#hopefully i gave you enough to work with!

[the-kr8tor]

Hiiii 🤭

Hopping here to request a Reader x Ekko where they're just two love birds and R sneaks into his "office" because she just missed him :( and then one thing leads to another and they're kinda carried away by each other.. that until duty calls up and R watches Ekko switching from loving future husband to the Leader of the Firelights

Love you!!!

Hihihi thank you sm bleaky for the idea!!! Another fic straight from our dms 🤭 I hope you like it, pookie ❤️

Pairing: Ekko x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Tags: use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, reader is a childhood friend turned lover, Firelight! Reader, lovestruck! Ekko, no s2 spoiler, cw suggestive, FLUFF!

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ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

The hoverboard whirrs softly from under you, with the moonlight peeking through the leaves of the beloved tree, bathing you in its dappled silver glow. The breeze carries ashen smoke amidst the scent of sweet dew filled flowers.

You lean forward slightly, guiding the board gently towards the open window of the tree house where a certain someone is burning the midnight oil on his workbench. You perch yourself over the window, careful not to make any noise as you slither your way inside. Hopefully staying as a surprise for Ekko.

He felt you before he heard your grunt and the unmistakable sound of your head bumping on the windowsill. Smiling tiredly, he twists in his chair to look at you fondly while you cradle your poor head from the recent bump.

“You know I gave you a key for a reason.” You can practically hear his amusement from his tone.

“Where's the fun in that?” You chuckle, palm patting at the blooming headache. “I thought I'd surprise you.”

Ekko roams his eyes over you as your smirk grows wider with every second he ogles you. “I think you forgot the surprise.” He points at your empty hands, tilting his head to the side in case you've got something hidden behind you.

“Ekko, I'm the surprise.” You wink at him, arms raised to your sides in a ‘here I am’ gesture. He shakes his head with a smile, watching you as you saunter towards him. “You should be asleep.” Your hand finds its place on his cheek, he looks up at you, eyes soft under the warm light of the desk lamp. He leans against your touch, lamenting at the way you gently scratch at his nape. “You can do this once you get some rest. Your board will still be here tomorrow.”

He swears he can fall asleep with your tender touch and voice lulling him to slumber. “I can't,” he sighs, reluctantly pulling away from you to return his attention towards his board that glows softly with green light. “we have something planned early tomorrow.”

Your heart softens for him and his determination. “Am I part of that something something?” Sitting down on his desk, far enough to give him space to work but close enough for you to poke his leg with your foot.

“Not this time,” he glances at you, finding you huffing in place as he screws in the blades tightly. “You still got that shoulder thing.”

“This shoulder thing is alright now.” He raises a brow at you, head shaking lightly. You sigh, surrendering. “Fine, it's acting up again, but it's technically better.” Ekko hums in reply, elbow deep inside the hoverboard. “Kind of. Can I at least help? I don't like feeling useless.”

His hand cups your knee, thumbs tracing swirls on your skin. You can feel how warm his hand is from under his glove. “Just sit there and look pretty for me, okay?” Smirking, he pats you once before returning his hand back to his work as you pout and huff at him. “And you're never useless. You're still healing, trouble. I don't want you getting hurt out there because of a busted shoulder.” A flash of you falling off your board with a sickening crunch fills his vision with dread. He turns towards you fully, tapping his wrench on the wooden table, and gentle eyes softening up at your features. “You'll have your time, I promise.”

You nod, watching as the green hue flickers over his concerned face. “Okay, but you owe me.” You cross your leg over the other while he smiles and turns towards his machine again.

“How many IOUs is that now?” He asks, glancing between you and the board.

You nudge him with your foot, “too many, Ekko.” You say his name with a sing-song lilt, effectively taking his attention. “What?” With a teasing smile, he stares at you wordlessly.

“You're distracting me.” His eyes follows the curve of your jaw up to your lips. Heart stuck in his throat, and eyes glued onto the soft skin. He lays his tools down. Abandoning it immediately.

“Oh,” your shoulders slump slightly. “I'll leave, just get some sleep, okay?” Hopping down, Ekko stops you with his hand on your thigh. “You need something?” You place your hand above his own as he squeezes you.

“Yeah, sit back down for me?” He says it seriously, as if he needs to talk to you about something important.

You straighten up, following his instructions. The desk creaks under your form, and as you wait for his very important words, he stands up from his seat, kicking it away before cradling your face gently in his gloved hands. The rough fabric sits on your cheek, but his touch is softer as he gazes at you with those eyes you've always loved ever since you two were still running around playing pretend.

“Now you're the one distracting me.” You whisper, index looping around his overalls to pull him towards you. Placing him in between your legs, as he leans forward with his head tilted slightly to find the perfect angle of your lips. “What were you saying, Ekko?” Teasing, he inhales deeply, lips merely an inch from your own.

“Let me…?” He says before you crash your lips against his own, answering his cut off question. Your eyes close as he smiles, mirroring your expression. You both kiss in sync, hearts beating in the same pace.

You hear him chuckle softly as your lips fall into a medley of rhythm with his desperate kisses. The kiss runs deep and long, teeth clashing, noses meeting, and hands caressing every angle of you as your own hands roam up his bare and lean arms, until you find penchant on the back of his head. Fingers weaved around his hair, not pulling away, no, pushing him further against you as the air grows hotter around you with every breath you take.

You're home in his arms. And all you can think about is him.

“Fuck,” he murmurs against your slightly agaped lips, leaning away for a moment to take in air and to remove his gloves to feel you fully.

You stare at him through half lidded eyes, cheeks searing hot and stomach throbbing with ache. “Yeah...” Your voice is shaky at best, legs wrapping around him whilst your chest heaves.

Just as you say it, he meets with your lips once again, taking your breath away as you give it willingly. This time it's softer and gentler as he kisses you tenderly. Your head hits the wall with how much he's kissing you, so with his palm sliding behind your head, he cushions you from the blow as he continues to kiss you fervently as if he hasn't gotten a taste of you in years.

