#their equally maniacal grins

[dailydccomics]

Green Arrow and the Speedys Green Arrow vol 3 #47

[atyourmerci]

Ethical dilemma

Therapist!ellie (read part 2 here)

CW: smut, MDNI, dom!ellie, bratsub!reader, sexual tension is fuckin palpable, blindfold, hypnosis, walked through orgasm, talks of masturbation, mutual pining but there’s laws oh no!, no y/n, no pdor

A/N: I fear this is so self-indulgent I will not be elaborating

X

“Highly unethical,” the auburn haired woman gives a small laugh, standing from her seat to walk you out as she always did. You’d asked about the details of the girl you see in her waiting room after you every Thursday. Dr. Williams was not privy to your sexual endeavors that came from her own hands��well her office for this manner.

She was a good therapist, best you’d ever had truly. Sure she understood all the lesbian lingo, formalities and functions that didn’t need to be gaysplaned to an unfortunate witness. But it felt as if she truly understood you, had a true knack to play out your actions before you ever thought of them. It was her job to fix your fuckups, not predict them.

She felt it, when you changed. How much thicker the air got, how she could slice it with her knife. The way your body expanded in her chair shifted, opening your chest for sight. Your gaze started to only focus on her, directed, pointed even, letting your lips open. When you started drawling out moments of your sexual endeavors down to every touch, how you tried to read her as she read you. You tried to make her crack, see any sense of appeal, to which she responded akin to a brick fucking wall.

Hell she knew your ‘new hookup’ was a sham, you were just dying to plead to her how unsatisfied ‘she’ left you. She knew the person you were, she knew you best after all, didn’t she now? You’d never stay, and she clocked it.

But she played your game, nodding along, letting you babble about all the times you had to finish yourself off afterwards.

She’d let herself have that, the pleasure of thought, the images of your panting breath, dry fingers, and cracked lips. In another life she’d agree to help you out, fix your ache. But Ellie was an ethical woman, level-headed, and morally sound, this was not her circus to corral.

She’d just remind you to focus on yourself, in whatever form that came.

‘Tell me to fuck myself’ you’d pray in your mind, begging for a mere innuendo from her, anything to use for later. You wished she’d talk you through it, and she would, in another life.

The entire time you’re rambling on she’d think of the ways she would walk you through it, praising you for how good you were doing, how beautiful you looked messy and broken down just for her. But a respected woman has limitations, rules, structures built exiling that from her will, “is there a reason you keep going back to her? Even though you don’t feel satisfied?”

“I need it,” you remark frankly, desire white hot that ate away at your skin like a bad infection.

“You need sex?” Ellie questions, her eyes forming into a squint as her head cocks. She cant seem to write this down, engulfed by your blatant admission.

“Don’t we all doctor…don’t you?” came out utterly direct, shifting your weight to your forearms that now rested on your thighs that allowed your blouse to reveal the peaks of your breasts. Maybe you were trying to intimidate her, and maybe it worked.

“This isn’t about me,” she said, but not what she thought, and you clocked it. The way her teeth drew in her bottom lip, the furrow of her brows, busying her gaze down to her blank paper. Never mustering up a reason to record your sessions, what was she to say? Lines blurring to an extent that shouldn’t allow you to still be here.

“But isn’t it?” you dart back, a grin easing up your lips, equally as maniacal as it was sensual. A pleading request for her to sink her teeth into, to rip the flesh from bone.

She should have asked you to never return, refer you to another doctor. Suddenly so aware of her surroundings, breaking herself from your delusions, “thats time, I’ll walk you out,” but she couldn’t, giving you a pitied smile, standing from her chair.

-

“Id like to try something new today,” Ellie says, an air of hesitancy rings through your ears.

“You going to reveal the skeletons in your closet Doctor?” You say in a teasing manner, crossing your legs in your usual spot, but Ellie remained standing.

A glimmer of a smirk forming on her lips, “have you heard of hypnotherapy?”

“First a doctor, now a magician what a pay drop,” you snide.

“Do you trust me?”

She had you lie on her couch, uncharted territory, too spacious for comfort, for rules and barriers, “now close your eyes for me,” Ellie remarks, seated on top of the coffee table, inches from the couch.

“what if I cant keep them closed, will I fuck up the juju?” you say peeping at her with one eye.

“I have a bandana-“ knowing you’ll cut in with your sexual advances she cuts off your process, “-for hypnosis, would you like that?”

You tie the black cloth around your eyes, cutting off the essential sense, suddenly so aware of your body. Feeling the tips of your fingers, the race of your heart, beating the blood to your veins.

“Tell me what you see,” the doctor pries, watching your open mouth, the way it releases at her words. The steady rise and fall of your chest, the control she had over your undirected weight.

“its just me.”

“Where are you?”

“I- I don’t know, it’s white everywhere,” Your senses so heightened, feeling the breath as it escapes your throat.

“What are you feeling,” Ellie says palming her hands, eager to break you down. The desire the scale the walls of your mind.

“Frustrated,” your breath beginning to shorten, that eery feeling creeping back into your bones.

“what else?”

“it hurts- hurts so bad” the burning to be satiated, body still yet so charged.

“Whats making it hurt?” Ellie could help, ease your killing wounds. Would she, or would she watch as you wilt like a flower in the beating sun?

“I cant fix it, it wont stop,” you pant out, sweat dripping down the valley of your chest.

“Are you touching yourself?” she leaps, walking the tight rope as a foot slips.

“yes-yes,” your mouth agape, fists balling into a white grip at your sides.

“You need to finish, don’t you?” she revels in your pain, the unstilted need.

“I need you,” you corrupt, breaking the thin layer of morals that stood between you and your desires.

“Im there with you, aren’t I always?” she taunts, voiding herself of her principles. Allowing herself to play into her horrors, you were merely a symbol of prey.

“Please-“ you breathe out, on the cusp of release at the expense of her mercy. Blood running hot as your cunt pulses untouched.

Bringing her mouth to the edge of your face, you feel her breathe through your body, breaking through your flesh.

Ever so softly, “let me satisfy you.”

[suguru-getos]

jjk men as the type of yanderes:

characters included: gojo, geto, yuta, megumi, sukuna

gojo satoru:

yandere tendency: manipulative, overpowered, soft.

gojo satoru is the type of yandere who will be fine with most of your antics. his little baby trying so hard to annoy him? how absolutely adorable of her. the thing is, he also knows he is too powerful for you and that subjecting you to that power is going to have consequences. he's always kind, nice, happy-go-lucky around you. he tries to take the subtle route, ask you out for dates and stuff but he lacks patience. he has so much love to offer he can't wait for you to reciprocate. he would eventually just kidnap you. however you get everything you want and need. he wouldn't even take your phone away, just don't talk to men and don't even… dare. to talk. about. leaving him. that triggers him. the only time he has been truly, unforgiving and blinding hot with his rage was when you fled away from the gojo estate. you saw him dancing around in the sky, floating with a maniacal grin as you tried to hide amongst the flooded trees in the estate where he just chanted. "no matter where you go, I will find you always, come out on your own and you won't see daddy's punishments." he meant it, and you didn't have the guts to disobey him. like a squeaky, meek rat, you came out from under one of the trees, satoru in front of you looking down with gritted jaw. "haven't I given you enough?" his hold on your jaw is firm as he picks you up, tosses you over his shoulder and walks back to the estate. his coldness is difficult to handle since he's always simping around you, but let's say you needed to re-assure him that you wouldn't leave by giving him your first kiss. he doesn't really do forcing but you'd much rather have the old satoru back. this one has trust issues and this one knows how to manipulate you. "you know one of these days you'd make me so angry I kill everyone you hold dear princess. it wouldn't be something I would want to do… but I- i- just lose control." scary, nice, and ever so kind and manipulative>

geto suguru:

yandere tendency: hot and cold, gaslighting, extremely loving.

suguru is simple and patient. as long as you are in front of his eyes he does not mind anything at all. however, there are times when his carefully twisted smile turns into a frown whenever you disobey him. suguru is good to you when you are good to him. if you do not listen to him then there are punishments for everything. maybe you wouldn't get to talk to your friends for a week. "you don’t deserve me being so kind when all you do is hurt me." suguru knows how to bend you to his will, when you get rebellious over it and ex: stop eating food, he does not have any problem forcing food down your throat by keeping one of his curses latched to your body. what else can you do? vomit it out?? out of sheer spite?? suguru geto has a solution for everything. if you do so, he's going to pretend he's surrendering, hold you in his arms and be so kind as if he's so guilty for making 'you' act up. if only he'd been good enough yeah? then you wouldn't be so rebellious. he's going to be so good, show his true devotion to you. aw? why're you crying? he's just trying to make you cum! over and over and over! hey! it’s just body worship. don't squirm away angel… at the end of it you're a sobbing, overstimulated mess and bent down to his will. suguru can make punishments sexual because he's delusional enough to think that giving you painful pleasure is not equal to hurting you. he would give you so much aftercare though, call you perfect, call you a champion for dealing with it, give you body massages, if you really don't bend to his will… he's manipulative enough to kneel down and stain your thighs with his tears as he leans his head on your thigh and mumbles how sorry he truly feels.

yuta okkutsu:

yandere tendency: too nice, forgiving, delusional.

yuta knows being couped up like this does not feel nice. he calls you his little hummingbird. because you sound so adorable begging and screaming to be freed. if only he could do that. "the world outside is really bad baby, I'm sure you don't know that and I'm so glad you don't. I will make sure you wouldn't know anything about it as well." he has you on his lap, forcing a hug and tearing up whenever you resist. his heart gets instantly broken when you resist his affections though. that… makes him extremely dramatic. why would you do that to him? hasn't he been nice? yuta would never willingly, knowingly hurt you. never… but accidents happen okay? especially when someone loves you so much, then the betrayal also brings the worst emotions there is. he would 'accidentally' break your wrist by holding you too tight when you're squirming away, would accidentally cause you dizzy spells by kissing you too hard. you're just so delectable and so easily broken how can someone like him keep steady? after the accidents happen yuta changes, he almost goes… distant. as if he does not trust himself around you. around his precious little baby… until it re-starts all over again. however, he does have a stern belief that you love him too. you're just too shy to accept. his beautiful, shy little thing.

fushiguro megumi:

yandere tendency: stern, disciplining, in-control

fushiguro is no stranger to the twisted feeling that brims within the depths of his heart whenever he sees you. but he also knows that it would be futile to expect you to feel the same. he knows he needs to earn it. but god- when you love someone else already? why did you have to do that? can't you really see you were meant for him? the logical part him tries to overpower the illogical, love-sick version and fantasy of you taking his cock and belly full with his kids but falls in vain. megumi really is sorry… when he strangles your partner to death in front of you. he really does not want you to see it, but then how else will he show you what he is capable of? what he can do if you do not listen to him? he lets you take your space after and grieve in his bedroom, which is now your shared bedroom. the first few weeks, you're too terrified of him to not listen to him. however… he doesn't even touch you. you just have a few set of rules. eat on time, sleep on time, come to him for anything and forget about everything except him. he would sit beside you and run his hands through your hair, soothing you through the breakdowns. "I will tolerate this for as long as you need, but do know… that man is dead for a reason. no person in love with you is allowed to live. except me." megumi is almost unhinged with his feelings and there would be repercussions. for example: you said you would rather die than love him? how can you say that? have you seen the future? no right? then how could you say that? nothing breaks a brat better than some spanking. the humiliation intermingled with the pain is sure to set you straight. and yes- it does. at the end of it, you're too bent to his will, seeking comfort from him as you cry out against his chest and he softly coos sweet nothings against your ear.

ryomen sukuna:

yandere tendency: sadistic, lethal, manipulative, selfish

half of the time, sukuna does not acknowledge that he has fallen for a human. you're torn with the king of curses fighting with his own self, and still keeping you close. sukuna does not show affection normally. he is the master of evil, the pure reincarnation of all the negativity. at first he would keep you with him. his true form is too big and too scary for you to retaliate either. you just need to be a puppet. he hates and loves it how you are so teeny tiny compared to him. a feeble little human, his little lamb. he often threatens you with pure violence. he would rip a finger out and heal you with reversed curse techniques since he does not like his masterpiece broken. rules are simple: you do what sukuna sama desires and what sukuna sama wants. otherwise- you suffer the punishments. there are times where he had been cruel enough to eat your past relationships in front of you, alive, the sound of gnawing at flesh as he consumes them while the high adrenaline keeping them alive is your worst nightmare. you are allowed to throw up, it is a gory sight of course. but then you must apologize for being filthy in front of your master by sitting on both his cocks. very unhinged, the scariest yandere in the jjk-verse imo.

[sillysowa]

IF YOU STOP NOW, I SWEAR I'LL KILL YOU

Pairing: Satoru Gojo X Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut with plot, fluff and light angst snuck into the end

Word Count: 8.2K

Warnings: Inappropriate use of a cursed technique, bondage with Gojo's blindfold, semi-public sex(?), oral (fem receiving), penetrative sex, reader tastes their own cum

Synopsis: You've known Gojo since high school, and he's always enjoyed getting on your nerves, so of course he wouldn't pass up an opportunity to train you now that you're both teachers at Jujutsu High. How can he keep his composure when you show him your cursed technique? The one that allows him to feel everything he does to you? You feel too good to quit, not like Satoru could dream of stopping anyway

Reblogs are sooo appreciated!!<3

-

Your spine slammed against the hard floor for what you hoped would be the last time that night, and the groan that tore from your throat made your haughty counterpart laugh. You gave in and went limp, but Gojo kept up, his strong arms locked onto your frame to keep you restrained, to train you the best he could. Recently, you had been incredibly eager to learn, and Satoru was equally as keen to teach you because he just loved your spunk. It was nice to have someone he went to high school with come back into his life, even though you were a lot more of a bitch in training than he remembered. However, he allowed all your sass because he couldn’t let you go out in the world saying you’ve learned from 'the one and only, the best, Satoru Gojo!' only to perform in any way that didn’t meet his standards, so he trained you, even when it disrupted his sleep. 

“You giving up, sweetheart?” Gojo sneered, staring down at you with his captivating blue eyes that you could’ve sworn were glowing in the low light. You didn’t like to look too hard, worried his six eyes ability might have some side-effect on you, but he seems to relish in this subtlety. Your body language tells him more than your words ever do. He shifts his head to maintain eye contact and his hair falls loosely around his eyes. You on the other hand attempt to hide your face against your own neck. 

“No.” You huff, blowing your hair out of your eyes with an exhale as your hands are currently out of commission, Gojo’s strong grip securing them down. he cracks a cocky smile at your body language, eyeing you up and down while he keeps your wrists crossed and pinned at your torso, both of your legs under one of his. You may say you haven’t given up, but your resolve is cracking. When you started hours ago, you were calm, and collected, and you could keep up with Gojo well enough, but now? Something shifted, and you seemed…nervous. 

Satoru Gojo was pretty sure he knew exactly what had made you so hot and bothered. He suspected it had something to do with the lingering touches throughout the night — when he had clasped both of your hands behind your back and bent you over his knee, when you pinned him down with your legs spread on either side of his waist, and probably most of all when he pulled your hair so you couldn’t escape him, putting you in the position you were currently in.

“Really? Sure looks like you are — wanna show me, or are you all bark and no bite?” Gojo grins, and when he does this, he’s close enough for you to see the amused squint of one of his eyes when he tilts his head to emphasize his point. It’s sheer maniacal joy at the expense of his precious shadow. You blink and suddenly he’s standing a good six feet away from you, and you’re lying on the floor like an idiot, starting to massage your wrists as you stand. 

You let the silence linger for a moment while you readjust your casual attire that’s starting to stick to your skin, and Gojo watches intently, his posture wide and taking up space in the small room.

“Why don’t you quit talking and find out?” You rasp out and anyone who walked by would assume you hadn’t spoken in weeks based on the gravelly delivery of your words, but no one would be walking by as it was just the two of you who were crazy enough to train at this hour. 

Gojo’s face lit up in delight, and he stepped closer, “Are you taunting me? That's exciting.” You saw him for only a moment and had no time to react before your hands were held tightly behind your back and his large frame was pressing hard against your back, his warm breath fanning over your neck and making your hair prick up. 

“You've got this, come on.” This time, Gojo’s not trying to provoke you, instead he aims to teach and encourage you — however, when sparring with someone like him, any motivation feels like mockery. 

You twisted against him and pulled his arm over your back, flipping him over you, but he grabbed onto your arm in the fall and brought you down with him. You’re face to face once more, those wild blue eyes squinted in a smile like this is just mere child’s play. You know what needs to happen, what Gojo’s been expecting this entire time. 

You clap your hands together, fingers interlocking in patterns only you know,

“Mirror technique: reflective chamber.”

And a visible wave of cursed energy flows over Gojo, blue rippling waves cascading down his form. Now, anything Gojo deals to you, he deals to himself also. For a moment, you both just huff and glare at each other, trying to catch your breaths through the summer night’s air. He scoffs and then laughs, but it’s a little different than the others of the night. Gojo’s laughing in excitement,

“Oh!” His tone fluctuates mockingly, “Don’t know if I should be congratulating you for finally figuring this out or if I should be worried! What do you think, hm? Should I be scared?-“

“I think you should quit this mind game you keep playing, I know what you’re trying to do — now come at me.” You sneer. Typically, you’re not this brash with Gojo, but the combination of the lack of sleep and his antics is starting to wear on your moral compass. Besides, you know he can handle it, having put up with your attitude throughout highschool. Satoru has always made it his goal to crack your shell and get a feel of your soft side, and he couldn't think of a better opportunity than these intimate late nights together,  

“If you wish.” Gojo smirks, eyeing you with fake concern before coming at you and landing a kick to your ankles that sweeps you right off your feet. You both know you let it happen out of sheer curiosity, and you barely notice the pain because you’re carefully watching Gojo’s expression as you fall, praying to see a change. You catch on quickly and grunt as your tailbone hits the floor,

“What the hell?” You groan, realizing that Gojo’s infinity prevents your technique from having any effects on him,

“Gojo, make this a real fucking fight, and stop using your infinity shit!” You hiss at the man who’s standing above you now, and when you go to grab at his ankle your whole body stills from his technique. You struggle and he watches with amusement before he deactivates it to watch you fall forward like a fool tugging on a rubber band, wounding themselves from the released elastic.

“Ah, alright, alright, I’ll humor you. but just this once, ‘kay?” Satoru’s silk voice comes from behind you as you pant on all fours, turning to face him as he slowly walks closer. 

You’re a little taken aback at the sight of Gojo dropping to his knees in front of you. It’s slow and cautious, unlike anything he’s done in your training, and you feel your whole face starting to burn as he puts his hands up defensively while coming closer — with anger or embarrassment you’re not quite sure, but it makes you feel like a lab rat rather than a human being, especially with the way his height cages you in,

“Gojo-“

“Ah-ah-ah! You wanted to practice your technique, correct? well,” He moves until your knees are at his chest, and even though his infinity isn’t activated, you feel as though you can’t move. 

“Let’s practice…” Satoru looks down at your arms that you’re using to prop yourself up, and you don’t follow his gaze, instead, you’re distracted by his long eyelashes and the small amounts of sweat that cling to his face, and how this close, for this long, you can smell him, and fuck, he smells sweet. Delicious even — you feel like you could take a bite out of him. Amid your thinking, you’re cut off by a slender finger tracing down your arm and forcing you to meet his gaze at the point of contact,

Gojo hums, one hand up to his chin, fingers gently rubbing and eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and his other hand steadily traces up and down your forearm, his ocean eyes watch as your skin pricks up and reacts to the touch, his skin following soon after.

“Hmm…it’s faint, but I can feel it too.” He gently hums. His demeanor is so relaxed it’s almost got you in a trance, lost in the moment completely. The wind whistles through the trees, the moon glows into the room through the open door, and your mentor, Satoru Gojo, is practically on top of you just tracing your skin.

You feel a sudden sharp pinch on your wrist, and you suck in a quick breath, tugging away from Gojo before his hand seizes you in place, long fingers grappling onto you.

Gojo’s own eyes twitch momentarily from the small sting, but he cracks a grin, 

“So sensitive — that was nothing!” Satoru taunts you, but there isn’t much malice behind it. You watch him with steady eyes, looking down at the small red mark that he now gently runs his thumb over. What an absurd place to be in. You have no idea how you got here and you have no training that’s prepared you for what’s happening right now.

What the hell is going through his mind?

Frankly, Satoru couldn’t answer that question himself. One moment you’re sparring and the next, you’re catching your breath under him while he plays with your reflective technique. He felt this rush in his blood, but he wasn’t sure if it was from your power or his own wild feelings. All he knew was that he wanted to touch you, and this ability of yours made things just so much more exciting. To touch you, and to feel not just his touch mirrored on his skin, but also the way your body reacts to it is something he can’t imagine not indulging in. 

Gojo looks up at you, and his heart forgets its function when he sees you’re already looking at him. It’s almost painful, feeling not only the jump of his own nerves but yours too, and he lets out a small groan from the feeling, 

“This is quite the technique you’ve got…” Gojo thinks aloud, swallowing his arousal and trying to keep calm and collected. This situation makes him feel like a horny teenager again; Gojo’s barely even touched you and yet he can’t ignore the twitching in his pants. He can’t handle the confused look you’re giving him, either. Who knew all he had to do was manhandle you and touch your bare skin to flip your switch? You’re suddenly so shy, and visibly nervous, but above all, he can sense a strong, carnal, need, just burning you up — can feel it every time you get chills or butterflies, and he wants to laugh at how frequently that is.

It’s a heightened sense of being alive that Satoru has never experienced, and he can’t risk messing up.

Not now.

He huffs, running a hand through his hair and letting a laugh out to try and alleviate some of the tension he built up. You look up at him, and he holds eye contact as his hands abandon your arm to slide up your ankles and onto the backs of your knees, a shiver racing up your spine from it. Gojo tilts his head and catches his lower lip in his teeth as he presses, spreading your legs. The movement makes you realize how sweaty you’ve become, the chill but humid breeze gently rushing in to cool your sweat to your skin and rouse the tall man’s hair. He looks like a cat of sorts, eyes fixed wide as he analyzes your reactions, and your body feels like it’s on fire under his cruel gaze. You struggle for words in the silent moment, but at last, they come to you,

“You don’t look so good, Satoru…I’m starting to think you’re the one who was all bark and no bi-“ You don’t get to finish your bratty sentence, instead, a small gasp leaves you and your hands rush to meet the back of Gojo’s neck after he moved his grip to your waist to gain the leverage to grind his throbbing dick against the heat in between your legs.

Oh. 

Oh, fuck.

Your clit throbs under your now tight pants, and that feeling, the dangerous one Gojo’s giving to you, affects him as well. Satoru’s cock jumps, and when it’s up against your cunt like this you’re both forced to crave the feeling again. 

Gojo looks down at you and he nearly cums in his pants at the sight. Your eyes are locked on his, your hair is sticking to your sweaty skin, your breaths are flowing quickly, quiet little moans and hums, and your loose shirt has exposed your gorgeous neck. Satoru finds that he can’t look away — that spot, that untouched area, it’s beckoning him. 

Satoru’s head moves before his eyes do to make eye contact with you as one of his hands comes to the back of your head, cradling it in his large palm, while his other hand trails up your arm, and his fingers intertwine with yours. He feels the pulsing heartbeat sensation of your arousal and he’s doing everything in his power to not fuck you like a rabid animal.  

“Gojo…” Your voice centers him, and his eyes focus on you, 

“Are we really doing this?” You whisper like you’re completely innocent, yet your legs wrap around his back, pulling him impossibly closer. Satoru’s eyes go wide, capturing you like a prisoner of his gaze, and when he looks down at you he can feel the thrashing of your heart against your rib cage. He considers your position, and he knows you both understand that this position isn’t…appropriate for two jujutsu sorcerers. If he keeps touching you like this, your dynamic will be forever changed. 

“Only if it’s what you want…do you want this?“ Satoru asks you with a tilt of his head, and with the way his neon eyes glow under the shadows of his hair, you can’t imagine a single soul who would deny themselves of this euphoria,

You nod, but that isn’t enough for him. Gojo starts to pull away,

“Words.”

“Yes!” You whisper-yell frantically, your hands chasing after him and finding themselves taking purchase around his head — one slipped into his silky hair and the other rested at the base of his neck, gently bouncing from his pulse,

“I need you,” You groan, “And if you stop now I swear I’ll kill you.” You punctuate every syllable, hammering in that you meant it, and the words hit Gojo square in his face, they sweep their way through his blood, and they stroke his dick just the way he likes it. 

“…Fuck…” Gojo moans. He was going to make sure you remembered those words. 

In that instant, his eyes lock onto your neck again, and he dips down to indulge in you. You catch the moment his eyelids flutter closed and then…then you feel him. 

Satoru’s nose and lips brush messily against your skin as he breathes you in, groaning against your neck and the sensation of it, fuck, the sensation makes your back arch off of the ground. His hair tickles, and his teeth ghost over your skin, tempting you just as much as he tempts himself,

“Fuck, you like this, huh? I can feel everything…the sensation’s grown from dull to just searing.” Gojo whines and the gravel in his voice makes you clench up down there, his warm breath on your neck causing the throbbing in your clit, which you now know he feels.

“Everything?” You whisper against his hair.

“Everything.” He grinds against you, and he finally sinks his teeth into your sweet skin. The moan that tears from your throat makes his eyes roll into the back of his head. One of his hands cradles the back of your head and holds it firmly, and the other meets your raised lower back, slipping under your shirt to grip at your skin. He can feel the impression of his bites against his own neck, and it’s irresistibly overwhelming.

You feel like you’re on cloud nine. Your eyes fight to stay open and your hips buck absentmindedly as Satoru’s tongue laps across the side of your neck. He’s humming and moaning in satisfaction, and it’s so perverse you could cry. He’s sucking and biting all over your neck, and the thought of having discolored marks in the shape of Satoru Gojo’s desire all over you in a matter of hours has you seeing stars. The groans he lets out right into your ear have you grinding against him hard, and he wants to give you some satisfaction, so Satoru moves one of his legs right in between yours, his thigh right up against your clit, and oh, god.

“Ah! Gojo!” You cry out, and he softly sinks his teeth into your neck, almost growling, 

“Satoru,” he whispers against your ear with his lips grazing your skin so gently,

“Call me Satoru when I touch you like this, doll.” He purrs, leaving one more wet kiss against your skin before pulling away from your neck to admire his work. You, sprawled out and needy with wet skin and soon-to-be hickeys,

“Wow. You look an absolute mess.” He smiles, and rubs his knuckles over the many bite marks he left,

“You’re one to talk…” You whine, squinting from the way your nerves are reacting to his every touch,

“You’re covered too.” You reach out and Satoru humors you for a moment, watching you with cautious eyes in preparation for whatever moves you may have up your sleeve when your hand dips down to the bottom of his loose black shirt, starting to tug on it. He catches your hand in one of his and reacts quicker than you could ever dream of, tearing your shirt down the middle with his free hand as a wide smile coats his face. The gasp that leaves you is too loud and too erotic for comfort, and Gojo presses his palm over your lips with his eyes blown wide,

“Shhh, shhh! You wouldn’t want someone to come in and see you like this now, would you? Stay quiet, you little brat.” He spits the name out to get under your skin, and he eats up your facial expression.

Oh, you could just hit him, but you’re more concerned with the way your nipples are hardening right now. It’s not cold enough for them to perk up from the air, and you and Gojo both know that, explaining his smugness. 

“How hard are they to be poking through your bra like this?” He rubs his chin in mock concern, and his harsh gaze is seemingly making them grow even tenser. 

You bring your hands up to cover yourself and Satoru moves them.

“I had no idea I got you that hot and bothered!” He lies through a shit-eating-grin and pulls his blindfold out from his sweatpants pockets, and the unspoken acknowledgment of what he plans to use it for makes your heart drop, and Gojo feels it all — fuck does that stroke his ego,

“Shit baby, I’m learning so much about you right now — correct me if I’m wrong, but your body’s telling me you just love being controlled like this.” Satoru brings the smooth slip up to your face, dragging it over your cheek and feeling the burn of your heated face against his knuckles,

“The element of surprise gets you so wet-“

“God!” you whine dangerously loud and slap the blindfold from his hands, flinging it above your head.

“You’re dragging this out on purpose! just-just, fuck me please…” Your voice trails off and your sentence becomes nearly unintelligible at the end, clouded by your pride. the only reason he heard you was because he was close enough to practically breathe your words in, but you didn’t have to know that,

“Didn’t catch that baby, wanna repeat yourself?”

“Like hell, you didn’t-”

“Honest, babe! Repeat it for me.”

“…Fuck me.” You whisper.

