were okay. You knew this. Then why? They were running after you, why? You were running away from them, why?

This was your family. You didn’t do anything wrong. Some of these boys had seen the worst parts of you. Here you were allowedto have a reaction. But something in you refused to comprehend the logic.

You needed to think. But there were so many thoughts. You needed to breathe like your chest wasn’t hurting. You needed to stop thinking about Yuna and if she was gone. She would still be there for you tomorrow. Namjoon was yours. Namjoon was still yours. You chose to move past this. You couldn’t lose your mind right now. You had control. You knew this. You had to listen. You had to understand. You whimpered as you stepped over your threshold and walked into your house.

It was everywhere. You turned your head from left to right. Haphazardly searching your open lounge… for something. It was in your mouth and clutching at your chest and holding your body captive and you were running out of time. Whatever was happening it felt like the walls were closing in and you didn’t know what to and what to feel and you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t go to Namjoon and you didn’t know what to do and you couldn’t breathe!

A light caught your eye. You looked to your left through your lounge window, a light catching your eye. The pool house…

Your chest heaved and for a moment, a passing flicker, you acknowledged an old habit of yours. You blinked and flexed your toes. The ice at your feet. You looked down at the cuts.  

You closed your eyes and stretched your toes, feeling pain. 

The pool. You made up your mind. 

The door opened. 'Y/n.’

It was too much. He was too much. Namjoon and his scent. Namjoon and his dimpled smile. Namjoon and his voice. You wanted to hit him. You wanted to yell and howl and act like the maniacal bitch you knew yourself to be capable of. 

You also wanted to walk straight into his arms, into the place you considered your home and hide. You wanted to kiss him, hold onto him. You wanted to stay there and forget about everything.  

And then there was no more thought as you made a break for it.

But he was bigger, taller, faster, he grabbed your hand and the rejection was so malevolent you had no choice but to turn around to swing at him. Your fist never made contact. It stopped a hair’s breadth away from his cheek. You breathed hard. You shivered at the intensity in Namjoon’s eyes as it already had an effect. Namjoon loved you. 

What the fuck did you do with that information. You probably looked murderous. Enraged. Crazy. 

Eyes wide you breath hard and notice the men behind him catching up. And Namjoon’s face. The trickle of blood on his lip. The agony shone in his eyes. 

His fear. His bone-chilling fear that you would leave. His face desperate, almost begging. For what? What could you give him?  Another blowjob? A frantic laugh rang off in your head.

What else could you do? What other move could you make when your husband looked at you like you would disappear at any given moment. 

You could apologize. 

You could call this a reflex reaction. 

You could make an excuse. 

You could pretend.

You could go about your night and the next day and be okay.

You could pretend. 

You could pretend. 

You couldn’t pretend.

You felt your face crumple, so you walked backward. One step, and another and did another clean break.

More yelling as you pushed your way through the opening to the pool house, Jin had used a couple days prior.

You saw the endless blue under the moonlight. 

You smiled.Gümüşservi. Turkish. The reflection of the moon on a body of water. Pretty. Pretty and cold. 

You dropped everything, the phone, the shoes, your coat from your shoulders and before you thought logically about what you were about to do, or before you started to really wonder if it would work, and before you lost your Nerve – you jumped.

You blank out. Darkness as you kept your eyes closed. No more breathing, now for an actual reason. 

Like pushing the off button on the computer, your body did a reboot. Your visceral reaction to the cold water is wrenched from your control as your body pushes back up. 

‘Huuuh!’ You gasp for air as you break through the surface. It’s not cold, it’s not crisp. It’s fucking glacial.

In defense of the fundamental right your body had to keep you alive, you didn’t actually want to die. Your pool wasn’t that deep and you swam for therapy. Death by drowning was a long shot.