“Ekko.” You sigh out as he kisses the curve of your lips, tracing its shape with his own. “Ekko.” Your tone grows breathlessly as he slowly makes his way towards your throat. “Ekko—” His lips were just about meeting with your warm skin when a knock interrupts you both. “Shit.”

“Damn it.” He murmurs, chest heaving, pupils blown out as he gives you one quick kiss against the side of your neck. Definitely not the final one.

You pat his cheek with a lopsided smile, thumb brushing along his kiss bitten lips, wiping away the sheen you've left. Ekko pecks your thumb before moving away from you. He fixes your rumpled shirt, just as you notice that you've smudged the white hourglass paint on his face. Whoops.

“Ekko, you've got…” you gesture towards his nose, trying to tamp down your laughter.

His blown out eyes widens, lungs still trying to intake oxygen from the strenuous activity. His nose scrunches up when he sees you having the same smudged paint on your face. Smile tamped down by biting his lip.

He looks behind you, where a small mirror is hanging just beside your head. He sees himself looking disheveled, hair sticking all over the place, face paint smudged into an odd shape.

Chuckling, the knocking grows louder. “I've got you, don't worry. I won't let your reputation get tarnished.” You take a handkerchief from your pocket, effectively wiping away the smudged mess on his face as much as you can.

“Did you get it?” He's still breathless when he asked.

“And…there. I've got them all.” You get a thankful peck on your cheek for a job well done.

But before he could move away from you, he takes the handkerchief in his hand to wipe at your (his) own smudged face paint. He tucks the fabric away in his pocket, maybe you'll come looking for it one day, effectively giving you an excuse to come visit him sooner rather than later.

Ekko now moves away, clearing his throat but the evidence of your shared previous activity is still evident on how much he inhales and how his hands are so clammy that he can water the tree with the sweat on his palms.

“C–come in.” He curses under his breath at how his voice cracked at the start. The door squeaks open, revealing his right hand man, Scar, waiting at the doorway.

His golden eyes glance at you, Ekko hides your equally disheveled form with his body, blocking your obviously kissed lips and your rumpled clothes. Scar raises a knowing brow, eyes speaking a thousand words.

“Hi, Y/N.” He says gruffly, lips subtly curled into a smirk. You wave shyly above Ekko, afraid that you'd let out incoherent words while you're still reeling from his warmth. “I can come back later.”

Ekko’s seriously considering it. “Is it important?”

“Everything's important with you Ekko.” Scar's eyes turn towards you with the word ‘important.’

Ekko sighs, slightly disappointed. “Right, what happened?”

His whole demeanor changes into what most people would think when they hear about the notorious leader of the firelights. His posture straightens up, and the air around him oozes authority. The man in front of you isn't just Ekko, your love and confidant, he's Ekko, the feared leader of the firelights, and the boy saviour. But you can still see his previous sweetness from how his eyes still smile when he remembers your soft lips upon his own. He's still your Ekko through and through.

“It's the chem barons, they blew out an entire building.” Scar briefs him, and you read the room as their conversation grows more serious.

If you listen to any more, you'd want to join in so you decide to leave before you could give your two cents like always. Ekko was right, your shoulder wouldn't help much with a full blown fight. So you're just gonna stay away, for now at least, until you're fully healed to be of help. For his sanity and your wellbeing.

You take a deep breath, still heaving from his kisses, hopping down from the table even with your wobbly legs. Ekko looks at you in the middle of the conversation, hand reaching out in case you fall down. Scar watches with amusement at the scene in front of him.

“I'm good,” you say quietly only for Ekko to hear. “We'll continue this later, okay?” You say louder this time for both of them to hear. With a wink, and a hand grazing his back, you leave him standing there, aghast at what you've blatantly said.

His own mind betrays him at how *later could go. Ekko has to hold onto the chair next to him to stabilize himself lest he melts in front of Scar, who's absolutely trying to reel his laughter in that he's about to pop a vein on his forehead from how hard he's trying.

As you close the door behind you, you hear his booming laughter and Ekko's unmistakable groaning behind the door.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

[gravestrain]

gave you too much but it wasn't enough (qh43)

In which you wonder if your relationship with Quinn might end in death by a thousand cuts.

This is my submission for the eras tour fic challenge hosted by @wyattjohnston and @comphy-and-cozy! I am thrilled to be a part of this event. I received DBATC, and if you know me you know any kind of angst is not my wheelhouse, but I was thrilled to get this challenge and try to create something angsty. It will never be unresolved in my world but hopefully this does the trick :) 2.5k words, fem reader, no warnings that I know of, not proofread.

When Quinn was named the captain of the Vancouver Canucks, you had never felt so proud.

Being with Quinn for two plus years at the time, you were over the moon to see the love of your life, your favorite person in the world, being given such an honor, an honor he worked so hard for, an honor you know he deserved. Quinn was one of the most dedicated people you've ever met. With that dedication of course, comes time. Quinn dedicated countless hours to improving his game, practicing with his teammates, working out in the gym, going on runs, anything he could do to be the best he could be, he was doing it.

Under the moonlight, as you and Quinn celebrated his accomplishment, he promised you that he wouldn't stray away. That his commitment to the team wouldn't outweigh his commitment to you. To being a loving partner. A companion. However, when you woke up, stretching your arm out to feel an empty bed yet again, despite knowing that it couldn't have been much past 7 am, you wondered what went wrong. What happened to cause those promises to crumble. His words to be empty, lifeless. Void of meaning. When did you and Quinn become a couple that told each other lies? Told each other things just because the other person wanted to hear them, not because they genuinely intended to fulfill them.

It was the start of Quinn's second season as the Canucks captain. At first, you thought it was too good to be true. Quinn was thriving in his new role, yet still being the perfect partner. Attentive and on time, compassionate and loving. Now, that version of Quinn is a distant memory, mocking you as you think of him.

It started after the holidays in Quinn's first season of being captain. You chalked it up to post holiday stress and all star weekend buzz, maybe even trade deadline drama. Then the all star game passed, and even the trade deadline. Shortly after you started blaming it on the playoff push, then the playoff loss. And now here you were in November, searching for answers, trying to figure out what happened to the love of your life who turned into a stranger right in front of your own eyes, with nothing you could do about it but watch it happen.