“Hm?” He leans in even closer,

You just couldn’t believe you were begging for Satoru Gojo’s dick against the floor of a lamp-lit training room in the middle of the night. This was doomed from the start.

“Fuck me.” You grit out, tensing against your restraints.

“Begging looks so good on you, y’know,” Gojo whispers, lips ghosting over your own,

“Shut up, Toru.”

“Why don't you make me?”

And finally, you get to taste that cocky bitch against your tongue. Your lips meet, and you skip the formalities, mixing spit and groaning into each other’s mouths in the most uncouth manner. You’re fucking frenching Satoru and it’s so much better than you could’ve ever imagined. He’s noisy, whining against you and grinding his dick down as if it’ll somehow slip in. There’s a million bratty things you could say, but the power dynamic of someone overpowering you like this is a guilty pleasure you’re willing to indulge in because Satoru Gojo makes you feel so fucking good. His lips work well with yours, and you start to feel as though he’s trying to eat you alive. He deepens the kiss, causing your eyes to roll behind your closed eyelids. Your eyelids flutter open for a moment, and the sight you’re met with looks crafted by divine hands.

Gojo’s beautiful blue eyes bore into yours and hold you prisoner. Your breath hitches, and he roughly grabs your hands, sliding them up above your head and pinning them with one of his much larger ones, all while holding eye contact. What a fucking man.

He breaks the kiss with a grunt and the blindfold has made its way back into his hands. Gojo goes to work on your wrists with the silk, fastening the knot in a matter of seconds while panting over you. Your heart rate is so high Gojo looks down at you with genuine concern, a large hand holding your shoulder,

“Too much?”

You gulp with your back arched and your mouth glossy from the previous events. You know you can’t lie to him in this position,

“No…” You mewl after forcing yourself to spit out the embarrassing acknowledgment that you’re enjoying being tied up. 

“Of course, it isn’t.” He chuckles, throwing his head back and raking his fingers through his hair,

“I mean, cantle to me when your pussy’s throbbing against my thigh.” He feels your burning embarrassment before seeing your attempt to make a smart-mouthed quip back at him and he beats you to it,

“It’s weird, I can feel the tension of being bound around my wrists, but unlike you, I can still move! It seems I’ve found a flaw in your technique, baby. Now, back to these…” Satoru looks below, eyes drifting to your chest to see your sports bra holding your breasts tight to your chest. There’s a valley of sweat gradually cooling in the breeze on your chest, and Gojo’s patience runs thin at the idea of what’s underneath.

“There’s…there’s no clasp…” You mumble, looking up at Gojo with what he can only describe as pleading eyes, begging him to do something about it. Who would he be if he didn’t oblige?

He grips the top of the bra and tears it down the middle like it’s a piece of lined paper. You gasp and Gojo looks at your face with pure shock,

“Please don’t tell me you’ll morn that thing — that may be the cheapest bra I’ve ever laid my eyes on!”

You scoff,

“What the hell? Do you think I was going to wear lingerie to spar with you?” You spit out from pure self-consciousness, and Gojo’s face lights up,

“Oh quit your whining. I’ll buy you a new one, yeah? Maybe a few, as long as I get to take them off you later.” After getting the satisfaction of your bashful face, Satoru returns his attention to your now naked chest and feels his saliva pooling. 

He simply takes it in for a moment, leaving you wildly nervous. Does he like them? After a while, he uses his left hand to palm your right breast, kneading it, squeezing it, and brushing his thumb over your nipple just to feel the way it lights your nerves up. It’s so fascinating to him how sensitive your smaller body is, and how he would have never known if it wasn’t for tonight. The way making eye contact with him stalls your heartbeats, the way his breath against your ear can make an entire side of your body burn alive with a tingling sensation, and now, his cold fingers against your warm chest and the way its effects spread through your entire nervous system — it’s art.

Gojo knows you’d never admit how good it feels, and even if you did it would never paint the picture as clearly as him just feeling it like this. 

He looks up at you through sex-crazed, half-lidded eyes, and his words drag with lust,

“I need you to keep very quiet, okay? Can you do that for me, baby?” He whispers. Gojo’s left hand continues to palm one of your tits, while his other hand reaches to play with your hair and holds your head to maintain eye contact.

“Y-Yes, yes.” The words come out strangled from the sensations, and you barely register what’s been asked of you, only knowing you don’t want any of this to stop and you’ll do whatever he wants.

Suddenly, his fingers clamp down on your nipple, squeezing for a quick second before sweet release. 

“Ah! Ahh, fuck!” You choke, writhing and groaning. Who knew Satoru Gojo was such a fucking sadist? And, god, who knew you were such a masochist? Though the sensation confused him biologically, Gojo could somehow feel you getting wetter and wetter down there. You were so sensitive he questioned if you were a virgin,

“Fuck, how long has it been since anyone’s seen you this way, pretty girl? Has anyone ever?” He teases, flicking your nipple, and deciding he shouldn’t neglect your left tit for much longer, divvying up his attention with both of his hands. Now, he leans down and captures one in his mouth and you swear you could cum in that very instant. His warm, soft, tongue laps at your nipple like a cat drinks milk, and he looks up at you the entire time. 

“Satoru, o-oh my god, Toru, please!” Your voice cracks in arousal and your head spins from the pleasure. He moans against your skin, and when he feels the vibrations of it, and the sensation of being tasted like this mirrored on his skin, he thanks his lucky stars for your technique. Satoru’s cock throbs painfully, cramped in his sweatpants as he kneels on top of you like this, but he’ll deal with it later. Through his daze, Gojo suddenly becomes aware you’re calling for him,

“—Satoru!”

He pops off of your nipple, 

“Yeah, baby?”

“I want you to eat me…please, Toru, I can’t take it anymore...wanna see your pretty face down there.” You pleaded through pained whispers. The words would have embarrassed you if you hadn’t been working up the courage to externalize them for so long. Now all they did was make you impossibly hornier, and Gojo could tell. 

You didn’t have to ask him twice. 

He shifted down, and the sight of him so close to your pussy made you overthink your request, but the need was too strong for you to be self-conscious now. The view made your knees spread further, making space for the man — Satoru, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer the world has known, on his knees just dying to get his mouth on your cunt. You could’ve sworn he was drooling. His hands worked like lighting on your sweatpants before he slipped his fingers under the waistband of your pants and underwear before he looked up at you, making eye contact while yanking them down agonizingly slowly. As he breathes out his nose, the hot air fans over your sweat-slicked skin. 

You kick gently to aid him in removing your clothes, and now you’re fully naked for him. It felt a little unfair that he was seeing you so vulnerable, and the most you had seen all night was a glimpse of his chest down his shirt as he tied your hands together. 

“F-fuck…” 

Satoru’s cursing brings you back to reality, and you can’t help it when you instinctively close your legs. He rushes forward,

“No, no, none of that. Let me see you.” Gojo’s hands rest on your knees and he rubs his thumbs over your skin. You clench your teeth in apprehension, worried he might not like what he sees, but you decide you’ve already come this far, and you can’t get in your own way any longer, so you oblige and slowly spread your legs open for him. 

It’s hypnotic, Satoru thinks, the way your body just beckons him and he craves you like a moth to a flame. His large hands grip your waist and crawl up your back, lifting you and making you let out a small yelp. Satoru’s large hands grip you, and with his sheer strength alone he pulls you up so you’re sitting on top of him and he’s laying back, your bound hands resting right over your cunt. You felt so exposed, but the position was new and exciting. And then it dawned on you,

“W-wait-“

Satoru looks up at you innocently, his hands kneading your hips. The way his hair falls around his face, exposing his forehead, the crazed look in his eyes, and the way his hands twitch atop your skin — you try to etch it into your memory forever. 

“Trust me, yeah?” And then Gojo moves.

He brings you to his mouth and presses a hot, open-mouthed, kiss to your closed lower lips. You let out a shaky breath, watching him. With your hands bound, you struggle to keep yourself upright, when you decide to tangle your hands in his hair and hold on. The groan he releases shocks you, and it goes straight to your twitching clit. Gojo uses his large hands to spread your legs and almost immediately buries his face against your pussy. You watch as his eyes roll into the back of his head, and the warm wetness of his saliva, paired with his stiff and skilled tongue has you melting,

“Hah- ah- ohh, fuck! Toru, Toru…” you moan and cry, hips bucking against his face. Every time you do so, your clit smashes against his nose, and you chase the feeling he’s so eagerly giving you. gojo eats you like he’s gone rabid, sucking you like a hard candy. His hands find their way to your ass, holding you steady while he makes out with your cunt, slurping in the most obscene ways — it’s enough to make you question if your face is on fire. You look outside for a brief moment and remember that if anyone just happened to be awake at the moment, you’d surely both be in trouble beyond your comprehension. The thought has you tensing up, and Gojo feels it too. He murmurs against your pussy,

“Hey, eyes on me.” 

Without a second wasted, you look back down, and the face you’re met with has you on the very brink of orgasm. Gojo’s eyebrows are pinched together in a needy way, and he’s struggling to keep his eyes open, eating you alive. You grind against him, slotted against his face like a puzzle piece. His sinful tongue laps at your clit with precision, and just like that Satoru knows he’s got you in checkmate. He sucks hard, moaning the way you like, and due to your technique, Gojo knows you’re close. In the next breath,

“Wh-what the fuck? Why did you stop?”

Satoru’s removed his face from your pussy, and strings of saliva connect it to his open mouth. His expression makes it look like he’s the one who just got eaten out, reminding you that he’s feeling everything you’re feeling right now.

“You were about to cum, right? I’ve never felt like that before, it was this swelling that just gradually got more and more intense — you didn’t cum, but you were so close.” 

“Yes, I was…I was right there, so why did you stop?” You sneer through clenched teeth, using your leverage in Gojo’s hair to pull his head back, causing him to hiss and moan from the pain. 

Your heart freezes over from the wild glint in his eyes.

“Oh, you brat.” He grins,

Gojo holds eye contact while he reaches up, tearing the blindfold around your wrist in half and detangling your hands from his hair. He aids you to the floor as he gets up, keeping you on your knees,

“Why?” He refrains, standing in front of you, 

You watch in awe as he slips his black shirt off of his head, jaw going slack while you behold the sight of his chiseled form. You barely have the time to process him as his pants follow suit, and his dick, which looks unbearably hard, springs up once freed from its confines. Satoru’s hand wraps around the base, giving slow but rough strokes with his head thrown back. He looks down at you through white lashes,

“Because I want to feel you cum like that when it’s on my dick.” 

As he finishes his sentence, his tip spurts a little precum, and you flinch as it lands on your face, he moves too quickly for you to react, and before you know it, Gojo’s pulling you onto back with a firm grip around your ankle, before flipping you onto your stomach. You moan loudly, and Gojo’s hand comes up to your lips, palm pressing down as he pulls your back smoothly against his chest, positioning you like a rag doll.

“Shit, you just love being manhandled. I never would’ve guessed all this perversion from my mouthiest shadow. You just want to be used like a fuck toy, hm?” Gojo whispers in your ear, hand moving from your mouth to your neck,

You pant, eyes fluttering in need, desperately seeking his touch with your arching and moans,

“I guess the cat’s out the bag” You grunt, smaller hands reaching up to rest on top of his large fingers that rest around your throat. 

“Put it in, god damnit, I can’t wait much longer.” You drag out your words in desperation.

“Alright, alright,” He whispers, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. You feel his tip slide up and down your slit, and he slaps it against you a few times before lining it up. He whispers after a shaky breath,

“Try to stay quiet for me, baby.” 

A long, broken mewl tears from your throat as he slides his dick in up to the base. You struggle to keep quiet more than you thought you would, and Gojo’s hand tightens around your throat. However, you’re not the only one struggling,

“F-fuck, fuck-” Gojo almost cries the string of curses in your ear, and you remember what he’s feeling. Your mouth waters at the realization that Satoru is simultaneously feeling his dick inside you, and himself. Gojo’s eyebrows twitch and his knees weaken, but he keeps his composure,

“How you feeling, Toru?”

You both whine as he fucks up into you slowly, trying to test the feeling. He thrusts with purpose, and each time he bottoms out you see stars. So this is what Gojo’s cock feels like. He laughs cooly, clearing his throat,

“I had a feeling my dick was the best one out there, but now I’m positive.” And Satoru thrusts back in harder, making you jump and yelp. He groans into your ear, and you’d clap back if you weren’t busy wailing from the sudden increase in speed and depth of his thrusts, the sound of wet skin slapping making your ears run hot,

“Ah! Ah! I can’t! I’m- ngh!- I can’t!” You tremble in your mentor’s hold, flailing from the pleasure and the impact of his body against yours. 

“Yeah, you can. Shit, fuck!- take it, take it all.”

His dick is hammering in and out of you and building up a sudden unfamiliar pressure,

“Satoru-“

“I know, I know, doll.” His voice cracks as he moans, “This greedy pussy’s just too sensitive, gonna squirt already. You’re gonna give me all of it, right baby? Can you be good and do that for me?” The hand around your neck trails up and pulls your hair back, Satoru’s lips now against your neck as he fucks you like an animal and his voice tilts hypnotically, echoing in your skull,

“Yeah, I know you can, dirty girl. Come on, cum for me.”

It doesn’t take much long after Gojo’s lewd speech for you to soak his dick. His speed keeps up, causing an endless flow of warm squirt that trails down his thighs and yours and drips onto the cold floor. You moan like you can’t breathe, and for a prolonged amount of time, you genuinely can’t. The initial feeling of squirting so much and so soon has you just about astral projecting, and Gojo’s struggling to keep himself from doubling over from the amplified pleasure. 

“Fuck, baby, look at the mess you’ve made.” 

One of Satoru’s toned arms wraps around your middle to support you as the other arm extends to the puddle below, coating his fingers and examining them in the lamp-light. 

You frown at the unashamed perversion of it, watching his hand right in front of your face. 

“Open up,” Demands Satoru, and you’re not sure why, but you do — almost no hesitation.

He laughs, and it gently shakes your body along with his,

“Atta girl! Oh, you’re so damn obedient like this, and all for me. You naughty girl, so dirty.“ He rasps, all kinds of amused with this unusual behavior from you. He slips his middle and index fingers into your mouth, letting you taste yourself. You swirl your tongue around his uncomfortably long fingers, eyes rolling back and sweaty skin sticking to his as you both breathe heavily. 

Gojo removes his fingers from your mouth before maneuvering you with a large palm on your lower back. He presses you down, your cheek against the floor and your ass in the air with an arm crossed over your back, held in place by his hand. He had you completely powerless, and the feeling in your gut from the revelation made you feel like a whore. His whore.

“Fuck, this pussy just loves me — mmh- sucking me in so fucking good.” Gojo dirty talks, his hips ramming against your ass like a machine as the sounds of sex bounce off of the walls. He was right about that; you were seemingly dripping for him non-stop. There was truly no need for lube when your partner was this good at turning you on. You had never acted this slutty a day in your life. The arch, the deep and guttural moans, the way you lean back to meet him with each thrust, it was deplorable, but somehow Gojo brought it out of you without a second thought,

“She does, doesn't she? I need to hear you say it, babe.” Gojos hands rest on both of your cheeks, pulling you against him and sheathing himself fully inside you for deeper thrusts. You cry out and quickly bite your lip to conceal it, shuddering breaths coming out of your nose,

“Y-yes…yes…loves you!” All you can do is pant through quick responses. You can’t keep up with him. How could he possibly have this much stamina after sparring with you for hours? It’s non-stop — the drag of his long, hard, dick in your soaking cunt, pulsing inside you and filling you up so deliciously.

Gojo can’t bite back his smile, and he can’t keep his eyes off of you. You; cocky, mouthy, bratty, little you, bent over taking his dick and just savoring every inch. He fucks you harder, if that was even possible, and opts to no longer silence you in favor of etching your every moan into his memory. They’re so fluid. Sometimes you whimper, and it’s high pitched, and it’s sickeningly submissive. Others are more hoarse, and pained, similar to the noises you made when you were sparring earlier. He loves every single sound.

“These filthy moans of yours are- ngh, so perfect, baby. Ah- I-I want more, need more.” Satoru pleads breathily, pulling out to hastily pick you up into his arms. Though he moves quickly, his grip on you is like a vice, never dreaming of dropping you. Still, you’re startled, holding onto him for dear life with your chin against his shoulder. He backs you up against the wall, right by the open door. 

You slam against it, hot and heavy, and the low-lidded look your mentor gives you has you gasping in need, your hands holding him roughly. Satoru doesn’t wait, instantly he meshes his lips against yours, groaning into you and he holds delirious eye contact while he slips himself back inside. You both feel the way your body reacts from the relief of Gojo’s length, moment while your eyes roll into the back of your heads. He breaks the kiss and presses his forehead against yours, the rhythm of his thrusts knocking you up, and down, and up, and down. The pleasure is too much, all-consuming, and overwhelming. It’s no surprise that you start to lose your strength to hold on, Gojo finding himself holding you to keep up his pace,

“F-fuck don’t tell me you’re- ngh- too weak already? You poor, pathetic, baby.” Satoru coos, his eyebrows furrowed and mouth hung for the endless stream of moans he can’t hold back,

“My cock feels that good, huh?” He rams into you faster, holding your waist and keeping you spread wide to take every inch. You gasp, and your nails claw at his back. Satoru grunts like the masochist he is from the feeling,

“Oh-oh my god, oh my god, oh my god- Ah!- Faster, faster, Satoru, faster!” The pace he’s set is unreal, and your hands can’t find purchase anywhere. You drag them down his back until it’s raw, slam them against the wall behind you, and at last, you dig them into his soft hair. His dick hits every tingling nerve inside you, and every time you’re able to make eye contact with him he’s already staring you down like prey, making your insides clench. 

“Satoru, m’gonna cum!” An airy yelp follows your warning, and Gojo smiles sinisterly, his pace unrelenting,

“I know, can feel it.” And he’s telling the truth. As you’ve gradually gotten closer, your technique has become stronger and stronger, nearly giving Gojo a hard time staying on his feet. With each thrust he feels your every nerve alive with need, begging him, screaming out to him, don’t stop.

He stills like a bullet train suddenly slamming to a stop. You snap out of your daze, looking at him with agony and hanging on to whatever explanation he has for you,

“Say my name.” 

Your head lolls back as a bratty groan rips from your throat. 

“Huh?” 

Gojo seizes your chin, making you face him. His eyes are blown wide with lust and he looks like he’s run a marathon from the sheer pain and struggle smeared all over his face. He thrusts his hips up into you, pushing you up the wall. The pressure inside your cunt makes you wince and your eyes roll back,

“F-fuck!”

“Say my name.”

“…Satoru.” 

He pulls out completely and slams deep inside, eyes trained on your pretty face to watch you come apart. You’re such a good pet for him, learning so quickly,

“Good girl, now was that so hard?” Gojo huffs in degrading annoyance. When you think this little game is over, he groans,

“Again.”

“Satoru- Agh!-“ 

“Don’t stop doll, who’s fucking you like this?” His thrusts pick back up,

“You, Satoru! S- Ah!- Satoru! Satoru!” You wail as he pounds you to a pulp against the wall. 

Gojo feels his dick pulsing inside you, his blood rushing like a stampede inside him. 

“Damn right.” He moans, grabbing your waist and suspending your limp body in the air to fuck you like you weigh nothing. You gasp and claw at him, and he nods feverishly, 

“Toru!”

“I know- hah- I know, doll. Come on, cum for me.” 

It’s like jumping off a cliff into the ocean or watching fireworks burst, or finishing a race. Your whole body buzzes with the fluttering feeling of the orgasm Satoru Gojo grants you so generously, and you gasp for a spare breath in the warm air that sticks to itself. Your whole body tingles like static, and your muscles tense as you come down. You’ve almost forgotten about the sight outside your eyelids, opening your eyes to watch Gojo come undone. 

He moans weakly, and it’s enough to make your clit twitch. His thrusts grow desperate and needy, and his grip on you tightens. Satoru’s dick feels warm and alive inside you, and your chest fills with racing butterflies as he suddenly pulls you close, arms encircling you when he cums deep inside. His body is pressed right up against yours, his dick fully inside you just filling you up, and his heart beats hard enough for you to feel it against your chest. It’s desperate, and it’s intimate. His breaths fan over your shoulder and he gulps, hands sliding over your sweaty skin to pull out and gently set you down. You can’t sit up, flopping down and curling in on yourself, breathing hard and heavy with your cheek pressed against the floor. 

“Hold on, sweetheart, hold on.” He rasps. Satoru retrieves his shirt from the floor and walks over to you, spreading your legs and wiping at the release that costs your inner thighs. He presses a soft kiss to your inner thing that makes you suck in a breath and shiver, your hands seeking him out. You must have finally turned off your technique, too worn out to keep it up, because he could no longer feel your nerves. Gojo knew it wouldn’t be long for him to miss that intimacy. 

“Come here,” He hums in that deep melodic voice that makes you melt, and he holds your wrists to pull you closer. The feeling of his large hand cupping your head and holding you against his bare skin had your breaths evening out in no time, and you felt yourself slipping into a vulnerable place you’d never have pictured showing Satoru.

“You did so, so, so, good, baby.” He slurs his words,

“Nice to see all that endurance training’s paid off.” 

“I’m tired.” You murmur almost inaudibly, your words muffled from exhaustion. 

“I bet you are. Let’s go to bed, come on.” Gojo chuckles softly, bracing you against him as he stands, holding you to his strong and bare chest.

The glow of the moon vanishes outside your closed eyes and before you can think too hard about it you feel your head hit a soft silk pillowcase on Gojo’s bed. He holds a black shirt in his hand, lifting your arms to slip it over your head and scooping you up gently to pull it down your back. He’s so attentive you worry you’re dreaming, but you could never even dream of one’s touch feeling this heavenly. While slipping in and out of consciousness, you missed the part when he dressed himself lightly and crawled into his bed, keeping his distance from you.

As a child ponders their next move when a deer stills in their path, you hesitate to act in this silent moment where Satoru shares his bed with you but denies you the view of his face.

You stare at the dark outline of his back as he breathes slowly, his white hair falling gracefully against his pillow, and your heart aches in your chest. Eventually, you whisper and reach out to ghost your fingertips over his back,

“Satoru?” 

And he turns to face you, humming. His blue eyes are swirling in thought and he looks like he’s hung on your every word. But you have nothing to say to him, only reaching for his hand and pulling him close, slotting yourself against him without a care for what it means. Satoru feels an invisible weight lift from his shoulders and wonders if you’ve freed him from some curse. As he looks down at you, he sighs and nuzzles his chin atop your head, allowing himself this moment. 

Satoru decides to hold you tonight.

-

[niallerspayno]

Troublemaker (Liam Payne x reader) - Fic Request

Masterlist

Anonymous request: Can you do a Liam one. I have no preference on the context of the fic, I just want something to read since I miss him a lot

You're the sixth member of One Direction, known for your mischievous streak and playful banter, especially when teaming up with Louis to cause chaos. It’s everything Liam, the ever-responsible "Daddy Direction," claims to dread—but maybe it’s exactly what he’s been dreaming of. After all, opposites have a way of attracting in the most unexpected ways.

Tags: Liam x reader, slight angst, fluff at the end, kinda enemies/friends to lovers

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

...

You dart down the narrow backstage hallway, laughing so hard your stomach aches. “You’ll never catch me, Lou!” you shout over your shoulder, your voice echoing against the walls. Louis is hot on your heels, equally breathless but determined, the kind of grin that spells trouble plastered across his face.

“Tag, you’re it!” he yells, lunging and narrowly missing your arm as you twist around a corner.

It’s chaos, pure and simple, but that’s nothing new for you and Louis. From the moment you became the sixth member of One Direction, you two have been inseparable partners in mischief. You’re the spark to his fire, the chaos to his carefully planned pranks. It drives Liam absolutely mad.

Speaking of Liam—

“Will you two stop it already?” His exasperated voice cuts through the commotion like a school teacher trying to control a class of rowdy kids. He’s standing near the catering table, arms crossed, jaw tight. His “Daddy Directioner” energy is in full swing, but you can tell he’s trying not to blow up entirely. There’s a show to put on in less than an hour, and the two of you are treating it like recess.

Niall is doubled over in laughter, barely managing to sip his tea. “This is the best pre-show entertainment ever,” he wheezes, while Harry leans against the wall, egging Louis on with shouts of, “Go on, mate, you’ve got her this time!”

Zayn, cool as ever, leans back in his chair with a smirk, his eyes flicking between you and Louis like he’s watching a live-action sitcom.

“Liam, you should join in,” you tease, shooting him a cheeky grin as you duck behind a rack of costumes. You don’t miss the way his jaw tightens even further. “Might loosen you up a bit.”

“Some of us have responsibilities,” he snaps, stalking toward you. “Unlike certain people who seem determined to injure themselves before we’ve even stepped on stage.”

Louis appears out of nowhere, lunging again and narrowly missing you. “Come on, Liam, live a little!” he calls out, dodging around a stagehand who’s clearly given up on questioning your antics.

“Absolutely not,” Liam replies, his tone firm. But the faintest hint of a smile pulls at the corners of his mouth, and you know you’ve got him exactly where you want him.

This is your life—touring with the five boys who’ve become your family, bringing chaos wherever you go, and somehow always dragging Liam along for the ride.

Louis slides to a stop next to you, both of you breathless but grinning like maniacs. “She’s too quick for you, Liam!” he teases, resting his hands on his knees. “Face it, mate, you’ve got no chance.”

Liam’s glare sharpens as he adjusts his hat—his signature hat. “I wouldn’t have to chase anyone if you two could just act like adults for once.”

You gasp, feigning offense. “Act like adults? Where’s the fun in that?”

Niall, perched on the arm of a nearby couch, nearly chokes on his tea from laughing so hard. “Liam, mate, just give up now. You’re never gonna win.”

Harry, sprawled out on the couch like royalty, smirks. “I dunno, I think he’s got a shot if he actually tries. Though…” His eyes flick to you and Louis, full of amusement. “They’re on fire today.”

Zayn chuckles quietly from his chair, watching the chaos unfold like a front-row spectator at his favorite show.

You lean toward Louis, speaking just loud enough for Liam to hear. “Hey, Lou. You thinking what I’m thinking?”

Louis’s grin turns downright wicked. “Oh, definitely.”

“Don’t even start,” Liam warns, already stepping back like he knows what’s coming.

Too late. You spring forward, making a grab for Liam’s hat. He’s quick, ducking out of your reach, but Louis darts in from the side and plucks it clean off his head.

“Got it!” Louis shouts, holding the hat high like a trophy as he takes off running.

“Louis!” Liam roars, chasing after him.

You laugh, cutting around Liam to intercept. Louis tosses the hat to you mid-run, and you catch it with ease, holding it above your head as you twirl away from Liam’s grasp. “Come and get it, Payno!” you tease, dancing just out of reach.

“Give it back!” Liam’s tone is firm, but the faint smile tugging at his lips gives him away. He’s trying to stay mad, but you know he secretly loves the chaos—at least a little bit.

“Not a chance,” you call, dodging behind Niall, who nearly spills his tea again.

“Careful, Liam!” Harry shouts, his laughter ringing out. “You might actually break a sweat before the show starts!”

Liam lunges for you again, but you’re too quick, darting around a stack of equipment cases. Just when you think you’re safe, a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back against a solid chest.

“Gotcha,” Liam murmurs, his breath warm against your ear.

Your laugh catches in your throat as you glance up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the triumphant glint in his eyes. “Well, this is a nice surprise,” you say, tilting your head with a teasing smile.

“Hand it over,” he demands, his grip firm but not unpleasant.

“Or what?” you challenge, your tone dripping with mock innocence. “You gonna keep holding me like this? Because I don’t mind.”

You feel him stiffen slightly, his cheeks turning pink as he tries to maintain his stern demeanor. “Don’t test me,” he mutters, though his voice wavers just enough to betray him.

Louis, watching from a safe distance, bursts into laughter. “Liam, you’re supposed to scare her, not flirt back!”

“I’m not flirting!” Liam snaps, his arms still securely around you.

You laugh, leaning back against him. “No, but you’re definitely blushing.”

That earns a chorus of laughter from the rest of the boys, and Liam groans, finally releasing you. He snatches the hat out of your hand, jamming it back onto his head with a huff.

“You’re impossible,” he mutters, glaring at you as you flash him a triumphant grin.

“But you love it,” you reply, your voice light and teasing.

Liam doesn’t answer, but the slight curve of his lips as he turns away is all the confirmation you need.

…

The crowd is electric, thousands of fans screaming as the lights dim for the next song. You stand near Louis on stage, buzzing with energy, your mic in hand as you wave to the audience.

Beside you, Louis nudges your shoulder, leaning close so only you can hear. “What do you reckon? Should we shake things up a bit?”