A deep inhalation and multiple smaller ones, kept you present, as your body tried to process the shock. Your dress pulled you down, the weight of the water drowning you with it. Inhale. Exhale.Inhale. Exhale. You weren’t controlling it. You didn’t need to. Your breathing was an automatic response for you to stay alive. You wouldn’t die. Your body didn’t want you to die. It wanted you to somehow adapt. It wanted you to survive.

There’s nothing but the frigid cold, the ice, the tight expansion of your chest doing its best to adapt to the new life-threatening environment.

The cold shocks your muscles and your teeth all but bite off your tongue as you bend your knees to sink your body again.

You brush the hair off your face and push it back. For a moment it’s all white noise, you see nothing, you hear nothing, you acknowledge nothing.

There are the thoughts.

There is the pain.

Then there’s screaming. 

———-

You’re the one screaming. 

You didn’t know you started, until you did. Once you did, you couldn’t stop. 

It all crumbles. The walls. The guards. The protection. The pretending. It all falls apart as agony spreads through your chest. It was numb. It was so numb and tight like a noose squeezing your neck until all you would see was nothingness, but now it burned, blinding pain that broke you in half. 

No. Wait. That was just your heart.

Hatred that she could pull such a stunt, do such a thing. Guilt that Yoshi was hurt. Guilt that Yuna’s night had been ruined after such a bad day. Rejection that she pushed you away. Betrayal that Namjoon was on that recording. Incredulity that she would have the fucking audacity to record it. Jealousy that she had what was yours. Possessiveness, pathetic possessiveness of the man that you loved that you wanted all to yourself. But you were not enough. You were not fucking good enough. 

You grab your hair, to instinctively keep it together. The twinge of pain at your roots, helping some, but not enough.

You scream as the sob tears through your chest and when you have to breathe, your hands grab fistfuls of your hair to anchor you. 

Your brain works in tandem as it rips open your past and remember your dad and feel a wave of disappointment of what could have been. 

You pull back and inhale only for it to start all over again, this time as sniveling, mewling sounds leave your chest as you cry for all your life was worth. 

It was always something. A layer and another and another. It’s your best friend and her anger and her loss of her sister and the loss of what could have been. If only. 

It hurts and your nails dig into your hair and you cover your eyes and you want to stop but youcan’t.

Namjoon…

You can’t handle it. You can’t be strong. You can’t keep it together. You burst at the seams and it all twists inside you, angry and wanting attention and it’s all over. 

It rips you apart, you feel like you’re in pieces. You’re about to collapse you’re about to die you’re okay with that and being done with all of this if you never have to feel like this again 

You bawl until your throat is raw, until you’re heaving until your tears are dry even though you’re in the middle of a body of water. 

It’s freezing cold. Closing your eyes, you focused your breathing in between the hiccuping and the whimpering that escapes you. Feeling the chill against your skin, of the heaviness of your dress. Your teeth chatter and your body shivers, as you experience the physical effects of feeling alive. F-focus.Your breaths came easy, now. On account of the crying. Focus on the cold.

You feel alive. Great.

Hypothermic.Maybe.Squeezing in your chest, from the extreme body temperature. All your focus was on the water. 

The burn is excruciating and your fingers are white when you drop them from your hair. Everything hurts. The mental aspect hammers into your skull and the physical effects were fucked up enough for you to regret jumping in. 

Then a pair of hands circle your wrists. 

'Noona, please.’

'No!’ You wrenched your hands away from him. You had no intention of being that violent, or that hurtful. It just happened. You also knew you only broke free because he didn’t expect you to protest. 'I ha–ave, to be in, h-here,’ you shivered.

Jungkook. Jungkook could have your whole heart, and your soul and anything in the world he wanted because he was just that important. The fact that he was in the pool with you, in the freezing cold, said enough. 

But you had to go through this. You had to stay a little longer. 

He grabbed you again. Your upper arms and you struggled as much as you could.

'You’re going to get sick! Please.’ You closed your eyes and turned as far away as you could as the youngest pleaded with you, his words, his tone, cutting straight through you. 

He didn’t understand and you couldn’t explain. 

An instant later you felt another pair of arms on you. 