You got yourself ready for work, looking around in the bathroom, on the bedside table, and eventually the kitchen to see if maybe Quinn left you a note, a cup of coffee in your favorite travel mug, a bagel from your favorite bakery around the corner, a sign of his love, signs that he used to never leave the house without showing. Just as you thought, there was nothing. You couldn't even remember the last time you felt Quinn kiss your forehead before he left for God knows what. Another workout, another two mile run after the three miles he did on the treadmill, or locking himself in his office watching film.

Work came and went that day, taking the long way home, dreading going home to an empty house. You thought it would be worse trying to interact with the stranger you lived with, but the silence, the emptiness, the sterile, unwelcoming cold was always worse. You stared up at the traffic lights, wondering if others saw just how foolish you felt. Writing lines to a story that was long over. Grasping on to the book, hoping for a surprise ending, one that would make everything worth it.

To say you were surprised to see Quinn's Porsche in the driveway was an understatement. Usually on practice days he didn't get home until well after 6 pm. You unlocked the front door, not expecting much. Just because he was home, doesn't mean he wasn't locked up in his office, taking notes from last night's game. A game that you never bothered to go to anymore. You knew the other WAGs missed you, people speculated about your absence on the internet, always cruel and judgmental. You couldn't bring yourself to go. You had learned to despise hockey for taking Quinn from you.

You opened the door and were surprised to see Quinn in the kitchen, grabbing a snack. Quinn looked as surprised to see you as you were, almost like he didn't know where you were, or if he even remembered that you lived there. Quiet "hi's" were exchanged, Quinn leaving a soft kiss on your cheek then awkwardly brushing past you to go towards the fridge.

"I thought we could have chicken and pasta for dinner tonight. It sounded good on my way home, I hope that's okay," Quinn muttered out, but already getting a pot of water for pasta ready, as though it didn't matter what you truly wanted. "That's okay," you offered back. "I'm gonna go sit down and read my book. If you need me, just holler." You offered and Quinn gave a nod in response. You wanted to grunt and groan under your breath. How could this be okay with him? It was as though you didn't know him, despite him knowing everything about you.

You tried to distract yourself with your book, but frustrated tears welled up in your eyes. You wiped them away aggressively, not wanting Quinn to see you cry. He couldn't muster up simple greetings, and an I love you would be almost toxic coming out of his mouth. He didn't care anymore, that much was obvious. So why should you?

You didn't know how long time passed, but it was enough time for Quinn to come over with a plate of dinner, unaware of your state. Your heart swelled. Most days, you had been eating dinner at the table, the memories of the two of you loved up on the couch, enjoying your meal and watching your latest binge watch were long gone. It seemed that Quinn was looking for one of those nights, until he saw your tears. His face dropped, setting your plate down and kneeling in front of you.

"Everything okay, sweetheart?" He asked, trying to get you to meet his eyes. You shook your head. How could he be so oblivious? "Are you serious?" You ask and Quinn's expression changed, like you had hurt him. "What do you mean by that? Why would I not be serious?" he asked, causing you to shake your head. "Quinn, things haven't been right between us for months. You leave me everyday without saying goodbye or even kissing me goodbye, you act like spending time with me is the worst thing in the world. I never go to games anymore because I resent hockey for taking you from me. When you were named captain, I was so proud of you I could explode. Now I can't even bare to be in the hockey setting because it reminds me of everything you chose over me. Quinn, I don't even know if you love me anymore." You took a breath after getting it off your chest, but at the same time a wounded gasp came out of Quinn's mouth, like he was a wounded animal.

"You think I don't love you anymore? How could you think that?" he asked, clearly hurt by what you had said. "What else do you want me to believe, Quinn? I can't even remember the last time you told me you loved me. And beyond that, that you ever even showed that you might. I feel like I live with a stranger. You can't honestly tell me that you have felt satisfied in this relationship. That you feel that we love each other to the fullest, that we love spending time together. I haven't felt confident that you feel that way in a long time." At this point you both had tears in your eyes, Quinn feeling devastated by what he was hearing.

Of course Quinn wasn't 100% satisfied with your relationship. He wasn't delusional enough to believe that everything was perfect. He knew that hockey had been his number one priority lately, and he had been trying to make that not be the case.

"Baby, I know I haven't been putting you first lately, and I'm sorry for that. I truly am. But I feel like it's only been this way since the start of the regular season." This had you scoffing immediately. "You don't seriously believe that. Quinn, I could say I have felt this way on and off since January." This caused another hurt gasp to leave Quinn's lips. "Why didn't you say something..." he trailed off, hurt, but he knew the answer.

"I shouldn't have to beg you to love me, Quinn. I shouldn't have to tell you that you have been neglecting me, neglecting us. If you truly can't see what's been going on, I don't know how I can explain it to you. If you think that this relationship has been satisfactory for both parties, I can't change your mind of that. But I won't be treated like this any longer. I think we should spend some time apart." Quinn backed up as soon as the suggestion came out of your mouth, looking like he had been shot.

"You don't mean that, you can't" he gasped. "Quinn, I'm not saying I want to breakup. If I didn't believe this was salvageable, if I didn't believe you could fix this, I would just say I wanted to break up. I believe we can fix this, but I think some time apart would do us good. For us both to figure out what we're looking for and what we truly want. If we find that this is still what we want, that's great, I believe that we will make it work. But this, this... arrangement, this isn't working. I know you seem shocked and hurt, but I know you don't believe that this is working for both of us, or honestly either of us."

"I'll go stay with Petey, I don't want to be in your way," Quinn suggested and you shook your head. "It's okay, really. I can go stay with Brock's girlfriend. Since she lives by herself it won't be awkward for any of us. I do believe we can make this work Quinn, I just don't think we can do it in these conditions." You put your hand on his cheek and his face softened, leaning into your touch.