You glance at him, a mischievous smile creeping across your face. “Always.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Liam on the other side of the stage, chatting with Harry as he adjusts his mic stand. His focus is elsewhere, which is exactly what you need.

Louis crouches down and grabs two water bottles from the edge of the stage, handing one to you. “You ready?” he asks, barely able to contain his laughter.

“Born ready,” you reply, uncapping the bottle.

The timing is perfect. Just as Liam takes a step toward center stage, you and Louis simultaneously aim and squeeze, sending streams of water straight at him.

The crowd erupts in cheers and laughter as Liam freezes in shock, water dripping from his hair and down his shirt. He stares at you both, wide-eyed, before holding up a hand to stop the music.

“Really?” he says into his mic, his tone caught between disbelief and amusement. “During the show?”

You shrug innocently, holding the water bottle behind your back. “Couldn’t resist,” you say, batting your lashes.

Louis, of course, doubles down. “You looked like you needed cooling off, mate!”

Liam shakes his head, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Alright, you asked for it.” He bends down, grabbing his own water bottle.

Before you can react, he retaliates, squeezing a jet of water straight at you. You yelp, dodging behind Louis, who immediately uses you as a human shield.

“Traitor!” you shout, laughing as Liam continues his attack.

“Serves you right!” Liam calls back, aiming another stream of water that narrowly misses you.

Harry and Niall are no help at all, both doubled over with laughter on the other side of the stage. “This is the best show ever!” Niall manages to choke out.

Zayn, cool and collected as always, steps back to avoid the chaos entirely, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Leave me out of it.”

Dodging another spray, you duck behind an equipment case, only for Liam to corner you, his water bottle raised and a triumphant grin on his face. “Nowhere to run,” he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

You tilt your head, deliberately stepping closer until the water bottle is inches from your chest. “Oh no, Liam,” you purr, your voice playful. “What ever will I do? Guess I’m at your mercy now.”

His confident smile falters for just a second, and you swear you see a faint blush creep up his neck. “Don’t think you can sweet-talk your way out of this,” he says, though his voice wavers slightly.

You smirk, taking another step forward, and suddenly his bottle is no longer pointed at you but at the floor. “Sweet-talk? Me? Never.”

“Give her what she deserves, Liam!” Louis yells from across the stage, breaking the moment.

Liam blinks, clearly remembering the crowd, and his grin returns. “Alright, fine,” he says, and before you can react, he squeezes the bottle, soaking you from head to toe.

The crowd erupts in laughter and cheers as you stand there, water dripping down your face. You push your hair back dramatically, blinking at him. “Guess I had that coming,” you say, biting your lip as you hold his gaze.

“Definitely,” he replies, his voice softer now.

When you step closer, you hear the audience collectively lose their minds. Reaching out, you grab the brim of his hat and yank it off his head. “You missed a spot,” you tease, swiping the hat across your dripping hair before plopping it onto your own head.

Liam’s jaw drops, and the boys are no help, laughing harder than ever. “Give me that back!” he says, but there’s no real force in his voice.

“You want it?” you ask, taking a few slow steps backward. “Come and get it, Payne.”

The crowd is screaming now as Liam closes the distance between you in a few long strides. Before you know it, he’s wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you clear off the ground.

“Gotcha again,” he murmurs into your ear, his breath warm and teasing.

You laugh, squirming in his grasp. “This feels a little personal for a hat,” you quip, leaning your head back so you can see his face.

“It’s not just a hat,” he replies, his voice dropping slightly. “It’s my hat.”

You smirk. “And I wear it better.”

For a moment, you swear he forgets the crowd, his eyes locked on yours. The spell only breaks when Louis sprays you both with another jet of water, shouting, “Oi, lovebirds, this is a group effort!”

The laughter starts up again, and Liam finally sets you down, shaking his head with a laugh. “Unbelievable,” he mutters, but there’s no hiding the grin on his face—or the way he’s still looking at you as you slip his hat back onto his head with a wink.

…

The bus hums quietly as it rolls down the dark highway, the post-show adrenaline finally beginning to fade. You’re sprawled out on the couch, legs draped over Louis’s lap as he flicks through his phone, laughing at memes. Harry’s lying upside down in a recliner, his hair hanging toward the floor, while Niall plucks at his guitar, softly strumming the tune of a familiar melody. Zayn’s tucked in a corner with his sketchpad, headphones on but one earbud hanging loose, still listening to the group’s banter.

And then there’s Liam—perched across from you in one of the booths, arms crossed, his hat slightly askew from all the chaos earlier. He’s watching you with that same mix of exasperation and amusement he always has, his gaze lingering just long enough for you to notice.

Finally, he leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Alright,” he says, his voice cutting through the comfortable chatter. “I’ve got to ask—why do you act like that?”

The room quiets slightly, all eyes turning to you. You raise a brow, feigning innocence. “Like what?”

“You know what I mean,” he replies, his tone light but genuinely curious. “The pranks, the teasing, the constant chaos—what’s the deal? Are you trying to drive me insane?”

Louis snorts. “It’s a full-time job, mate.”

“I’m serious!” Liam insists, though he’s smiling now. “You’re relentless. Why?”

You shrug, sitting up and resting your chin on your hand. “Honestly? Because it’s fun.”

Liam groans, but you cut him off before he can respond. “No, really. Think about it—how many people get to do what we’re doing right now? Touring the world, performing for thousands of fans, living the dream? It’s insane.”

You gesture around the bus, your smile softening. “We’ve got the opportunity of a lifetime, Liam. Why not make the most of it? Why not have fun while we’re at it?”

Harry hums in agreement from his upside-down position. “She’s got a point.”

“And I like seeing you all riled up,” you add with a smirk, locking eyes with Liam. “You’re cute when you’re frustrated.”

The group erupts in laughter, Louis clapping his hands together. “I’ve been saying that for years!”

Liam groans again, but the faint blush creeping up his neck betrays him. “You’re impossible,” he mutters, shaking his head.

“Impossibly charming,” you correct, leaning back with a grin.

“She’s not wrong,” Niall chimes in, strumming a playful chord on his guitar.

Zayn finally looks up from his sketchpad, a faint smirk on his lips. “She’s definitely got you figured out, mate.”

“Yeah, she does,” Harry agrees, flipping upright in his chair. “What I want to know is, why do you let her get to you so much?”

That earns a round of teasing “oohs” from the group, and Liam sighs, running a hand down his face. “I don’t let her get to me.”

“You totally do,” Louis says, grinning. “It’s like watching a rom-com in real life.”

“More like a sitcom,” Niall adds, laughing.

Liam looks at you then, his gaze softer now. “You’re not gonna stop, are you?”

“Not a chance,” you reply, your voice low enough that the others barely hear. “But admit it—you’d miss it if I did.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, just holds your gaze like he’s trying to figure you out. Then, finally, he sighs and leans back in his seat, a small smile playing on his lips. “You’re lucky I’m a patient man.”

“And you’re lucky I make life interesting,” you shoot back, your grin widening.

The group dissolves into laughter again, and the conversation shifts to lighter topics. But as the night wears on, you catch Liam sneaking glances at you, that same unreadable expression in his eyes. Maybe he’s finally starting to understand why you do what you do—or maybe he’s realizing he doesn’t mind it as much as he pretends to.

…

The next day’s rehearsal starts out relatively normal, but as usual, normal doesn’t last long when you’re around.

You and Louis, of course, are up to your usual tricks, looking for ways to make the most of your time backstage while the rest of the band is getting ready. You spot a cart full of stage props and equipment, just begging for some creative intervention.

Louis catches your eye and grins. “What do you reckon? Time to have a little fun?”

You laugh, already knowing what he’s thinking. “Absolutely.”

Within minutes, you’ve hijacked the cart, grabbing a few random props—a feather duster, a fake mustache, and a plastic horn—and begin marching around like a pair of lunatics, causing a ruckus. You sneak up on Harry, who’s sitting on the couch, earphones in, oblivious to the chaos brewing.

With one swift motion, you sneak the mustache over his face. He pulls it off, confused, but by that point, you’ve moved on to spraying Niall’s guitar with some random glitter you found in one of the boxes.

The group starts to take notice, but Liam’s the last one to figure it out. You see him across the room, still in his own world, checking his phone, blissfully unaware.

You lock eyes with Louis and give a wicked grin. “It’s time.”

You both sprint across the room, sidling up behind Liam before either he or the others have a chance to react.

Louis, ever the troublemaker, snatches Liam’s phone from his hand and tosses it to you, while you immediately start scanning through his texts.

“What are you doing?” Liam demands, his voice rising in mock horror.

“Just making sure you’re not texting anyone you shouldn’t be,” you tease, winking at him as you skim through his messages.

Liam’s face goes red. “Give it back, you little menace.”

“Oh, come on,” you laugh, holding the phone up high to tease him. “Not even a little bit curious about who you’ve been talking to, Liam?”

He jumps to his feet, reaching for his phone, but you just dance out of reach, holding it over your head like it’s some prize you’re unwilling to relinquish.

“You really want it back?” you ask, batting your lashes. “Make me.”

The others are watching, some of them laughing, others shaking their heads at the chaos you and Louis always manage to create. But Liam’s patience is wearing thin.

Before you can react, Liam moves with lightning speed, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward him. You stumble into his chest, and before you know it, his other arm is around your waist, holding you in place as he leans down, his face inches from yours.

“Alright, that’s it,” he says softly, his voice low and surprisingly serious. “Give. Me. The. Phone.”

You smirk, all flirty charm. “Make me.”

Without warning, Liam bends down and nips at your ear, sending a jolt of surprise through you. “Give. It. Back.”

The sudden proximity sends a wave of heat through you, and for a moment, you forget about the phone, forgetting everything except the way his breath brushes against your skin. You giggle, breathlessly, trying to pull away, but his hold is firm.

“Liam,” you tease, squirming in his arms. “This is unfair.”

“Nothing about this is fair,” he replies, his voice taking on that familiar teasing tone you’re starting to enjoy more than you care to admit.

Finally, you relent, handing the phone back to him with a playful pout. “You’re no fun.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Liam’s smile is small, but there’s something in his eyes as he looks at you that makes your heart skip a beat. “You’ve got to stop this, you know that?”

You grin, leaning in a little closer. “Stop having fun? Not a chance.”

Louis calls out from the other side of the room, breaking the moment. “Oi, are you two done flirting, or are we getting on with this rehearsal?”

Liam rolls his eyes, letting you go and moving back to his position on stage, still shaking his head with a small smile on his lips.

As you slip into your place alongside the others, you can’t help but sneak a glance at Liam, his focus now back on the setlist. But something feels different—like that unspoken tension between you is building more and more every day.

…

The night’s tour stop is in a city you’ve all been to a hundred times before, but this time, things are different. The hotel’s cozy, nothing too extravagant, but as always, the chaos of touring catches up to everyone. The band’s been laughing and messing around all day, the usual energy never quite fading.

But now, it’s time to get some rest, and the hotel room arrangement is… less than ideal.

“Alright,” Louis says, holding up his keycard with a grin. “I dibs Harry.”

Harry rolls his eyes but doesn’t protest, already heading toward the door.

Niall, barely able to suppress his smile, turns to Zayn. “I’m cool with sharing, mate.”

Zayn gives him a half-nod, half-shrug, and that’s that. They head off to their room, leaving you standing with Liam.

For a brief moment, you both look at each other. The realization hits you at the same time.

“Well, guess it’s us,” you say, trying to keep your voice casual, though the thought of being alone with Liam makes your heart race in a way you hadn’t expected.

Liam seems to hesitate before nodding. “Guess so.”

The two of you walk to your room, and it’s quiet, the tension thick in the air. You’ve been causing chaos for so long that the idea of being stuck with Liam—alone—feels different.

The room’s small, but you’ve seen worse. There’s one bed, and both of you pause at the sight of it.

“You’re not gonna make me sleep on the floor, are you?” you joke, trying to ease the tension.

Liam’s eyes flick to the bed, then back to you, his face impassive. “I’m not making you do anything,” he mutters, almost under his breath, and you can’t help but notice the edge to his tone.

The silence stretches out longer than either of you expected, and you decide to break it. “What’s with you, Liam?”

He looks at you, a frown creasing his brow. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been acting differently today,” you say, sitting on the bed, your tone lighter but still probing. “You’re… distant. You weren’t even messing around during rehearsal like you usually do.”

Liam exhales sharply and sits down beside you. “I guess I just don’t get it, sometimes.”

You raise an eyebrow, still watching him closely. “Don’t get what?”

He looks over at you, his expression suddenly more serious. “You. I don’t get how you can just… act like everything’s a joke. The pranks, the flirting, all of it. You’re always on the go, never slowing down, never thinking about what’s coming next.”

Your smile fades, and you sit up straighter. “You think I’m reckless?”

Liam runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Maybe. Sometimes. I just… I worry about you.”

You blink in surprise. “Worry about me?”

“Yeah,” he continues, his voice quiet but steady. “You throw yourself into everything without a second thought, and I can’t help but think one of these days you’re gonna end up in trouble—really in trouble. And I won’t be there to stop it.”

You stare at him for a moment, surprised by his vulnerability, by the genuine concern behind his words. It’s not what you expected from him at all.

“I don’t need saving, Liam,” you finally say, your voice soft but firm. “I know what I’m doing.”

He looks at you, and there’s a long pause before he speaks again. “I don’t want you to get hurt. I know I don’t always show it, but I care. You’re… you’re a part of this band, part of my family. I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

You feel something twist in your chest at his words, a flutter of something you can’t quite explain. It’s not just the concern in his eyes, but the unspoken care that’s always been there, even when he’s trying to keep you in line.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” you say, a little more quietly this time. “I know how to have fun, but I’m not stupid.”

Liam looks at you for a long moment, his gaze softening. “I just don’t want to see you fall, that’s all.”

You smile, this time more gently than before. “I won’t fall, Liam. Not if you’re around to catch me.”

For a moment, there’s a silence between you two that feels different. It’s not awkward, not heavy—it’s almost like you’re both seeing each other in a new light, understanding one another a little better than before.

Liam glances away, clearing his throat. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

You laugh, but it’s quieter, softer than usual. “Yeah, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He meets your eyes again, and for a split second, it feels like there’s more being said than either of you can put into words. But then, as always, the moment breaks, and Liam leans back with a sigh.

“Alright, enough of the deep talk. I’m going to bed,” he mutters, lying down on the opposite side of the bed, clearly still trying to maintain some semblance of order.

You smile to yourself, feeling the soft shift in the air. Maybe this forced proximity wasn’t so bad after all.

…

You wake up slowly, the soft morning light filtering through the thin curtains. The first thing you notice is warmth—a solid, steady warmth pressed against your back. Your head is nestled on someone’s chest, and their arm is draped snugly around your waist.

It takes you a moment to realize who it is, but the steady rise and fall of their breathing, combined with the faint scent of Liam’s cologne, gives it away.

Your eyes snap open. Oh.

You try to turn your head slightly, and sure enough, there’s Liam, still fast asleep, his face relaxed in a way you rarely see when he’s awake. His hair’s a little mussed, and his hand… is very securely around your waist.

For a moment, you consider shifting away, but then he stirs. His arm tightens slightly before he blinks awake, his eyes bleary with sleep as they meet yours.

You can practically see the realization hit him like a freight train. His eyes widen, and he pulls his arm back as if he’s been burned, sitting up so fast he nearly tumbles off the bed.

“Uh—morning,” he says, his voice rough from sleep, his cheeks quickly turning crimson.

You sit up as well, leaning on one elbow and giving him your best teasing grin. “Morning, snuggle bug.”

Liam groans, running a hand down his face. “Don’t start.”

“Oh, come on,” you say, sitting up fully and stretching. “Admit it—you liked it.”

“I didn’t,” he says quickly, a little too quickly, avoiding your gaze.

You smirk, leaning in slightly. “You sure about that? You were holding on pretty tight.”

Liam’s blush deepens, and he mutters something under his breath that you can’t quite catch.

Before you can tease him further, the door bursts open, and Louis strides in, his grin widening as he takes in the scene.

“Well, well, well,” Louis says, leaning against the doorframe. “Look who’s all cozy this morning.”

“Louis—” Liam starts, but Louis cuts him off with a dramatic gasp.

“Were you two… cuddling?” Louis’s eyes dart between the two of you, the gleeful expression on his face making it clear he’s not letting this go anytime soon.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Liam insists, his tone defensive, though the blush creeping up his neck tells a different story.

“Sure it’s not,” Louis says, smirking. “Sleeping with the enemy now, are we?”

You laugh, unbothered, and throw an arm around Liam’s shoulders. “Don’t be jealous, Lou. There’s plenty of me to go around.”

Liam shrugs your arm off, still looking mortified. “Louis, seriously, it wasn’t—”

“Oh, don’t explain yourself to me,” Louis interrupts, already backing out of the room. “I’m just the messenger. Wait till the others hear about this.”

“Louis!” Liam calls after him, but it’s no use. The door slams shut, leaving the two of you alone again.

You glance at Liam, who’s now burying his face in his hands. “Well, that’s one way to start the morning.”

“This is a nightmare,” he mutters, his voice muffled.

You grin, nudging his arm. “Relax, Liam. It’s not the end of the world. Besides…” You lower your voice, leaning in just enough to make him look at you. “I didn’t mind.”

His eyes meet yours, and for a second, you think you catch something—something soft, something real. But then he shakes his head, standing up quickly and heading for his bag.

“Let’s just get ready for breakfast,” he says, his back to you.

You watch him for a moment, your smile lingering as you get up to follow. Maybe you pushed him a little too far, but you can’t help but notice the way his ears are still red as he rummages through his things.

And if you’re being honest? You didn’t mind it, either.

…

The teasing starts before breakfast.

You’re barely halfway through your toast when Niall pipes up. “So, how’d you two sleep last night?” he asks, his voice innocent but his grin anything but.

Harry snickers into his coffee. “Yeah, Liam, you looked so well-rested this morning.”

Louis, of course, takes it a step further. “Can’t blame him! Snuggling with her would tire anyone out. She’s like an octopus—arms everywhere.”

You laugh, unbothered, as you pop a piece of bacon in your mouth. “Jealous, Lou? Don’t worry; you’ll get your turn.”

The table erupts into laughter, even Zayn cracking a rare smile. But Liam just sits there, his face buried in his hands, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like, “This is my nightmare.”

The teasing doesn’t let up during rehearsals, either. Every time you and Liam so much as glance at each other, Louis makes some exaggerated comment about “chemistry” or “true love,” and Niall keeps humming wedding march music under his breath.

You take it all in stride, laughing along and even throwing in a few playful winks in Liam’s direction, but he’s visibly flustered, avoiding eye contact with you and muttering under his breath every chance he gets.

Eventually, the rehearsal breaks for a moment, and you take the chance to grab some water. As you’re about to head back to the stage, you catch sight of Liam standing with Zayn and Harry in the corner. Their voices are low, but there’s something about Liam’s posture—his arms crossed, his head down—that makes you pause.

You shouldn’t eavesdrop. You know that. But curiosity gets the better of you.

“I just don’t know what to do, mate,” Liam’s voice drifts over, quiet and uncertain. “She’s… she’s everything. Always has been. But what if—what if it’s all just an act?”

Harry’s voice comes next, soft and encouraging. “You mean the flirting?”

“Yeah,” Liam says, sighing. “I mean, she’s like that with everyone, isn’t she? Always teasing, always joking. What if it doesn’t mean anything? What if I tell her how I feel, and she laughs it off? Or worse, pushes me away?”

Zayn chimes in, his voice calm and steady. “You’ll never know unless you tell her. But, Liam, man, I don’t think it’s an act. The way she looks at you? That’s not just flirting. That’s something real.”

Liam doesn’t respond right away, and the silence feels heavy.

“I’ve been in love with her for years,” he finally admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I can’t lose her. I’d rather keep her at arm’s length than risk losing her completely.”

Your heart twists at his words. For all your teasing and chaos, you never imagined Liam felt this way. And the way he talks about you—with so much care, so much fear—makes your chest ache.

You step back quietly, slipping away before they notice you. Your mind is racing, but one thing is clear: this changes everything.

…

It’s been a week since you overheard Liam’s heart-to-heart with Zayn and Harry, and it’s like a switch has flipped.

You’ve always known Liam as the responsible one—the one who fusses over everyone, makes sure the schedules are followed, and keeps chaos to a minimum. But now you’re noticing the little things he does just for you.

He always checks if you’ve eaten before rehearsals, even when he doesn’t ask the others. He hands you his hoodie when the green room is too cold, no hesitation, even if he’s left shivering in a T-shirt. When Louis dragged you into a pillow fight last night, it was Liam who stopped you both—not because he was annoyed, but because you’d almost knocked over a lamp.

He doesn’t just care. He cares about you.

You’ve spent the last week watching him more closely, testing the theory. And every time he softens in your direction, every time his voice gentles when he talks to you, your chest tightens a little more.

But, true to form, you bury the feelings under a smirk and a wink. You’d rather tease him than admit how much those little gestures mean to you.

Which is exactly what leads to today’s trouble.

You and Louis are in full chaos mode—again. It started harmlessly enough, with Louis daring you to balance as many unopened water bottles on your arms as you could. When that got boring, he upped the ante: “Bet you can’t juggle them!”

That was a disaster, obviously, but now you’ve moved on to Louis’s latest bright idea: seeing who can climb higher on the scaffolding at the back of the stage.

“Careful up there!” Harry calls from below, his voice carrying a mix of amusement and exasperation.

“Don’t worry about us, Harold!” Louis shouts back, grinning as he grabs hold of a higher bar. “We’re professionals.”

You roll your eyes, laughing as you climb after him. The adrenaline rush is half the fun, though you know Liam’s probably going to kill you both when he finds out.

“Come on, slowpoke!” Louis taunts, glancing down at you.

“Keep talking, Tomlinson,” you shoot back, pulling yourself up another rung. “I’ll pass you in no time.”

But the next step you take feels off. The metal bar under your foot shifts slightly, and before you can react, it slips completely. Your heart lurches as your grip loosens, and you feel yourself falling.

The world tilts, and then everything stops with a painful thud as you land on the stage floor below.

The air is knocked out of your lungs, and for a moment, all you can do is lie there, stunned. You hear shouts—Louis’s panicked voice, Niall’s gasp—but it’s Liam’s footsteps you hear first, pounding across the stage like he’s sprinting for his life.

“Are you okay?!” he demands, dropping to his knees beside you. His hands hover over you, like he wants to touch but doesn’t know where it’s safe.

“I’m fine,” you croak, though the sharp pain in your ankle tells a different story.

“You’re not fine,” he snaps, his tone harsher than you’ve ever heard it. But his hands are gentle as he carefully checks your ankle, his jaw tightening when you wince.

The others gather around, their faces a mix of worry and guilt. Louis looks the most shaken, his usual grin replaced with a pale, wide-eyed stare.

“Liam, I didn’t think—” Louis starts, but Liam cuts him off.

“Not now, Louis,” he says firmly. “Go get the medic.”

Louis nods and takes off, leaving Liam to focus on you.

“You could’ve broken something,” he mutters, his voice trembling slightly.

You manage a weak smile. “Guess I’m not as professional as I thought.”

“Don’t joke about this,” he says, finally meeting your eyes. There’s something raw in his expression—fear, anger, and something deeper you can’t quite name. “You scared me.”

And just like that, the teasing is gone. For the first time, you’re not thinking about how to make him blush or stammer. All you can think about is how much he cares—and how much you’ve been trying to ignore how much you care, too.

…

The medic confirms it’s just a sprained ankle, but you’re pretty sure Liam would’ve reacted the same if you’d broken every bone in your body.

“You need to keep weight off it for a while,” the medic says. “Ice it, elevate it, and try to rest.”

“Rest,” Liam repeats, nodding like it’s a direct order from the Queen herself. “Got it. She’ll rest.”

The medic gives him an odd look, then glances at you. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, wincing as Liam adjusts the pillow under your leg for the hundredth time.

“Does it still hurt?” he asks immediately, his brow furrowing.

“Not as much as your fussing,” you tease, though the warmth in your voice takes the sting out of it.

Before he can argue, the rest of the boys file into the green room. Louis is first, looking uncharacteristically sheepish.

“Love,” he starts, his hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think—well, clearly, I didn’t think.”

“You’re right about that,” Liam mutters, not looking up from adjusting the ice pack on your ankle.

Louis shoots him a look but doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he crouches down beside the chair you’re sitting in, his blue eyes earnest. “Seriously, though. You okay?”

“I’m fine, Lou,” you say, reaching out to pat his arm. “Just a sprain. You’ll have to find someone else to climb scaffolding with for a while, though.”

“Never again,” he says quickly, his voice more serious than you’re used to hearing. “You scared the hell out of me.”

Before you can respond, Harry, Niall, and Zayn crowd around.

“You sure you’re okay?” Harry asks, his usual smirk replaced with genuine concern.

“Yeah,” Niall adds, his brows knit together. “We should’ve said something when we saw you two up there.”

“I wasn’t even sure it was safe,” Zayn admits quietly, crossing his arms. “I should’ve spoken up.”

“Guys, it’s not your fault,” you insist, trying to reassure them. “Really, I’m fine—”

“She’s fine,” Liam interrupts, his tone clipped as he straightens up and crosses his arms. “But it could’ve been worse. She needs rest and no more stunts like this.”

The boys exchange a look, their worry giving way to something lighter.

“Wow,” Harry says, cocking his head. “Look at you, Liam. Our own personal Florence Nightingale.”

“More like a bodyguard,” Niall quips. “Her very overprotective bodyguard.”

Louis perks up at that, his guilty expression replaced with a grin. “Or her boyfriend. The overprotective kind.”

“I’m not—” Liam starts, but he’s already blushing, his hands flying up in exasperation.

“You kind of are,” Zayn says with a small smirk.

“Wouldn’t be surprised if he tries to carry her to the bus later,” Harry adds.

The teasing breaks the tension, and you can’t help but laugh, despite the throbbing in your ankle.

“Maybe I’ll let him,” you say, shooting Liam a wink. “Could be fun.”

Liam groans, rubbing a hand over his face, but the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s trying not to smile.

…

The tour bus hums quietly as it barrels down the highway, the usual chaos subdued by exhaustion. The boys are scattered throughout the bus—Niall and Zayn are already passed out in their bunks, while Harry and Louis are huddled in the back lounge, their laughter faint through the door.

You’re sitting on the couch near the front, your injured ankle propped up on a pillow. The pain has dulled to a manageable ache, but Liam is still hovering nearby, pretending to scroll through his phone while he steals glances at you every other second.

“Liam,” you finally say, breaking the silence.

He looks up immediately, his expression unreadable. “Yeah?”

“You can stop watching me like I’m about to spontaneously combust,” you tease lightly, patting the cushion beside you. “Sit down before you wear a hole in the floor.”

He hesitates, then crosses the small space to sit beside you. Close, but not close enough.

“I just… wanted to make sure you’re okay,” he says, his voice soft. “After today.”

“I’m fine,” you say for what feels like the hundredth time, though this time your tone lacks its usual teasing edge. “Really, Liam. You don’t have to worry so much.”

“I can’t help it,” he admits, his gaze dropping to his hands. “When you fell… I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

The vulnerability in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, you just stare at him.

“You care about me,” you say quietly, testing the waters.

He lets out a soft, almost nervous laugh. “Of course I do. You’re… you’re one of my best friends.”

It’s not enough. Not anymore.

“Liam,” you say, your voice firmer now. “I’m tired of pretending.”

He looks at you, his brow furrowing. “Pretending?”

You shift closer, your heart pounding. “Pretending that I don’t notice how much you care. That I don’t notice all the little things you do for me. That I don’t feel the same way.”

His eyes widen, and for a second, you think you might’ve broken him.

“I’m saying,” you continue, your voice softer now, “that I like you, Liam. A lot. More than I probably should.”

The silence stretches between you, thick and charged.

“You…” He trails off, his voice barely a whisper. “You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you say, your lips twitching into a small smile. “You think I’d risk saying it if I didn’t?”

He stares at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours like he’s trying to figure out if this is real. Then, suddenly, he’s leaning in, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

The kiss is tentative at first, like he’s still testing the waters. But when you respond, tangling your fingers in his shirt to pull him closer, all that hesitation melts away.

It’s soft and slow and perfect—everything you never knew you needed.

When you finally pull back, your foreheads rest against each other, both of you breathless but smiling.

“I’ve wanted to do that for years,” he admits, his voice low and full of wonder.

You grin, brushing your nose against his. “Well, it’s about time.”

He laughs, the sound warm and full of relief, and when he kisses you again, you think maybe—just maybe—you could get used to this.

