#as long as i don't have to sleep in the airport overnight it's whatever

[theninjamouse]

I treat myself to a steak after the hard weekend, and it's too spicy for me to eat

[shina913]

Bitter(Sweet) | JWW

Bitter(Sweet)

Pairing: Wonwoo x Fem!Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: Infidelity!AU; exes!AU; angst; smut; some fluff

Warnings: cussing; sexually suggestive language; clit play; protected sex; questionable morals; open conversation about infidelity; hurt without comfort

Word count: 4.8K words

Summary: You and Wonwoo reunite to celebrate a special evening.

A/N: If you don't like reading about cheaters - you are free to skip! Thank you, Sim @/roaminginthenights for your notes. They added more depth and nuance to the story in so many words. I appreciate you, my friend!

A/N2: Originally posted on my SVT sideblog but I've decided to merge everything on main now. I also have a version of this fic with BTS' Namjoon, if you choose to read it with that character.

You’re sitting in the airport parking lot, tapping your fingers happily to the beat of the song playing on your car radio. You glance at the time, it wouldn’t be too long; he’d be walking out of those doors soon. Until then, you continue to hum to the song.

Tonight is special. A night you didn’t think you’d ever celebrate again. Yet here you were, in a rental car, in a town you’d left years before.

Other than one particular overnight reservation, there are no other formal plans. You’d order takeout and perhaps pick up a bottle of wine or two from the corner store.

Your phone rings. You bring it up to check the caller ID and smile when you recognize the name flashing on the screen.

“Hi, honey!”

“Hi mom,” your daughter greets you on speakerphone.

“Is everything okay?”

She goes on to ask permission to do a facemask with her cousin. While she rambles on about other activities they have planned for their sleepover, you distantly hear the passenger door open. You quickly turn your head to smile at him then bring your pointer finger to your lips signaling him not to say a word.

“Mom? Helloooo? Are you listening to me?”

You scramble to get back to your call as your passenger shuts the door. “Uh–sure, honey. That all sounds great. Just make sure you get some sleep and listen to auntie, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And you know I told you that I have a late-night meeting so no phone calls but you can always text–”

“I know, mom.” She’s exasperated in a manner that only middle-schoolers who know it all would be. You exchange ‘I-love-you’s’ before she ends the call.

And now, you can properly greet your new arrival.

“Hi,” Wonwoo says.

“Hi,” you greet him with a smile. “That was Yuna.”

“So I heard,” he smiles. “Is she sleeping over at Emma’s?”

You nod. “She’s thrilled. It’s a school night and she gets to stay up late with her favorite cousin.”

He chuckles. “I don’t know if I can top organic facemasks when she comes over next week, but I’ll try.”

“I’m sure she’ll be happy with whatever you’ve got planned for her.” 

“Right. As long as she’s happy.”

You nod then let out a long sigh before telling him, “You know, at some point, we need to stop meeting like this.” That’s what you also said last time. And the time before that. You’re fully aware of it and you think that if you say it enough times, you believe it and actually stop.

“I know,” he breathes out before cupping your nape to bring your face to his, sealing his lips over yours. You don’t pull away or give any hint of protest. You melt right into him, your mouth parting to let his tongue savor you.

You miss this. You miss him.

Somehow, you find the willpower to wrench yourself away from him. “Easy there. We’re still in the parking lot.”

You can see the mischief in his eyes even through his glasses. “So? It’s not like that’s stopped us before.” His hands trail between your legs, cupping your heat.

“I know but,” you gently push his hand away. “We have a reservation and it’s late so we should probably get going.”

He sighs, relenting. “Okay.” He reaches back for the seatbelt then stops short of buckling in. “By the way, happy anniversary,” he grins.

You feel a flutter in your chest and your cheeks warm up. “Happy anniversary,” you reply.

******

Wonwoo scrolls through his phone, scanning for the email confirmation that contained the security code and instructions to unlock the rental.

“Are you sure you have it?”

You are both standing on the front porch of your Airbnb, using your phone's flashlight to help him see his phone better. He was nearly blind as a bat, especially in the dark, even with his glasses on.

“I’ve got it! Trust me.” He scrolls some more until he exclaims, and finally sees the coveted email.

He carefully punches the code on the door’s keypad until you hear it chime, confirming that you’ve gained access.

You walk through the door and into this place that is known to you. But seeing it again after so long, makes it feel unfamiliar.

The first thing you notice is that the foyer has been redone. The divider wall that used to separate the kitchen and living room has since been knocked down to give it a more ‘open’ layout. 

The furniture is all generic. Not much thought was put into picking them out. The colors also don’t provide much contrast to the equally bland walls. It all blends in but not in a good way.

“Why is everything so white?” You remark.

“It supposedly gives the illusion of a bright and open space.” Wonwoo sets your bags at the base of the staircase.

“Feels more like a hospital to me,” you reply dryly, to his amusement. He moves into the kitchen, helping himself to the contents of the cupboards.

You follow behind, wandering over to the counter, where there is a binder listing the ‘house rules.’

“No parties, no loud music,” you read random bullet points out loud. “Quiet time at 10PM. Interesting.”

His arms circle your waist from behind, and you feel him nuzzle into your neck, planting a soft kiss. “Can you stay quiet after 10PM?” He murmurs against your skin.

“Shut up,” you giggle and break out of his hold and playfully pinch him on his side. “Only if you keep your hands to yourself after 10PM,” you tease him back, making him burst into laughter.

You walk around the place some more, scanning and assessing. You’re surprised at how many more modifications have been made. Gone were the warm, earthy tones that you painted the living room and the kitchen.

What was wrong with the way things were before? The interior designer you hired found a great way to marry modern and vintage concepts!

You shake your head in mild irritation.

The upstairs bedrooms feel just as desolate with the plain white, sanitized walls. At least the new owners attempted to break the monotony with a few framed watercolor prints and scenic photographs, no doubt purchased from a big-box store.

You find yourself standing in the midst of your old master bedroom. You see hints of the old furnishings layered with the new. It certainly wasn’t how you remembered it.

“Huh.” Wonwoo says when he walks in. “Why didn’t we think of putting the bed against that side of the room before?”

You roll your eyes at him. “Because you get up to go to the bathroom more often than I do so that’s why we put it on the side that was closer to the en suite.”

His mouth drops slightly with a soft ‘ah,’ in sudden realization. “Well, I’ll have to admit, you were right. You should have ignored me and gone with your original plan.”

“I appreciate you acknowledging that, years later.” You roll your eyes and brush past him on your way out. “But as you know, marriage is about compromise,” you call past your shoulder. 

“I’m ordering the pizza!” Your voice echoes down the staircase.

Wonwoo spends a few more minutes in this room, allowing himself to reminisce before finding the strength to tear himself away and rejoin you in the kitchen.

******

You’re sitting at your old kitchen counter, eating pizza and sharing a bottle of wine that Wonwoo ended up stealing from the owner’s kitchen. When you question him as to whether the alcohol was included in your AirBnB reservation, he shrugs and promises to replace it instead.

“So, are you seeing anyone?”