You look up, ready to fight, argue, be a bitch so that they leave you alone, so you don’t close up.

But you realize all too quickly you can’t do a damnthing. 

Here, in the pool with you, in the freezing cold water, in the middle of snowy winter, designer suit and all, was the one person you could never fight. 

Yoongi. 

Cold eyes, a contrast to his gentle but firm fingers. ‘You wouldn’t fight me,’ a deep inhale, the water cold and unforgivable, ‘would you Y/n-ah?’

You sniffle, halfheartedly pulling your hands away, tears still leaking out at random. 

‘Come here.’ He drags you forward into his chest. He encloses you in his arms, before you have any time to protest.

You had never broken down in front of Yoongi before. You never wanted to give him a reason to not accept you in the family. You didn’t want to be seen as less. But his arms around you were firm and he gathered you in a tight hold. He pecks your hair and that simple action was your undoing as you closed your eyes and sunk into his hold.

'Go, Kook.’

'But –,' 

'She’ll listen.’ A brush of his hands on your wet hair. 'I promise.’

You heard Jungkook make his way out of the pool, wading through the water.

'Get to the edge,’ Yoongi instructed him. ‘Yeah. Help him up, Tae.’

Feeling embarrassed, a little too lost, a lot confused, you pull away as Yoongi is distracted, but he seemed stronger than he looked, because you couldn’t budge.

'Shh, y/n.’ Your eyes darted from side to side as your forehead rested against his chest. 'I won’t let go. We won’t let go. We’re here for you.’’

You let out an involuntary whimper. 

Because inside you, deep inside, where even you would never attempt to dive, you wanted help. You wanted your stubbornness pushed aside, you wanted to be fought for, you wanted to be held. You wanted to be put back together and held so tight that the pieces were no longer tiny shards with sharp edges, rather something less fatal to anyone else and less unfortunate to yourself. 

You clutch his arms tight. And he holds you impossibly close as the rest of your tears flow freely onto his shirt…your makeup running and staining the immaculate, white material. 

He didn’t seem to care. 

You both stay there for a while, as your small sounds die down again and you get a hold of yourself. In reality it was just a minute, or so, before he broke the silence.

'I need you to come out of the pool with me,’ he whispers into your hair. 

You shook your head immediately. 

'You’re going to get sick.’ His soft tone turned harsh. ‘You have to change. You have to get dry and warm up and you have to survive.' 

Still you didn’t budge. 

'I know you find comfort in water. I know you find yourself here. And you have. You know you have. And now you have to deal with it the only way you can.

But you have to get out of the pool with me. Jin hyung needs to check on you, y/n. Hobi needs to see you. All of us. We need to…’ he broke off and inhaled. 'We just watched you go through hell and back, y/n. Please…come back to us.’

It was the 'please’. It was a whole lot more. But it was the 'please’ that did you in. 

You pull away and give a slight nod. He takes advantage of the moment. 

You’re being waded through the water to the nearest edge and hauled up by another pair of arms. You immediately start shivering again as you sat at the edge. Yoongi pushed himself up by his forearms and took a seat next to you. He was stronger than he looked. Jimin too, who threw his jacket over your arms.

They didn’t speak, but you would brace yourself for anything. Only crazy people did what you just did. It didn’t matter that it made sense to you.

You couldn’t go through the… phase, again. You did it twice. Twice was enough. You were not okay. You weren’t thinking. But there were better ways to deal than closing up.

‘That dress is Prada y/n.’

You lifted your gaze, looking directly across the pool to find Taehyung squatting down at the edge, his fingers brushing the top of the water.

He didn’t smile at his statement, but you could see why, the concern in his gaze was too evident. Nevertheless he was trying to help you find your footing.

‘I’ll take you with me when I buy a new one.’ Your teeth chattered and your throat hurt and you hated how small you sounded.

Jimin curled his arm around your waist and leaned his chin on your shoulder. 