…

The bus is quiet now, the hum of the engine the only sound as you carefully maneuver into Liam’s bunk. Your sprained ankle makes it awkward, but Liam is already there, helping you settle in like it’s second nature.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, his hands gentle as they guide your leg onto a stack of pillows he’s somehow managed to fit into the cramped space. “I can sleep on the couch if you need more room.”

You shake your head, tugging at his arm until he climbs in beside you. “Liam, the couch is lumpy, and you’d be up every five minutes checking on me anyway. Just stay.”

He hesitates for a moment before settling in, his body warm and solid beside yours. It’s a tight fit, but neither of you seems to mind.

“Comfortable?” he asks softly, his voice low in the dim light.

“Yeah,” you murmur, leaning into him. “More than you’d think.”

For a while, you just lay there, the silence between you comfortable and heavy with unspoken words.

“I meant what I said earlier,” you whisper finally, breaking the quiet.

Liam shifts to look at you, his eyes searching yours. “About what?”

“About liking you. About not wanting to pretend anymore.”

His breath hitches, and he looks away for a moment, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck.

“I’ve been in love with you for years,” he admits, his voice so soft you almost miss it.

Your heart stutters, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him.

“Years?” you echo, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, his gaze still fixed somewhere over your shoulder. “I thought… I thought it was just your thing, you know? The flirting, the teasing. I didn’t think you’d ever see me the way I see you.”

“Liam,” you say, reaching out to take his hand. “It was never just an act. Not with you.”

His eyes snap to yours, wide and vulnerable.

“I was scared,” you admit, your fingers tightening around his. “Scared that if I let myself feel this way, I’d ruin everything. But I couldn’t stop. You’re… you’re the calm to my storm, Liam. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He exhales sharply, his hand coming up to cup your cheek as his lips find yours in a kiss that’s equal parts relief and adoration.

When you pull back, you rest your forehead against his, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt.

“I feel like I’m finally home,” you whisper, and you feel him smile against your skin.

“You are,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “And you always will be.”

The night passes in a blur of quiet laughter, whispered confessions, and soft kisses, the small space of the bunk feeling like its own little world. For the first time in a long time, everything feels right.

…

The morning light filters weakly through the tour bus windows, the soft rumble of the engine lulling you into a half-asleep haze. You’re vaguely aware of the warm, steady rise and fall of Liam’s chest beneath your cheek, his arm wrapped securely around your waist.

It’s peaceful—perfect, even—until the curtain to the bunk jerks open with a dramatic whoosh.

“Well, well, well,” comes Louis’ unmistakable voice, dripping with amusement. “What do we have here?”

You blink against the sudden light, trying to sit up, but Liam’s arm tightens around you instinctively.

“Louis,” Liam groans, his voice still thick with sleep. “Close the curtain.”

“Oh, no,” Louis says, grinning like he’s just hit the jackpot. “This is gold. Lads, come here!”

Before you can protest, Harry, Niall, and Zayn appear behind him, their expressions ranging from amused to downright smug.

“Finally,” Harry says, crossing his arms as he leans against the wall.

“About time,” Niall adds, his grin wide.

Zayn just shakes his head with a small smirk. “Didn’t think it’d take you this long, mate.”

Liam groans again, burying his face in his hand. “Can we not do this right now?”

“Oh, we’re absolutely doing this right now,” Louis declares, hopping up onto the bunk across from yours so he’s at eye level. “I mean, come on. You two? Sharing a bunk? Snuggled up like lovebirds? This is a historic moment.”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Good morning to you too, Louis.”

“Morning, love,” he says, though his grin falters slightly. “Guess this means I’ve lost my partner-in-crime, huh?”

The teasing tone is there, but so is the hint of something softer—something almost wistful.

“Oh, Lou,” you say, reaching out to pat his knee. “You’ll never lose me. Who else would come up with brilliant plans to drive Liam insane?”

“Excuse me?” Liam cuts in, his brows shooting up.

“See? You’ve still got me,” you continue, ignoring Liam’s glare. “And now we’ve got a whole new dynamic to work with.”

Louis brightens immediately, his grin returning full force. “You know, you’re absolutely right. This could be even better.”

Liam groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Why do I feel like I’m going to regret this?”

“Because you will,” Harry says, clapping him on the shoulder with a laugh.

“Don’t worry, Liam,” Niall says, clearly enjoying himself. “At least now she’ll have someone to keep her in check.”

“Doubtful,” Zayn mutters, but the smirk on his face says he’s not entirely opposed to the idea.

The boys eventually wander off, their laughter fading as they head toward the back of the bus. Louis lingers a moment longer, his grin softening into something more genuine.

“Happy for you, love,” he says quietly, giving you a wink before hopping down and disappearing after the others.

When the curtain finally falls shut, you turn to Liam, who’s still shaking his head.

“You’ve just made my life ten times harder,” he mutters, though the fondness in his voice betrays him.

“You wouldn’t have me any other way,” you say, leaning up to kiss him softly.

He sighs, a small smile tugging at his lips. “No. I wouldn’t.”

...

Part 2

[desparaic]

To Hearken that Dreadful Silence - Muzan X Reader

Short drabble, somewhat of a sequel to "To Kill My Melody" but can be read as a standalone. Reincarnation AU.

Read To Kill My Melody here

TW: Angst, self-unalive, death, canon divergent where Muzan wins

You have lost.

The demon slayer corps have lost.

Here you were, legs trembling from exhaustion and endless injuries, knees and tip of sword digging into the bloodied dirt, all before the fully awakened demon king, his body spasming, dark blood coursing visibly through his veins, as he relish the newfound power of conquering the sun after eating the younger Kamado sibling.

You couldn't take your eyes off him. Not because you don't want to— rather that if you do, you'll have to face countless bodies of your comrades scattered around you. You still vividly remember the head of the water hashira, who you considered as your friend once upon a time, flying across your sight. The last time you've seen Sanemi, and that Kamado boy, they were missing limbs, and losing blood on parts that shouldn't be hit or punctured at all.

All you could hear was silence.

You're the only one left alive.

Someone? Anyone? Please, even just a groan of pain, a shallow breath— anything to indicate you're not the only one alive.

But as you hear the grotesque shifting of that…— that monster's body, adapting to the newly acquired power—

All you could hear was despair.

"Finally... Finally..."

... That monster finally spoke up, grinning and reveling in the moment. A ray of orange came out from the sky, bringing light. Then another. That used to bring you hope, relief, knowing that the fight would finally be over but—

"Aahh... To conquer the light of the sun... To walk in the day once again...!"

That hope is long gone.

He laughs. Laughs maniacally. Laughs so much it made your ears bleed. How dare he. How dare he stand tall and proud among the corpses of your comrades, of your allies. How dare he laugh at your misery. The mere sight of him, the mere sound of his breathing disgusts you.

And yet you can't take your eyes off him.

You've failed. Your sword cannot take his life, your only hope was the sun to burn him alive, but now that he has conquered it, he truly has become immortal.

His piercing red eyes turned to you, a foreign emotion swimming within.

"My love, oh my love, how I've waited for you to come back to me..."

He walked toward you, arms wide open as if he was awaiting a hug from you, "Finally... I have everything I have been waiting for, been looking for. I have achieved immortality and perfection..."

He stops at a distance away.

"and I finally have you by my side again."

Nausea builds up your throat. How dare he. How dare he even look at your way— how dare he utter even a single word right at you. He deserved to die in the worst way, boiled alive in acid, have his limbs torn to shreds—

In your blinding anger, you failed to register the hand resting on your cheek.

"So long I have waited for you to come back to me... I knew you wouldn't leave me all alone forever..."

What is he even talking about.

"Of course... You'll come back to me. You always do. You love me, after all."

Why is he lying. Why does he act as if he knows you.

"I'm sorry, (Y/n). I was a fool not to give you the love you deserved."

How does he know your name.

"But now we can finally be together forever. I can give you my blood! We will be equal!"

Why is he still talking to you. Stop talking, stop breathing. Just drop dead, die, die, die—

Wait— is he touching you?

Finally, you notice the ever-freezing, yet burning, touch on your cheek. You smacked it away, daring to challenge the devil of death before you with that bold act.

Yet, he remained unfazed, though his smile dropped, "I understand this may seem confusing. You don't remember, do you? That's fine. Once I share my blood with you, I'll make you remember with my memories. Perhaps I can even dig into your brain to stimulate it, maybe then it will uncover the memories of your past life— our shared life."

You jumped back, while slashing your sword across his abdomen. But of course, that is but a mere scratch, perhaps even less, to him. Even before you finished your attack, it had already healed.

There's truly no hope for you.

"Come now. It'll only be a while. It will hurt, that I cannot deny, but it is for the better," he stated, slowly walking toward you.

No. No. Whatever he was spewing about— that past life or whatnot— you don't care. All you care about is not falling into the hands of this monster. It's clear to you now he won't kill you, but rather to keep you by his side for whatever sick reasons he has.

That, you argue, is worse than death.

Perhaps, in another life, you would avenge your comrades, you would inflict every pain, every suffering that the monster has caused back to him. In another life.

But for now…

With no hesitation, with firm resolve, you smiled. A venomous, bitter smile— one that is alien to Muzan, so much so that he froze.

What a horrible expression painted on a canva he knew to be so innocent and beautiful long ago.

"I hope life gives you far worse torture than death, Kibutsuji Muzan. I will make sure your wish for immortality becomes your curse."

And with that, with the last of your strength as a hashira, you sliced your sword through your neck.

And for some reason, death sounds like a familiar tune to you.

[retrosabers]

𝐏𝐔𝐒𝐇 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐒.

eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: sometimes you and eddie’s banter can take a bit of a turn

warnings: allusions to smut, swearing

word count: 1.3k

a/n: this is a very small little something to ease myself back into writing. let me know if you would be interested in a second part! :)

“cut the shit munson.” you spit from your place at the other end of the drama room. “you don’t intimidate me.”

eddie laughs, a cynical sound that rumbles from deep within his chest. the boy smirks, and you have to fight the urge to jump across the table and smack him.

“oh really?” he leans back in his throne, spreading his legs wide. “then why are you standing all the way over there?”

you roll your eyes, poking your tongue into your cheek. his arrogance was unyielding, and it seemed especially true when he was in his element like this. eddie was always one for theatrics, even more so after a session of his beloved dungeons and dragons.

it was so irritating.

eddie cocks his head to the side, eyeing you in a condescending way. with a narrowing gaze, you slowly saunter over to his seat, eyes never leaving his. the smirk on his face intensifies. like he had you right where he wanted.

there’s always been a cat and mouse game between you and eddie. a competition to see who could push each other’s buttons the most. your friends nagged you both about the tension that so obviously lingered in the air, but you could never tell if it was from a growing dislike, or just the opposite.

whether eddie was a thorn in your side or the apple of your eye, you would never give him the satisfaction of letting him win. ever. especially in this moment.

the boy props his foot against the edge of the table, and pushes it back. the squeaking sound startles your ears, and eddie can’t help but be amused at the way you flinch. you gracefully slip past him and lean against the table’s edge. you’re situated right between his legs with a sharpness in your eyes that makes his head spin.

“i don’t have all night eddie.” you say with a bit more venom than intended. it was a long and stressful day, and you had been running around campus like a maniac looking for your chemistry notes only to find out the biggest pain in your ass had stolen them after first period.

“relax princess,” he reassures with mock concern. the pet name sets your skin ablaze and he takes note of the way your fists curl around the table’s edge when he says it. “got it right here.”

he reaches behind him for the worn out red notebook.

you scoff. “funny how you would steal my notes for the one class you and i both know you’re not gonna pass.”

he dramatically places his hands over his heart, your notebook pressed against the logo of his hellfire shirt.

“ouch. you’re killing me over here.”

“a girl can dream,” you quip back, lunging to grab your notes so you can just go home. of course, he’s quicker than you, and tosses the journal back onto the table right as you swing foward.

you lose your balance and quickly brace yourself on the arms of the throne. you glance up and find the darkest of chocolate brown eyes boring into yours. your breath hitches in your throat involuntarily, causing eddie to break out a shit eating grin.

“so you do dream about me.” he replies with a cockiness that’s surprising even for him. you’re close enough that you can smell the faint aroma of tobacco on his breath and you can really see the length of his lashes. god, why was eddie munson so pretty? the realization makes your stomach flutter, churning with a feeling that’s never been associated with him before.

but then you remember that it’s eddie, and eddie’s only trying to see you cave before he does. you’re the only person he can rile up like nobody’s business and the feeling is more than mutual. you’ve got each other in equally vulnerable positions; it’s just a matter of who’s facade is going to crack first.

“you’re right.” you admit, your voice far more sheepish than he’s ever heard. it’s bordering submissive, something eddie’s not sure anyone has ever seen from you before. the notion goes straight to his crotch.

the corner of his mouth twitches. it eggs you on.

“i dream about you a lot.” your voice is barely above a whisper as you lean in even closer, palms planted firmly on either side of eddie. a cage of sorts that he’s seemingly fine with being trapped in.

you notice the way he’s fully leaning back now, removing his arms from beside yours to tuck them behind his head. it gives you a peak of some of his other tattoos, and a new angle of his biceps that will likely be the subject of your thoughts for the rest of the day.

“oh yeah?” he asks, voice an octave lower than before. “tell me about it.”

you tug your bottom lip between your teeth and eddie has to fight the urge to close the gap. your lips are nearly touching, hot breath fanning over each other’s cheeks as you feign innocence.

“we’re always in bed.” you continue, eyes flicking over eddie’s form. you can see the way he’s breathing a little faster, and you can definitely see the tent forming in his jeans. you look back up at his eyes and his pupils are nearly black.

you boldly dance your fingers up his torso. “sometimes you’re on top, sometimes i am.”

eddie prays you miss the way his cock twitches at the thought. he doesn’t want to imagine the ridicule he would face if your friends found out. it’s exactly what you’re aiming for.

in an effort to get his mojo back, he gently cups your jaw, tracing the outline of your cupid’s bow with his thumb. he moves it down to pull back your bottom lip, watching with intent eyes as the plush flesh snaps back into place.

heat pools between your legs, threatening to put a crack in your plan that’s very clearly working. but god, there’s such a satisfaction at watching eddie be wrapped around your finger, so entranced by whatever your next move is. you’ve gotta keep the upper hand.

“the best part though” you tease with a wicked grin, ghosting your lips over his.

eddie hums. he raises his brows defiantly, like he’s daring you to confess that you’ve been thinking about him the way he thinks about you. he doesn’t care if this is some stupid fucking back and forth. he wants to hear you say it.

when your hand trails back down and brushes over his crotch, he nearly loses it. you lean in beside his ear, offering a low sultry whisper. the boy’s eyes flutter shut, preparing for whatever’s coming next.

“is when i get to stick a pillow over your face.”

his eyes shoot back open in an instant.

you look like the cat who caught the canary. a devious, cheshire-like smile on your face as you slowly back away from him with your notebook in hand.

“smooth,” he deadpans, folding his arms over his chest in an attempt to distract from the now very obvious boner he has.

“sorry, sweetheart,” you mock him, returning to your original place at the other end of the room. “i’ve gotta fly.”

in a bold move, he asks, “does this mean i should swipe your stuff more often?”

your bravado falters for a moment at his question. then, it returns tenfold.

“you’re gonna have to find out.”

you saunter out of the drama room with a teasing salute, picking up your bag from it’s place by the door. eddie, flustered yet scorned, laughs out into the empty room. the sound reverberates off the walls and the empty soda cans still scattered on the table.

two can play at this game. you may have won this round, but there was plenty more coming .

he was so going to get you back.

thanks for reading! <3

[pillowbeast]

Been doodling up a ton of stuff for this OC of mine and seeing as I'm in an INCREDIBLY palpable sharing mood, I figured I would do just that and share.

I'll prolly do a proper introduction later but this is Leona Ironheart, tinkerer and shopkeep, though adventuring is just as strong a passion of hers.

She'll routinely source materials for products from various dungeons and bunkers in her spare time, taking on their defenses with open enthusiasm, an almost scary amount of it ngl.

She's honestly a delight to be around, very energetic and passionate for everything she does, people around her will notice that she has a very maniacal sounding laugh and equally intimidating grin when she gets truly passionate but those are simply traits passed down from her ex-villain grandfather (He taught her so well,,,)

Also she made the hammer herself, her magnum opus she would argue, she can rev it up at the top of the handle to make her swings even more powerful (On that DMC Nero type beat), even though she is already absurdly strong as it is and any further swing force is a little excessive.

[ahllohehn]

Mumscarian....

Scar looked up longingly as he spectated the chariot race from below, his fingers unconsciously fiddling with his wheels as if he had the urge to do something but knew well that he wasn’t actually capable of doing anything but to stay in place.

He gaped in wonder as Grian and Mumbo effortlessly dodged and flew around the skies, sometimes shutting his eyes and flinching when he saw them take an arrow from an adrenaline-high Skizz on another chariot.

If he looks closer, he would see that Mumbo was anxiously muttering to himself while also half-screaming and half-laughing at Grian to stop annoying Ren and Cleo enough to be targeted as neither one of them had the actual capability of returning their violent attacks. Not that Grian seemed to listen as he cackled like a maniac and continued to throw colorful smoke bombs into the other competitor’s faces. 

It looked like a difficult battle. A fun, difficult battle.

Scar flexed his fingers eagerly.

He wanted to join them. But no matter how much he wished, he knows he’s not fit for the skies. He’s not even fit for the ground!

Scar’s expression took on a more solemn turn as the chariots slowly got further and further away, probably to finally do the racing part of the competition and get to the finish line on the other side. The only thing that had him slightly smiling was the sight of Grian and Mumbo excitedly flying ahead of everyone. It was obvious they’d win if they kept at it.

That is, until they suddenly stopped mid-air and let everyone pass by them, causing Scar to widen his eyes in disbelief and confusion. What are they doing?

He expressed his confusion with a look towards Grian and Mumbo in the sky, who had turned to look down at him with a determined look. When they had met eyes, Mumbo pulled on the reins of their pegasi and their chariot roughly landed nearby Scar, who had to wheel himself back with a fearful squeak so as to not be run over.

The two chariot racers were then on the move, Grian went to get a hold of the reins while Mumbo jogged over to the boy on the wheelchair with his arms out, “Come on, Scar! We gotta win the race!”

Scar blinked confusingly. Win the race? But they were literally down here with hi– 

“Huh-? Weh- WHAT-” he yelped and sputtered in confusion as Mumbo took him and carried him up in his arms. Scar felt dizzy from overwhelming confusion as he was hurriedly carried to the chariot, kept secured in Mumbo’s arms.

The unclaimed demigod looked over to Grian for answers to his unsaid questions, but the son of Hermes was also equally as unhelpful with explaining and only flashed a mischievous grin in response, “Hold on tight!”

Then the chariot was off to the skies again, with Scar in tow this time, the same Scar who thought he wouldn't be able to even find himself up here. He couldn't help but scream. Grian and Mumbo laughed gleefully the entire way, they may be determinedly half-busy trying to catch up to everyone else, but they were also going at a pace that wouldn't possibly hurt Scar.

Scar did eventually get over his initial surprise and fear, slowly giggling more and more when he realized; oh gods, I'm flying. I'm up here.

And when they were able to catch up to the others, who seemed surprised at the sight of Scar clinging onto Mumbo but quickly and willingly included him into the race anyway, Scar felt like he wouldn't rather be anywhere else.

Whether the three had won that race or not? I’m not telling you, but Scar definitely felt like a winner being in the company of his loved ones in the freedom of the winds and skies. 

[bratbby333]

the jjk men + their drink of choice

��͙⁺˚*･༓☾

blurb/brain dump

sfw; mentions of alcohol, obvi

feat: suguru, yuuji, megumi, satoru, nanami, sukuna, toji, ++ choso

author notes: i've been bartending for three years now and i can safely say ive gotten pretty good at reading people and guessing their go-to drinks,,so here's the jjk men!

-suguru: a whiskey coke. probably jack or maker's mark. simple, straightforward, and gets the job done. suguru is too laid back to be picky and is definitely the most patient person sitting at the bar. his intuitive and observant nature has him scanning the other patrons at the bar; he's a people watcher for entertainment, paying no mind to the tv's. he speaks to the bartender with a smile on his face, joking around with them, making small talk and sarcastic remarks. he's just so sassy and violently intelligent; his soft, healing energy rubbing off on everyone around him. he's a breath of fresh air in a busy bar environment. he tips well, too.

-yuuji: a piña colada (rum, coconut cream, pineapple juice; blended and served in a hurricane glass, garnished with a slice of pineapple and a maraschino cherry). freshly 21 years old, this would be his first legal drink. "look, you even get snacks with it!!" he'd say, referring to the garnishes, his age definitely showing with this drink. he attempts to chug it, getting a brain freeze in the process.

-megumi: an espresso martini. classy, bold, and strong; this drink is definitely for someone who wants to appear more mature and sophisticated than they actually are. megumi is mature, but he's overcompensating for the fact that his best friend just ordered the fruitiest drink possible. the caffeine mixing with the liquor makes meg more talkative than usual, and his reserved nature and unreadable face is left at the door and replaced with soft smiles and the occasional chuckle at his goofy friends. he'd also definitely makes fun of yuuji for ordering that piña colada.

-satoru: a tequila sunrise (tequila, orange juice, grenadine, layered to make a gradient). extra af, sweet, and fruity. orders it with a triple shot cause he's grown. "it's just so pretty, isn't it?" he'd giggle, kicking his feet under the bar like he isn't a fully grown man or the strongest sorcerer in the jujutsu world. oh, satoru. filled with such child-like wonder. with enough drinks in his system (although, he'd definitely do this without the liquor), he would work his way around the bar trying to make conversation with anyone and everyone, not caring if they didn't participate- no biggie, he'd just talk at them.

-nanami: a manhattan or an old fashioned, but only with top-shelf bourbon. it'd be a waste to have the bartender craft this perfect cocktail and use shitty liquor. he sips it slow, savoring the caramel notes of the bourbon. the perfect drink for a stoic and reserved man. nanami definitely has a sophisticated palate and never settles for low quality liquor. he goes to more upscale bars, enjoying the smooth jazz that pours through the speakers, occasionally snacking on small h'ordeurves, but more often than not working his way through a pile of paperwork.

-sukuna: liquid cocaine shots (equal parts goldschlager, jager, and rumple minze). absolutely unhinged and vile, but if you like them, you love them. and sukuna loooves them. he takes the shots like they're water and still manages to out drink everyone else; he'll even offer to buy shots for everyone at the bar, the other patrons cheering and thanking him, expecting it to be shots of vodka or tequila. with a maniacal smile plastered across his face, he watches as everyone's faces contort in disgust when they realize it's a liquid cocaine shot. sukuna just grins as they struggle to get them down. such a sadist. an absolute menace.

-toji: an adios motherfucker (equal parts tequila, vodka, gin, rum, and blue curaçao, with sour mix and sprite). "but that's such a lame drink!" his friends say, but toji would roll his eyes and state that it's a funny drink name and that it gets him drunker quicker; promptly chugging it and ordering another. the glass looks so small in his giant hands, other bar patrons casting judgmental gazes in his direction at the scene in front of them; giant, scary-looking man and his fruity little drink, but he couldn't care less. it's not like they have the balls to say anything to his face, any way.

-choso: a little overwhelmed by bar culture but happy to be invited anyway, he'd sneak a straw into his brother's piña colada, even though yuuji would be more than happy to share. choso would eventually branch out on his own after feeling a bit more confident (and after googling the most popular drinks around the world) settling on a mojito, not realizing it was one of the more laborious drinks a bartender could make. he'd feel bad when he realized it and wouldn't order one again, apologizing profusely to the bartender.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

author notes: this took me way longer to write than it should have solely because i couldn't stop laughing over some of the scenarios. also,,i just want to thank each and every one of y'all for liking, commenting, and reblogging my stories...it means so so so much to me and i wish i could give all y'all a big ole smooch on the forehead (consensually). my inbox is open n ready for ur suggestions...please feel free to drop a request♡

© bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do not distribute. 2024.

[riordanness]

does he know? — [emercy]

pairing: perseus jackson x emma rebekah

wordcount: 2.2K

warnings: none i think

dedicated to @kozumesphone , the emercy captain 💿🫧

Does he know? That was always the question lingering in the back of her mind, whenever she laughed at one of his not-so-funny jokes, when he caught her gazing at him a little too long, when she slipped up and mentioned something about him she probably shouldn’t know without being obsessed with him.

Does Percy Jackson know? How much I love him?

Emma sits in her usual place, perched right on the edge of the pier, one battered Converse dangling while the other is tucked up under her thigh. Her blue sketchbook is open in her lap, but her pencil is idle.

Her blue grey eyes are fixed on the ocean horizon, but they aren’t seeing the view. Instead, all she can picture are his sea green eyes, the way they glitter with mirth the same way the ocean does. The way his black hair is impossibly messy at all times, no matter how many times he tries to smooth it down. The single dimple in his left cheek when he grins like a maniac after teasing her about something.

She glances back down at her sketchbook, the page open to a messy sketch of her best friend.

Emma chews her lip, her pencil fixing up a few small details in his hair.

If only he knew.

If only… two words she found herself thinking and wishing and saying almost everyday now. Two words, wrapped up in delusion and hopeful dreams.

“Em!” Her thoughts are broken by a familiar, boyish voice, and an equally familiar footstep pattern as Percy Jackson runs down the length of the pier.

Percy scrambles to a stop beside her, flinging himself down to sit with his legs dangling beside hers. “Hey,” he says easily.

“Hey, back,” Emma says, a smile on her face, the one that always is when Percy is around.

Percy’s sea green eyes are first on the water, then they drift down. “What’s that?” he asks, and his voice sounds kind of funny, like he can’t decide whether to be amused or confused.

Emma frowns, following his eyes. Oh. She’d completely forgotten to close her sketchbook. It lay open in her lap, the page covered in tiny little Percys, a dozen or so messy sketches.

“Oh, um…” Emma isn’t sure how to reply. Unfortunately, she’s just gifted enough for the likeness to be fairly accurate. She can’t exactly pretend it isn’t him.

“Do you like it?” she offers.

Percy grins, looking up at her. “Em, that’s insane. That’s—like, so good! You’re incredible.” He reaches for her sketchbook, then hesitates. “Can I?”

Emma nods, handing him the book.

Percy spreads in on his lap, thumbing through the pages. Only now does Emma realise how often she draws him. Or things related to him. The ocean, a trident, sea animals, skateboards, glittering sea green eyes, and dozens of sketches of Percy.

He’s quiet for the whole time, silently studying her art. Finally, he closes the book and hands it back to Emma.

“So?” she asks nervously, chewing the inside of her cheek as she watches him. “I haven’t really shown anyone my work before, cause it’s just for fun and I’m not like, super good or anything—“

“Emma.”

Percy’s voice stops her nervous ramble.

“You’re incredible. Like, dude, that’s really good art.”

“Even the creepy ones of you?” she jokes.

Percy smirks. “Kinda weird that you know my face that well, to be honest. You’re kind of a stalker, Rebekah.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “Okay, Jackson. You’re my best friend! I know your face well, weirdo. And, you’re easy to draw.”

He laughs, that boyish, fun laugh she adores. “I’m joking. If I could draw, I’d probably just draw you all day too.”

Does he know how much that comment alone made my stomach erupt? Does he know how many nights I lie awake, replaying the sound of his laugh around in circles in my head? She thinks, studying his face for as long as she could, before her gaze flits back to the ocean.

“Whatcha doing out here?” Emma asks finally.

“Looking for you.”

His easy and simple answer sends a flurry of butterflies through her stomach—so she just grins into her lap to hide the flush in her cheeks. “Yeah? Well, here I am.”

“Here you are,” he echoes, and something about the way he says it feels… strangely intimate. Emma isn’t quite sure, but the look in his eyes is something that she hasn’t seen before. Something more.

She clears her throat, changing the subject and clearing the weird, uncomfortable tension in the air. “Hey, wanna go swimming with me?”

“What kind of question is that?” Percy laughs. “Yeah, of course I do. Always.”

Emma grins. “Okay. Meet back here in ten minutes.”

“Ten?” he jokes incredulously. “I can be changed in three.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “Bet.” She clambers to her feet and is off in a second, running towards the little cluster of cabins at the edge of the woods.

Soon, they’re both back. Percy in his blue board shorts, his black hair messed up from yanking his shirt over his head. Emma has pulled on her black bike shorts she always swims in (she claims they are more comfy than typical swimmers), and a modest lavender bikini top.

Chucking the towels to the deck of the pier, they race to the end, like they always do. “First one in the water is a rotten blueberry!” Emma yells at the last second, watching with glee as Percy doesn’t have time to stop, and jumps into the canoe lake with a splash.

“Hey!” he yells indignantly once he surfaces. “No fair!”

Emma points at him. “Rotten blueberry.”