You stop mid-bite, taken aback by his question. “Wow, already?”

“What? I’m just making conversation.” He says casually as he takes a sip of wine. “And I’m nosy,” he snickers.

You giggle at his admission. “Nope, not seeing anyone. I had–what I thought was a connection a month ago…but that was a false flag. I’ve decided to hang back, take a break…be alone for a bit, you know? I’m not really looking for anything serious anyway.”

His expression turns sullen. He clears his throat before saying, “I thought you had a connection with Seojun. Things looked pretty serious.”

The reminder of your fatal mistake doesn’t sting as much as it did before. And he wasn’t as angry and bitter when he brings it up.

“Seojun was…” you sigh, collecting your thoughts so as not to create unnecessary ripples in this still water. “He was good for me at the time. He was who I needed at the time. But long-term?” You scrunch your face and shook your head. “I didn’t think that far down the road.” 

He used to always ask ‘why.’ Why did you do what you did? Why did you make those choices?

You were together for five years before you married. Two years later, you had Yuna and everything seemed picture-perfect. You thought that you were doing well and that you might really have a knack for marriage and monogamy. It was a point in your relationship when you thought that nothing could ever break you.

But it turns out that anything and everything can break you.

Seojun came along and it was as if something that had long been dormant ignited within you. You thought it would be a one-off, but it wasn’t. For months you thought Wonwoo would suspect whether anything felt off. It wasn’t like you were trying to get caught but maybe some part of you wanted him to catch you. But that didn’t happen. Instead, he seemed happily blissful in his own world, seeing everything through rose-colored lenses.

You pick up your wine glass and tip the contents into your mouth, emptying it. When you set it back down on the counter, you look at him, staring at you.

“But you loved him, right?” He asks between mouthfuls of pizza.

You pause for a few long beats before responding. “Sure. In a way, yeah.” Your answer is noncommittal but the truth was, you didn’t know for sure if what you felt for Seojun was love. It certainly wasn’t the same as what you felt for Wonwoo. He was in his own category.

“I don’t get it though. Why would you want to be alone?”

You scoff and straighten in your seat, feeling the urge to be defensive. “I don’t get why you’re suddenly concerned about my choice to be alone.”

“No, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” He switches tact, sensing that your walls start to go back up. “I remember back then, you used to say that a lot…that you like being alone and that you didn’t believe in marriage or lifelong partnership. And yet–you still agreed to marry me when I asked. So no, I don’t believe that your ultimate desire or goal is to be alone.”

You pour yourself another glass. “You were different. Being with you, what we had–it made me want to prove myself wrong. That perhaps I do have the marriage gene in me and I can make it last.” You pick at a piece of pepperoni on your slice. “I’d like to believe that I did. I tried to keep things together to make things work for us.”

Wonwoo reaches for your hand and brushes his fingers over your knuckles in an attempt to console you.

“Turned out well, right?” You remark sarcastically, throwing your free hand up in defeat. “I failed. So, I conclude that I just don’t have it in me.” 

“The marriage gene?”

“Uh-huh. I’m doomed!” You laugh darkly.

You were happily resigned to that fact. Wonwoo was a beautiful anomaly. While your time may have been short-lived, it still added meaning to your generally doomed perspective on marriage and relationships.

His fingers curl around your hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. “For what it’s worth, I thought you were great at it.”

You smile wistfully and bring his hand up to your lips to kiss it. “Thank you. That’s kind of you to say.”

******

You were in the upstairs bathroom washing up when Wonwoo excused himself to retrieve a couple of things from his jacket pocket downstairs when his phone starts buzzing.

“Hello?” He answers.

“Hey, how’s it going? I’ve been trying to reach you. How was your flight?” the female voice says on the other line.

He clears his throat and hides away in what used to be his office. “Uh, yeah. Sorry, sweetheart. You know how it is at my dad’s house. The reception’s shit.”

“Why are you whispering?” She asks.

“Dad just fell asleep. You know how he’s such a light sleeper.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re right. Do you think you’ll be able to finish up whatever you need to over there? I have some miles on my card and fly out tomorrow to come over and help?”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Wonwoo tells her calmly. “Dad and I are just about done packing up some of his old things here so, he’ll be ready to move into the facility. He’s really looking forward to it.”

“Is he? That’s great.”

“Yeah. Anyway, I have to go. I’m trying to sort through a few more of his things here while he sleeps. I work faster when he doesn’t stop to admire each item and talk about what it meant to him.”

“Okay. Just call me if your flight changes. I love you!”

He hears the floorboard creak and looks up from his seat to find you leaning against the door frame, dressed in nothing but a black lace teddy. Biting his lower lip, he says, “I love you, too.”

As soon as he hangs up, he tugs at your wrist and ravishes you.

******

“You think she’d ever suspect anything between us?” You wonder out loud while you both lay naked in your former marriage bed, basking in your post-sex high.

He shakes his head adamantly. “I think ‘you and me’ is the last thing on her mind.”

You laugh at how confident he made that sound.

“I’m serious!” He says firmly. “This is not even remotely on her list of possibilities! She knows what happened between us so this is highly unlikely for her.”

You sit up against the headboard and stare at him in disbelief. “You told her about us?”

He shrugs, not seeing the problem with it. “It was all part of my therapy and healing process so…yeah. I told her everything.”

“So, does she think I’m, like, the devil incarnate or something?” You try to mask the pang of guilt in your chest by making light of it.

“Nah. She doesn’t really think about you.” Then he immediately adds, “I’m not saying that to be hurtful or dismissive. I think at the time she thought she was somebody who could, I don’t know, put me back together or something.”

Even though you’ve both said your pieces over the years and talked things over, traded apologies, and accepted them, it still felt inadequate.

“I’m sorry,” you say instinctively.

He sits up to mirror your posture and dips his head to kiss your bare shoulder. “You’ve said that already.”

“Yeah but–” He cuts you off mid-sentence with another kiss, his lips lingering over yours.

“No buts. We’re good, okay? I’m good.” He reassures you.

But you press him anyway. “Okay, I’m sorry to keep dropping the reality check here but what if she finds out?” 

He sighs, a wry smile on his lips. “If she does…” he trails off without finishing his thought. He straightens his posture, turning serious. “I guess you could say that I’m no longer scared of being labeled the bad guy. I spent a good chunk of my life trying to do the right thing and being a good person. Always doing what is morally acceptable.”

You tilt your head at him in curiosity. He’s changed a lot, but just like your old house, even though the fixtures have been replaced, walls knocked down and repainted, and furniture layout rearranged, you can still see hints of what it used to be.

He’s still the same Wonwoo you fell in love with, beneath this new cynical, detached exterior. He wasn’t always open about his emotions but in the rare cases that he would wear his heart on his sleeve, you saw and felt it.

Right now, he was baring his soul to you.

“I’m not saying that I’m proud of it. You know, the affairs. I have needs that she can’t fulfill,” he shrugs. “There’s acceptance on my part. I’m not trying to claim righteousness or hide behind morals. And that’s okay. I’m okay with that!”