"Tell me how to fix it, please, I'll do anything," he begged, tears steadily streaming down his face. "I can't tell you that, Quinn. I want you to figure out. To understand where I'm coming from, and want to work to fix it. I haven't been perfect either Quinn, we can both work on this. I shouldn't have to tell you that spending time together once a month isn't enough. I don't know how it can be enough for you, either. If that's okay with you, then this just isn't going to work."

"I'll fix it baby, I promise, I'll do anything." he whispered, almost defeatedly but feeling much better. "I believe you, baby. I do."

-------------------

The flowers started on Mondays. Each Monday, a different bouquet of beautifully arranged flowers arrived at your office. The message was also different each week but it always ended the same way: " I love you, I believe in us." You texted Quinn every week when the flowers came to let him know you got them and to send your thanks. After four weeks of flowers, you were sitting in the front room of Brock's girlfriend, Bella's, apartment, getting stuff done on your computer on a chilly Saturday afternoon. A knock on the door sounded, causing you to pause your work. You had been staying with Bella long enough that you felt comfortable getting the door. Not to mention Bella liked to sleep in super late on weekends, meaning you would be the only one to even be available to open the door.

Your heart sank to your toes as you looked through the peephole, seeing Quinn. He looked different. If your gut was right, he looked tired, a far away look in his eyes, almost as though he missed you as much as you missed him. You didn't want to believe it, wary of getting your heart broken. He was holding something in his hands, fidgeting with it as he waited for the door to open.

"Y/N, hi," Quinn whispered out, taking a step towards you. "Hi Quinn, it's great to see you. How have you been? Would you like to come inside?" You asked, causing him to shake his head. "I can't stay, but thank you for offering," he stopped himself, wanting to keep boundaries in between you two in order for you to be most comfortable.

"It's been a while since we've seen each other, and I wanted to come ask you something. I was hoping you'd like to come to the game tomorrow night? I was hoping this would be enough time, but if not it's okay." His voice was shaky, unsure, almost like he was scared of your response. "I'm not sure, Quinn. Won't it be weird that I'm there? I don't want to cause any drama." You said apprehensively. You were also nervous of what that step in your relationship would be.

"There would be no drama at all, babe. You could just sit with Bell in the stands if you would prefer that, but I know the WAGs have really been missing you. I heard Millsy's daughters have been waiting for you to paint their nails on intermission again," he joked, causing you to smile. His heart melted at the smile on your face, finally feeling fulfilled, that he made you happy.

"I'll be there, Quinn. You can put me in the box. Don't worry about parking, though. I'm sure I can catch a ride with Bella." You both smiled, joyful at the step in the right direction for the both of you. "I can't wait."

________________

For all the time you had spent at Canucks games, you never thought you would be so nervous about what to wear, but here you are. Finally, settling on a stylish Canucks long sleeve with no distinction of Quinn on the shirt, paired with dark jeans and sneakers.

Quinn played a great game, getting a goal and an assist, the Canucks winning 3-1. You were ecstatic. Being back at the games, with your friends, cheering on Quinn, just felt right. It felt like where you were supposed to be. When you met Quinn after the game, he couldn't help himself either, jogging up to you and wrapping his arms around you, lifting you up off the ground. "Quinn!" you exclaimed, laughing out loud. "You did so good!" You laughed as he set you back on the ground. "It's because you were here, my good luck charm." He mused, causing you to blush.

Before he could stop himself, Quinn asked: "come home with me?" Your breath shortened, definitely not expecting that to come out of his mouth. "Are you sure?" You asked him, heart racing at the idea of going home with Quinn, truly where you belonged. "I would want nothing more."

It felt at times that no matter how much you gave to Quinn, it would never be enough. But as you both grew and learned more about yourselves, you both knew that all you could give would always be enough for the both of you.

[shina913]

Scions, Ch.9 | Kim Line + JHS

Scions (series)

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

✼Scions Masterlist✼

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

Rating: M (🔞)

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

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

Word count: 9.9k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure, pour me one,” Namjoon says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Namjoon smiles warmly at his younger brother’s sentimentality.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That was beautiful, hyung,” Taehyung remarks.

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

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

“Cheers!”

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

********

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

That kiss…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

********

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

********

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He calls out your name.

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

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

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

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

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

“So, it’s true? You and Dara are—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

********

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” she croaks out.

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

“Yeah,” she replies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please, yeobo…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”I'm not judging,” he reassures you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thinking quickly, you make up a story.

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

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

“Who wants pancakes?” he interjects.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

********

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

“Vee?” He croaks.

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

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

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

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

“Do you understand?”

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

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

She agrees with a whimper before the call ends.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay. I’ll drive—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m here for Victoria Lee.”

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

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

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

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

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

********

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

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

“Joon!”

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

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

Namjoon nods.

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

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

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

Namjoon and Victoria hold their breaths in anticipation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Namjoon and Victoria gasp in surprise and relief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am her husband!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Un-fucking-beliveable!” Namjoon growled.

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

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

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

********

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

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

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

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

“Ma, please!” He snaps.

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

“Namjoon! Namjoon, wait up!”

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

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

“Joon, Joon—wait!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hospital security begins to approach, drawn by the commotion.

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

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

“Or what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You and Namjoon stare at her wide-eyed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it, hun?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckles as you take a seat next to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Thank you for reading!

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[bad268]

hey i have an idea for a pepe fanfic so basically its after pepe has a crash during a race while leading his girlfriend conforts him? btw i really love your fanfic <3

Join Me (Pepe Marti X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (grazie mille <3)

Warnings: bathing together, spicy ending

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1303

Summary: Pepe has a bad weekend, so the reader comes up with a plan to make him feel better.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

He just wanted to forget this weekend. He wanted to forget this season. Nothing had gone his way, his team was not supporting him, his teammate was not being a team player, and he was ready to quit racing altogether. It was something he had started contemplating a while ago, but when Isack took him out of the race, he’d had it. 