Percy sticks his tongue out at her, which she can’t pretend isn’t completely adorable.

“Okay, okay, you totally cheated.”

“Cheated?” she repeats, standing at the edge of the pier, one foot dangling over the water. “I didn’t cheat; I tricked you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just get in already so I can dunk you for that.”

Emma laughs, gazing at him for just a second before she jumps in. She can’t deny that part of the reason she loves going swimming with Percy so much is so that she can check him out subtly. At least, she hopes it’s subtle. His abs are tan and gorgeous, and his sea green eyes always glitter to match the sunshine on the water. His dark hair curls slightly at the ends, especially when it’s wet, which matches her curls—making her happy inside.

The water explodes into bubbles around her when she jumps, and she smiles underneath it, the water being one of her most happy places. When she surfaces, Percy is right there, looking amused.

“Ready to drown?” he teases.

“Drown? Nuh uh,” she says back, splashing him a little.

“You are so going down now, Rebekah,” he laughs, lunging at her, his strong arms wrapping around her middle, trapping her arms to her sides.

Emma squeals, then laughs, then tries to squirm out of his grasp. “Hey, let go!”

“Nuh uh,” he jokes, echoing her earlier tease. “You’re going down.” And down, she goes, underneath the water. Normally, being dunked by anyone even half as strong as Percy would freak her out, but she knows him. Better than anything, and good enough to know all of his tricks.

A swirl of current is now in place of his arms, holding her underneath the surface, trapped in a watery embrace. And then, just as she can’t possibly hold her breath for even one more second, a bubble appears around her, and Emma gasps for air.

Percy’s water bubbles always amaze her, and this one is no different. It surrounds her completely, firm and smooth to the touch. She sits cross legged on the bottom of it, sucking in the clean, cool air.

Percy is visible, a few metres away, grinning. He swims over easily, and slides into the bubble too.

“Hey, stranger,” Emma says.

“Well, hello, miss.”

She can’t help but smile again, her heart full of Percy. Emma leans back, eyes shut, her curls resting on the curved edge of the bubble. Relaxed and happy, she lets out a contented sigh.

Percy knows what she means by it. He always seems to. “This is nice, isn’t it? When it’s just us. We don’t get that as often anymore.”

Emma hums in reply, not opening her eyes.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Percy says suddenly.

That’s when her eyes open, and she pushes herself up. “Um. Yeah. Sure.” It sounds kind of ominous.

“How come you draw me so often?”

It sort of catches Emma off guard, but of course he’s asking that. He saw the sketchbook, the dozens of pictures of him inside of it. Hell, she’d be bloody curious if someone ever drew her like that.

“Um…” Emma isn’t exactly sure how to answer this straight away. But then, she closes her eyes for a second, grabs onto her shred of courage, and just says it.

“Because you’re my favourite thing in the world, and people always draw their favourite things.”

Percy almost looks… confused? “Me? Why on earth am I your favourite thing? Also, I am not a thing. I’m a Percy.”

Emma laughs, then nods. “You’re my favourite Percy, then.”

Percy grins, that dumbass troublemaker smile that always makes her heart flutter and her mouth feel warm. “I’m your favourite Percy,” he repeats quietly, in a happy, gentle kind of way.

“And you are my favourite,” she continues, “because… well…” Emma takes a deep breath. “Because you just are. I adore you with every single part of my being. You’re my best friend, my partner in crime, the only person in the world who understands me perfectly and accepts me completely the way I am. You’re my protector, my muse, my tease. You share your snacks with me, you let me steal your clothes, and you never care how many Taylor Swift songs I make you listen to. You always match my energy perfectly, and our sarcasm is exactly in tune. You let me play with your hair as I tell you stories about what our future will be like. You’re incredible with kids, and every time I see you with the younger campers I fall deeper in love with you. You’re the perfect mix between skater dork and lover boy.”

Emma breaks her rant for a breath, but then leaps back into the ramble.

“Remember the first time we met?” she asks, a nostalgic smile on her face. “You were a soggy twelve year old boy, half drenched in the rain and crying over your mother, dragging poor Grover. I told you that demigods have to be better than that. You retorted that ‘You’d be sad too if your mum died’. And I replied that ‘Well, better that than frostbite’, and that confused you so much you laughed. And ever since, we’ve been best friends. We’ve gotten through every quest together, every monster we fought side by side. You understood my humour when no one else did, you comforted me when nightmares got too embarrassing for me to admit. You were the reason I got through my really bad year mentally when we were fifteen. You are the one I crossed the country for. You jumped into the River Styx for me. I still wear this stupid thing—“ she holds up her wrist, which bears a woven bracelet of black, sea green, and orange thread. “—Because it’s the colours of your hair and eyes and camp shirt. You are the reason I keep going, Percy Jackson. And I am not letting you go. Because I love you.”

There are seven counts of heartbeats before Percy replies.

“Oh, Em…” he manages, before there are literal tears glinting in his gorgeous eyes. Emma has never seen him cry from something like this. From being… happy.

“I love you too, you dumbass,” Percy laughs. “And even though that speech was both the most adorable thing in the world and entirely corny, I—I loved it. Thank you for being you, Em.”

Her heart is full, warm and so happy she wants to cry too. No one has ever been glad that she is her. That is, until Percy.

She does cry, then, a few grateful tears on her cheeks.

There, in the middle of a bubble under the canoe lake, Percy pulls her into the tightest hug he’s ever given the Daughter of Aphrodite.

“You mean the universe and back to me, Em,” he whispers into her hair, and when he finally dips his head down to kiss her, it’s like bubbles are shooting up around her insides, popping and flooding her system with salty sunshine.

He does know, she thinks giddily.

[felinecyan]

Karma

[Billy Loomis x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Karma gets the best of people. But so do unwanted memories.

WC: 1409

Category: Angst, Survivor!Hallie (because she deserves sm more love)

Summerween is still a thing, right? 💀 Oh well, here’s a slasher fic anyway…

『••✎••』

Karma always finds a way to make itself known. It is the great equalizer. You would think that a guy like Billy Loomis, a teenage psychopath, would know that better than anyone. He should've known that murdering half the town would come back to haunt him.

He should've known, but he was too far gone in his own narcissism to understand.

But, despite that, It's amazing how quickly a town can forget about a mass murder when a bigger tragedy strikes. In Woodsboro, the recent killings were all but forgotten about by the time of the anniversary of the first murders. People were more excited to talk about the new Stab movie being released rather than the killings that happened just two years prior.

You, on the other hand, would never be able to forget.

You had been friends with Randy Meeks ever since elementary school. Your parents had been good friends, and your mother was a huge horror movie buff, so it was no surprise when the two of you bonded over your shared love of horror.

Your friendship with him was cut short the day he died.

And even though it wasn’t Billy but his mother who had killed your Randy, you still felt Billy’s haunted presence in the school. In your head, you thought that you could sometimes see him walking around, even if it was only for a second. You could swear that you saw him in the corner of your eye or heard his maniacal laugh as you walked past his old locker.

It had gotten to the point where you couldn't focus in class because you were afraid that Billy was going to be lurking outside, waiting to strike. You felt a lot of resentment towards Sidney for surviving—for yourself, while Randy hadn't.

It truly should’ve been you. I mean, you dated Billy for a bit; you should've seen the signs. If anything, you deserved to take Randy’s place for being shitty at reading people.

Well, Randy couldn’t see his best friend was a killer either. So really, he was just as shitty as you were.

After Randy was killed, you didn't go out much anymore. Stu and Randy were everywhere, but you found the worst one was Billy.

You’d see him staring, his eyes burning a hole into your skull. Even when you turned around and he wasn’t there, you still felt him.

The only time you really got out of the house was when Hallie forced both you and Syd to join her at the movies. It was horror, of course, it was, but she truly believed that seeing the movie would get the trauma out of your system and into the fictional world where it belonged.

Sydney, of course, wanted nothing to do with the movie and stayed home.

Which left you with Hallie. You would’ve stayed home, too, if it wasn’t for the convincing words and the promise of ice cream afterward.

Hallie was practically bouncing in her seat, excitedly looking at the trailers before the movie. You sat beside her, trying not to make it too obvious that you were glancing around the room every few seconds.

The theater was pretty much empty, with only a few people scattered throughout. It was a small town, after all, and not many people would want to watch a movie that was now too realistic.

You looked down at the popcorn in your hands that Hallie had forced upon you and sighed. This was a terrible idea.

You didn't notice the person sitting down next to you until they spoke.

"This brings back old memories, doesn’t it?”

You froze. You didn’t need to look to know who was talking. His voice was a voice that you had been hearing in your head for two years now.

Slowly, you turned to face Billy. He was grinning at you, and he looked more alive than ever. Except now, there were blood stains covering him and a nice small bullet hole right in the center of his forehead.

You tried not to focus on it too much.

"Go away." You demanded quietly, afraid to draw any attention to yourself. Hallie was too enamored with the trailers to pay any attention to you, but you didn’t want to risk it.

If you were going to be haunted by a psychopath, it would’ve made better sense for it to be Stu. Annoying people was right up his alley, while Billy would normally just ignore you and do whatever the hell he wanted.

"Why?" Billy asked, his grin growing wider. "It's been a while since we last talked. Hell, Randy, and Stu haven't shut up, so it's a nice change to hear someone else."

"You don't deserve to say his name," you spat out, your hands curling into a fist. Billy looked down at the fist, and his gaze darkened.

"Look at you, trying to be all tough. Sydney must have rubbed off on you a bit. That or you've always had a bit of a temper." He mused, a hand coming up to rest under his chin.

"What do you want from me?" You hissed, trying not to raise your voice. A little side glance from Hallie told you that you weren't doing a very good job.

But she went back to the commercials, waiting impatiently for the movie to start, and Billy laughed. He laughed harder than he had before, his eyes closing as the cackles shook his whole body.

"Want from you? Nothing. I'm just here to enjoy the movie." Billy grinned. You glared, your lips curling back into a snarl.

"No, you're not. You're not real."

He smiled at that. "I’m as real as you want me to be, Princess. Why is it that I’m here and not Randy? I mean, you claim to be his best friend. So you tell me, why isn’t he here and I am?"

You opened your mouth to tell him to fuck off, but you were cut off by the lights dimming, and the intro music started. Hallie let out a whoop, and Billy settled into his seat, turning his attention away from you.

The movie wasn't even that good; the acting was mediocre, and the special effects were even worse. You had no idea why this movie was so popular.

You blamed Randy's previous influence as a horror movie expert.

Hallie seemed to be enjoying herself, and she kept whispering her thoughts about the movie to you. You only half-listened, your attention still focused on Billy. You could feel the ghost of his hand resting on your leg, the coldness seeping through your jeans.

You tried your best to ignore him, but Billy was determined to make sure you didn't.

"God, can't believe how bad this movie is," he complained, shaking his head. "I'm almost embarrassed for these people."

You never felt the urge to throw popcorn more than in that moment.

"Stop it," you said through gritted teeth. "Just leave me alone."

"Why? It's not like you have any actual friends left, so I'm the only company you'll get. Sydney, sure, but psycho analyst over there? She might’ve escaped once, but she's not smart enough to do it again."

Your anger spiked at his words, and you were about to reach over and hit him, but his hand caught your wrist, his grip tight.

"Ah, ah, ah," he tutted. "Remember, we're in public. Can't have you acting out, can we?"

The grip shocked you. Because it wasn’t the ghost-like touch that you had become so accustomed to; no, it was real, solid like a normal human's grip.

You pulled your wrist back and turned to stare at him. You wanted to say something, ask him what the hell was happening, but his smile told you that he already knew.

The grip was his way of reminding you that no matter how much you wanted him gone, he was still there. He wasn't going to disappear.

Billy leaned back and smiled at you, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek.

"Enjoy the rest of your movie,” He whispered, his breath sending a shiver down your spine. “I know I’ll enjoy mine.”

Then, not even a second later, he was gone. You didn’t see him leave, or hear him, or even feel him.

His touch was replaced with a cold breeze, and the only thing that you were left with was a memory and the promise of a sequel.

[chimivx]

no matter what i do ↠ txt

now playing: 0X1=LOVESONG (I Know I Love You) • TXT

Two years after an end-all argument with Taehyun, you’re forced to spend Christmas weekend together at your mother’s, and his father’s. Once upon a time he meant the world to you. Now that you’re both married with kids, things are getting messy, and a little blurry. The longer you stick around in the home you both grew up in, the more secrets come out… It’s always been messy, it was always blurry. All you want, all you truly yearn for, is to get back on good terms with Taehyun.

word count↠ 33,944

warnings↠ MDNI. 18+. no graphic depictions of sex but it is heavily implied, drug use, teenage drug use, alcohol abuse, angst amongst taehyun and reader, insinuation that someone will s/a reader (briefly, not described), teenage pregnancy (age nineteen), step-cest before they are officially step siblings (growing up together in same house, not step-sibs until they are full adults), infidelity, not so fabulous parents, neglectful mother, biting at some point if you squint, crying, lots of crying, many many sex insinuations (not graphic)… if i missed anything PLEASE tell me.

a/n↠ i put my BACK into this one, i feel pretty proud of this. this may be extremely taboo to some people. this topic is frowned upon by most. if you don’t like it, simply scroll by, thank you. the idea sparked in my head, and i couldn’t let it go. to those of you intrigued, to those of you who end up reading- thank you. 🫶

posted↠ 12/20/23 ~ 12 a.m. est

White crystal snowflakes whirled through the brisk air, the wind nipping at your cheeks as you struggled with the car seat buckle for the third time this week. The toddler you were strapping in had her hand stretched out of the van door, trying to catch a snowflake filled with wonder as to why she couldn’t hold one in her warm mittens.

“No-flake, Mama,” she mumbled to you. “No-flake!”

“The snowflakes are so pretty, just like you, Mina,” you smiled at her, adjusting the straps over her shoulders, hoping to ease your struggle.

Behind you, the front door to your two story home flung open and slammed shut, the scuffle of snow boots plowing down the porch stairs followed. Equally shrill, loud mouthed shouts filled the quiet winter air.

“Boys, don’t jump in the-“

Glancing over your shoulder, it was too late. Your twin boys, Chan and Sunoo, were knee deep in the snowdrifts on top of the gardens that lined along the porch. Dark hair and matching brown eyes grinned maniacally at you.

“You both need to get in the car, we’re gonna be late!”

Mina shoved a mitten in her mouth, biting down on the fabric with her tiny teeth ripping it off of her hand. While you watched Sunoo and Chan trudge through the snow, each one trying to shove the other to the ground as they raced to the van, your two year old threw her mitten to the ground. And then the other one, with a shriek.

“I’m right here,” you soothed, turning back to your daughter with a sigh. “Meens, it’s cold baby,” you crouched to pick the little pink mittens up off the ground, “you have to wear these.”

“No wear,” she frowned, her eyebrows sinking over the eyes she shared with her father. She puffed out her pouty cheeks, becoming the carbon copy of him. Out of all of your kids, Mina looked the most like him.

“Yes, wear,” you said, reaching for one of her hands that both shot up into the air in an instant. Her bottom lip crinkled, and you withheld the groan you ever so wished to release from the depths of your being.

Christmas was supposed to get easier as the kids got older, not harder. All morning you had been arguing over clothes and trying to contain your chaotic twin five year olds to their bedroom just so you could brush their hair. Mina kicked you in the chin on accident while you were putting on her boots amidst an hour-long meltdown because she had barely slept the night before, which usually meant she was getting sick- another glorious thing to deal with while you traveled for the weekend.

Sunoo wanted to put on his pants himself, getting the fabric stuck in the zipper, and Chan insisted on helping him fix it. By the time you were back in their bedroom after Mina nearly knocked you out, the pants were ripped and Sunoo had to change his entire outfit, which meant the boys weren’t matching anymore. Meltdown number two. From the brother of a boy with ripped pants who’s favorite thing was getting to match with his twin.

Mina was set free to roam around the house, clunking around in her boots looking for her father, and you squeezed Sunoo into his outfit from last Christmas Eve, mentally preparing yourself to hear sly comments from your mother all weekend wondering why he wasn’t in the new clothes she bought him, and ‘those pants are way too short, dear, do you need me to go shopping with you?’.

The one thing, the one amazing, thoughtful thing that took some of the weight off of your shoulders was your husband taking care of the youngest of your crew, Wonwoo. A tiny, calm, beautiful six month old surprise you all only found out about ten months ago. 

Mina had just turned two, the boys were about to graduate Pre-K, and you had run out of bedrooms. With four months to prepare for a new baby, your husband stepped up, with the help of his friend Kai, and converted half of the basement playroom into a bedroom for the twins, one they could grow into throughout the years. Mina moved into the boy's old room, painted purple by her father, and Wonwoo got his own room right next door to his sister.

You would put up with the boys, “Just because we’re twins means we don’t get our own rooms?!”, argument later. That was a problem for future you. Not the current you fighting with your two year old over mittens, dodging snowballs your five year olds were throwing at one another.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my fucking god,” you muttered under your breath, knowing your curses couldn’t be heard over the boys shouts or Mina’s wailing. “Boys, in the car now!” One mitten wrestled onto Mina’s right hand. The twins didn’t hear you, or they ignored you. “Boys!” A snowball hit the ground by your feet. Two mittens on, and one seatbelt successfully buckled.

Ready to hoof it through the snow to put a twin on each hip, they were still small enough to do so, the front door shut followed by the jingling of keys as it was locked making both boys freeze in their boots.

Shooting you a look of reassurance before eyeing the boys, your husband, with a baby carrier in one hand and keys in the other, carefully started down the stairs. His smooth black hair that usually hung over his eyes was parted to the side, resting on top of his thin rimmed glasses that he pushed up his nose with his knuckle. A jean jacket not nearly warm enough for this weather hugged his stretch of a frame, hiding a white button up beneath it, the top two buttons undone with nothing under it.

It was a wonder why Wonwoo was such a surprise, your husband’s been a babe since the day you met. Fatherhood didn’t change him the slightest, if anything it made you want him more.

“Soobin,” you said through your teeth, placing your hands on top of your head. “I’m gonna lose my mind.” 

Speaking quietly as he came closer, you didn’t need your children hearing your moment of despair. They were all being a nuisance, but it was reasonable. The twins were excited, it was Christmas and they were about to spend the weekend with their family they rarely got to see, and Mina was getting sick. Not only that, Mina was two years old and still learning how to properly express the way she was feeling, still learning what emotions even were. Those words were bound to come out of Soobin at some point.

“You’re doing great,” Soobin said, handing you the carrier with your youngest snoozing away inside, bundled up in a bear onesie with ears on the hood, covered up with a fuzzy blanket to keep him warm and to make sure the seat buckles were on him securely. “Put him in his seat, I got tweedledee and tweedledum.” He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek as you giggled.

Since their father had stepped out of the house both Chan and Sunoo were attentive, one eye on Soobin and one eye on each other. They still made snowballs, but were hesitant to throw them. 

Circling around the trunk of the van, taking a peek inside to make sure everyone's bags were there, you watched as Soobin put his hands on his hips, and asked the boys nicely why they weren’t listening to you. The snowballs fell from their gloved fingers and they both shrugged.

“Your mother has been taking care of your sister all morning,” he began, the boys looking up to him with wide eyes. “You know Mina can’t do the things that you can do yet, she still needs a lot of help. I’m so proud of you both for getting dressed on your own and helping each other, but now it’s time to help Mom, okay?” 

Setting Wonwoo in his place, making sure everything was properly locked, twice, you tried to not let the twins' attentiveness to their father get you down. It seemed no matter what you did, no matter how you spoke to them, they chose to always, always, listen to Soobin.

Two tiny heads nodded, and two tiny voices spoke at once. “Okay, dad.”

“You’re excited it’s Christmas?” Soobin asked the boys, and they nodded again, faster this time. “Me too! You’re excited to see your cousins?” The boys smiled and nodded, starting to walk toward the car. “Me too, you know we haven’t seen your Uncle Taehyun in forever.”

Your step brother's name made you fumble, bumping the handle of Wonwoo’s carrier, making him stir. “No, no, no.” You whispered, freezing, saying a silent prayer that he wouldn’t wake.

Chan and Sunoo reached Soobin, both boys reaching up for him, tugging on his clothes in some way. “I can't pick you up right now, you decided to play in the snow and now you’re all wet.” Two pouty five year olds gazed up at him, big, round, sappy eyes. Mina may be his twin, but they all shared the same pouty face. You weren’t sure when the twins mastered it. “You made your decision. Now you have to climb over Mina to get in your seats because your brother is asleep.”

“She will kick us!” Chan nearly shouted, looking up to his father in shock. Sunoo’s glance exchanged between Soobin and his brother, anxious to see what he would say, because you all knew for a fact, that Mina wouldn’t hesitate to kick them.

The toddler had calmed her crying to watch her brothers, gnawing on one of the mittens you stuck back on her hands. Her tear stained cheeks perked up when she heard Soobin say her name. Either that, or she was proud that she already had a reputation at the ripe age of two.

“Mina won’t kick you,” you said, sliding the van door shut on Wonwoo’s side, walking around it to stand beside your husband. Gripping the handle of the passenger door, you raise a brow to Soobin and smirk. “We’re gonna be late, Soob. I’m already dreading seeing my family, I’d like to not pile on to the shit my mother has to say about me.”

“You said a bad word!” Sunoo gasped, pointing at you. Chan started to laugh. Soobin sighed.

“You said a bad word,” he said, completely serious. 

Your husband was a lot of things. For starters he was stunning, he knew how to dress, he was an incredible caring man, an amazing father, and a beast in the sheets. Underneath all the dreamy qualities you were still in shock you secured nine years ago, he was an insufferably proper prude. Not that you’d ever tell him that to his face, though you’ve hinted at it just to tease him. He was a gentleman, and he was raising the boys to be the same. He’d be damned if his boys ended up like half of the jerks he grew up with or encountered in his lifetime. Your husband didn’t curse, he spoke with intention, and always thought through everything carefully, sometimes too much.

Nine years together, five and a half years married, he hasn’t seemed to completely rub off on you yet. The two of you were utter opposites, anyone with eyes could see that. Anyone who knew you nine years ago could tell you that.

You and Soobin? You… With Soobin.

You, the loud mouthed, hot headed, class skipper who had detention every other week, with straight edged, outstanding GPA, respectable Soobin. Opposites attract, you assumed. Though you’d be lying if you said the beginning of your relationship wasn’t an excuse to escape the life you used to live. You were in love, you created a beautiful family, and you lived a happy life… An hour and a half away from the family you used to know.

Turning your attention down to the twins, you smiled. “I’m sorry I said a bad word. I’m a little frustrated.”

“But, that’s not an excuse,” Soobin raised his brows, looking from you to the boys. Taking a deep breath, choking back a sigh, you nodded.

“No. It’s not,” you grit your teeth. “I shouldn’t have said that word. I’m sorry.”

Soobin smiled at you. “Into the car boys, if Mina kicks you I don’t think I blame her.” He flashed you a wink as you got into your seat. Now that was more your parenting style, though you understood and appreciated Soobins. You were raised differently, you were still unlearning a lot of things, and it got a little easier with each child that came out of you.

Once the boys were in their seats and buckled after Mina did try to kick them as they climbed over her, your family was on the road, forty five minutes later than you originally planned. Between Sunoo’s outfit mishap, and now being late, you mentally prepared yourself to be berated by your mother. With Soobin by your side it’d be a little bit easier to take. Your stepfather always had your back too, telling your mother to back off if she ever started to lay it on too thick. The one who always took the brunt of it though, the one who seemed to make it disappear, was Taehyun.

Since the start, since your two families blended together, he’d stick up for you no matter the consequence. When it came to school, the two of you in the same grade, inseparable since middle school, if the two of you were caught in trouble he’d take full blame. Of course that only worked until high school when you started to get into trouble on your own, but even then Taehyun would step in front of you at home, getting the worst of the punishment.

It’d been two years since you’d last seen Taehyun. Two summers ago at his eldest daughter's tenth birthday party in his backyard, an hour and a half away in the opposite direction of you. You were the halfway point between him and your parents.

You were both thirty, you were both married, you had three year old twins and a newborn Mina, and he had his freshly ten year old daughter and seven year old son. 

His wife, Sana, waltzed around the backyard dressed to the nines with a glass of wine in one hand and her cell phone in the other, showing off her assets to anyone who cared to listen. The woman was a year younger than you both. Her hair, black as night, was pin straight down her slender back exposed by the deep purple low cut dress she had chosen to wear. Around her neck was a diamond necklace she would brag about, how grateful she was that her husband worked so hard to buy it for her, along with the gaudy wedding ring sitting on her left finger.

Their daughter, Rosie, a mini Sana, had clearly been dressed by her mother that morning. You can remember how many times Soobin mumbled, “If Mina ever…” angrily to you, offended that his sister-in-law would allow her daughter to dress that way at ten years of age. The second he brought your step brother into the mix, you shut your husband right down.

Taehyun wasn’t seen with Sana the entire party. He was with his boy, Minho, enjoying what seemed like a very expensive day you were certain he dropped every penny for. 

Taking care of Mina while Soobin watched over the twins running around the colorful water sprinklers, you were able to catch Taehyun’s ear only momentarily. A conversation that shoved a knife through your heart, even now if you thought about it for too long.

He was tired, Taehyun. Even though you were the one with a sleeping newborn slung over your shoulder in a dark, quiet hallway of his home. You could see it in his eyes that were once full of life beneath his messy dark hair. He wasn’t the man you knew anymore, and the weighted words you threw at each other when you were twenty came back to haunt you. Both of you.

Twenty was when everything changed. Taehyun got Sana pregnant. To which you begged him to not go through with, knowing what type of girl Sana was, even at nineteen years old. It was an accident, he once called it. Until the accident’s tenth birthday, where he nearly spat at your feet and admitted he did it on purpose.

He knocked Sana up on purpose to get away from you, to erase the past you shared, to which you sneered that that’s the very reason you wound up with Soobin. To get away from him, to erase the past you shared. The hurt that drowned his tired eyes was something you’d never be able to unsee.

Your sharp, hushed, venom laced voices were cut off by your husbands calling up to you from the bottom of Taehyun's carpeted stairs. With two hands on the banisters, Soobin had daggers for eyes, directing them only at Taehyun who you didn’t realize almost had you caged to the wall, the two of you entirely too close considering you had a baby across your chest. Soobin’s baby.

The end played out in your mind, regretting everything that had happened the moment you had collected your boys and gotten into the car. After Taehyun handed over two letters addressed to your twins, you hadn’t spoken since that moment.

Soobin’s hand slid over the soft, flowing fabric of your pants, bringing you back to present time. The twins were babbling away to one another in the third row, Mina was humming to herself, and Wonwoo was still sound asleep. Looking over at your husband, you find him glancing at you ever so often with a soft smile on his lips.

“You alright?” he asked. Grabbing his hand, you laced your fingers together and took a breath.

“Yeah,” you said, half convincing. “Just… tired. Between nursing Wonwoo and Mina fighting sleep last night, I just…”

“Right,” Soobin said, focused on the snowy road ahead. You’ve been on the road for about twenty minutes already. “Why don’t you rest until we get there?” Dragging a thumb over the back of his hand, you shrugged. Much like the needs of your children last night, your racing thoughts and pounding heart weren’t exactly going to soothe you to sleep.

Soobin lowered his brows, along with his voice. “What else is bothering you?” Though he could probably take a wild guess. Hesitating, you made your husband chuckle. “It’s going to be fine. When I talked to your mom she said he was excited to see everyone.”

“He was lying,” you whispered.

“You don’t know that,” Soobin said.

“Yes, I do.”

Pulling up to a red light, Soobin let go of your hand and touched the bottom of your chin, turning you so you would look at him. “It’s been two years. You’re thirty-two, and so is he. He’s your brother, surely you guys can use this weekend to make up and end this sibling tiff.”

The light turned green and he grabbed your hand again, his attention on the street and keeping his family safe on the hazardous roads.

Toying with his fingers, you mumbled, “He’s not my brother,” and ignored Soobin’s eyeroll and the way he pulled his hand away from you to grip the steering wheel.

“I’d also love to go this weekend without any of that,” he said, voice low.

With a heavy exhale, you twisted yourself nearly sideways to face him. “Don’t do that.”

He shot you a glare. “Don’t disappear on me.”

“Soobin.”

“I’m serious,” he said. “There’s four kids back there now, baby- Ugh, babe- Love, Jesus Christ.” Your bottom lip escaped between your teeth. Soobin shook his head. “Maybe since you’re fighting he won’t call you that. One less thing to worry about.”

Your relationship with Taehyun was a rocky path that Soobin somehow understood since day one. At the start of your relationship and up until Rosie’s tenth birthday, Soobin had never been too fond of him, knowing that Taehyun was ‘one of the jerk’s’ he didn’t want his sons becoming. At this point in your life, you’re saddened you’d have to agree.