You sniffled. Feeling cold, icky and uncomfortable. But if you stood up, you would have to tackle the world. 

‘I know I should say something nice,’ Yoongi started, unbuttoning his shirt and ripping it off before throwing his own dry coat over the cotton long-sleeve shirt underneath, ‘I should be telling you it’s all going to be okay. I should berate my ass of a dongsaeng,’ he motioned his head to the doorway, but you didn’t look, not yet, ‘I should express how sorry I am, but I know you and I also know the only thing I need to tell you, is what you need to use to put your world back on its axis.’

You didn’t make a snide remark about how you didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for you or that this was the most he ever said to you face-to-face. ‘Tell me,’ you grated. Your throat was hoarse, scratchy and it burned. 

‘It already happened.’ He faced you. That was very Yoongi. Never hiding, always honest, unwavering in his support. ‘All of it…has already happened.’

Your lip quivered. ‘It feels… more real… this time.’ 

‘It was already real before,’ Yoongi reminded softly.

You said nothing for a solid minute. You didn’t cry, didn’t argue, just, nothing.

The lights were on in the pool house now, one of them must have switched it on. You stared at your pool. The lights on the water reflecting off the bottom in wavelike, incandescent patterns. Science said the triggered response in the brain induced relaxation through blood flow.

Made sense. Maybe that’s why you could breathe easier and why your body sagged against Jimin’s form and you felt Yoongi’s strength like a buoy.   

He was right. You closed your eyes and thought about every moment you could manage to remember after Namjoon confessed.

You accepted his apology. Acknowledged that he had the balls to confess upfront. He dealt with every single one of the consequences–from you, his brothers…he never wavered.. You gave him an out, battled your own feelings, invested in prospects. You made him angry, iced him out, pushed him away, you all but shoved him towards better options, to be happy to choose a different path and you did your best to show him a life without you but he was unyielding..

He played his own game instead. 

This pool was yours. This pool house was your design. But you already knew you weren’t filing for divorce. This wasn’t the last time you would see those waves reflecting off the light.

You lifted your hand and turned your head toward Jimin, caressing the side of his face, then pecking him innocently.

You turned to Yoongi… and did nothing, because Yoongi was uncharted territory.

He tilted his head to the side, a sad smile adorning his features. ‘It’s a good thing your neighbors are pretty far away,’ his finger tugged at a wet strand of hair.

Jin was physical contact, hugs and cuddles and Hoseok was banter, communication. What did you say to Min Yoongi?

You were beyond grateful. But this made you look, well, absolutely fucked up. 

You were uncertain, unworthy, probably batshit crazy.

A breakdown was a breakdown. This was a mental collapse. Induced, sure, but a collapse nonetheless.

Yoongi placed his forefinger under your chin so you would meet his eyes. He frowned. ‘Humanness is heavy, isn’t it,’ You nodded your head as tears welled up in your eyes again, as he continued. ‘If I met the man that said those words, Rilke, I’d tell him of a Kim Y/n and how she carried it so well.’

He squinted as if visually attaining something in the distance. ‘Think of this as putting it down for a bit. Hmm?’

You felt a renewed ache in your chest. A beautiful one. There was nothing you could say, so you let him see your heart in your eyes. Thank you.

He eviscerated your fear that he would think you out of your goddamn mind and chalked the better part of everything that happened and your reaction to beinghuman. 

No one would be able to fathom what Yoongi’s words did for you that day, nor the love you felt as you looked around the room.

Jimin at your back. Tae and a shirtless Jungkook in your eye line, your admitted favorites, Jin and Hoseok, holding back the man in the middle of it so that he didn’t make things worse.

But this wasn’t the worst. This was already a wound, scabbed over – was scraped raw, but it wasn’t new.

And there was no way, you could not learn from this. There was no way you would not see past this, to see it for what it truly was.

You moved to stand up, bringing Yoongi and Jimin with you. You nodded at Jimin when asked if you were okay to walk. Your legs were shaky, your body was cold and you were absolutely pissed, but you could walk.