You’re silent as you take in his ruminations. In a way, it saddens you that he’s adopted this perspective. You always knew him as an idealist–someone who, as he said himself, ‘always did the right thing.’ Which was why it crushed him when you confessed your infidelity.

He stares at you for a minute before breaking into a chuckle. “What?”

“What?” You echo, your eyebrows furrowing.

“Say something!” He laughs.

“I mean, what do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know! Anything. Scold me or, I don’t know…tell me that this isn’t right. ‘Your wife doesn’t deserve this! You’re a terrible husband!’” He says jokingly.

“I am the last person to judge, okay? If it doesn’t keep you up at night…” you trail off.

He nods at that.

But then you cock your eyebrow at him, picking up on what he said moments ago. “So, ‘affairs?’ You mean, there’s more?”

“I had some fling a few months ago. It was meaningless,” he add quickly, as if that contributed to anything. “And there were a couple of one-night stands but I don’t think they count.”

“Mm…” you hum vaguely.

******

Wonwoo cracks open another bottle of wine and brings it upstairs, where you both drink in bed and continue to trade stories.

“I didn’t really want to get married again. We were having a good time and she’s great,” he recounts the early days of his new relationship. “Sometimes it’s easy to confuse great sex with love.”

“Mm-hmm. Speak for yourself,” you remark.

He smirks at your comment. “But…there she was, down on one knee, asking me to marry her. And so I did. We’ve been living together anyway so, might as well, right?” He shifts and changes his tone, feeling the need to clarify that he’s not a complete asshole. “I hope you’re not taking this the wrong way but she and I are good. We’re comfortable. It’s like, we speak the same language.” 

He’s tipsy and babbling but you let him. “That’s great,” you smile softly, taking a sip of wine.

“The sex is not.” You nearly choke at his revelation. “A month after we got married–phew–” He makes a whistling sound and makes a quick, swooping gesture with his hand. “Out the door, it went.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you say with all sincerity.

He shrugs. “It is what it is.”

“But don’t you love her?”

He purses his lips and tilts his head from side to side. “In a certain way, sure.” He mirrors your answer from earlier this evening.

You nod vaguely, letting the words hang in the air while you both fall into a comfortable silence.

After a few beats he says, “I’ll never love anyone the way I loved you. That’s a fact.”

This isn’t the first time he’s told you this. He’s declared it several times, at least once during one of your clandestine meetings.

“When we were together, I never thought we’d split up. That never occurred to me. So–what I have with her it’s…it’s an entirely different kind of love. But if or when she suddenly comes to me and asks for a divorce, I’d give it to her. I feel like that’s where this is headed anyway.” He downs the rest of his wine before setting it down on the nightstand. “I would compare it to a piece of tape. You stick it on then peel it off and try to stick it someplace else. It might take, if you tried hard enough but…it’s never quite the same.”

You lick your dried-out lips and let out a shaky breath. “God, that sounds really sad,” your voice cracks.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not sad about it so you shouldn’t be!” He maintains his lightheartedness. “I think it’s perfectly fine to have different types of love, different types of relationships. Mine happens to be unconventional.”

“Unconventional, yes. But the way you speak about it, it’s as if you’re saying that you’re totally comfortable with the fact that you’ll never truly love again. That’s what saddens me.”

“I never said that,” he says in defense. “I never said I’ll never truly love again.” Then he looks you in the eye and says matter-of-factly, “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

The look he gives you sends an involuntary shiver down to your spine which makes its way between your legs. “Yes, but what we have is different. We’ve both gone through the worst possible thing that could happen in our relationship; which is why when you’re with me, there are no surprises. No unrealistic expectations. There’s no fear lurking around because it’s all laid out for you.”

His expression is steady and unchanged. “And I’m saying this is what works for me right now. This is what works for us–”

“Ugh, Wonwoo…” you groan, sinking back into the mattress and turning on your side, facing away from him. “That’s such a fucked up way of looking at the situation. You know how fucked up we are! We’re still reeling from how our marriage ended and…” You bury your face in your palms and groan in frustration again. “Who would have thought even after we signed those papers, that it didn’t really mean the end…Like, right that second? I wish that somebody told us that breaking up takes much longer than that.”

You feel the bed dip behind you as he scoots closer, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you flush against him. “It’s like we said, it just takes time, baby.”

“But it’s been five years!” You whine petulantly. “I just want to be done with it! You said that after we’re divorced, we’d move on and start fresh.” You turn your body around, his face is so close to yours. “Now, we’re just in this endless cycle of grief and trauma.”

You close your eyes and you feel him press his forehead on yours in silent agreement. You don’t remember how long you hold each other like that. He quiets your whimpers with the softest kisses until you both drift off to sleep.

******

“No!” Wonwoo cries out, jolting you both awake. He sits up abruptly, with his head in his hands. His back is covered in sweat and his heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest.

“Hey.” You sit up and rub circles on his back consolingly. “Did you have a bad dream?”

“Yeah,” he sniffs and wipes his tears away.

You offer to get him a drink of water but he declines. He gets out of bed and paces around the room.

“Do you want to talk to me about it?”

“Uh…” he breathes before sitting back down on the edge of the bed. “Yeah. I’m…trying to remember bits and pieces.” He takes a minute to regulate his breathing while simultaneously collecting his thoughts. “We were walking down the street, coming back from a dinner party or something. And then, we needed to cross the street for whatever reason.”

You hug your knees to your chest while you listen to him.

“I was holding your hand so we could go together but you went on and darted out into the dark road. I kept calling out to you but you kept moving farther away from me. I tried so hard to run after you but it was as if my feet were sealed into the concrete.” A tear rolls down his cheek. “I felt so helpless because I wanted to get to you and–I couldn’t see you. You were gone.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. C’mere,” You open up your arms and beckon him to come back to bed.

He obliges and nuzzles into touch. “I couldn’t get to you,” he cried.

“It was just a dream, baby.” You whisper calmly into his ear, rubbing his back to console him.

He burrows his face into the crook of your neck. “It’s not the first time I had a dream about losing you. I’ve had different versions of that dream where you disappear into the dark and I can’t move my body to reach out to you. It’s like–I’m perpetually stuck or something.”

All you can do is listen. This was his trauma talking. You continue to rub his back and rock him gently.

“You know, sometimes I wonder if…if I’ll ever love anybody. Like, truly love them. Or maybe I’ve never been truly loved before. Maybe…maybe that’s what it means. I’ll never be able to have the ability to–“ 

“Hey,” you interject. You pull his face away from your shoulder and cup his cheeks. “Listen to me— I love you. In my own… twisted way. And I know that you love me. In your own way.”

He smiles ruefully, his eyes welling up with emotion.

You gaze at him, brushing his cheekbone with the pad of your thumb. “I will always love you,” you say reassuringly before bringing your lips to his.

Your gentle kisses turn hungry and you can’t help when your body responds to him instinctively. Your need for him is unrelenting.

One moment he’s telling you about a nightmare and the next, you’re wrapped up in each other’s arms, your legs on either side of his hips. It doesn’t take him long to be ready for you, especially when you’re naked and bare for him.

You undulate your hips, grinding your slick over his length. His hands gripping your waist, guiding you while you pleasure yourself with the delicious friction.