The house you grew up in was nothing short of spectacular. Two stories high with staircases on each end of the house, it was a classically built home that your mother and step father took excellent care of. Half of the outside of the home was grey stone, while the other half, sunken back a bit, was a wash of sky blue. The driveway was grand and stretched up the blue side of the house to two chestnut brown garage doors, and from the paved driveway a sidewalk lined with gardens wound up the lawn to the front door that matched the garage.

Everything was covered in snow, making the house draped in twinkling white Christmas lights appear like it was on the cover of a magazine. From the bay window on the stone side of the house you could see the Christmas tree all lit up, wrapped in silver garland with an ornament on each branch. Every Christmas was the same. Dazzling lights outside, a show stopping display of a tree, and an anxiety attack that one of your kids would break a decoration around each corner of the house. It was like your mother forgot what it was like to have toddlers, they were worse than cats, they touched anything and everything.

Pulling into the shoveled driveway, the snow was still coming down and had worsened on the drive, both you and Soobin peeked behind you at the quiet car as soon as it was in park. 

Mina, out. Wonwoo, out. Chan, out. Sunoo, sitting with his hands in his lap, smiling at his parents.

“Hi honey,” you cooed. “Thought you were asleep like everyone else.” Soobin laughed.

“What’s up, bud,” he said. “You’ve been pretty quiet. You didn’t want to talk to mom and dad?”

Sunoo shrugged, his smile still puffing out his cheeks. “I was just watching.” The five year old gestured out the window with one hand before slapping it on top of his other one, gazing out at the snow.

You and Soobin shared a look of adoration. “Just watching,” you both said at the same time with a soft laugh.

“Do you wanna wake up Chan, or do you want Daddy to do it?”

Sunoo glanced at his snoozing brother and his crooked neck, then shrugged again. “Will he be cranky if I wake him up?” 

Soobin bit back another laugh. “He’s always cranky,” he mumbled for only you to hear, then said to his son, “Wake him up and tell him he has to help me bring in our things. So do you.”

“Okay, Daddy,” Sunoo said, reaching over as far as he could in his carseat to tap his brother's arm that dangled off the side.

Looking at Soobin, you nodded. “I got the babies. Why don’t you come say hi first, then we can all come back out here for everything else once my mom has hold of Meens?”

“She’s going to pass her off to Jin, you really think she’s going to let Wonwoo stay asleep?” Soobin smirked. He glanced past you out the window and took a breath. “Taehyun’s here, he can hold the baby. He hasn’t met him yet.” 

Peeking out the window, the old, black Jeep Wrangler littered with different stickers made your stomach sink to your knees. He’s driven that thing since he got his license. When you met Soobin’s gaze you could tell he was serious.

“Yeah,” you nodded, taking note of Chan in the back of the van who was rubbing his eyes vigorously. “He can hold him.”

Soobin reached across your seat, touching beneath your chin like he once did about an hour ago. “Listen,” he said softly, dragging a thumb over your cheek. “We’re going to have a good weekend. I promise. It’s Wonwoo’s first Christmas,” he dropped his voice to a whisper for a second, “The boys are getting their first bikes,” you both smiled, “And you and Taehyun… You’re going to make things right. It’s time to make things right. To… move on.”

“Don’t make it sound weird,” you muttered. Soobin perked a brow. “No, come on,” you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut. Your husband laughed, then leaned forward to give you a kiss.

Both Sunoo and Chan shrieked, “EWE!”

“I love you, you weirdo,” Soobin smiled. Mina stirred behind you, catching his attention for a second. Grabbing onto his hand you pressed a kiss to his fingers and sighed.

“I love you too, Soob, so much.”

His smile grew. “I know.”

Within minutes your entire crew was up the winding sidewalk, taking your sweet, sweet time because the kids found the lights so interesting. Mina, curled up into your shoulder, could've stared at the twinkling snowflakes hanging from the trees for hours. The twins led you up the couple of steps to the front door, telling both you and Soobin to be careful because it was slippery. Car seat in hand, Soobin saluted them as a thank you, and then insisted that they were the ones to knock on the door. Their faces lit up, their tiny fists going to town on the chestnut wood, the wreath hanging on it shaking like crazy.

A sing-songy voice could be heard on the other side along with another. Your blood pressure was through the roof. Catching a glimpse of Soobin watching the boys with pride helped ease the nerves, at least you’d be here with him, with all of them, your mini me’s you created with his help. Soobin was right, this was going to be a great weekend, you were here together, and that was enough.

The doorknob to the door rattled, and it swung open in a flash, your heart rate skyrocketing for a millisecond until your mother cheered, throwing her arms around your boys.

“Finally!” Fabulous as always, she wore a champagne colored chiffon dress cut off at her knees with flowing sleeves and matching Loubuittons. Diamonds hung around her neck and dripped from her ears and her wrists. Her hair was curled, and her makeup was pristine. Always the picture of perfection.

“Hi Mom,” you smiled, pressing your lips together, firm. With a twin on each leg, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and shot you an award winning grin.

“Hello my dear,” she crooned. “Hi Soobin, Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas, Joy,” Soobin smiled.

“Come in! Come in! God, it’s freezing out here,” Joy shuffled herself inside with the boys attached to her, making them giggle like crazy. Exchanging a look with Soobin, you both rolled your eyes.

“Rosie and Minho are in here somewhere,” Joy began, detaching the twins from her. Sunoo and Chan lifted their chins and looked around the house, taking it in as if they had never seen it before. “You’ll find them eventually, they’re not good at hiding.” 

Your mother laughed toward you as if you’d get her joke. You settled for a sympathy laugh regardless, one she didn’t notice. Mouth agape, she tiptoed to your side, sliding a hand over Mina’s back.

“Think we’re coming down with something,” you said, giving your girl a gentle bounce. “She’s gonna be clingy all weekend.”

Joy pouted her silicone filled lips and held open her arms. “Be clingy right here, darling. Come ‘ere, sweetie.”

Kissing the top of Mina’s head you spoke quietly to her. “Go see your grandma, Meens.” You attempted to take her off your hip, but your girl held on tight.

“Oh, Mina,” Joy sang. “Joy has cookies in the kitchen, do you want some cookies?” Mina picked her head up, her heavy eyes blinking a couple of times before she held up a hand.

“Cookie,” she babbled.

“Cookie?” Chan whined. “Cookies? Joy, you have cookies?”

“Can we have cookies too?” Sunoo asked, looking up at you and Soobin. “I want some cookies too, please.”

Joy waited for the parents to answer, giving you eyes as persuasive as your kids.

“Well,” Soobin said, looking at you. “Can’t say no, you already brought it up. You can each have one cookie.”

Joy held her hands up and Mina nearly jumped into them. Wiggling your daughter out of her winter coat and mittens, Soobin took care of the boys and helped you hang everything up in the closet by the door after Joy hurried off to the kitchen with the kids. Sliding a hand around your back, he kissed your cheek and chuckled to himself.

“What?” Smiling up at him, you wrapped your arms around his back. He nuzzled his nose against yours and took a breath.

“Mm, nothing,” he shrugged. “Just thinking about how those kids are going to be glued to your mom all weekend.” His hands slipped lower over your pants, smoothing over the flowing fabric. “They’re going to forget about us, and we can get lost in this big house, and-” A whine slipped out of the carseat a few feet away from you. Soobin waited with baited breath for the baby to make another noise. You couldn’t help but laugh, burying your face into the collar of his jacket.

“Unfortunately that one can smell if I’ve ventured too far away from him,” you said. Soobin, still smiling, shook his head and kissed you much deeper than he had all day.

“Guess she was going to let him sleep,” Soobin said, untangling himself from you. He started for the carseat, greeting his youngest son with the sweetest voice.

“Yeah, I guess,” you furrowed your brows and glanced down the hall toward the kitchen where commotion was evident. “Here.” Turning to your husband who had Wonwoo out of the seat, tucked in the air in a newborn scrunch, you held out your arms to scoop up your little one. “He’s gonna be hungry soon.”

Adjusting the hood on his head while he was cradled in your arms, Soobin cocked his head to the side. “Give him to Joy, he can have a cookie.”

“Stop,” you laughed, shaking your head. Tapping your baby’s bottom, you turn around to peek down the hall again. “Shall we? Surely someone in there with arms will take him. I’ll help you bring in our stuff.”

“The boys will help me,” Soobin said, following you as you started down the long hall lined with galleries of photos of your family, both immediate and distant. There were plenty of you and Taehyun.

“The boys are five, and we have a lot of stuff,” you said. “They’re going to carry two bags and then they’ll hear Joy say something that sparks their interest and like you said, they’ll forget we’re here.”

The hardwood floor clicked beneath your shoes, echoing up into the high ceilings lined with wooden beams. The beige walls in this place seemed to stretch for miles, and just as you expected, there was some sort of Christmas pizzazz on every square inch. Turning into the kitchen that was toasty warm, you find the entire room was brand new. The last time you were here was shortly before Wonwoo was born, so that means in the past six months this kitchen had had another facelift.

The tile was marble, the counters were marble, and the cabinets were a dark forest green. On the end of the house, the ceiling on the kitchen was slanted and adorned with a massive skylight lined with spotlights shining down into the room.

“Mom, what the hell,” you said a little too loud.

“Bad word!” Sunoo pointed at you. 

Joy, at the island counter with Mina sitting on the marble with a cookie in her hand and both boys standing beside her, looked toward you curiously. “What's the matter, honey?”

“This,” you gestured around the kitchen you had to admit was gorgeous. “It’s like the fifth time you’ve redone it.”

Joy frowned. “You don’t sound happy, what is it ugly? What did I miss?” She parroted her head around like she’d find an imperfection somewhere. Mina copied her, glancing around before she spotted you and Soobin and smiled.

“Mama,” she said, waving her cookie toward you.

“Hi Mina,” you nodded, stepping closer to her. “No, Mom, it’s… stunning. Just wish you’d commit to an aesthetic. This shit’s expensive.”

“Bad wooord!” Sunoo and Chan shouted.

“Babe,” Soobin’s tone was flat.

“This shit is very expensive, darling, but my God, it’s gorgeous,” Joy waved a hand around, flicking her diamond bracelet up and down her wrist.

“Joy! Bad word!” Chan pouted, looking up at his grandmother in defeat. Soobin sighed heavily, and you wanted to apologize, but he pulled the boys out of the kitchen before you had the chance to do so.

“We’re going to bring our things inside,” your husband said to you, disappearing with the boys down the hall.

Once he was gone Joy wiggled her brows. “Daddy Soobin still strict as ever, huh?”

“He’s not strict, Mom,” you shook your head. “He’s far from it.”

“Mhm,” she hummed, taking a bite out of a cookie. Mina tried to grab it from her, but she pulled it away. “Sweetie, you’ve got your own, and your military boot camp daddy said only one.”

“One,” Mina smiled, holding up a finger. Joy’s face lit up, making your daughter laugh.

“Good job, Mina,” she cooed. “How’s that baby of yours?” She asked you while she played with Mina.

Looking down at Wonwoo who was gazing up at the skylight, you smiled at him. “He’s perfect.”

“You feeling better about adjusting to four?” Joy snuck a glimpse of you, her eyes written with something you couldn’t quite decipher.

“I am,” you nodded. “Wonwoo’s an angel, so he made it too easy. Makes me feel like we could do five.” Joy thankfully laughed along with your joke.

“Yeah, well, if my husband looked like that I don’t think we’d stop.”

“Mom!” Your eyes went wild as she laughed.

“Come on, I’ve said it since you started dating him, Soobin’s a good one.”

Looking down at your baby again, you smiled. “He is a good one.” The kitchen went quiet for a moment, the only sound coming from Mina as she tried to put a cookie into Joy's mouth, and cheering to herself as she did. Praising her, Joy took a bite of the sugary snack and put it down, meeting your unreadable gaze. 

“What’s the matter? You’re pregnant again, aren’t you.”

“Mom!”

“You have that look on your face,” she circled her finger toward you. Mina grabbed onto it and tried to put it in her mouth. “No, honey, you can’t eat my jewelry… What’s going on?”

With a breath, you shrugged and forced the words out of your mouth, attempting to sound as casual as possible. “Taehyun and Sana here?”

Joy lifted a brow. “Taehyun’s here. No Sana.”

“No?” you questioned in surprise. Joy eyed you curiously.

“Sweetie, they’ve been divorced for almost a year,” she said. Placing her palms flat on the marble counter around your daughter to keep her in a safe space, Joy narrowed her eyes. “You’re telling me you didn’t know that?”

Mouth wide open, you scoffed. “Had no idea. How did this not come up this summer?” 

Joy shrugged. “I dunno, I figured the two of you had talked, and it’s his business, he didn’t need me spreading it around.”

She had a point.

“When was the last time you spoke to your brother?”

The word made your skin crawl.

“He’s not…” you nearly sneered, but stopped yourself before you opened a can of worms. “We haven’t talked… in a long time.”

Joy dodged a Mina kick, but still swam in her laughter, squeezing her cheeks with glee. “Tell me when that was.”

Swallowing hard, you took a deep breath. “Rosie’s tenth birthday party.”

“What!” Joy shouted, startling Mina. “I’m sorry, honey, c’mere.” She popped your daughter on her hip and scrambled out of the kitchen. “Follow me.”

Doing what you were told, you shifted Wonwoo over your shoulder and followed your mother to the other side of her home down the stretch of another hall. On the way you passed by a full bathroom, an office space and a living room with a TV screen as large as one in a movie theater. You ended up at the bottom of a staircase with your heart at the bottom of your stomach.

“Taehyun!” Joy shouted up the wooden dual level stairs.

“Mom, stop, we’ll talk,” you whispered, but your cries for help went unnoticed.

“Kang Taehyun!”

“Tae-yun,” Mina said, observing her grandmother. “Tae-yun!”

“Great,” you mumbled. What a fantastic word for her to learn and bring home with her.

“I’m coming!” His voice sent chills down your spine. “Hang on!” Even muffled by walls it churned your stomach into knots.

“You’re gonna talk now,” Joy shot you a glare over her shoulder. “It is Christmas goddamnit, I won’t have my kids fighting on Christmas.”

All you could give her was a sigh. From the front of the house you heard the door open and close. Poor boys were only on trip number one.

“Mom, I have to help Soobin with the car-”

Her hand cut you off. “Hush, he’s coming.”

Footsteps sounded upstairs, hurried footsteps, ones you would recognize blindfolded. You spent years listening to and memorizing the footsteps of the people you shared this house with.

“Taehyun!” Joy shouted for the last time.

He appeared at the top of the stairs with a grin, and the wind was knocked out of you. Meeting your eyes first he must’ve read your energy, because he blinked a couple of times and retreated down a single step hesitantly. You wanted to greet him somehow, this was no way for you to see somebody for the first time in two years, standing at the bottom of a staircase speechless.

He looked different. His hair was a little lighter, and you wondered if it was done on purpose or if age was already getting to him. Dressed the same as he usually would be, dark ripped jeans and a band tee that finally fit him properly instead of hanging off of his skinny frame. He hated the gym, there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d been working out… But, then how would he be filling out the sleeves of the tee the way he was if he wasn’t lifting… something.

There was color in his cheeks and life in his big brown eyes. He looked happy. And it tore your heart apart.

“Hi, Baby,” he shot you a big, toothy grin. “Long time, no see.”

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Long time no see.” Taehyun's gaze dropped to the baby in your arms. You swore his smile faltered before he met your eyes once more.

“Care to explain to me why your sister told me the two of you haven’t spoken in two years?” Joy cut the ever so joyous reunion off, and for once you were grateful for her obliviousness. Taehyun tilted his head to the side to think, but you know he knew damn well why the two of you haven’t spoken. It just wasn’t something you could share in front of Joy.

“Uhm, it’s just… Life, I guess,” Taehyun shrugged twice, looking at you for help. Either that or he was mentally crucifying you for opening your mouth.

Joy popped a hip and clicked her tongue. “You’re a shit liar, just like your father,” she said. “Whatever is going on, you two work it out before dinner please.” Stepping away from the stairs, Mina in her arms, she held up a hand and shouted, “No fighting on Christmas!”

You watched her walk away, and the moment she was out of earshot you pointed your attention up to the top of the stairs. Taehyun’s eyes were wide, and his smile was gone. Both of his hands held onto the wooden railing, like he was ready to prop himself up on it and slide down like he’s done before many times. He tried to teach you how to do it a long, long time ago, but you ended up with stitches in your elbow instead.

“You really said something to her?” Taehyun broke the minute of silence that was beginning to suffocate you both. “I was fully prepared for you to walk in here and we just pretend like everything is okay for a couple days for her sake.”

“I can’t do that,” you whispered.

His jaw tightened. “I need you to do that.” He started down the stairs, his chunky sneakers clunking with every rushed step he took. Brushing past you, his scent was familiar. He still wore the same cologne.

“And what if I can’t?” Your voice made him freeze. He turned around halfway.

“Then, I’m gonna take my kids and we’re gonna leave,” he said, then continued down the hall.

“We’re really not gonna talk about this?” you asked. “We’re not even gonna try to fix it?”

He whirled around, swinging his hands at his sides before he crossed them over his chest. His biceps bulged out of his sleeves. “We’re not,” he gritted his teeth. He took two steps closer to you. “We can’t. There is nothing to fix.”

“It’s Christmas.” Your voice was barely a whisper.

Taehyun glanced down to where Wonwoo laid. “Yeah. It’s Christmas. You keep having babies, and I’m divorced. You’re happily married, playing house with your amazing husband, and keep pulling me back under whenever you come around and wanna talk.” You gulped, he watched you do so. “We’re done. We were a long time ago. Now, we act like everything is fucking perfect, or I’m gonna get called into work tonight and break Joys heart.”

Staring each other down, he didn’t walk away until you nodded. Wonwoo stirred on your shoulder, a small sound slipping out of the boy's mouth. Rubbing his back you watched Taehyun disappear around a corner wrapped in silver garland. Resting your cheek on the hood of Wonwoo’s onesie, you soothed him with a gentle hush, bouncing him ever so gently, turning away from the hall.

An empty cry came out of the infant you cradled, one that made you laugh. “I know, lovie,” you breathed. “I feel the same way.” 

Your eyes landed on a set of photos on the wall in a sleek black frame. Both photos, top and bottom, were from you and Taehyun’s first day of high school. Joy took your picture before you got on the bus in the morning, and then again when you got home. 

In the photo on top you were both dressed nice and your hair was done. Taehyun, as skinny as a rail, was covered in black with a red checkered flannel around his shoulders, and you were in a yellow sundress. You would’ve never worn it if Taehyun didn’t tell you it made you look pretty. Hanging around your bedroom door all morning while you tried to put on a little makeup that Joy had given you, he wouldn’t leave you alone.

At that point, freshman year of high school, your families had been living together for four years. Jin and Joy weren’t married yet, you can still hear the distant jokes they’d make about living in sin.

The bottom photo was hysterical, it honestly made you smile. Standing out front on the sidewalk both you and Taehyun struck funny poses, and on the bus ride home, you’d almost switched outfits. His flannel was tied around your waist, and the two of you tried to switch shoes even though his feet were three sizes bigger than yours. Every piece of jewelry you had put on that morning was given to him, which would mark this as the day that Jin and Joy found out he had pierced his ears himself, without your help, of course. 

Neither your mother nor his father, still to this day, ever found out that sometime that July the two of you went full Parent Trap and stabbed needles through his earlobes in the bathroom you shared. Lindsay Lohan really made it seem entirely too easy, it took three tries to get the needle through his skin. Practice makes perfect though, because when you were eighteen you pierced each other's second and third holes in that bathroom at four in the morning after downing half of Joys Svedka. You made sure to fill it up with water before she and Jin came home from their second cruise of the year.

Low and behold, in true Joy fashion, she never found out.

He had three silver studs in each ear today. Two summers ago he had three silver studs in each ear. You wondered if changing the jewelry gave him the same numb feeling it gave you. He used to wear diamonds, and sometimes he’d wear hoops, or chains that hung from each piercing. Either he didn’t care to switch out the earrings now, in which case he could just take the jewelry out and let the holes close, or he cared too much, and couldn’t touch them. 

Scoffing under your breath at yourself, you shake your head. Thirty-two years old and you were still wallowing in the halls of your mothers home trying to put the puzzle pieces together to figure out if Taehyun cared about you. “Grow up,” you mumbled, spinning around your heels to find your boys. They’d pull you out of this.

“Hope you aren’t talking to me,” Soobin said with a smile, turning the corner just as you were about to sprint out of the hall.

Startled, you huff a laugh and meet him at his side. “No, not you,” you said. “Myself.” Soobin poked one of Wonwoo’s hands, letting the infant latch onto it, squeezing it with might. Only your husband's eyes flickered up to question you.

“Taehyun said you needed me?”

Your face twisted in confusion. “What?”

Thinning his lips into a line, Soobin bobbed his head. “He insisted on helping bring our stuff inside, and when I refused, politely, he told me that you needed me and sent me this way.”

“He’s a jerk.”

“What?” Soobin tilted his head. “I mean- Yeah, but, what happened? Are you okay?”

The sigh you let out ended with a gravely groan. “I’m fine, Soob. I told Joy we haven’t spoken, and she went… All Joy. He’s mad I told her. Said it’s something we can’t work out, ever. Guess he sent you this way ‘cause he thinks I’ll be emotional about it.”

Soobins sparkling eyes studied your being. “Are you?” 

“Do I look like I’m throwing a tantrum?” 

He laughed and shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he paused, looking down at his son who was getting more vocal. “I do know you expected things to get back to normal after you saw each other, though. You wanted to talk it out.”

“I did,” you said, averting your gaze to the floor. “As normal as our normal is.”

Soobin rolled his eyes, but not to degrade you. “Yeah, babe, I wanted you guys to work this out.” Snapping your eyes to his, your lips parted in shock. It made him smirk and roll his eyes again. “As much as I… dislike…” he waved his free hand behind him, “Most of this, and what it put you through… He was your best friend. You can’t deny that.”

“You’re my best friend,” you whispered, and Soobin smized before he shook his head.

“That’s sweet,” he smiled. “But, we know that’s not true.” 

Wonwoo broke out into a cry, a real one this time. Shifting him to a cradle you bounced him and hummed.

“Hungry,” you whispered to the baby. Soobin took a step closer, closing the empty space between you. “Imma go upstairs to feed him.”

Soobin smoothed a hand over yours. “Give him to me. He can have a bottle for now.” Meeting his gaze, you purse your lips. “Go make sure Taehyun didn’t let Chan and Sunoo in the snow.”

Following you out into the foyer where there were a plethora of bags and suitcases, you helped Soobin with Wonwoo’s diaper bag, a battered blue thing that had ‘C. & S.’ stitched into the material right beneath the zipper. All four of your babies have used this bag, and you intended to follow through with the tradition no matter how many times Jin and Joy tried to gift you a brand new, brand name expensive one. Neither you or your husband have gotten a glimpse of the tree yet, but you could make a huge assumption that there would be one wrapped up for you beneath those glittering branches.

Kids were messy, and baby’s were no better. Between you and Soobin, you’ve both told them that they didn’t need to give you the high end things with marked up prices that would be ruined in a few days. You were doing perfectly fine with what you had. And Wonwoo is the baby of four! Back home you had a house filled to brim with enough to have you settled for a fifth or even a sixth.

“Everything is in here, right?” Slinging the bag over Soobin’s shoulder that didn’t have an infant over it, your voice was quiet. Moving at about a mile a minute, you popped the bag open to double check your husband would have what he needed, and listened to him as he laughed.

“I packed the bag, darling, everything’s there,” he said. Looking up at him, you blinked a couple of times. “I’ll be in the kitchen feeding him, okay?” You bobbed your head, rubbing Wonwoo’s back. “I’ll also be looking for our daughter, she and Joy are very quiet.” Darting his eyes down the hall, a snicker escaped you both before he leaned down to kiss your forehead. “Come find us when you grab the boys.”

A well-oiled, beautifully communicative team. Soobin truly was the greatest. Coming with so many faults and so much baggage, just look at where you are for the weekend, your husband very rarely, and almost never at all, brings you down for it. Trips like these are always a reminder that you struck gold nine years ago when you decided to take him up on that date night.

Ice cream and a movie. The simplest night, yet one you’ll cherish and remember forever. He picked you up in his used white, two door BMW, from the front porch of this very house. Knocking on the door, Jin was the one to answer. Soobin, in blue jeans and a white t-shirt, stepped up and held out his hand to shake your step-fathers. Back then he wore thick rimmed glasses, nothing like the skinny frames he wears now. They sat on the edge of his nose, and his dark bangs that used to hang in front of his face brushed right over the top of them.

He was totally boy next door, entirely pure, and all the more sweet. A gentleman, he paid for it all, he held your hand during the movie, and when he dropped you off, he walked you to the door and kissed your cheek. It wasn’t anything like you were used to, you had never, ever in your life had a date, yet alone one like Soobin. That one Friday night turned into every Friday night, and four kids later here you were.

Tugging the front door open to fetch your boys, Taehyun seemed to be walking in at the same exact time, bumping directly into you as he fumbled with the door. Nose to nose, you didn’t have a second to even see if the twins were covered in snow as they bolted over the threshold past your legs.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” he muttered. His eyes darted away from yours, watching the boys fly down one of the halls, you weren’t sure which.

Still gripping the door handle, digging your fingertips into the gold, you were certain your knuckles were white. Jaw as tight as can be, you sucked in a breath, his cologne surrounding you both comforting and all the more repulsive. Centimeters between you, you wanted nothing more than to release the door and lay your palm out on the side of his face, preferably at a speed that would knock some sense into him. Though you aren’t sure for what.

Taehyun looked down at you, his round lips pursing slightly as he read your expression. A snarky breath of air came out of him as he rolled his eyes. “Give it up,” he said. There was an insatiable itch lying just beneath your skin.

“Yanno, I would, actually,” you began, your eyebrows plummeting. “But, you listened to me.”

A real smirk graced his lips, flashing you his perfectly straight, pearly white teeth. “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“Sana,” you said. Your entire being filled with glee when his cocky smile fell off his face. “What was it, two years ago? Something like that right?” He rolled his eyes again, his staple. “Someone told me that they were��� happy? Was that it? That they were happy, and not exhausting themselves for love? Overworking themselves to get out of their house, to get away from their wife? To get-” “Oh my god, shut up!” Taehyun groaned, dipping his head forward.

The newfound life in his eyes you caught a glimpse of was very much real. The big,  round, chocolatey brown, galaxy filled eyes were back. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed them. They were set perfectly on his face, the buttery olive color of his skin making them pop right above his sculpted nose and cheekbones. His face was slender, and a little small, but his eyes were oceans, filled with wonder. They always have been.

Boys always got the things girls didn’t, like the eyelashes, and Taehyun had plenty to spare. With each blink they fluttered, the chocolate brown turning into a daydream the longer you gazed up at him. His hardened, annoyed expression softened, and you felt yours do the same. His pink lips parted as if to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, his eyes flickered between yours, slowly, like they were trying to drink up this moment, as if it would never happen again.

Thirty-two looked good, the years were clearly kind to him, and you only hoped he was thinking the same. After four kids and five years of sleepless nights, you weren’t feeling your best. Not only that, you were also six months postpartum, wearing clothes that barely hugged your figure so you’d be comfortable. After those four kids, comfort had become a priority.

Taehyun was single now, he had bulked up, and you figured out in these two minutes that he colored his hair lighter on purpose. He looked good. He looked nice. He looked like himself. His entire fit tumbled you back almost twelve years, before Sana, before kids, before everything went to shit. It left you unsettled, but it also wrapped around you with warmth, and safety. Normal, and happy, and comforting, like home should be.

A pout snuck onto your lips, one that Taehyun shifted his gaze toward. “Tae,” you whispered, feeling a lump form in your throat.

“No, no, no, you’re gonna cry,” he shook his head the slightest. “Don’t cry.”

“But I will,” you pressed your lips together tight after the words left you. “Talk to me. Please. Especially now, please.”

A sharp breath shot through him. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from yours. “I don’t know if I can handle going there again.” His voice was a whisper.

“We don’t have to,” your eyebrows flipped over, pleading with him. Now he looked away, toward the floor between you. “We can start from two years ago, or we can start over, we can be brand new, we can be…” you gulped, “Brother and sister.” 

His shoulders shot back as he stood up straight and plastered the cocky smirk back on his lips. “You really think we can do that?”

Nodding, you tried to smile, but it wouldn’t work. “I do,” you lied to keep him talking. Taehyun shrugged and dropped his smug act that never stood a chance around you, you weren’t even sure why he still tried. “For the sake of our families and our futures, I do.” His eyes melted into yours. The lump lodged in your throat forced a tiny tear out of the corner of your eye. “You were my best friend, Tae.”