‘Y/n.’ You inclined your head in Yoongi’s direction to indicate you were listening. ‘You can’t lose our respect. Ever.’ You turned to face him fully, wondering how he read your mind and how he could assure you, when you were as capable of making a mistake as the next person. ‘Kim Namjoon bows to no one. Remember that.’ 

You took a second to understand.

But he had. Namjoon put his head down and leaned against you at the office the day Ji-ho visited. He didn’t bow, this wasn’t medieval times where a King would bow to his Queen by genuflecting. But a leader, someone seen as the most powerful, the one looked up to and sought after, for him to tip and incline his head in the direction of an individual, it was a sign of respect. 

And he did not just tip his head. Kim Namjoon had been inclining his head for years. To listen to you talk, to kiss you, to reach you, to ask for you, to hold onto you.

Yoongi said the words so quietly, yet they bulldozed any illusion of insecurity you had leftover. 

Making your way to the rest of the guys, you rubbed at your eyes and your dress, still wet and heavy, dripped down with the weight of the water.

‘Chin up, love. You have nothing to apologize for.’ You blew out a breath and looked up. You relished in the courage Jimin instilled in you with his words, another layer of strength added to Yoongi’s. And it helped you stand firm when Jin and Hoseok met each other’s eyes apprehensively. You didn’t stop, not even when Namjoon’s face betrayed his emotions. Fear, confusion, anxiety, all very much notNamjoon.

But you would save him for last. 

Waiting until Taehyung and Jungkook joined the rest of you, Jungkook using Taehyung’s hoodie, you hugged yourself to him without warning. 

'I’m sorry, Kook.’

His tense body relaxed after a moment, and he brought his arms around you. 'You said you would give me anything I asked for.’

You could practically hear the pout in his voice. 

'Forgive me, this once, just this once.’ You would never let it happen again. Not this way at least. 'I will still give you anything you ever ask for.’

'Then promise.’

You pull away to look up at him in confusion. 

'Promise me you’ll be okay.’ He looked so sad, but so determined. Who were you to ever say no to Jeon Jungkook? 

You wet your lips. Refusing to cry anymore. Astounded that you even had anything left. His eyes never left you, as he watched and waited for an answer. 

'I promise,’ you replied firmly. 

Only then did he nod and let go of you. 

Turning around, you brushed your hand over Taehyung’s shoulder, a small acknowledgement, and you watched his shoulders go lax as you passed by him. 

Stopping in front of your next victim, you blinked back more tears when he refused to meet your eyes. Lifting your hand up, you caressed the side of his worldwide handsome cheek. He brought his hand up to close around your wrist, but he didn’t push you away. 

'Jinnie,’ you prompted. 'I’m sorry.’

'You have nothing to be sorry for.’ He still didn’t meet your eye. 

Digging deep, you bared your heart out. 'I shouldn’t have pushed you away.’

He did look up then. And he was so mad at you. 'Will you ever do it again?' 

You wouldn’t make promises you couldn’t keep. These men were too important for that. 'I’ll try not to.’

He sighed and pulled you into his arms. 'You don’t know how much we love you, y/n. We need you.’

Emotions were raw and rampant and made you feel so vulnerable. Enough to admit the same. 'I need you too.’

Looking past Jin’s shoulder you caught Hobi’s eye.

He tilted his head to the side and gave you a smile. 

Breaking out of Jin’s arms, you all but hopped into Hobi’s. Stupid, frustrating man. Loving you so hard. Loving you so much. Always being a comfort. 

He picked you up off the floor with his tight hug and whispered to you, 'Don’t ever scare me like that again. Don’t ever make me think that you’re ever going to do anything drastic. My heart couldn’t bear it.’

My heart couldn’t bear losing you. 

The words were left unsaid, but you understood Hobi – he was yours. 

What did you say? What do you reply? How do you not adore the man that Jung Hoseok was when he had put you first at every turn. Even now, when he should be mad at you, he was being… Hobi. Always so Hobi. 'I won’t.’