“Mm, you’re so wet for me,” he whispers, reaching between you to rub circles on your clit.

“Mm-hmm,” is all you can muster.

“You ready for me, huh?” He nips at your bottom lip.

You give him a nod and he manages to pause his ministrations to reach across the nightstand. Once he sheaths himself, he takes one swift move and slips right into your center.

Each thrust is purposeful. Your fingers grip his hair as you moan into his shoulder. He gently sinks his teeth into your tender flesh, groaning. You're both floating and it’s a special kind of high.

One look at him and you heat up to a fever pitch. You take comfort in the deep baritone of his voice, goading you, whispering his naughtiest fantasies about you when you’re apart. You feel him touch you and you know it’s what you’ve been missing. He completes you. 

You move in perfect sync as if you never separated. When you’re intimate like this, the questions and doubts fade when your bodies close in, filling every gap. Your connection is unrivaled.

He pulls back. “You close?”

Not that he needed an answer but he just loves watching you come undone. He ups the ante, cupping your ass cheeks and combining deep plunges with swivels, thrusting sharply and retracting slowly. Your head lolls back, dizzy with pleasure and at the same time awed by the heights he takes you to. Places where you can simultaneously forget and remember. Where nothing and nobody else exists except you and him and the mutual passion you share.

The sweat misting his brow glistens in the dusky light, his face beginning to strain as your release crests and finally crashes down. Instantly, you shudder, the tingling becoming too much to bear, your skin too sensitive. He is attuned to your body, because he stops his movements and applies pressure where you need it, keeping your hypersensitivity at bay, as his own climax hits him hard. His growls are suppressed, his face crimson with the rush of blood to his head. Your walls squeeze him greedily, prolonging your pleasure as he empties himself into you.

Wonwoo drops you both onto the mattress, collapsing in a heap of exhaustion. He is glued to your slick chest, where he will remain for the next ten minutes, snoozing, nuzzling, and kissing your neck. You hold him and savor the moment before you part and return to the alternate realities you both worked hard to establish.

Deep down, you know you’ve ruined him. You didn’t mean to. He was nothing but an innocent bystander in your own path of self-destruction. Perhaps, as your lifelong penance, you’d spend the rest of your days assuring him that he’s not broken and that he deserves unconditional love. 

You breathe into his shoulder as you settle, holding him as close as you possibly can. In your own quiet way, you're telling him that you're happy to remain like this.

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You’ve reached the end! Thank you so much for reading!

If you loved it, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩. I love hearing from readers! If you didn’t like it so much, I would still like to hear about it. Help me become a better writer! 💜

[filmnoirsbian]

hello! I have a question I've been curious about. do flight attendants have to book/pay for their own hotels? I've been wondering that, if you guys have to shell out your own money or if the airport had like. a bunker you guys crash in between flights. or do you sleep on the planes? if there's like a 10 hour flight, do pilots and flight attendant take turns and take naps, or do you guys stay awake the entire time?

Can u imagine if flight crew slept on the planes like bats the way kids always think their teachers do? Anyway, no we don't pay for our own hotels or sleep on the planes overnight. The airline books us each our own room at a hotel. For long-haul flights the crew members do take turns power napping or whatever else in the crew quarters. And crew base hotels do have crew rooms which include sleeping quarters for hot reserves or other crew members getting a nap in between commutes, during long sits, etc.

[echo-three-one]

Whatever It Takes : RELOADED

Ghost fights his hurt feelings and discovers something in the process. Could this be the key to locating Samantha?

Table of Contents

Previous Chapter : Delayed Flight

Chapter 18 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Lurking in the Shadows

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Task Force 141 - Disbanded

400 meters east of Safe House 110197, Brazil

Ghost checked his phone by the hotel nightstand. It's 3:34 am and not a single notification from the team. They probably believed he was out to get intel and didn't bother to look for him. He was fine with that.

"What time is it?" a female groan murmured beside him as she circled her soft arms around his bare chest.

"3:34" he whispered, making the girl giggle as he ran his hand on her hair.

"We aren't supposed to be cuddling like this, remember?" She said, sighing as she got up slowly. Ghost immediately followed, groaning as well.

"I'm sorry Alexandra. It's just…"

"Don't worry. I know this sounds too odd for you at the moment. To be honest I got carried away too…" the interpol agent frowned and wrapped herself up with a towel, making her way to the showers. Ghost trailed his eyes at her and sighed.

"What have you gotten yourself into, Simon?" he murmured and turned to his phone, rereading their conversation.

It was as clear as day that they both agreed to this whole "No strings attached" thing together and he only said yes because he was too broken about France. He needed someone who could treat him well but this was the closest thing he could find. 

Sure, he had no regrets about the woman, she was amazing, but while his body was happy, the heart yearned for something more. It was getting worse every day especially when he woke up to see the two lovebirds chasing against each other around the house.

Just as he placed his phone beside hers, Alexandra's notification tone beeped and her screen lit up, as it showed a message from an unknown number.

Simon wanted to take a peek but the message itself is encrypted, his mind wandered more as the security detail of such a message meant that it was of high importance. It might've been from the EMP machinery they're still investigating on which could also be a lead to Nero. He's debating whether he's going to ask her for information just as he intended to, but he's scared that she'll think he's just using her.

"Hey, you got a message." Simon called her from the bed. 

"Who's it from?" she asked, her voice was faint as the shower sounds concealed it. Ghost wore his pants and grabbed her phone, leaning by the bathroom door as he announced the details.

"It's encrypted." he murmured. The water stopped pouring and the shower curtains peeked open.

She didn't even bother how she looked as she quickly wiped off her fingers and grabbed her phone.

"Shit." she cursed scrolling to the contents of text, which Ghost observed as very lengthy.

"Wh-" he paused and hesitated. He didn't tell her of their little rogue act so any questions might come off as suspicious.

"Shepherd wants to exchange Samantha for the I.P. Address." she mumbled, looking at Ghost.

"What's his deal?"

"To fund his EMP Nuke that he'll get from Nero." she replied as she continued scrolling.

"With New York already in chaos, the President would most likely be desperate enough to fund this, now that the economy is in shambles."

"What's stopping them from fighting against the New York attacks?" 

"We have no idea where the small EMP interferences are, and our strongest lead is that the missing persons are being manually controlled to travel and situate themselves near the stock exchange where they blindly emit blasts through their phones. Like the one we found back in Europe." 

"They walk and interact like normal civilians, so with millions of people around the city. It'll look like we're looking for a needle on a haystack." She added, wrapping herself with a towel and quickly dressed up.

"Where are you going now?" He asked as she walked past him.

"I'll try to talk some sense into someone who can talk some sense to the president. The EMP nuke is not a joke." She spat, the worry in her eyes made Ghost want to console her. But now was not the time for that.

"Can I ask a question?" Ghost said.

"Be quick." She said, putting on her jacket and collecting her stuff.

"Do you have any idea where Shepherd is?" 

~

The sun wasn't up when Ghost decided to return to the Safe house. He expected that it'll still be closed but it looked like Price and Jack were already sipping coffee by the balcony.