You had stayed back at the hotel because you had some work you needed to catch up on, so you had to watch your boyfriend get taken out, once again, by his teammate. You had to sit there and listen to both radios. The one from Pepe being calm but basically saying “what the fuck” in nicer terms. The one from Isack, crying that Pepe needed to stay out of his way and that he had a championship to win. All of the bullshit he was spuing really fed into your major dislike for him. Before this, you merely tolerated Isack. Now, you would not be so kind. If you ever saw him again, it would be too soon.

You didn't need to hear from Pepe to know how upset he was. It seemed like Isack was always starting trouble and Pepe was left being the most affected every time. You just waited until he came back to the hotel since he would be badgered by the media, and you knew he wouldn’t have access to his phone anyway.

Sooner than you thought, Pepe opens the door and sets his bag off to the side. He looked around, but he couldn’t find you anywhere. You were just getting back to the hotel from a short trip to a nearby store. You picked up some snacks and treats that would, hopefully, cheer Pepe up a bit. You got back into your hotel room, humming along to a song you had heard, and it did not take you long to realize that Pepe was back. Your shock didn’t last long as you saw him face down on your bed in the middle of a much-needed nap. You took this opportunity to finish setting up what you had planned.

You lit a couple of small candles you bought from the store around the bathroom. It was something Pepe did for you whenever something big happened to you, so you took it upon yourself to return the favor. You filled the tub with water and bubbles and dimmed the lights. Then, you left to get Pepe, who was semi-awake. You walked up to the bed to see him lying on his back now, rubbing his eyes harshly before you laid next to him and rubbed his arm gently.

“Hey, baby,” You whispered, getting his attention by moving your hand up into his hair, pushing it away from his eyes. He turned his head to face you with a small smile as he closed his eyes again, relaxing in your presence. “Hi, Pepe.”

“Hey,” he sighed as he stretched his arms over his head again. “Was I out long?”

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. “I’ve only been back for ten minutes, but I have a surprise for you. Hopefully, it’ll make you feel better.”

“If it’s what I think it is,” he trailed off as he looked you up and down, “I don’t have enough energy for that.”

“I didn’t think so,” You gave him a pointed look before standing and pulling him up with you. “That’s why I got your favorite snacks and made a relaxing bath for you. Thought it would help you feel better.”

You led him to the ensuite before helping him discard his clothes and get in the tub. You finished dimming the lights and set up your laptop on a chair in the corner. You pulled up Pepe’s favorite movie, knowing it would help him forget this shitty weekend. By the time you looked back at Pepe, he was already lazily looking at you with a small smile on his lips.

“Have I ever told you I love you?” Pepe commented as he rested his head against the side of the bathtub, leaning further into the water.

“Once or twice, you’ve said it,” You chuckled lightly, moving over to leave a kiss on his forehead. You stood back up before glancing around, making sure everything you bought him was within arms reach for Pepe. The movie was already playing, and everything was in its place. “Is there anything else you need from me before I let you relax?” 

“Join me?” Pepe asked as he brought a hand out of the water to grab your wrist. He looked up at you and pouted his lip, “Just for a little bit? I could really use your cuddles right now.”

“Only because you’re cute, and most of our stuff is already packed for tomorrow,” You sighed as you started taking off your shirt. “Want me in the front or back?”

“Wherever you want,” Pepe whispered as he sat up straighter, gauging where you wanted to sit. “I don’t care as long as you’re in here within 10 seconds.”

“That’s a bit bossy, don’t you think?” You teased as you shredded off the last of your clothes. He just looked up at you without commenting, so you gave him a pointed look. “Scoot forward before I regret agreeing to this.”

Quickly, Pepe moved forward to make space behind him for you to step in and sit behind him with your legs on either side of him. Pepe leaned back into your hold with a sigh as you wrapped your arms tightly around his shoulders. The water was just below the edge of the tub, so you mentally tried to keep the shifting to a minimum. The last thing you wanted was to clean up the bathroom floor just before an early morning flight. 

“Thank you,” Pepe muttered after a minute or so of silence. He had closed his eyes after you wrapped your arms around him, and he was well on his way to falling asleep in the water. “I know you don’t like baths, but thank you for staying with me. Thank you for being you and always here for me. I love you.”

“And I’ll always be here for you, Pepe. I love you, too,” You comforted as you brushed a hand against his cheek and placed a kiss on his temple. You lay with him in the slowly cooling water with his favorite movie playing in the background, snacks forgotten. About halfway through the movie, you suddenly become aware of the extra weight on your chest and the light snores coming from Pepe. “Please don’t fall asleep on me. I already feel claustrophobic in the water. I don’t need you blocking me in too.”

“I’m not asleep,” Pepe slurred as he sat up again to let you readjust. You jokingly glared at him when he looked back at you.

“You were snoring,” You deadpanned.

“I was resting my eyes?” He offered with a sheepish smile before trying his best to hug you despite him facing the wrong way. “Thank you for not throwing me off. I know you don’t like them, but having you here with me made me feel so much better. Thank you for making me feel better after this shitty weekend.”

“You don’t need to thank me for doing the bare minimum. I’ll always join you when you need me,” You whispered against his lips as you left a short kiss. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we should get out now. We need to be at the airport in like 4 hours.”

“That’s enough time for me,” Pepe smirked as he pulled you in for another kiss, this one more heated and passionate. “Let me show you how much I appreciate you.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[honorhearted]

The moon was full that night. Peeking in through the tall, dark trees, it cast eerie shadows in low places, leaving Ben in a restless, agitated state as he returned to his quarters. From down the corridor, he could hear the soft strains of a violin -- one of the other officers was adamant about keeping such a frivolous luxury in camp -- and yet Ben and the others took comfort in the reminder that beyond these grounds, there was still beauty to be had; that such art and rapture still existed.

But not tonight. Ben found no comfort in the sweet, melodious sound, and instead, promptly barreled into his room and locked it shut. With a soft, shaking exhale, he attempted to blot out the frustrations of the day -- of how Washington still refused to see reason -- and started shrugging out of his officer coat. Slinging it over the back of his chair, he moved to unfasten his weskit once he spotted something peculiar: a plain piece of parchment, smooth and not creased, with a haphazard bleed of ink containing one word and one word only...

Lovely?