Putting you back on your feet, he brushed your damp hair back, and leaned down to take a good look at you. 'Okay?’ He searched your face. 

You wouldn’t lie. You nodded and croaked, 'I’m working on it.’

Seemingly satisfied, he gently tugged at your hand and handed you off to the last man you had to square books with. 

Stopping in front of your husband, you held your head up high and held his gaze, searching… for what you didn’t know, but when he gulped audibly and his nostrils flared, you found determination and you knew right then, he would take whatever you gave him, whatever it was, a punch, a slap, a low blow, he would take it. 

You decided to be the loser in this staring game.

Crossing your arms, you leaned into logic. ‘Namjoon,’ you sighed, his name rolling off your tongue like a caress, ‘what was that back there?’

He blinked in confusion ‘Huh?’

‘What was that?’ You schooled your expression, and held your chin high. ‘Back at the club?’ You prompted with the logic that finally seemed to be switching gears in your brain, somehow balancing your emotional response and giving you a semblance of control to work with. ‘Maiya?’ You waited, focusing solely on your husband. ‘Come on, Joon. You’re smart. Call a spade a spade.’

He swallowed audibly. ‘A recording.’ He made it sound like a question, unsure if he gave the right answer.

You could understand his apprehension. Namjoon wasn’t used to being the object of scrutiny. And he had his own fears and trauma during this whole ordeal – the biggest one was about you leaving him, about losing you.

‘Exactly.’ You will yourself to be strong as you let this play out. You weren’t hiding your emotions, merely, reining them in. At least you were feeling them. ‘Why play the recording, why now?’

He knew why. You decided to say it anyway. ‘That was an ace, Namjoon.’ You clenched your jaw and set your lips in a firm line. ‘And I will be damnedif I lose this hand.’

Whatever was going through that bitch’s head, you were honestly so fucking over it. 

Because she had his attention, then his cock, she took the money, caused a PR nightmare, traumatized what little friends you had, aimed a gun at you and actually shot one of your security team members and then had the audacity to play a fucking recording of him shooting his load in her mouth.

She’s pushed her luck too far this time.. And now, you were going to ruin her.

You would not make Namjoon suffer any longer for a mistake that you had already buried. She made the active choice to dig up that dead body and hold up whatever decaying remains up to your face – just to lord it over you. But there was nothing else that could be done about it. It was a desperate move on her end – and it was clear as day.

Really. The body was dead, soil turned over, a hole in the ground, a fucking mess, but it was still dead. 

You leaned forward and cupped his cheek. ‘At first I thought I didn’t deserve you, Namjoon.’ You would admit that to yourself. ‘That I didn’t deserve this life with you and this family.’ You looked around at the faces of the names that had long etched its way into your heart. ‘But you know what I truly don’t deserve,’ your fingers gripped his nape, ‘it’s this shit!’

‘Thisbitch,’ you spat, ‘has been milking this whole situation, because yougave her the leverage to do it.’

‘I have had my hair pulled on live television,’ you growled, ‘I’ve been disrespected by reporters, I’ve been told I’m no match for you, I’ve been held at gunpoint, I’ve been embarrassed in front of the only people I actually care about respecting me and today I upset the one person that always gives me the benefit of the doubt.’ A stab of pain at the issue that was Yuna, that you would have to revisit tomorrow.

You pulled his forehead down to meet yours. ‘Baby,’ you whispered, ‘I’m not telling you this to blame you. I’m telling you this because I’m standing in front of you in spite of it.’ You took a deep breath, and let him see you, every part of you. ‘I am your wife. I am KimfuckingYn. And this family is mine. This life is mine. Whatever I’ve built for myself within this family, it’s mine to keep and to hold close to me. And you, Namjoon,’ you grazed your lips lightly against his, felt the tension leave his body, ‘Kim Namjoon, you are mine.’