"Where have you been?" Price asked, his tone wasn't that strict so Ghost decided to lie.

"I just took a walk around the town." he replied, hoping that there will be no more follow up questions.

"For Twelve hours. Okay." Price noted as Ghost got inside the house. Ever since he started this little team of rogue soldiers, Price became protective. And Ghost knew that it was bound to happen. Any injuries under his care will not be funded by any higher department and they need to be careful.

He immediately accessed their little command center and began searching. He got two locations to research on, and he needed to act fast.

He did the best he could, hacking into public and unsecured CCTV footage, squinting his eyes over the poor quality videos just to look for Samantha. She was last spotted in Moscow about 30 minutes ago. Ghost had to admit his cryllic knowledge is a little low and his fingers were trembling in panic. He needed help.

He slowly creaked the door open and saw Alex, Soap and Roach peacefully sleeping, Roach was upside down and clung onto Alex's metal leg, a sight worth taking a photo on but he didn't. It almost made him guilty to wake John up, but knowing the guy, he'll understand the urgency.

"Psst." he nudged his shoulders. It felt very awkward now that he's still frustrated about the guy winning France's heart but he needed to act professional, besides no one but Alex knows about his emotions toward the duo.

Soap groaned and slowly opened his eyes, flinching at the skull face that woke him up.

"Bollocks!" he exclaimed, making Alex and Gary shuffle and reposition while Ghost quickly pulled his mask and shushed him.

"Sorry Soap. But I need your help." he whispered as he slowly got up and collected himself following him outside.

"What about?" his heavy accent echoed against the quiet halls while he rubbed sleep off his eyes.

"Russian Alphabet." 

"Okay." he murmured lazily. "What for?" 

"A lead on Samantha." he said. The expression on Soap's face changed from sleepy-scotsman to what-are-we-waiting-for as he jumped to the control center and began typing.

The two teamed up together translating codes of texts and typing commands on different kinds of webcams all across Russia, all they had was a barely readable plate number of a black van which allegedly housed Samantha and three of Shepherd's men which were designated to protect her.

Hours passed and they barely got through any possible lead. The rest of the team woke up one by one and slowly helped the duo. Once Alex woke up, they got another additional pair of hands to help and it made them more efficient. If only Ghost knew that Alex knew Russian, it would've been less awkward. But then again, he needed this kind of interaction with Soap, so he could finally be comfortable around them.

Then there it was. The first solid lead with Samantha's face on it. A hotel not far from the airport. Alex couldn't help but creep his head close to the monitor, his eyes had that longing look on the blurry screen. He was sure it's her.

They later reported their findings to Price and Jack, and it was indeed a lead worth pursuing. But when asked how they got such info overnight, they all turned to Ghost to which he said that it's still within the phone's encrypted messages. Price and Jack nodded and Ghost sighed in relief. He didn't want anyone to know about his little fling.

"Then let's have breakfast and have a little briefing after. I'll make calls to Nikolai to arrange us a visit to his homeland." Price announced as everyone, especially Alex's, face lit up and felt energized. 

HAPPY TRAVELER INN PARKING AREA

MOSCOW, RUSSIA

8:52 PM

Ghost set up his little command set up at the back of the van. The plan was easy, Alex, Soap and Roach sneaked inside her room, silently knocking down the three guards, taking their clothes and escorting her back to the van to safety. While Price would take down their driver and replace the getaway vehicle with this one. 

The group of five didn't bring any weapons so as to not raise suspicion, after all they're just sneaking Samantha from Shepherd's hands. No need for violence.

"Can you hear me, lads?" Ghost muttered softly against the microphone.

"Loud and clear, mate." Gary responded.

"Yes pal." Alex commented.

"Aye lad. I can hear ye." Soap added.

Price gave a thumbs up from the driver's seat. Ghost pressed some buttons and after a few moments, he now had access to the whole building's cameras and some controls. 

"Chuckles, I'm in." Ghost commented to which Gary snickered. It looked like he was the only one who understood the reference. 

"Okay lads. The janitors are on their break. They're inside that incoming elevator." Ghost informed as he looked at the live feed. The three carefully grabbed the janitors without intention of hurting them. Carrying some rope and cloth, they quickly tied the janitors and hid them on a blind spot away from the camera's eyes. Ghost could hear Alex muttering something to the three in Russian, he couldn't translate it fully but it had the word sorry, don't worry and okay in it. After that, they immediately wore their janitor uniforms and the janitors were already on their way to the 10th floor.

"I don't have cameras inside the rooms. But your hallway is clear."

"Okay. Your ride home is ready." Price muttered, Ghost never noticed the old man exit the van but apparently he already took care of the driver.

"Great. It's all on you three now. Let's save Samantha." Ghost said as the cameras show three janitors knocking on Samantha's room.

Next Chapter : Vlad the Janitor

Notification Squad my Beloved

@samatedeansbroccoli @smokeywhalee @ricinbach @enderio @beemybee @whimsywispsblog

[shina913]

Dandelion | KNJ

Dandelion

Pairing: Namjoon x Fem!Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: Infidelity!AU; exes!AU; angst; some fluff; smut

Warnings: cussing; sexually suggestive language; clit play; protected sex; questionable morals; open conversation about infidelity; hurt without comfort

Word count: 4.8K words

Summary: You and Namjoon reunite to celebrate a special evening.

A/N: If you don't like reading about cheaters - please feel free to skip! Thank you, Sim @roaminginthenights for your notes. They added more depth and nuance to the story in so many words. Thank you @midnightagust for looking this over as well and helping me simplify and improve some of the wording. I appreciate you both!

You’re sitting in the airport parking lot, tapping your fingers happily to the beat of the song playing on your car radio. You glance at the time, it wouldn’t be too long; he’d be walking out of those doors soon. Until then, you continue to hum to the song.

Tonight is special. A night you didn’t think you’d ever celebrate again. Yet here you were, in a rental car, in a town you’d left years before.

Other than one particular overnight reservation, there are no other formal plans. You’d order takeout and perhaps pick up a bottle of wine or two from the corner store.

Your phone rings. You bring it up to check the caller ID and smile when you recognize the name flashing on the screen.

“Hi, honey!”

“Hi mom,” your daughter greets you on speakerphone.

“Is everything okay?”

She goes on to ask permission to do a facemask with her cousin. While she rambles on about other activities they have planned for their sleepover, you distantly hear the passenger door open. You quickly turn your head to smile at him then bring your pointer finger to your lips signaling him not to say a word.

“Mom? Helloooo? Are you listening to me?”

You scramble to get back to your call as your passenger shuts the door. “Uh–sure, honey. That all sounds great. Just make sure you get some sleep and listen to auntie, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And you know I told you that I have a late-night meeting so no phone calls but you can always text–”

“I know, mom.” She’s exasperated in a manner that only middle-schoolers who know it all would be. You exchange ‘I-love-you’s’ before she ends the call.

And now, you can properly greet your new arrival.

“Hi,” Namjoon says.

“Hi,” you greet him with a smile. “That was Yuna.”