All at once, a chill shot up Ben's spine. The air felt thick, frigid, and goosebumps flared out across his skin, making him shiver in a pitiful attempt at maintaining warmth. How had it suddenly gotten so cold?

Ignoring the urge to slip back into his coat, he lifted the paper and scanned the writing more closely. Who could have done this, he wondered? The parchment was his own, and yet he'd never touched it before -- that had to mean someone had broken into his room to leave this peculiar message.

With the sweet, perfumed air making him dizzy, Ben was quick to grab his flintlock and duck down onto his knees, promptly aiming the weapon under his bed.

Nothing.

Gritting his teeth, he rose again and rushed out of his room into the hallway, briskly moving up and down the corridor on the off chance that someone, anyone was lingering who might have borne witness -- or better yet, be the culprit -- of his mysterious break-in.

After a fruitless search, Ben returned to his room and had a seat, exhaling in defeat. He had a long day ahead of him tomorrow, and couldn't be concerned with bizarre secret admirers. Unfastening the cravat from his throat, he froze up the moment it was unlaced, his senses high on the alert as it suddenly grew cold again...

"Hello?" Ben didn't know why he'd asked that, and instantly felt foolish for doing so. There was clearly no one there, and yet he almost felt as if he were being watched.

If she were to haunt him, perhaps she’d take to mirrors, as a ghastly smoke within his reflection and over his shoulder so that way she’d appear close, or in quiet corners where there was nothing there at all but the chilling sensation that he wasn’t alone. He shouldn’t feel alone. Perhaps she’d come in white, almost angelic, as a fluttering wisp of light in the corner of his eye and the inclination to turn his head and follow it. There was a good chance he was religious, and if he was, she’d have to be methodical: he could frighten easily, or worse, hire a priest.  But she didn’t really want to haunt him at all. She wanted to watch without haunting, if she could. Know him without truly knowing. Experience him without true experience and feel him without true feeling. Our ghost wanted to be his lover. Our ghost wanted to be his ghost.

…

Tonight she decides to write him a letter for when he returns, though it ends up not a very good one. The act of doing so drains her in a way it hurts to feel if she could indeed feel real hurt but she can’t, so it only looks like her not seeing him for a long, long while. This is painful enough.  The letter lays smoothly, pertinently over his desk in wet black ink and shaky penmanship that was once very beautiful and delicately formed. It rests over his other papers, possibly important, but nothing quite as important as her own that reads, simply,  “Lovely,” Tonight she smells of amber—an apricot, a peach. 

His room smells vaguely sweet. It feels very cold.

@honorhearted​

[batfossil-fr]

I’ve been really thinking of reopening my art shop soon… I’ve been taking some practice doodles (hence all the posting lately) while I shake off my rust and I’m finding things I enjoy working on again. I miss trying my hand at more dragons/OCs and colors. my shop’s so broken rn lmao but that’s a problem for a later date it’s just nice getting back into art

[grimmweepers]

so close to a milestone already and i haven’t even been back for a month :(

[moe-broey]

Pen tests....

[thistransient]

I decided I'd done my 24 hours of post-arrival resting and it was time to go out n get shit done! Book a tour, get a SIM card, see the sights! As I walked the 20 min into town the sun was shining, the street dogs were pancaking, I smiled and waved at an old lady staring at me and she smiled and waved back, life was grand. I had a chat with the travel agent (currently waiting on other people to sign up for the route I want to do), I went to the SIM card office (where people were breaking into song- I thought the guy from Delhi in my guesthouse who started singing to himself while gazing pensively out the window might be a one-off, but apparently not) and acquired one of those (specifically for Ladakh). Buoyed by this unexpectedly smooth success, I fancied I could perhaps continue to stroll around, have a gander, go to a museum or two...

It was then that I learned precisely why one must avoid "exertion" while acclimatising, and suddenly I wasn't sure if I was going to throw up, pass out, or possibly both (and I didn't want to know in which order either). I returned at a very sedate pace to the tour office, updated them with my new phone number, and then asked the guy how to hail a cab to go home and lie down (he called one for me). I have reunited with the bed and more or less stabilised, but, pride goeth before a fall and all that. At least I no longer feel guilty for lounging about instead of hitting the streets.

[oakskull]

AHAHAHAHAHAAA you thought i was done??? ¡NO, MORE ART!!!

@rainbowchaox @simple-seranade

[ravensmadreads]

.

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

If you wanna be happy (because Ze with students) but also sad at the same time (because of what he says) ... this is your video

[victorinoxghoul]

i have got to get medicated again this is getting out of handddd

[deadtime-stories]

[annastrxng]

Not All is Lost

@rhogeminid​ (was gonna name it not all who wander are lost, but XD. Based on an Au where the attainder robs Anna of the tavern, but leaves her with Strong Manor.)                       

            Every unanticipated shuffle of footsteps across the floorboards sends adrenaline pulsing through her veins so strongly that it inspires her heart to thunder to life. Frayed nerves and bristled muscles relinquish any pretense of fortitude she intended to portray. No place was safe. There’s not a corner of Strong Manor where he would not find her, not even in the sanctity of her own room. 

The brunette didn’t have to look up from her needlepoint to know whose enveloping shadow was looming over her. He was always there, consuming her waking moments, the way ravenous wildfires do trees. “Captain,” she greets in a tone that does not adequately display how jarred she is. “I---” Words come more difficultly as she tries to stay the quavering of her own hands. “I trust you had a successful mission.” Anna swallows down any sense of gloating for she knew, of course, he had not. It was her intelligence that had intentionally tanked the man’s success. It is then that she hazards a glance upwards at the looming figure. 