“We were codependent and stupid,” he sighed. The words shoved a knife into your gut.

“I don’t disagree,” you said to his surprise. “Codependent and stupid. But, you were my best friend. I miss you.”

Hesitating, Taehyun danced his eyes all around your face, studying you, taking you in. With a breath and a heavy exhale, he nodded, swallowing hard. “I miss you, too.”

“Not lying?”

He shook his head. “Not lying.”

A smile lit up your face. “Joy still has those pictures of us on the wall, the ones from freshman year?”

“The clothes switch?” You both said at the same time and laughed.

“Oh god, they couldn’t take us anywhere,” Taehyun said.

“Menaces, both of us,” you giggled.

Taehyun quirked a brow. “I think I still have those earrings, the ones you had on that day.”

“Now you’re lying, there’s no way you have the-”

“Dangly silver diamonds Joy gave me for our middle school graduation.”

“Dangly silver diamonds Joy gave you for our middle school graduation.”

The both of you screwed your mouths shut and held in a laugh. Taehyun's cheeks turned an endearing shade of pink, and it wasn’t from the open door you were both still standing in. Peeking at the floor like a flustered teenager, he licked his lips and huffed a laugh.

“See,” you said, getting his attention. “We keep talking at the same time, that’s something siblings do, right?”

Taehyun cringed, the physical reaction he had to the words was the same as you.

“That’s…” he began, curling his lip.

“Weird?” you added quietly, and he nodded. “Agreed. I hate it.”

“Friends?” he offered, his voice jumping up at the end, preparing himself for you to hate it. “Is that… less weird?”

“Friends,” you smiled, bouncing your knees once to signify your delight. It was going to have to be something you both worked for, but it was better than nothing. “Thank you.” Reaching between you, you rested your hand on his arm and tried to not express your shock over the muscles that rippled beneath your touch. 

Taehyun glanced at your fingers for a moment, then he smiled and gave his full attention back to you. Lifting a hand, he brushed it over your cheek and tucked some of your hair behind your ear, letting his fingers dance over the earrings you chose to wear. Breath hitching in your throat, your grip tensed on his arm, squeezing accidentally. Time slowed, and for a moment you forgot where you were. A screech from the kitchen from one of your kids brought you back, and both of your hands dropped in an instant. Neither of you had anything to say.

“No wonder it’s freezing!” Joy’s voice carried from around the corner where she appeared from. Whipping yourself around, jumping away from Taehyun, you smiled and took a deep breath. “Shut the damn door!” She was kidless with one arm tucked under the other.

“Sorry,” you said in a hurry, bringing yourself closer to her so that Taehyun could follow orders and push the door shut, clicking the lock into place. Joy took her hands to your shoulders and rubbed your arms, flashing you a curious brow. “We brought the house with us, clearly.” Peeking over your shoulder, you meet Taehyun’s eyes, watching you.

Joy looked from Taehyun, to you, then back to Taehyun. “Did we make up?” She forced her serious tone out of the depths of where she locked away all her parenting skills. Both you and Taehyun gave her a nod.

“All good, Mom,” you said. “Can I help you with dinner? Are we getting anything started yet?”

Joy pressed a hand to your cheek, right where Taehyun’s had been. “Jin’s at the store picking up a couple of last minute things, when he gets back we’ll really get started.”

“Oh, yeah, he’s got my kids,” Taehyun snickered, waltzing past the two of you toward the kitchen.

“Does he?!” Joy shouted. “This whole time I thought they were getting into trouble somewhere up there!” She gestured to the floor above her.

Taehyun paused beside her and grabbed her shoulder. “Joy, be honest, you never knew what happened up there.” 

“I knew enough, okay?” Defending herself, she held up a hand. “You were two teenagers going through everything at the same exact time, I was not going to get in your way! I was a teenager before, okay? I hated when my mother was in my space. When we moved into this house you both got the second floor for a reason!”

“A+ parenting, Joy,” Taehyun nodded, and you did your best to swallow a giggle.

Joy groaned. “Come on you two, I’ve been up there. I wasn’t a neglectful mother! Taehyun, we helped you move out, I saw the walls and the carpets in both your rooms, and the tile in the bathroom. You were kids, you were stupid, but you had your own space and it made you two closer than ever, and as a mother, I couldn’t ask for more.”

Tiny feet running down the hall stole everyone's attention. Chan and Sunoo, at the speed of light, wearing wicked smiles, were flying toward the other end of the hall. As they passed by the three of you, Sunoo latched onto Taehyun's legs, his short arms just making it around them.

“Whoa!” Taehyun shouted, gripping the little one by the back to make sure he wouldn’t fall, his voice signaling to Chan that his brother had stopped shorthand.

“What the heck are you two doing?” You watched Chan turn around and wrap himself around Taehyun's other leg, his arms just barely reaching his brother's shoulders. The twins laughed maniacally, then gazed up at Taehyun.

“We was racing, Mom!” Chan said, sucking down deep breaths.

“We were racing,” Taehyun corrected.

Sunoo’s smile was so wide it almost hid the tired in his eyes. The only one out of four to not have a car nap. “We raced to Uncle Taehyun! I won!”

Joy planted a hand over heart. “How sweet,” she said, giving you a look.

Chan leapt away from his uncle and crossed his arms over his tucked in button down. Dark brows lowered furiously, your five year old scolded his copy. “We was not, Sunoo!” A little performer, Chan stomped a foot. “You said the hallway!”

“We were not, Chan,” Taehyun corrected him again. He crouched down and wrapped an arm around Sunoo, then motioned for Chan to join him in his other one. “Besides, it doesn't matter who won, right?” Sunoo opened his mouth to object, but Taehyun moved right along. “It’s Christmas, and Santa comes tonight.” The boy's eyes shot open wide, and you and Joy laughed quietly.

“He’s so good with them,” Joy said to you under her breath.

“We can’t be mad at each other when Santa’s coming, can we?!” Taehyun asked, and both boys shook their heads. “Right,” he grinned, the sight making your stomach flip. “Now, I say we go upstairs and look for something to do while we wait for Rosie and Minho to come back and play. Sounds good?”

“Good!” Sunoo and Chan shouted.

“Yanno, it’s uncanny,” Joy said as she took a step backward toward the kitchen. You both watched Taehyun take a twin with each hand and start for the stairs on the opposite end of the house. “They share no relation, but those boys have his damn eyes.” Shooting you a smile like she didn’t just send your stomach plummeting for the floor, she turned around for the kitchen and shouted, “Soobin, I want my grandson! Give him up!”

Arms slung around Soobin’s shoulders where he sat at the kitchen table, you rested your chin on the top of his head, watching Joy rock Wonwoo in her arms. The chiffon fabric that hung from her arms brushed over his face occasionally, making him giggle, and in return, making everyone else giggle. Still swaddled in his teddy bear onesie, Wonwoo stared at his grandmother in awe, his stubby fingers trying to reach for her shiny jewelry.

“I love it when they can’t run away,” Joy cooed, nuzzling her nose on Wonwoo’s. “In a couple months he’ll be on the move, then you won’t be able to do this anymore.”

“Ouch, okay, don’t do that to me,” you said, and Soobin agreed.

“That’s our baby,” Soobin frowned. “Please don’t rush it.”

Joy smiled toward you two, nodding to Mina who was cuddled up on Soobins lap. Her thumb was in her mouth and her eyes were halfway shut. She was completely dead weight, Soobin already tried to move her. She wouldn’t budge.

“Least that one’s still cuddly,” she said. Blowing a raspberry, you glanced down at your daughter. “Your only girl… Consider another.” Eyes boggling out of your head, you and Soobin both, you laughed and held each other tighter. Soobin had his hand wrapped around one of your wrists.

“Four seems like quite enough, Joy,” Soobin said. Joy raised her eyebrows, shrugged, and cooed down at Wonwoo. “We didn’t even know that one was coming!”

Joy’s attention shot up. “Exactly,” she smized. “It could happen again!”

You and Soobin shared a quick look. “Mm,” you hummed. “I don’t think so.”

“Don’t be so silly,” Joy said to the baby, directed at you. “Anything can happen, anything is possible… Right, Wonwoo?” Your son cooed at his grandmother. “That’s right, sweetie pie.”

Watching your mother cradle the baby and talk about having more kids as if it were nothing but a past time nauseated you. Here, in a kitchen that’s been redone oodles of times, in a house that was oodles of dollars you cannot even begin to comprehend, with a woman who had one daughter with a man she was married to for not even a year.

Dating men on and off throughout your childhood before she met Jin, you encountered a lot of strange and unusual people who somehow, conveniently, always had money. They would spoil your mother and buy her things she didn’t need that she’d give to you. Plenty of them offered her marriage, but she refused for whatever good reason she had in her materialistic mind.

It wasn’t that she was a bad mother, she didn’t neglect you, or brush you off, or set you aside… It was more of the fact that she was rarely present, and if she was present, she wasn’t paying attention.

Most of the men she dealt with were way older than her and typically kidless. If they did have kids, they were old enough to be out of the picture without having to be around to see their father mess around with a gold digger single mother. You really don’t know how she did it, maintaining multiple relationships at once without them figuring each other out. But, everything changed when she met Jin. Taehyun’s father.

Neither of you liked to say it was your fault they ended up together, but ultimately it was your fault that they ended up together. An elementary school incident that had both of your parents meeting in front of the teachers desk at the end of a long winter's day.

Taehyun had been pulling on your pigtails, and you didn’t like it very much, so you took it upon yourself to push him to the floor. When he fell he knocked over one of the toy bins, and stuffed animals poured out on the floor everywhere, and Taehyun saw an opportunity. He picked one up and threw it at you. Thus beginning a stuffy fight with every first grader in the class.

It took two years for them to start dating, it wasn’t official until you were in third grade and you hadn’t spoken to Taehyun in a while because you had girl friends at that point, and boys had cooties, and besides, Taehyun would always be the boy who used to pull your hair.

Joy and Jin kept a lot of things separate for a while, they didn’t let you or Taehyun see them together, interact, or just simply know if they were going out together. It was some well kept secret, one that was hidden out of sight for about a year and half, until the summer of sixth grade when they decided to buy a house and move everybody in together. Taehyun wasn’t happy. At first, neither of you were. You adjusted a lot faster, loving the big, brand new room where you’d have complete interior design control, and long halls, stretchy walls, and echoey ceilings. A touch of Joy's materialism may have rubbed off on you at some point.

The boy who now lived across the hall from you struggled for almost a year. Joy had found her perfect match, because Jin had no idea. Taehyun would spend too much time in his room blasting loud music, and shortly after living together you found out that he knew how to sneak in and out of his bedroom window, shimmying down a tree that hugged the back edge of the house. Eventually you would learn how to do that, too. And it was painful. But, it was entirely too much fun. You figured out quickly how to get friends into your rooms from that tree.

Joy was half right when she told you she didn’t neglect you, but that didn’t mean she was winning Mother Of The Year. When she held your kids and cuddled them, and kissed their noses, and gave them treats, her intentions were genuine. It healed some part of you deep down inside, while it simultaneously crushed your heart into a trillion pieces. They were getting a side of her you didn’t get.

The moment you found out you were pregnant in the upstairs bathroom of this house, not even knowing it was twins, you vowed to be the mother to them you never had. You would give your kids a beautiful life, one where they’d never have to question whether or not their parents loved them. 

That’s also part of the reason why you married Soobin. He was a good man, he always has been, and he’s proven that he’s an even better father. Soobin became your peace amongst the chaos, your rock. At home, when it’s just the six of you, you’re calm, level headed, and able to think clearly thanks to your husband's guidance that took years for you to adapt to. When you’re here, at home, back in a life you were hardwired to always live, things got a little blurry.

“Do I hear Jin?” Joy glanced to the arched doorway of the kitchen, narrowing her eyes like it would help her hear better. On the opposite side of the house, away from the garage, one would think it’d be impossible to hear the doors open, but like the footsteps around the house, you were conditioned and your ears were trained to hear that sound from a mile away.

“Yeah, he’s back,” you said. Soobin laced his brows together, looking up at you. He didn’t have ears in this house like you. “I’ll go help him.”

Your husband started to stand up, gracefully sliding your daughter into your arms. “She’s about to knock out, I’ll go help him.” Wrapping your arms around Mina, the two year old buried herself in your chest, her arms clinging to the fabric of your sweater. “Baby girl needs her mom,” Soobin whispered, his lips perking up into a small smile. “I’ll have the boys come down too.”

“He’s so good with them, isn’t he, Soobin?” Joy spoke up. Your husband turned to flash your mother a grin. “Taehyun? So good with kids.” “Somebody’s got to be the fun guy, right?” Soobin half laughed, then looked at you with his lips completely flat.

“I talked to him,” you said under your breath, and Soobins eyes narrowed. “Before he took the boys upstairs, we spoke.” Peeking behind him finding Joy invested in Wonwoo, Soobin faced you completely and kissed your cheek.

“It’s going to be okay,” he mumbled, though it sounded more like a question.

Nodding fast, you smiled. “It’s gonna be okay.”

With a gentle squeeze to your shoulder, Soobin left the kitchen, leaving you with your mother and your babies. Taking the seat your husband was just in, you adjusted Mina so she was comfy, and kissed the top of her head. Her forehead was warm and her cheeks were rosy.

“Mom, you have any Tylenol…” Your voice faded as you looked up, finding her staring at you with a studious look. She was focused, eyes pointed at you with an intent you couldn’t seem to read. “What now?”

Joy shook her head, dangly earrings bouncing below her ears. “Just thinking.”

“Uh oh,” you said, and she scoffed. “I’m kidding,” you dipped your chin to apologize, “What’re you thinking about?”

Joy teetered her head side to side, glancing about her thirty thousand dollar kitchen. “I dunno, I’m just so happy to have you and Taehyun here, and your families.”

“Doesn’t seem like it,” you started to frown, and a nervousness settled into your chest, much like how it would when you were a kid and your mother put on her serious face. It was just you and her in the kitchen, there wasn’t a stray Taehyun around to save you.

“No, I am, truly,” she said. “When you both said you’d be here I couldn’t wait to have you both under one roof again, for an entire weekend. You’re both adults, you both are so busy, we haven’t gotten to be a family in a long, long time.” Joy copied your frown, averting her gaze to the table in front of her, then to your baby in her arms. “If I think about it for too long… I wonder if we’ve ever… been a family.”

“Mom,” you sang. She looked up to you and shrugged. “We’ve been a family for such a long time, you know that right? Taehyun and I were twelve when we moved here, that’s… that’s like, holy shit, that’s like twenty years.”

“Twenty years of what?” Joy asked, purely genuine. Her eyes begged yours for help. The nervousness in your chest spread to your stomach, filling your entire being with unease.

“What are you getting at, Joy?” you almost snapped. 

Your mother’s bottom lip crinkled. “You didn’t know he was divorced, you haven’t spoken in two years, what kind of mother have I been? A mother should know this about her kids.”

“Technically he’s not yours,” you joked, hoping she would laugh. She did not.

“He has been for ten years through the law.”

“Yeah, but even then, we were, what? Twenty-two when you and Jin officially got married?”

Joy pressed her lips together, firm. “What do you have against us being a family?” Her voice was quiet, incredibly hushed that not even the baby’s stirred, but her tone was packed full of venom. Eyes going wide, you sat back in the chair and took a shallow breath. For a minute she stared at you. Then, she shook her head and looked down at Wonwoo who dozed off. “Why didn’t you two speak for so long?”

Rolling your eyes you held Mina closer and sighed. You’ve relived the fight you and Taehyun had at his daughter's tenth birthday party so many times, most times with Soobin when it became unbearable to stay in your head. Neither one of your parents cared, until now it seemed, but that’s how it went. Selective parenting, like she was playing make believe.

“I told him…” You weren’t sure how to begin. It might be a whole lot better if you just ripped off the bandaid. “I told him to divorce her.”

Joy's expression went unchanged. “Why would you… How could you even say those words?”

“Mom, do you remember how he used to be? Sure, he looks fantastic now, but two, three years ago? He was miserable!” Your volume had raised, Mina shifted on your lap.

“They were a family.” “She was using him for his money, Mom, come on,” you spat back, feeling your veins fill with fire. “You and this preconceived idea of family. We could all see what she was doing to him, I’m shocked she didn’t force five more fuckin’ kids out of him.”

“He loves those kids.”

Your eyes were ready to roll out of your head, the amount of times they’ve spun already. “Of course he does, he’s a great father. He could have a billion of them and he’d love them all the same. That doesn’t mean he was happy with Sana, though.” Joy’s glare had softened at some point. “I was the only one who cared enough to speak up, to help him realize, wake him up! And it made him hate me.”

Joy nodded, pursing her lips. “Is that the only reason?”

“Yes, Joy, it is,” you said, keeping your eyes locked on hers. Not letting her see through the half lie you forced past your lips.

“Okay,” she said. “But, you guys talked it out.”

“Somewhat.”

A small nod was all she could give you before two bodies strolled into the kitchen, all carrying shopping bags.

“We’re back!” An enthusiastic, young, happy voice filled the air. Turning to the commotion, you gave the young boy who looked back at you a huge smile. Dark hair and round brown eyes, Minho was the spitting image of his father. His smile was a bit like his mothers, smaller and poutier, but the rest of him was straight Taehyun.

Dressing like him too, the eight year old wore black ripped jeans and an oversized grey hoodie with a band you used to know on the front. Converse high tops were laced on his feet and a black beanie covered his head. He looked at you from beneath his bangs that almost covered his eyes. He and Taehyun both needed haircuts.

“Hi, Minho,” you said softly.

The boy gave you a small wave. “Hi. Is that Mina?” He pointed to the baby on your lap, and you frowned.

“It is,” you said. “She’s not feeling good.”

“Don’t let her near me,” a shrill, higher pitched voice said from behind the kitchen island. Shifting your eyes over to the twelve year old in wedged chelsea boots, you flashed her your best smile.

“Don’t worry, Rosie,” you breathed. “It’s just a little cold.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she sneered, walking over to Joy, letting you get a glimpse of what she was wearing for the day. You wanted to gasp in disbelief. “Mom’s taking me to New York City when we leave here, I cannot get sick.”

The twelve year old wore an emerald green silk dress that wrapped around her neck and covered her left arm, leaving the right one exposed to the winter air. The dress stopped above her knees. On her legs she wore shimmering black stockings that went into her, you guessed it right, three inch high black boots that lived at her ankle. Silver bracelets jingled on her right wrist, and diamonds were in her ears. She flashed them to you whenever she swung her shoulder length black hair back and forth.

Rosie leaned against Joy, who wrapped her arm around her back, and looked down at Wonwoo. “Who’s baby?”

Joy laughed, but you wanted to scream.

“Your aunt’s, silly,” Joy said to her. “They had another baby, her and Soobin.”

Rosie was unimpressed. “Do you guys ever stop doing it?” She looked at you with her nose turned up. You could’ve choked on air at her words. If Soobin were in the room he’d be throwing a fit. Joy, no surprise, laughed at her granddaughter.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Minho asked, stepping closer to you curiously. He went from watching Mina, to watching you, to looking for Wonwoo. Giving him your full attention, turning away from the Sana clone at the other end of the table, you smiled.

“A boy, his name is Wonwoo,” you said. Minho shared your smile and nodded, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie.

“Weird name,” Rosie muttered. “Where’s my dad?”

“Upstairs with Chan and Sunoo, your Uncle Soobin just went looking for them,” Joy said. “Why don’t you go find them and tell them we’re starting dinner.” Rosie groaned, tipping her head backward, and strutted off, boots clacking on the floor with every step.

“I don’t wanna cook. Mom doesn’t make me cook,” her voice faded away as she entered the hall.

Shooting your mother a look she didn’t share with you, you said, “She’s… something.”

“She’s adjusting.” Joy’s whisper was a tad harsh, nicking your skin with a bite.

“Did Mina have to take medicine?” Minho asked, the sweet boy thankfully taking your attention. “My dad makes me drink this gross stuff when I have a cold.” The boy climbed into the chair next to you and watched his sleeping cousin.

“She didn’t yet, I wasn’t sure she’d need any, but now I’m thinking that she does. What gross stuff does he make you drink?” Crinkling your nose, you made him giggle.

“It’s orange, and it says it tastes like honey, but I don’t think it does,” Minho made a face and shook his head. “He calls it-”

“Bee Juice,” you said.

“Yeah!” Minho’s face lit up. “How did you know that?”

“We used to drink that when we were sick,” you said, your smile growing as you watched him settle in to listen to your story. “This one time, we were around Rosies’ age, I was really sick, and I refused to take any kind of medicine to help me feel better. Your dad tried to help me, and he was making all these funny jokes about it. There’s bees on the bottle right?” Minho nodded. “He called it Bee Juice, and for some reason that made me take it, and it made it taste good.”

“That’s funny,” Minho said. “Mina needs Bee Juice. I know my dad has some, he brought it with him.”

Your smile faltered. “He did?”

“Yeah, he says he keeps it just in case. Do you want me to tell him Mina needs it?”

“No, Minho, that’s okay,” you said. “I can ask him later.”

“Ask him now,” Joy said, gesturing to the doorway.

The kitchen filled with shouts, laughter and life. Taehyun barreled through the doorway with Sunoo on his back and three shopping bags in his hands. Chan hurried beside him, holding a quarter gallon of milk in his hands.

“We’ve got it,” Sunoo announced to the room, acquiring a round of laughter. “No one worry.”

Soobin trailed behind him, chatting with Jin who had Rosie attached to his side. Both adults had bags in their hands as well, lifting them onto the island Taehyun sat Sunoo on. Deep in conversation, probably something about work, Jin still made a move to hug you tight as best as he could without disturbing Mina, then went back to Soobin, helping him unload some of the plastic bags.

Rosie wandered to the table with her nose now in a cell phone that had a clear hot pink case with a polaroid photo shoved in the back of some celebrity she probably loved. Her glossed lips were pulled into a frown as she tapped away at the screen furiously.

After sliding the milk onto the counter carefully, Chan came to your side and peeked over your arm to check on his sister. “She is asleep?”

“She is,” you said softly. “Were you worried about her?”

Chan nodded. “She will be okay for Santa, right?”

“Santa!?” Rosie roared from her seat.

You shut her down quickly with a glare, not caring if Sana heard about it, then turned to your son. “She’ll be okay, love, I promise.”

“Okay, mom,” Chan said.

“Did you see Minho? Did you say hi?”

Chan looked to his right and smiled something small, feeling shy beside an unfamiliar face. The last time they saw each other Minho was six, and the twins were three. Minho probably remembered them, but your boys were just becoming aware of their own arms at the time, you weren’t sure they’d remember.

“Are you Chan or Sunoo?” Minho asked, looking between the twin in front of him and the twin crawling on top of the counter in front of his own father.

Chan almost gasped and put his hands on his hips. A smirk found your lips. Drama queen incoming. “I am Chan,” the five year old said loud and clear. “That is Sunoo,” he pointed to his brother. “You can tell us a part, my favorite color is blue, and Sunoo’s favorite color is red.”

Minho laughed, looking to you for a second. “You guys look exactly alike.”

“We are twins!” Chan exclaimed, tossing his arms out to the side. “This is my sister Mina, and that is my brother Wonwoo, he is new.”

“That’s my sister, Rose,” Minho nodded to his sister who didn’t bother to look up. “We call her Rosie.”

“Rosie,” Chan whispered as if he was mentally logging her name.

“She’s mean,” Minho admitted, and Chan gasped. You held yours back, waiting for him to say more.

“Why is she mean?” Chan’s eyebrows dropped low.

Minho shrugged. “She just is. Don’t talk to her.”

Leaning toward the two boys, you whispered, “I second that. Don’t talk to her.” Chan smiled, and Minho laughed, seeming surprised. Winking at him, he tried to give one back, the two of you solidifying some sort of alliance in this moment, though your aversion stemmed from your resentment for Sana.

“Minnie!” Taehyun shouted, rounding the kitchen counters to hurry over to his son. Throwing his arms around the boy's shoulders, he squeezed him tight and shook his side to side, pressing kisses to his cheek. His boy laughed, trying to shy away from him, but it was clear that he loved it. “Were you good for your grandpa?”

“Yeah,” Minho said, looking up at Taehyun.

“‘Course you were,” he grinned, then glanced to his daughter. “Rosie?”

“Hm?” She didn’t take her eyes off her phone screen. Taehyun didn’t lose his smile. He didn’t have to for you to see the disappointment within him.

“Were you good for Grandpa Jin?” he asked her.

Rosie glared at her father, holding eye contact for a few seconds. She didn’t say a word, and she didn’t need to. When she focused back down on her phone, Minho, still in Taehyun’s arms, looked at you.

“See? Mean,” he said.

Taehyun clicked his tongue. “Don’t talk about your sister like that. One day she could be all you have.” Your cheeks flushed as he glanced to you. Pressing a kiss to his son's head, he stood up and attended to your son calling his name from the kitchen counter.

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” His silvery hair bounced as he rushed. Gathering Sunoo in his arms he twirled once and set him on the ground. Your five year olds giggle sounded through the kitchen, standing out amongst the other chatter. 

Joy had left her seat, and Wonwoo was in Soobin’s arms now, still snoozing. This ambiance was the same as the one from home, that little boy could sleep through it all. Your husband rocked the baby while he bounced his knees, still deep in conversation with Jin. Those two have gotten along since the very first day Soobin showed up at the front door.

Putting away groceries, Joy had acquired Taehyun’s help, who had recruited Sunoo. The little one puttered around and did his absolute best to follow directions. Chan was asking Minho questions, ones you couldn’t make out over the noise, and Rosie was unbothered, tapping away at her phone.

On your lap Mina moved, her rosy cheeks looking up to find you. A soft, “Mama,” escaped her, and you both pouted.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” you whispered, kissing her head gently. “We brought you here when you don’t feel well, that’s so unfair.” Across the kitchen you caught Soobin’s eye, your husband leaning against the counter. When you met his gaze he gave you a sympathetic smile. Pushing your chair back, you let Chan know where you were going as he turned to look at you, and laughed as he climbed into the vacant chair at lightning speed. Minho grabbed the bottom of it and pulled it closer to him, the two chatting away.

“Those two were fast friends,” Soobin said when you reached his side, nodding at your son and his cousin. Jin joined Joy, Taehyun and Sunoo in the unloading of the groceries and the prep for dinner. Looking back at the kids, Minho had his phone out now and was showing Chan something that had him giggling. “Should I go see what they’re looking at?”

“No,” you said a little too fast for Soobin’s liking. Flashing him a soft gaze, you smiled. “They both tell us everything, you know that. Besides, Chan’s a rule follower. I guarantee you he’ll have parental locks on both those kids’ phones by the end of this weekend.”

Soobin chuckled, shaking his head. “Our kids aren’t getting phones till they're thirty.”

“Agreed,” you said. “I find it a little crazy Minho has one at eight.”

Soobin hummed, then said, “I mean it makes sense.”

“How?” you scoffed.

“Their parents are divorced,” he nearly mumbled, shooting you a look.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a second. “Right. Joy was just blaming me for ruining their lives, how could I forget.”

Though your sarcasm was evident, Soobin’s eyes went wild. “What are you talking about?”

“Rosie’s attitude, toward everyone apparently,” you began, scanning the kitchen. “I’m sure somethings going on with Minho, Taehyun may not be as well as I thought he was, and it’s all my fault, all of it. I told her what I said to him.”

Something of a groan came from Soobins chest. “None of it is your fault, don’t let her do that to you.” His hardened, protective glare was coming out. It made you smile. “He made his choice, he did that to his family. And as for Rosie?” He widened his eyes. “Full blame is on Sana. I feel like she’s here.”

“Hang on! I left it upstairs, gimme a minute, I’ll be right back,” Taehyuns voice echoed to his family as he rushed by you and Soobin into the hall. 

Watching him fly by, you turned to Soobin and said, “Minho told me Taehyun’s got cough medicine.”

“Oh?” Soobin raised a brow.

“Mhm,” you gritted your teeth and widened your eyes. “I’m gonna go see if Mina can take it, and try to find out why he has it.”

Soobin took a breath, appearing like he wanted to tell you not to do it. “For Mina.”

“Yes, for Mina,” you repeated. Your husband tucked his bottom lip between his teeth and nodded slowly. “Soobin,” your tone was flat.

“I’ll have a drink ready for you when you come back, what do you want?” he asked, expertly switching the subject. 

A small smile popped onto your lips, one Soobin returned. “Just a glass of water, please.”

“Of course,” he nodded.