‘I will be loved.’ You pulled away. ‘I will be shown off. I will be protected and respected. And we will get through this with our family.’ You placed as much venom as you could behind your next words, because it would be your last warning. ‘But don’t you ever, and I mean everfucking do this to me – again. Or, there will be no ‘we’.’ You scrunch your nose. ‘The back and forth and the push and pull and the will you leave or not. No.’

You shook your head. ‘No.’ 

‘No.’ You repeated.

You felt your forehead crease and your lip quiver and he crushed you to him when you launched yourself into his arms. ‘NO!’

‘Never again, y/n.’ His words were fierce. His hand in your hair is brutal and his arms around you, possessive. This was your hiding place, your secret keeper, your grounding when you were off-kilter, your smile when you were sad, your heart outside your body – your moon in the darkness of the night sky. ‘I promise.’

The relief seeped into you. You could already feel it.

It was distinct, something that had no word and no proper comparison.

Stepping into a warm house from a cold stormy day, pulling your blanket over you with a summer breeze wafting through the window, the sun’s rays cascading over your features, the heat spreading through your fingers from. Holding a warm mug, the relief of a hot water bottle against your tummy on the first day of your period…

Relief. Stark relief.

You needed that. The shock. You needed the restart. You needed perspective. 

‘Fucking recording. That bitch.’ You spoke into his shoulder, breaking the thick, tension-filled atmosphere with your rage. 

‘The fucking audacity.’ Namjoon shook his head. 

You huffed a laugh, wanting to point it out first in condescension, now in comfort. ‘Didn’t sound like you had a good time at all.’

He pulled back. He looked uncomfortable talking about it so soon, but he braved it. ‘I’m sorry that you had to hear that.’

You regarded him for a moment, looked over at Jin who sagged against Hoseok, and went back to your husband. ‘Does she give better head than me?’

Taehyung snorted from somewhere next to you which pushed Jimin into a fit of giggles. 

Namjoon’s eyes widened comically. ‘Wh, uhm, – what does that have to do with anything?’

You raised your eyebrow. ‘Well?’

You could have relented, but it was a bit fun to do this.

‘No.’ He answered. Then did himself one better. ‘You,’ he cupped your cheek, ‘Your mouth – is the best I’ve ever had.’

Good. You nodded, seemingly satisfied. ‘That makes me feel better.’

‘Well,’ Hoseok rocked on his heels, hands in his pockets, ‘this is not uncomfortable, at all.’

Jin snorted and turned his head away, knowing full well where and from who that question originated from. 

You looked over at your family. Jin leaned on Hoseok, both of them relieved. Jungkook rested his shoulder on Yoongi, who stood next to Jimin and Taehyung, all of them reassured. 

This was your family. And you had to believe they would not think less of you, probably never did. They stood by you today, even the most unexpected of individuals reached to grab you up, from the cliff you were dangling over.

This was so fucked up. This night and everything that came with it. But you would deal with it, one at a time, with your family by your side.

Starting with one of the most obvious ones.

You shook your head when you found your jacket and shoes and your phone next to it, screen cracked. 

‘Fuck, I need therapy.’

———-

Namjoon watched as Taehyung carted his wife out, muttering something along the lines of her dress being unsalvageable. It was something normal and his dongsaengs were doing their best to be normal after watching her breakdown the way she had.

He wanted to jump in after her, but Jin somehow got through to him, reminding him that he was the last person she wanted to see while she went through her breakdown. Any other day, he would disagree. But not in this instance.

He felt almost lightheaded. Mostly because he was high on y/n’s words. She was not kidding. She had every intention of taking all her power back, the right way and she would pick up the broken pieces of herself along the way. He believed she would. He believed in y/n.

A hand clapped him on his shoulder, startling him out of his thoughts.

‘I don’t have to make a comment about how lucky you are, do I?’ Hoseok asked, as he watched Taehyung and Jimin argue with y/n to keep her expensive coat on, a one-of-a-kind, made by Celine, which Namjoon bought for her, at the soulmate’s strong recommendation.. Jungkook trailed behind, joining in but keeping a close eye on his Noona.