[intromortal]

OLDER!ENHYPEN OT6 HEADCANONS PART 2.

part 1

⚠︎ nsfw, mdni. daddy/sir/master kink, age gaps (every party in this is an ADULT, no minors involved) intoxicated sex for hee's, semi public sex for hee's and won's, pregnancy sex and stepcest for jay's, jake is a little shit, corruption kink for hoon's, public sex for sunoo's, jungwon as an entire warning for sunoo's, teacher/student dynamics for jungwon's.

i strongly advise you read part 1 before this as i'm not sure the dynamics are clear enough without previous context !

a!n i missed older enha sm i just had to give this a pt 2 <3 gen so sorry for not having posted anything in like. forever but life has been beating my ass and while brain is braining, fingertips are not writing ughhh. hopefully i get out of this slump :] as always feedback is much appreciated! enjoy <3

HEESEUNG | ‘s chest was caging you, pressing your front against the cold bathroom wall of the definitely too pricey bar your date for the night had insisted on bringing you to, and you’d be laughing at how fate works in such unexpected ways if it weren’t for how sloppily heeseung’s mouth was running down your neck. warm tongue tracing every little sensitive spot and teeth grazing your skin.

“that little boy out there? he will never make you cum as good as i do,” he whispered as he slightly pulled back, breath hot from the alcohol raising goosebumps all over your body. you were very, very annoyed with him though, after the months of radio silence on his part that followed that one night in your room. and you made it clear with how you pressed your ass against his crotch, the gasp leaving his lips making yours turn upwards in return. had you known all it took to break lee heeseung was showing up to the bar he and his coworkers frequented with another man’s arm secured around your waist, you would’ve done that ages ago.

“well, he definitely made me cum way more in the last m—” you don’t even get the chance to finish your sentence, one of his rough hands flying up to your neck to squeeze it just enough to make the words die in your throat. his other hand grabbed his cock and teased the tip of it against your folds, the fabric of your panties so drenched with your juices they stuck perfectly to your fluttering pussy, and he could feel it all.

“oh yeah? how many? so smug and for what? he must have not done a good job then because here you are, dripping for me and i haven’t even done anything.” he let his cock rest underneath your heat, slowly moving his hips to tease you as he bunched your skirt up to get a clear view. all the patience and control he thought he had was already wavering, but it flew out of the window right then. like all the months of self-restraint, the guilt he felt towards your dad, even when he was fucking his fist alone at night on facebook family pics his best friend would post every so often, bringing his deepest desires out on the surface all over again. it all meant nothing when he finally pushed your panties out of the way, unashamed of the amount of precum mixing with your juices, as he bit down on your ear before letting his tip slide into your heat. “but i have all the time i want to match whatever number it is, angel.”

JAY | who had to watch you walk around with your boyfriend, his stupid face always so bright ever since you gave him the news that you’re pregnant. stupid fucking idiot who thinks he’s the dad. but of course, jay knew better. there was no way that child growing in your belly wasn't his, not after making sure to cum inside you time and time again whenever he had the chance, until his body physically couldn’t cum anymore. he hated your boyfriend and he hated to know you let his dirty hands on your body. he hated that he couldn't claim you publicly, letting everyone know you’re his. so all he had, to keep whatever little shred of sanity left in him, was knowing that your child is a product of your love.

and when his head nuzzled in your hair as he breathed in the sweet scent of your shampoo while pumping his cock carefully in and out of your wet cunt, he asked time and time again if you knew it’s his offspring you're carrying, if you were doing all this on purpose to make him hurt.

“but of course you know—how could you not,” he said in open mouthed kisses against your neck, his hands sliding away from your thighs to swipe soothing figures with his thumb into the skin of your swollen belly. how could it be so wrong? even if he’s your step dad, even if he recently married your mother? his love for you couldn’t be wrong, because then why did it feel so right? something so beautiful and pure just has to be right, he thought to himself. his hands wandered to your tits full of milk, playing gently with your hypersensitive nipples, careful not to hurt you. “shhhh little girl, it’s okay, i’ve got you,” he murmured along the skin of your shoulder as he kept rubbing his fingers all over your tits, the little droplets of milk only helping his digits to move smoothly. you sounded so pretty mewling like that for him, looked so pretty squirming in his strong hold, your back arched as you started to fuck yourself back on jay’s cock. “what a good little girl… helping daddy out,” he moaned in your ear before bringing one of his fingers to his mouth and licking it clean, loudly groaning at the taste of your milk. “so fucking sweet baby, fuck… you always make daddy so proud.”

JAKE | truly didn't mean for this to happen, but it was happening anyway so you two should just make the best of it, at least that’s what you hoped he thought. you though? fuck, you felt so embarrassed. leaving your cheating boyfriend for his dad was one thing. but knowing he was listening in to you two fucking? that’s next level. jake didn’t seem particularly fazed by it, actually maybe a little… excited about it?

you’d swear he’s been pounding you into the matress even rougher than he was before, since he heard the front door slam, signifying his son was back home when he shouldn't have been. you were always so careful with making sure you only went over when your ex boyfriend wasn't there, or maybe jake had done that on purpose? lied to you… but he would never, would he? he’d always been so sweet and caring, truly the best man you’ve ever had. and honestly even if he did plan for this, you were not coherent enough to realize, at least not while he held your head down on the mattress with his huge veiny hand, the other roughly holding onto your hip as he unapologetically pounded into you, making the headboard of the bed slam repeatedly into the wall. the exact wall against where you knew your ex boyfriend’s desk is placed. jake was usually so soft, always putting your pleasure above his, what had gotten into him?

you could barely think as you moved your head to the side to be able to breathe, the relief short lived because soon after he grabbed your hair in a makeshift ponytail and yanked you up against his chest, his hips never faltering as your face started to feel even hotter. you couldn't tell if it was the humiliation or the pleasure, or maybe both.

“stop fucking holding back,” his tone was almost mean, so uncharacteristically him, and it brought tears to your eyes, but also made your messy cunt leak even more. you didn't want to be heard, but jake was making it one hell of a challenge to keep quiet, especially when he let go of your hip and brought his hand to rub harsh circles on your clit.

“please sir… slower,” you bit down your moans, pleading through gritted teeth. and jake was not happy about it. the sting on your clit was sudden, your body jerking in his hold as you slowly realized he’d just slapped your clit.

“no,” his voice left no room for backtalk, as he hit your bundle of nerves one second time. “you will let him hear how much better i fuck you.”