“So I heard,” he smiles. “Is she sleeping over at Emma’s?”

You nod. “She’s thrilled. It’s a school night and she gets to stay up late with her favorite cousin.”

He chuckles. “I don’t know if I can top organic facemasks when she comes over next week, but I’ll try.”

“I’m sure she’ll be happy with whatever you’ve got planned for her.” 

“Right. As long as she’s happy.”

You nod then let out a long sigh before telling him, “You know, at some point, we need to stop meeting like this.” That’s what you also said last time. And the time before that. You’re fully aware of it and you think that if you say it enough times, you’d believe it and actually stop.

“I know,” he breathes out before cupping your nape to bring your face to his, sealing his lips over yours. You don’t pull away or give any hint of protest. You melt right into him, your mouth parting to let his tongue savor you.

You miss this. You miss him.

Somehow, you find the willpower to wrench yourself away from him. “Easy there. We’re still in the parking lot.”

You can see the mischief in his eyes even through his glasses. “So? It’s not like that’s stopped us before.” His hands trail between your legs, cupping your heat.

“I know but,” you gently push his hand away. “We have a reservation and it’s late so we should probably get going.”

He sighs, relenting. “Okay.” He reaches back for the seatbelt then stops short of buckling in. “By the way, happy anniversary,” he grins.

You feel a flutter in your chest and your cheeks warm up. “Happy anniversary,” you reply.

******

Namjoon scrolls through his phone, scanning for the email confirmation that contained the security code and instructions to unlock the rental.

“Are you sure you have it?”

You are both standing on the front porch of your Airbnb, using your phone's flashlight to help him see his phone better. He was nearly blind as a bat, especially in the dark, even with his glasses on.

“I’ve got it! Trust me.” He scrolls some more until he exclaims, and finally sees the coveted email.

He carefully punches the code on the door’s keypad until you hear it chime, confirming that you’ve gained access.

You walk through the door and into this place that is known to you. But seeing it again after so long, makes it feel unfamiliar.

The first thing you notice is that the foyer has been redone. The divider wall that used to separate the kitchen and living room has since been knocked down to give it a more ‘open’ layout. 

The furniture is all generic. Not much thought was put into picking them out. The colors also don’t provide much contrast to the equally bland walls. It all blends in but not in a good way.

“Why is everything so white?” You remark.

“It supposedly gives the illusion of a bright and open space.” Namjoon sets your bags at the base of the staircase.

“Feels more like a hospital to me,” you reply dryly, to his amusement. He moves into the kitchen, helping himself to the contents of the cupboards.

You follow behind, wandering over to the counter, where there is a binder listing the ‘house rules.’

“No parties, no loud music,” you read random bullet points out loud. “Quiet time at 10PM. Interesting.”

His arms circle your waist from behind, and you feel him nuzzle into your neck, planting a soft kiss. “Can you stay quiet after 10PM?” He murmurs against your skin.

“Shut up,” you giggle and break out of his hold and playfully pinch him on his side. “Only if you keep your hands to yourself after 10PM,” you tease him back, making him burst into laughter.

You walk around the place some more, scanning and assessing. You’re surprised at how many more modifications have been made. Gone were the warm, earthy tones that you painted the living room and the kitchen.

What was wrong with the way things were before? The interior designer you hired found a great way to marry modern and vintage concepts!

You shake your head in mild irritation.

The upstairs bedrooms feel just as desolate with the plain white, sanitized walls. At least the new owners attempted to break the monotony with a few framed watercolor prints and scenic photographs, no doubt purchased from a big-box store.

You find yourself standing in the midst of your old master bedroom. You see hints of the old furnishings layered with the new. It certainly wasn’t how you remembered it.

“Huh.” Namjoon says when he walks in. “Why didn’t we think of putting the bed against that side of the room before?”

You roll your eyes at him. “Because you get up to go to the bathroom more often than I do so that’s why we put it on the side that was closer to the en suite.”

His mouth drops slightly with a soft ‘ah,’ in sudden realization. “Well, I’ll have to admit, you were right. You should have ignored me and gone with your original plan.”

“I appreciate you acknowledging that, years later.” You roll your eyes and brush past him on your way out. “But as you know, marriage is about compromise,” you call past your shoulder. 

“I’m ordering the pizza!” Your voice echoes down the staircase.

Namjoon spends a few more minutes in this room, allowing himself to reminisce before finding the strength to tear himself away and rejoin you in the kitchen.

******

You’re sitting at your old kitchen counter, eating pizza and sharing a bottle of wine that Namjoon ended up stealing from the owner’s kitchen. When you question him as to whether the alcohol was included in your AirBnB reservation, he shrugs and promises to replace it instead.

“So, are you seeing anyone?”

You stop mid-bite, taken aback by his question. “Wow, already?”

“What? I’m just making conversation.” He says casually as he takes a sip of wine. “And I’m nosy,” he snickers.

You giggle at his admission. “Nope, not seeing anyone. I had–what I thought was a connection a month ago…but that was a false flag. I’ve decided to hang back, take a break…be alone for a bit, you know? I’m not really looking for anything serious anyway.”

His expression turns sullen. He clears his throat before saying, “I thought you had a connection with Seojun. Things looked pretty serious.”

The reminder of your fatal mistake doesn’t sting as much as it did before. And he wasn’t as angry and bitter when he brings it up.

“Seojun was…” you sigh, collecting your thoughts so as not to create unnecessary ripples in this still water. “He was good for me at the time. He was who I needed at the time. But long-term?” You scrunch your face and shook your head. “I didn’t think that far down the road.” 

He used to always ask ‘why.’ Why did you do what you did? Why did you make those choices?

You were together for five years before you married. Two years later, you had Yuna and everything seemed picture-perfect. You thought that you were doing well and that you might really have a knack for marriage and monogamy. It was a point in your relationship when you thought that nothing could ever break you.

But it turns out that anything and everything can break you.

Seojun came along and it was as if something that had long been dormant ignited within you. You thought it would be a one-off, but it wasn’t. For months you thought Namjoon would suspect whether anything felt off. It wasn’t like you were trying to get caught but maybe some part of you wanted him to catch you. But that didn’t happen. Instead, he seemed happily blissful in his own world, seeing everything through rose-colored lenses.

You pick up your wine glass and tip the contents into your mouth, emptying it. When you set it back down on the counter, you look at him, staring at you.

“But you loved him, right?” He asks between mouthfuls of pizza.

You pause for a few long beats before responding. “Sure. In a way, yeah.” Your answer is noncommittal but the truth was, you didn’t know for sure if what you felt for Seojun was love. It certainly wasn’t the same as what you felt for Namjoon. He was in his own category.

“I don’t get it though. Why would you want to be alone?”

You scoff and straighten in your seat, feeling the urge to be defensive. “I don’t get why you’re suddenly concerned about my choice to be alone.”

“No, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” He switches tact, sensing that your walls start to go back up. “I remember back then, you used to say that a lot…that you like being alone and that you didn’t believe in marriage or lifelong partnership. And yet–you still agreed to marry me when I asked. So no, I don’t believe that your ultimate desire or goal is to be alone.”