Namjoon licked his bottom lip. ‘No. You don’t.’ He closed his eyes and exhaled. ‘I don’t deserve her.’

‘Damn right, you don’t.’ Hoseok wasted no time. ‘But she just cannot get rid of you.’ Hoseok huffed and shook his head, a knowing smile gracing his face. ‘The same way, you would never be able to free yourself from her.’

Namjoon pounces at the cue, Hoseok proving time and again how well he knew Namjoon, how much of a best friend he truly was by giving him an intricate stream of words and thoughts to dwell on and distract and comfort. ‘To be free, you must be caged.’ And y/n was a gateway to endless possibilities in every aspect of his life.

He understood what Hoseok was implying, though. Y/n’s existence was ingrained in his soul. Y/n was that human, his person, and he was the one she would always adore. It was the biggest string of purpose tying them together, it held strong and faltered, not even once. She was made for him and him for her.

‘Don’t take this for granted, Joon-ah.’ His eldest hyung straightened up at Hoseok’s side. I do not ever want to see her like that again.’ 

Namjoon nodded, acknowledging his hyung’s unsaid words and the implication behind them. He would have no place with them, that was for sure. He would not be given a second chance.

That didn’t phase him. He had no intention of ever making such a mistake again. He still had so much more to do to fix this up and fix his marriage and help y/n fix herself. If she trusted him enough to allow that.

‘What’s the plan?’ Yoongi stood next to them, effectively completing the hyung line, standing in unassailable solidarity. ‘She can’t just rot in jail.’

No she could not. ‘Warrant for an apartment search.’ Namjoon’s mind started working. ’Find any of her pictures, copies of recordings, surveillance footage, if there is any.’ The thought made him sick to his stomach, but after the night they’d had, he couldn’t put it past her to have made one. And he would not take the chance of y/n ever seeing or hearing any of it ever again.

‘Charges?’ Hoseok took off his own coat and slung it over his shoulder. 

‘Unlawful detention, possession of an unlicensed firearm, concealing a weapon.’ Jin rattled off a list he seemed to have already formed in his head as he folded up his sleeves. 

‘Planning and premeditation of murder.’ Yoongi added.

‘She’ll rot.’ Hoseok quipped. ‘A few years at least.’

‘And if she gets out, ever, we rip the money she doesn’t have out of her.’

Namjoon would have cringed once upon a time at Yoongi’s blunt way of words. But he could not bring himself to feel sorry for her. It was not about the money. It was about the message. 

Hearing that recording may have been one of the worst things in his life and one of the sickest plays he had ever come across, but it helped him realize how much he did love y/n.

From the get go he made no excuses to anyone else and he would not forgive himself. But he tried to stop her. God knows what actually went down and how he got from the bar to the car and back and made his way home, but he didn’t go willingly. He didn’t want to cheat on his wife. He never intended to.

And he may never excuse himself, it didn’t make any of it better, but he was better off than most cheaters – he had a fighting chance.

‘You’re both gonna make it, Joon. You’re both going to be okay,’ Hoseok threaded his fingers through Namjoons hair at the nape of his neck in comfort. That did it. Namjoon dropped on one knee, placed a palm flat on the floor and let his tears flow freely for the first time that night. 

Jin’s statement was resolute as he came down on his haunches to be there for him. ‘We’ll make sure of it.’

Sometimes, it wasn’t the cosmos or the stars and the idea of faith that kept one going. Sometimes it was ordinary men, doing extraordinary things, feeling and forgiving and fighting without limitations, with only love, only family, only their brotherhood in mind. 

The hyung line tethered one end, the maknae line stabilized the other and Namjoon knew, as he broke down, as he leaned on his hyungs for strength, he would never want to know what his life would be like, without his band, without his family, without Kim Y/n.

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Part 25.4 - Killswitch

Part 25.5 - Cold-Blooded

Part 26 - Ascension

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