SUNGHOON | was the first man you allowed to touch you. he was obsessed with you from the moment you shyly walked up to him to introduce yourself when you first met him, pretty large eyes looking up at him with a glint he couldn't quite decipher at first. he slowly learned it was submission. from day one, you’d been nothing but obedient, always looking for praise, always trying your best to make him a proud instructor. and you just always looked up to him with such innocence… it felt wrong, how hard it made his cock.

so when he finally had you for the first time, he had to try his best not to cum right then and there, when you told him you’d never been with anyone like this. you couldn't even look at him as you confessed it, poor little thing. no one had ever pushed past your folds inside your tight fluttering hole, you’d never had anything push between your lips, never had anyone taste you. he was obsessed with that thought. he’d get to be your first everything, and that made his cock twitch in his pants.

“it’s okay baby… i will make it feel so good…” he said as he captured your lips in a kiss once again, so soft and careful as if he might break you. the kiss was deliberately slow and sensual, he wanted to just bask in the moment, afraid it might end too soon, his hands roaming around your body and pulling you flush against him, his length rubbing against your body. you gasped at the contact, breaking away suddenly, surprised at how he chased your lips again right away.

“wan’... wanna make you feel good…”

he could tell you were holding something back, too shy to initiate it, so he helped you out. “who is it pretty girl mh? who do you want to satisfy?” he watched you carefully, cradling your head with his hand, and nearly groaning when your nuzzled into his palm right away, just like a little kitty.

“wanna make daddy feel good… don’t know how to,” you stuttered out, hiding your face in his hand, too embarrassed to keep eye contact. he doesn't know where he found the self control to not turn you against the lockers in the changing room and take you right then and there, but somehow, he did. instead dropping to his knees in front of you and sniffing your cunt right through your workout leggings, mouth salivating instantly. he mouthed at your core, basking in your cute whimpers, before he finally slid the thick fabric down along with your panties, enough to reveal your puffy little pussy. he grabbed your thighs, bringing you over his mouth completely, admiring her from so close. “another time sweet girl… let daddy take care of this needy little thing first.”

SUNOO | loved showing you off to everyone. to his employees, to his friends, to his collaborators and most of all, to his competition. especially when said competition has… history with you.

he always made you wear nothing under your skirt, granting him easier access during the night. at that point, you had started to get used to all the weird looks and whispers you got when, like clockwork, his hand slid between your thighs under the table to toy with your pussy. not like they ever said anything anyway, sunoo was just too powerful and important for them to. regardless of how fucking weird he is.

this time though, it’s different. the guest for the night was none other than yang jungwon, one of sunoo’s top competitors, and well… probably your most infamous old fling. and sunoo was fucking loving it. for the special occasion, he’d encouraged you time and time again during the night to sneak your hand in his pants. and so you do; what sunoo wanted, sunoo got. that was the rule.

the air was charged with tension despite the almost laid-back look of it all: sunoo laying back against his chair like absolutely nothing was going on, and jungwon seemingly uncaring for what was actually going on, if not a little humored by it. and they were just making casual conversation at that. “heeseung… haven’t heard that name in a long time,” jungwon pondered, reaching for his wine glass.

“yeah… last time i met him he— fuck yeah puppy, just like that.”

your hand froze on sunoo’s cock, noting the twitch in his length. he always loved putting you in embarrassing situations, got off on it. your eyes widened like a deer caught in the headlights as you looked at jungwon, your foot nervously tapping on the floor when he stopped mid sip. he looked between the two of you, eyebrow quirking slightly before downing the rest of the wine in one swing. “puppy, huh?”

you wanted to hide somewhere, anywhere. let the ground engulf you and never let you escape. but sunoo pinched your thigh, and you knew it meant he wanted you to keep milking his cock with your fist, so you did.

“a very obedient one,” sunoo snickered, and you hated how it made you clamp your thighs together in search of some friction.

“she knows how to use her hands, but her head is even better,” jungwon commented, clearly amused by the situation.

“agree, had to train her to take it though.” they were talking about you, in front of you, completely ignoring the fact that you were there to hear it. and for some sick reason it turned you on. you glanced back at sunoo with a questioning look on your features, and he pet your head a few times, the usual glint in his eyes telling you to keep going, or he’d have to teach you a lesson when you two eventually left the restaurant. and one thing about sunoo, you never wanted to push him to do that.

JUNGWON | prided himself in being a calm and collected man, always level headed. that completely flies out of the window when it comes to you. but could you blame him? when he sees how all your coursemates tried to get paired up with you, found any excuse to talk to you? he knew they just wanted to get in your pants, he saw it in how they watched you, how their eyes roamed all over your body whrn you were not looking their way. he saw it in their eyes too, and he fucking hated it.

he knew it was not your fault, but he couldn't take it out on them. after all, what you two have was a secret. so instead, he took it out on you. called for you to stay back so you two could talk after class was over and everyone was already leaving, you happily walking towards him without a know in the world of the storm raging inside him. you caught up soon though, when you noticed how hard his jaw was clenched and how his knuckles were turning white from the strong grip he had on the crumpled papers.

he hastily took off his tie, securing it around your wrists so your arms were bound together behind your back. you were so confused as he made you get on his desk, looking back at him to ask what's happened but he didn't even let you get a word out before he pushed you on your knees. your upper body bent forward to rest on the desk because your arms were tied together, unable to support yourself up. your ass was facing him as he stood behind you, pushing your skirt up to reveal your bare cunt. no panties.

this would usually excite him, but in his jealous haze, it only enraged him further. “and you wanna act like you don’t know what the fuck you did?” he spit out, yanking you closer to the edge of his desk. “slutting yourself out like this? when you know how everyone is trying to get a look under your skirt?”

“won, what are you—”

“won?” he landed a harsh slap on your ass, your body jerking forward at the sting.

“sir! sorry sir—”

“yeah you’ll be sorry alright.” he took a seat on his chair, bringing your ass to hover close to his face before diving in and licking a stripe from your clit to your hole, groaning in satisfaction at the taste. “no cumming today, little brat.”