You pour yourself another glass. “You were different. Being with you, what we had–it made me want to prove myself wrong. That perhaps I do have the marriage gene in me and I can make it last.” You pick at a piece of pepperoni on your slice. “I’d like to believe that I did. I tried to keep things together to make things work for us.”

Namjoon reaches for your hand and brushes his fingers over your knuckles in an attempt to console you.

“Turned out well, right?” You remark sarcastically, throwing your free hand up in defeat. “I failed. So, I conclude that I just don’t have it in me.” 

“The marriage gene?”

“Uh-huh. I’m doomed!” You laugh darkly.

You were happily resigned to that fact. Namjoon was a beautiful anomaly. While your time may have been short-lived, it still added meaning to your generally doomed perspective on marriage and relationships.

His fingers curl around your hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. “For what it’s worth, I thought you were great at it.”

You smile wistfully and bring his hand up to your lips to kiss it. “Thank you. That’s kind of you to say.”

******

You were in the upstairs bathroom washing up when Namjoon excused himself to retrieve a couple of things from his jacket pocket downstairs when his phone starts buzzing.

“Hello?” He answers.

“Hey, how’s it going? I’ve been trying to reach you. How was your flight?” the female voice says on the other line.

He clears his throat and hides away in what used to be his office. “Uh, yeah. Sorry, sweetheart. You know how it is at my dad’s house. The reception’s shit.”

“Why are you whispering?” She asks.

“Dad just fell asleep. You know how he’s such a light sleeper.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re right. Do you think you’ll be able to finish up whatever you need to over there? I have some miles on my card and fly out tomorrow to come over and help?”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Namjoon tells her calmly. “Dad and I are just about done packing up some of his old things here so, he’ll be ready to move into the facility. He’s really looking forward to it.”

“Is he? That’s great.”

“Yeah. Anyway, I have to go. I’m trying to sort through a few more of his things here while he sleeps. I work faster when he doesn’t stop to admire each item and talk about what it meant to him.”

“Okay. Just call me if your flight changes. I love you!”

He hears the floorboard creak and looks up from his seat to find you leaning against the door frame, dressed in nothing but a black lace teddy. Biting his lower lip, he says, “I love you, too.”

As soon as he hangs up, he tugs at your wrist and ravishes you.

******

“You think she’d ever suspect anything between us?” You wonder out loud while you both lay naked in your former marriage bed, basking in your post-sex high.

He shakes his head adamantly. “I think ‘you and me’ is the last thing on her mind.”

You laugh at how confident he made that sound.

“I’m serious!” He says firmly. “This is not even remotely on her list of possibilities! She knows what happened between us so this is highly unlikely for her.”

You sit up against the headboard and stare at him in disbelief. “You told her about us?”

He shrugs, not seeing the problem with it. “It was all part of my therapy and healing process so…yeah. I told her everything.”

“So, does she think I’m, like, the devil incarnate or something?” You try to mask the pang of guilt in your chest by making light of it.

“Nah. She doesn’t really think about you.” Then he immediately adds, “I’m not saying that to be hurtful or dismissive. I think at the time she thought she was somebody who could, I don’t know, put me back together or something.”

Even though you’ve both said your pieces over the years and talked things over, traded apologies, and accepted them, it still felt inadequate.

“I’m sorry,” you say instinctively.

He sits up to mirror your posture and dips his head to kiss your bare shoulder. “You’ve said that already.”

“Yeah but–” He cuts you off mid-sentence with another kiss, his lips lingering over yours.

“No buts. We’re good, okay? I’m good.” He reassures you.

But you press him anyway. “Okay, I’m sorry to keep dropping the reality check here but what if she finds out?” 

He sighs, a wry smile on his lips. “If she does…” he trails off without finishing his thought. He straightens his posture, turning serious. “I guess you could say that I’m no longer scared of being labeled the bad guy. I spent a good chunk of my life trying to do the right thing and being a good person. Always doing what is morally acceptable.”

You tilt your head at him in curiosity. He’s changed a lot, but just like your old house, even though the fixtures have been replaced, walls knocked down and repainted, and furniture layout rearranged, you can still see hints of what it used to be.

He’s still the same Namjoon you fell in love with, beneath this new cynical, detached exterior. He wasn’t always open about his emotions but in the rare cases that he would wear his heart on his sleeve, you saw and felt it.

Right now, he was baring his soul to you.

“I’m not saying that I’m proud of it. You know, the affairs. I have needs that she can’t fulfill,” he shrugs. “There’s acceptance on my part. I’m not trying to claim righteousness or hide behind morals. And that’s okay. I’m okay with that!”

You’re silent as you take in his ruminations. In a way, it saddens you that he’s adopted this perspective. You always knew him as an idealist–someone who, as he said himself, ‘always did the right thing.’ Which was why it crushed him when you confessed your infidelity.

He stares at you for a minute before breaking into a chuckle. “What?”

“What?” You echo, your eyebrows furrowing.

“Say something!” He laughs.

“I mean, what do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know! Anything. Scold me or, I don’t know…tell me that this isn’t right. ‘Your wife doesn’t deserve this! You’re a terrible husband!’” He says jokingly.

“I am the last person to judge, okay? If it doesn’t keep you up at night…” you trail off.

He nods at that.

But then you cock your eyebrow at him, picking up on what he said moments ago. “So, ‘affairs?’ You mean, there’s more?”

“I had some fling a few months ago. It was meaningless,” he add quickly, as if that contributed to anything. “And there were a couple of one-night stands but I don’t think they count.”

“Mm…” you hum vaguely.

******

Namjoon cracks open another bottle of wine and brings it upstairs, where you both drink in bed and continue to trade stories.

“I didn’t really want to get married again. We were having a good time and she’s great,” he recounts the early days of his new relationship. “Sometimes it’s easy to confuse great sex with love.”

“Mm-hmm. Speak for yourself,” you remark.

He smirks at your comment. “But…there she was, down on one knee, asking me to marry her. And so I did. We’ve been living together anyway so, might as well, right?” He shifts and changes his tone, feeling the need to clarify that he’s not a complete asshole. “I hope you’re not taking this the wrong way but she and I are good. We’re comfortable. It’s like, we speak the same language.” 

He’s tipsy and babbling but you let him. “That’s great,” you smile softly, taking a sip of wine.

“The sex is not.” You nearly choke at his revelation. “A month after we got married–phew–” He makes a whistling sound and makes a quick, swooping gesture with his hand. “Out the door, it went.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you say with all sincerity.

He shrugs. “It is what it is.”

“But don’t you love her?”

He purses his lips and tilts his head from side to side. “In a certain way, sure.” He mirrors your answer from earlier this evening.

You nod vaguely, letting the words hang in the air while you both fall into a comfortable silence.

After a few beats he says, “I’ll never love anyone the way I loved you. That’s a fact.”

This isn’t the first time he’s told you this. He’s declared it several times, at least once during one of your clandestine meetings.

“When we were together, I never thought we’d split up. That never occurred to me. So–what I have with her it’s…it’s an entirely different kind of love. But if or when she suddenly comes to me and asks for a divorce, I’d give it to her. I feel like that’s where this is headed anyway.” He downs the rest of his wine before setting it down on the nightstand. “I would compare it to a piece of tape. You stick it on then peel it off and try to stick it someplace else. It might take, if you tried hard enough but…it’s never quite the same.”

You lick your dried-out lips and let out a shaky breath. “God, that sounds really sad,” your voice cracks.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not sad about it so you shouldn’t be!” He maintains his lightheartedness. “I think it’s perfectly fine to have different types of love, different types of relationships. Mine happens to be unconventional.”

“Unconventional, yes. But the way you speak about it, it’s as if you’re saying that you’re totally comfortable with the fact that you’ll never truly love again. That’s what saddens me.”

“I never said that,” he says in defense. “I never said I’ll never truly love again.” Then he looks you in the eye and says matter-of-factly, “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

The look he gives you sends an involuntary shiver down to your spine which makes its way between your legs. “Yes, but what we have is different. We’ve both gone through the worst possible thing that could happen in our relationship; which is why when you’re with me, there are no surprises. No unrealistic expectations. There’s no fear lurking around because it’s all laid out for you.”

His expression is steady and unchanged. “And I’m saying this is what works for me right now. This is what works for us–”

“Ugh, Namjoon…” you groan, sinking back into the mattress and turning on your side, facing away from him. “That’s such a fucked up way of looking at the situation. You know how fucked up we are! We’re still reeling from how our marriage ended and…” You bury your face in your palms and groan in frustration again. “Who would have thought even after we signed those papers, that it didn’t really mean the end…Like, right that second? I wish that somebody told us that breaking up takes much longer than that.”

You feel the bed dip behind you as he scoots closer, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you flush against him. “It’s like we said, it just takes time, baby.”

“But it’s been five years!” You whine petulantly. “I just want to be done with it! You said that after we’re divorced, we’d move on and start fresh.” You turn your body around, his face is so close to yours. “Now, we’re just in this endless cycle of grief and trauma.”

You close your eyes and you feel him press his forehead on yours in silent agreement. You don’t remember how long you hold each other like that. He quiets your whimpers with the softest kisses until you both drift off to sleep.

******

“No!” Namjoon cries out, jolting you both awake. He sits up abruptly, with his head in his hands. His back is covered in sweat and his heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest.

“Hey.” You sit up and rub circles on his back consolingly. “Did you have a bad dream?”

“Yeah,” he sniffs and wipes his tears away.

You offer to get him a drink of water but he declines. He gets out of bed and paces around the room.

“Do you want to talk to me about it?”

“Uh…” he breathes before sitting back down on the edge of the bed. “Yeah. I’m…trying to remember bits and pieces.” He takes a minute to regulate his breathing while simultaneously collecting his thoughts. “We were walking down the street, coming back from a dinner party or something. And then, we needed to cross the street for whatever reason.”

You hug your knees to your chest while you listen to him.

“I was holding your hand so we could go together but you went on and darted out into the dark road. I kept calling out to you but you kept moving farther away from me. I tried so hard to run after you but it was as if my feet were sealed into the concrete.” A tear rolls down his cheek. “I felt so helpless because I wanted to get to you and–I couldn’t see you. You were gone.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. C’mere,” You open up your arms and beckon him to come back to bed.

He obliges and nuzzles into touch. “I couldn’t get to you,” he cried.

“It was just a dream, baby.” You whisper calmly into his ear, rubbing his back to console him.

He burrows his face into the crook of your neck. “It’s not the first time I had a dream about losing you. I’ve had different versions of that dream where you disappear into the dark and I can’t move my body to reach out to you. It’s like–I’m perpetually stuck or something.”

All you can do is listen. This was his trauma talking. You continue to rub his back and rock him gently.

“You know, sometimes I wonder if…if I’ll ever love anybody. Like, truly love them. Or maybe I’ve never been truly loved before. Maybe…maybe that’s what it means. I’ll never be able to have the ability to–“ 

“Hey,” you interject. You pull his face away from your shoulder and cup his cheeks. “Listen to me— I love you. In my own… twisted way. And I know that you love me. In your own way.”

He smiles ruefully, his eyes welling up with emotion.

You gaze at him, brushing his cheekbone with the pad of your thumb. “I will always love you,” you say reassuringly before bringing your lips to his.

Your gentle kisses turn hungry and you can’t help when your body responds to him instinctively. Your need for him is unrelenting.

One moment he’s telling you about a nightmare and the next, you’re wrapped up in each other’s arms, your legs on either side of his hips. It doesn’t take him long to be ready for you, especially when you’re naked and bare for him.

You undulate your hips, grinding your slick over his length. His hands gripping your waist, guiding you while you pleasure yourself with the delicious friction.

“Mm, you’re so wet for me,” he whispers, reaching between you to rub circles on your clit.

“Mm-hmm,” is all you can muster.

“You ready for me, huh?” He nips at your bottom lip.

You give him a nod and he manages to pause his ministrations to reach across the nightstand. Once he sheaths himself, he takes one swift move and slips right into your center.

Each thrust is purposeful. Your fingers grip his hair as you moan into his shoulder. He gently sinks his teeth into your tender flesh, groaning. You're both floating and it’s a special kind of high.

One look at him and you heat up to a fever pitch. You take comfort in the deep baritone of his voice, goading you, whispering his naughtiest fantasies about you when you’re apart. You feel him touch you and you know it’s what you’ve been missing. He completes you. 

You move in perfect sync as if you never separated. When you’re intimate like this, the questions and doubts fade when your bodies close in, filling every gap. Your connection is unrivaled.

He pulls back. “You close?”

Not that he needed an answer but he just loves watching you come undone. He ups the ante, cupping your ass cheeks and combining deep plunges with swivels, thrusting sharply and retracting slowly. Your head lolls back, dizzy with pleasure and at the same time awed by the heights he takes you to. Places where you can simultaneously forget and remember. Where nothing and nobody else exists except you and him and the mutual passion you share.

The sweat misting his brow glistens in the dusky light, his face beginning to strain as your release crests and finally crashes down. Instantly, you shudder, the tingling becoming too much to bear, your skin too sensitive. He is attuned to your body, because he stops his movements and applies pressure where you need it, keeping your hypersensitivity at bay, as his own climax hits him hard. His growls are suppressed, his face crimson with the rush of blood to his head. Your walls squeeze him greedily, prolonging your pleasure as he empties himself into you.

Namjoon drops you both onto the mattress, collapsing in a heap of exhaustion. He is glued to your slick chest, where he will remain for the next ten minutes, snoozing, nuzzling, and kissing your neck. You hold him and savor the moment before you part and return to the alternate realities you both worked hard to establish.

Deep down, you know you’ve ruined him. You didn’t mean to. He was nothing but an innocent bystander in your own path of self-destruction. Perhaps, as your lifelong penance, you’d spend the rest of your days assuring him that he’s not broken and that he deserves unconditional love. 

You breathe into his shoulder as you settle, holding him as close as you possibly can. In your own quiet way, you're telling him that you're happy to remain like this.

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