Down the hall and up the stairs you used to run up and down as a teenager, you stared at the stretch of a corridor that had two doors on either side, two bedrooms, and a pushed back bathroom to your right on the other side of the railing. Many, many, many feet across from you was the other staircase that wound down to the first floor near the kitchen. They opened up to the living room where a fireplace and the giant TV lived, right by a little hallway that took you to a sliding glass door and spacious backyard.

The floor was wooden, like the stairs. A deep, chestnut color that matched every door in this place. There wasn’t a single window in the hall, but there was a long one in the bathroom next to the shower, and both bedrooms had three. Your bedroom was to the left. Taehyuns was to the right. Outside of your door sat most of your bags from downstairs, all of them brought up for you. Taking your time toward them in the quiet air, you let your gaze fawn over every mark on the wall, every scuff, every memory that was crammed into every inch of this second floor. It was a lot cleaner now that no one occupied this space. 

Jin and Joy’s bedroom was on the first floor, they rarely had a reason to come up here.

The door to the bathroom was cracked open, the tile on the floor lit up by the sun peeking through the window curtain, illuminating the shadows of a past you seemed to be longing for.

Adjusting Mina on your front, you cradled her head and sighed. This little one was a reminder that your life had turned for the better, that the past was in the past, and that it was something you needed to leave behind, though here in this quiet hall it seemed impossible. You used to laugh until your stomach hurt, the sleepless nights up here were endless. Sneaking your friends in through Taehyun’s window, hiding bottles of drinks you shouldn’t have underneath your bed so your parents wouldn’t find them, getting so stupidly under the influence that led to hookups, and more hookups.

You were young, you were stupid, you were having fun. You weren’t knee deep in diapers, playing peek-a-boo, or worried about bills. Life was exciting, and you were as light as a feather, letting life take you where it wanted to, which most times was through the door Taehyun stepped out of now. Startling each other, you gasped, then let out a soft laugh. He had a phone in his hand and a small smile on his face.

“I didn’t even hear you come up here,” he said, taking a step toward you.

“Guess I still know how to be sneaky,” you smirked. He was enamored by it for all of two seconds, then his smile dropped as he cleared his throat. “Wait, no, I didn’t mean-“

“I know,” he nodded, then attempted another smile. It was quiet for a moment before he said, “Strange up here now.”

“Definitely,” you sighed. Taehyun peeked at his phone that vibrated twice, then looked back up at you.

“I, uh, brought up your stuff,” he gestured to your bags, “You have a lot of shit.” You both laughed.

“I have four kids,” you raised your eyebrows. “My shit has a lot of shit.”

Taehyun flashed his grin. You ignored the cartwheel in your stomach. “Congratulations, by the way,” he said. “He’s beautiful. Wonwoo.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, proud. “He was a perfect little surprise.”

“Joy told me,” he said, nodding his head. 

Your eyes narrowed. “When?”

“This past summer,” his volume dropped. “We celebrated Rosie’s birthday here.”

Your heart sunk to your knees. Shaking your head, you held back a sigh. “We were here this summer, right before Wonwoo was born, I knew nothing about it.”

Taehyun shrugged. “Yeah, well…”

“You have to go past me to come here,” you said, adjusting Mina on your front once more. “Jin or Joy didn’t even tell us?!”

“I told them not to,” he admitted.

Sucking in a sharp breath, you straighten out your back and tighten your jaw.

“Are you really surprised?” Taehyun asked. “We hadn’t seen each other in forever.” He took two more steps toward you, shoving his phone in his back pocket. “The last time we spoke, you were yelling in my face.”

“I distinctly remember you yelling in my face,” you said just above a whisper, taking a step toward him. The anger you used to feel when this topic came up bubbled to the surface, simmering beneath your skin. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“You always want to talk to me,” he said. The two of you had a foot of space between you now, and you could tell you shared the rage you were feeling inside. “It took me a while to realize that you don’t know this, but when people break up they don’t do this.”

Jaw clenched, eyes as wide as the moon, you shook your head. “Do what.”

Taehyun tipped his head back and huffed a laugh, looking elsewhere for a second. “This. Talk to each other, stay involved, unless…”

“Unless what?” your voice trembled, a mere whisper.

Darting his tongue out between his lips, he swallowed hard, and muttered, “Unless they still love each other.”

“That bullshit doesn’t apply here,” you said quickly, and quietly. “This is different, we are different.”

Taehyun lowered his chin. “We are fucked up.”

Taking a long, deep breath, you took a step away from him and spun in a slow circle, collecting your thoughts and your composure.  “Friends, we said we can be friends.” Facing him, his eyes were solemn.

“Yeah, and be honest with me now that shock of seeing each other is gone,” he said. “You really think we can do that?”

A piece of you needed to make it work. Standing up here in this hallway now with him, coming to the full realization that he used to be the only stable thing in your life, you needed to make it work. He was your best friend, your other half, your partner in crime. Home, he was home.

“I said it downstairs, we can work for it,” you said. “I want you in my life, Taehyun. I need you in my life. We’re… family. I want my kids to know you, I want our kids to grow up together. Life feels right when we’re in a good place, when there isn’t so much space between us.”

“And what happens when that space gets too small?” Taehyun was a rock, eyes locked on yours as you spoke.

“It won’t,” you exhaled heavily, letting your knees give a bit. “We can-”

“It will,” Taehyun cut you off, closing the space between you completely. “It always does. It happened six years ago, it will happen again.” His tone was rough, but it didn’t correlate with the way he was gazing down at you. “Maybe you can pretend that we can try to be friends. But… I got a divorce ‘cause a girl I love helped me realize I was killing myself. And she was the only one who cared. For twenty years… you’re the only one who cared. You still are, and it hurts like hell.”

“Taehyun…”

“I told you I didn’t wanna go here,” he snickered, shaking his head. “Stupid of me to think that we could avoid it.” He stepped away from you, heading towards the staircase behind you. The loss of his warmth in front of you was disappointing. Turning around, cradling your daughter, you stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Bee Juice,” you said. He peered over his shoulder with one hand on the railing.

“What?”

“Bee Juice,” you nodded. “Mina’s sick, I didn’t bring anything with me. Do you think Joy has something?” Taehyuns eyes drew up and down your body, ending on the little one latched to your front.

“Um, I dunno,” he said. “I might? Minho was sick a little while ago when he was with Sana, lemme see if I brought anything with me.” When he walked by you he didn’t bother to look at you. Walking straight into his old bedroom, he left the door ajar. Unsure whether or not it was an invitation to follow him, you took a few timid steps into the doorway and felt every joint in your body tighten at the sight of his walls.

Posters, polaroid pictures and flags covered the dark grey paint, the artwork spilling onto the ceiling as well. His king sized bed was shoved into the far left corner, with what looked like a hundred pillows tossed onto the top. The comforter was still black, and fluffy. Your fingers can feel the softness without having to touch it.

A nightstand that once was messy and littered with life, was clean and housed a stack of three books he’d read religiously throughout the year, every year, and a lamp without a shade. There was a drawer on it that was all banged up, and you wondered if it was still full of things it shouldn’t be full of. Plenty of late nights were spent rummaging through the drawer in the dark, the light of the moon guiding you both through your bad decisions.

The dressers on the opposite wall were the same, and the walk in closet still had mirrors for doors. It was as if the years had been preserved, and this was a time capsule of beautiful mistakes you were sentenced for life to remember.

Taehyun rummaged through a suitcase at the end of his bed. He side eyed you as you walked in the door. You didn’t dare take a step closer to him or offer him help, because low and behold, he found what he was looking for, and more. As he pulled the orange bottle of Dayquil out of his bag, a small, round black bottle, one that photographers used for film, rolled out onto the floor and rattled loud. You both looked at it, then you looked at him before he grew the balls to look up too. 

“Taehyun.”

“I don’t take them,” he muttered, looking up with only his eyes. “It’s been years, I swear. Even this,” he held up the bottle of cough medicine, “Nothing.”

Bee Juice was two words you weren’t expecting to hear this weekend. They were two words you hadn’t heard in a long, long time. In fact, the last time you even said them was probably in here in his room, with two other friends who’d join in on figuring out how much of the shit you can drink before you make yourselves sick. It was the type of high you’d never want to experience ever again. Just the thought of it turned your stomach. Taehyun was the only one to stick with it out of the four of you, the rest of you turned to other things, other drugs, or simply drinking, but he’d put that garbage in anything and everything.

Knowing he had the bottle on him made you nervous. Throughout his marriage you knew he wasn’t completely sober, he’d never grown out of that part of his life, he’d use it to cope. With how his marriage began, he was a child having a child, he became incredibly dependent on both bottles that came out of his bag.

“Why do you have it all with you?” you asked softly, hoping he’d talk it out.

Picking the bottle of pills off the floor he tossed them back into his suitcase and rubbed his forehead, his nervous eyes glancing to you a couple of times. “I don’t… I can’t explain it.”

“Try,” you said, taking a step toward him.

“I guess I just… I feel better, knowing it’s here, yanno?” Raking a hand through his hair exposing his forehead, he shrugged. “I don’t take any of it, but it’s here.” He faced you. “I’ve been sober for over a year, since I decided to leave her. I haven’t taken anything, I haven’t had a drink, I haven’t smoked anything.”

“I’m sober too,” you nodded, and watched as relief flooded his being. “It would be… six years.” Taehyun furrowed his brow. “But, it’s two, almost three.” 

After a gulp Taehyun asked, “Don’t tell me… After we…”

“Yup,” you popped the ‘p’ and shot him a sarcastic smile. “It was just a… bottle, maybe.” Taehyun shook his head. “And, yanno, the more I think about it, it should really be nine years, but…”

“Six years ago we were getting fucked up at Beomgyu’s,” he said. One of the old friends you shared. He was at Rosie’s tenth birthday two years ago, but you hadn’t seen him since. The other friend was Yeonjun. He’s been off the grid since you were twenty-one. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

He shrugged again. “All of that was my fault.”

Scoffing, you walked further into his bedroom. “Taehyun, it was my choice to do it. You didn’t put the drugs in me.”

“Sometimes I did.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “‘Cause I told you to.” Approaching his side slowly, you took the bottle from him and retreated a couple steps. “I’m gonna believe you, but only because you look good, Tae.”

“Thanks, Baby,” he whispered with a smirk.

“If Soobin hears you say that he’ll lose his mind,” you warned.

Throwing his hands out to the side, Taehyun audibly expressed his frustration. “That’s been your name since we were fifteen!”

“Yeah, when we started sleeping in the same bed,” you widened your eyes. Holding up the bottle, you thanked him and sulked into the hall, pausing to process… all of that.

You could hear him zipping up the suitcase, putting it back where he’d found it. Walking across the hall, wanting to avoid him when he left his bedroom, you open your door and quickly shut it behind you, propping yourself up against the wood with a breath. Bare, sage green walls glared at you from all angles. In the center of the room underneath one of the three windows was your bed, also king sized, with four different knitted blankets thrown on top joined by matching pillows. The mattress wasn’t nearly as crowded as Taehyun’s.

Two redwood nightstands were on either side of the bed, both empty. The two dressers on the opposite wall were empty as well, except for the picture frames sitting on top. Three photos. One of you, Taehyun, Yeonjun and Beomgyu at a park across town at some ungodly hour of the morning. The second was you and Taehyun, seventeen years old, with your cheeks squeezed together and your eyes crossed with your lips squished all silly. The third was you and your mother when you were just five years old, the same age as your boys. They may have learned to copy Soobins pout, but those boys were all you, and this photo was proof.

Your room was eerie compared to Taehyun’s, his for some reason had life, while yours was completely still and quiet. Laying Mina down on your bed where you used to sleep, you kiss her cheek and kneel down on the floor beside her, putting the Dayquil on the nightstand. Your two year old lifted her head and whined, holding out her arms for you.

“I’m gonna help you, Meens,” you whispered, unscrewing the top of the bottle. The smell smacked you in the face, almost making you gag. Gripping the bottle with one hand, you went to pour a little bit into the lid, but froze as the alarms went off in your brain. “What the hell,” you sighed, turning the bottle around to read it. “I can’t give you this. What am I doing?” 

Mina found her thumb, shoving it in her mouth, her eyes fluttering shut.

Bringing the bottle to your nose, your eyes watered, and a chill ran down your spine. For a brief second you’re reminded of what it was like… How it used to be. How you’d walk by your parents totally fried, and they’d have no idea. The euphoria was so intense some nights all you could do was lay on Taehyun’s floor with your head in his lap while he and your friends listened to music you could barely make out.

You can feel his fingers running through your hair as your eyes shut, body vibrating at a frequency unknown to most, leaving you with nothing to do then hold onto him for some sort of stability. If you started to come down, when the rest of them were ready for more, you’d let Taehyun hold beneath your chin, coercing your lips apart to give you more to drink, sometimes from between his own lips.

Enchanted by the scent, lost in the memories, you didn’t even hear the bedroom door creak open.

“Babe?” Soobins voice bounced off the judgey walls. Jumping a mile, you whipped yourself around and fell onto your bottom on the floor. With half a smile on his face, you found your husband standing in the doorway holding up a box of children's Tylenol in his hand.

Catching a glimpse of the Dayquil, he took a breath and shut the door behind him, joining you at your side on the floor, tucking his long legs under him. Capping the bottle, you immediately handed it to him.

“Did you give her any of this?” he asked, making sure you were keeping your eyes on him. His tone wasn’t derogatory, but it was strict.

“No, I was just reading the label,” you said. “She can’t have it.”

Soobins nod was slow, and careful. “You know she can’t have this,” he said. “I realized what you had said after you walked away, that’s why I searched for this.” He gave the box a shake. “Jin found it in the back of their medicine cabinet.”

“Good,” you said, taking the Tylenol from him, getting the box open, taking out the bottle and the syringe it came with. “Little Miss needs it.”

Soobin glanced from the bottle in his hand, then to you. “Did you, uh… You didn’t take any of this did you?” His voice was soft, not the slightest bit accusatory.

“No.” Taking out the appropriate amount of medicine for Mina, you avoided Soobins eyes and tended to your daughter. Maneuvering the little ones thumb out of her mouth, and the syringe into it, she screwed her face up and tried to cry. “Oh, it’s gross, I know.”

Soobin put his elbows on the bed and grabbed Mina’s feet, playing with them to distract her. “She’s going to sleep for forever,” he said, then smiled as his daughter noted his presence in the room. “Hi, sweetie, you’re doing so good.” Calm in seconds, Mina focused on her father and swallowed the medicine, throwing her thumb back in her mouth as soon as she was finished. 

“See?” you sneered. “A brat for me, an angel for you.” Thrusting the bottle back in the box, you accidentally tossed it onto Soobins lap. “Our kids hate me.”

“First of all,” Soobin eyed you, laying the box on the bed after he picked it up reluctantly. “She’s sick. She’s going to be a brat, she doesn’t know how to act. Second of all, our kids don’t hate you.” Studying you, you could tell he couldn’t place whether or not your behavior was purely satirical. 

“They don’t listen to me,” you whispered. “They listen to you. I’m there to give them what they need, but they look up to you. You can handle them no matter what decibel they’re at. I can’t.”

After a glance to Mina who had dozed off, Soobin reached for one of your hands. “Where is this coming from?” 

A shrug of your shoulders wasn’t enough to appease him.

“Talk to me.” His voice dropped a couple octaves. Another shrug.

“I just…” Vaguely gesturing around your room, you weren’t sure how to put it into words. How were you supposed to tell your husband that the ghosts of your past plastered in these walls haunted you to your very core?

What were you supposed to tell him? That a piece of you was still yearning to live the life you thought you were supposed to live? That you loved the boy across the hall, but you were both destined to live confined to the chains your mother loved to call family. That if nine years ago, Taehyun hadn’t dropped a lit match on top of your relationship doused in kerosene, everything would be perfect.

“Listen,” Soobin started softly, as if he read your inner turmoil on your forehead. “I know this is hard. I know it’s a lot. You’re doing a great job, being here, dealing with them all. You and Taehyun, you’re speaking, that’s what we wanted.”

“Soob, we’ve said so much,” you whispered, feeling your eyes well up with tears. “And I feel like it hasn’t been enough.”

“Sweetie, I don’t know if it’ll ever be enough.” Dragging his thumb over the back of your hand, Soobin bit his lip. “You guys have years, upon years, and a history so deep I don’t think you and I will ever share.”

“Don’t say that,” you cried, sniffling, crawling into his arms. Sitting in his lap, he wrapped his arms around your middle and placed his chin on your head. “I’m sorry, Soobin.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he said, still somehow level headed as ever. “I knew exactly what I was getting into when I asked that sleepless, hungover girl out on a date. Walking home with Beomgyu? From…”

“Oh god,” you groaned. “His brother's house.” 

“Mm,” Soobin hummed, the memory a happy one for him, clearly. “You were beautiful. I always thought you were. Smudged mascara and all.” He got you to laugh, and for him that was all he needed. “I knew who you were, I knew what you did, I knew who you did, even though everyone else thought it was just Beomgyu.”

You picked your head up, eyebrows as low as they could be. “That is not when you knew.”

Soobin wiped a finger under one of your eyes, fixing the smudged mascara he apparently loved so much. “That is when I knew,” he nodded, letting a finger drag over your lips. “You get this… look in your eye when you see him. Still do.”

“I love you.” His smile grew from your whisper. 

“I know,” he crooned. “I love you, too. So much. And so do our kids.” Pausing to nibble his lip like he was, he bobbed his head and whispered, “Work through what you’ve got to work through this weekend, but don’t make me look like an idiot.”

“Again,” you added, sensing he wanted to tack the word on to the end of his lament. 

Six years ago, amidst what you called your gap year with Soobin, when the two of you took a break to cool off, to see if this was what you both wanted for yourselves. Soobin wanted to get married. You didn’t feel quite ready yet. Soobin knew where your head was stuck, so he unofficially set you free to sort out your thoughts.

It wasn’t a break up, the two of you didn’t part ways completely, but part of you wishes you had so you could’ve avoided the heartbreak surrounding Soobin when you told him what you ran back to, and where you had been. That winter was fuzzy, one you couldn’t piece together if it weren’t for Soobin’s ingenious memory. A few months later you were engaged, and pregnant, and married a month or so after that. You understood Soobin’s heart and his love for you and your family, but deciding to marry you was one thing he did that you couldn’t understand why.

“I wasn’t even going that far,” Soobin smirked. “But, thanks for letting me know I don’t have to worry about that.”

“You don’t,” you said. “I just want us in a good, decent place where we won’t want to rip each other's heads off. We get under each other's skin too easily.”

Soobin took a deep breath and turned his attention to his sleeping daughter. Her hand had slipped out of her mouth and was laying on her belly, her lips parted with steady breaths.

“K-O,” he joked, kissing your forehead. “Shall we go make sure Wreck It Ralph and Fix It Felix are okay downstairs?” 

A smile pricked your lips. “You talkin’ ‘bout our boys, or Joy and Jin?”

Dinner was ready by six. Taehyun’s kids set the table while your twins followed them around carrying the dishes for them, carefully. Joy had no issue handing your five year olds two stacks of her finest, pure white ceramic dishes with the silverware thrown on top.

Once you and Soobin rejoined the chaos, you found Taehyun had beaten you to the kitchen. While the family hustled around the tile, cooking, putting dishes together, pouring drinks, he didn’t spare you glance. He was attentive to his children and his nephews, getting his hands on Wonwoo once to pass him to Jin so Joy could assist Rosie with her cranberry juice in a wine glass. You and Soobin met eyes and held in a laugh. When Sunoo asked if he could have a fancy glass as well, Soobin placed the boy's metallic blue tumbler full of milk in his hands and told him to find his seat at the table.

A long stretch of pine by the windows on the back end of the kitchen, the table was decorated beautifully already, but with the added pizazz of the dishes, candles and steaming food, you had to admit that Joy outdid herself for another year in a row. The warmth from the oven radiated around the room, wrapping your family in a cozy haze, keeping you snug by the frosted glass of the wide paneled windows. The snow hadn’t let up yet, and the kids were giddy.

Jin took his place at the head of the table, Joy beside him and Rosie across from her. Minho hopped into the seat next to his sister, leaving a seat available for you where Sunoo refused to sit. Chan quickly swiped it from you, wanting to spend more time with his cousin, which meant you got to sit on the end, across from Taehyun.

Soobin found himself next to Joy, Sunoo wanting to sit between his father and his uncle. The grown men couldn’t refuse his offer. Noticing who you were across from, Soobin shot you a soft smile and a mere nod of his head. Truthfully, after four kids the two of you didn’t get to sit next to each other anymore anywhere. The highchair at the other end of the table next to you could attest to that. Mina, feeling a bit more up for food now that she’d taken the medicine, was already reaching for the steamed buttery carrots that sat in front of her.

“Good job everybody,” Joy beamed. “Eat, please, eat.”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice!” Minho was smug, diving into one of the bowls nearby. Laughter rolled through the room, and everyone followed suit, filling their plates. It didn’t take long for ample chatter to fill the air, mostly the kids asking questions about Christmas and talking about school or the snow. 

“But, I asked for a Playstation,” Minho said between bites, glancing at Chan. “Do you know what that is?” Your big eyed boy watched him in awe, shaking his head. “I’ll show you. I have almost every version, at least of the new ones. Some of them are so old.”

“You don’t have every version, Minnie,” Taehyun chuckled, sitting back in his chair, folding his arms across his broad chest. At the other end of the table Rosie was chatting away with her grandparents, Soobin listening in without presenting his judgment on his face.

“Yes I do, Dad,” Minho’s eyebrows shot into the sky. “Heeseung found me a PS One on eBay! He bought it for me weeks ago, it’s so cool.” Plopping a small scoop of sweet potatoes onto Mina’s plate, you glance at Taehyun who rolled his eyes.

“Oh,” he said, forcing a smile onto his face. “Well, I had no idea.” Chan asked Minho about the Playstation, the two boys were excited and curious. Taehyun drug his glare over toward you and blew a raspberry on his lips. It made Mina giggle.

“Heeseung?” Raising your brow, you smiled when he leaned over to your girl and blew another one, making her laugh even harder.

Taehyun sat back, satisfied his audience was entertained. “Yeah, Heeseung,” he said under his breath. Arms still folded, he shrugged. “Sana’s boyfriend.”

If you had anything in your mouth you would’ve choked, and nearly did on air. “When did that happen?” Dropping your tone to a whisper, you tried your best to keep this conversation between the two of you, unsure of how aware Joy and Jin were of the situation.

“Well, let’s see,” his entire demeanor dropped, a glint of something heavy flashing in his eyes. “They worked together for a few years-” “Sana worked?”

Taehyun smirked. “Focus please.”

“Sorry,” you breathed a laugh, tending to your daughter who whined for her drink.

“They were working together, they both did that buying shit, yanno?” Taehyun started to talk with his hands, waving one around to piece the story together. You both ignored your boys as they informed him he used a bad word. “He was one of her closest work friends, he would be at our house from time to time to hang out, he came to all the kids birthday parties-”

“Oh my god, the stone faced babe with the nose,” you gasped, placing your chin in your hand.

Taehyun waited for you to finish. You felt your cheeks flush after realizing you had cut him off again.

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear you say that,” he smiled. “Yes, him.”

“I thought he was gay.” You both spoke at once, breaking into crass laughter that triggered the table to look your way.

Joy, chewing away behind a promising grin, with bright eyes said, “See? I knew you two would be fine.”

Jin, focused on his plate, frowned. “Were we not fine?” Looking down to the other end of the table, you and Taehyun sat up straight like you’d been caught. Taehyun’s father waited for an answer, shifting his gaze between his wife and his family. “What’d I miss?”

Soobin lowered his chin and leaned into Sunoo, whispering something to him about his dinner. The five year old pouted, waving away the meat on his plate. Pressing a kiss to his son's head, Soobin took it off his plate and put it on his own.

“You didn’t miss anything,” Taehyun brushed the matter off, picking up his fork to shovel food into his mouth, hoping that’d get you two out of the hot seat. Your mother snickered, using the cloth napkin that was at every setting to wipe the corners of her mouth.

“You two are funny,” she said. Soobins eyes flickered up toward you, then quickly shot back to his son. Rosie was leaning forward, her elbows on the table, enthralled with what was about to ensue. A drama lover, just like her mother. “My love,” Joy said, turning to her husband. “They weren’t speaking for two years. I had just found out today, when the Choi’s arrived.”

“The Choi’s,” you scoffed, shaking your head. Leave it to her to address your family like you were all foreign visitors. “Mom, we can let it go. It’s not a big deal.”

“The hell it isn’t!?” Joy dropped her fork.

“Bad word!” Chan and Sunoo looked to Soobin for help, but all he could do was shake his head and quiet them down.

“Joy, really,” Taehyun added weight to his words.

“Joy this, Mom that,” she appeared ready to leap out of her chair. “Look at us! All of us here. A family.” 

You snuck a glance at Taehyun who had his eyes glued to Joy. He seemed like he was sinking backward into his chair, hoping it would crumble or somehow swallow him whole, anything to get him out of this room. 

“This is how it should be. Always.” Joy whipped her head toward the two of you. “You’re both so far away, I’m grateful we were able to spend this weekend together, aren’t you?” Nods of everyone's heads was enough to encourage her to go on. “I miss this, I miss you both being here, running around upstairs. Hearing you laugh, hearing you talk to each other… It feels like it was.”

Jin reached for his wife’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “We feel whole having you all here.” He made it a point to look at each of you. With another glance to Taehyun you watched him roll his eyes.

“To find out about you not talking, not seeing each other… That hurt,” Joy wore the apparent pain on her face. It made you want to laugh. “You were best friends. Every waking moment was spent together, I can’t imagine anything that would break that up.”

Swapping a glance now, Taehyun finally looking at you, you shared a deep breath.

“What would they do together?” Rosie asked, chiming in to take the attention. Joy and Jin laughed.

“Oh, they’d do everything, Rosie,” Jin smiled. “They went everywhere together, they had the same friends. You know the cabinet full of movies we keep underneath the television?” The twelve year old nodded. “It’s theirs, they collected those together and would watch them all the time.”

“We would wake up some mornings and they’d be fast asleep on the couches together,” Joy smiled at Jin, then turned to her granddaughter. “They would spend weekends in the living room with their friends if they were too bored to stay upstairs.”

Jin laughed to himself, shooting a finger in the air. “I can remember getting up for work one morning, and there were four of them knocked out at the kitchen table. Back when we had the booth seat that wrapped around the circular table?”

“Yes!” Joy clapped her hands together, like the memory was near and dear to heart, like it didn’t have you cringing and wishing they’d both shut up. “I still have that picture! They had to be around nineteen,” Joy looked at Rosie, “Our house was clearly the cool house.”

Taehyun forced air through his lips and shook his head, and you’d agree if you weren’t paralyzed in place. Thankfully your boys were occupied between Soobin and Minho, not letting any of these memories sink in.

Our house was clearly the cool house.

You wanted to scream back in her face that her house was the house with little to no supervision, and that was why you and your friends would come here to get shitfaced again and again. Her cool house taught you how to mix drinks before you were of legal age, pummeling you headfirst into blurry years you can hardly put together. Their cool house and their happy memories of you two asleep in the living room after a night of movies you’d hardly watch, the two of them completely unaware that you and Taehyun would be-

“Oh!” Joy exclaimed, knocking you from your spiraling thoughts. Her earrings swung vigorously at her ears as she bounced around, excited.

“Oh!” Mina copied her. The room was buzzing with energy, Taehyun’s kids wound up from listening to these stories, and your children messing with the food on their plates. Soobin and Taehyun were stiff, as were you, pointed gazes beckoning Joy to shut the fuck up.

“Videos!” Joy cheered, slamming her hands onto the wood edge of the table. She looked up and down the table. “We have videos,” she said, pointing to you and Taehyun, “Of you two!” Turning to Jin she gripped his wrist and shook it around. “We’ll do that thing on the TV, connect your phone to it.” Taehyun shot you a look, brows slightly concerned. Joy’s body whirled back around. “How fun to show the kids! Oh, I’ve always wanted to be this kind of family during the holidays.”

Rosie beamed with Joy, smiling wider than you’ve ever seen. She truly was a beautiful little girl underneath her wanna-be old attitude. “They did this on Fuller House at Christmas.”

Joy's hands clapped together once more, her expression falling smug. “Oh my god,” she said, looking straight at you. “We’re gonna be a Full House family.”

Stomach churning, worried about what was in those videos that probably haven’t been looked at… ever, you sat back in your chair as Joy and Rosie fell into a discussion over the difference between Full House and Fuller House. Chan asked Minho about the band on his hoodie, and Soobin listened to Sunoo talk about Fuller House too, the five year old pretending as if he knew what that was.

Watching them all move on, even Taehyun who helped Minho out with the pronunciation of the band he wore, you crossed your arms and gulped. How developed were five year old brains? Were they about to witness footage of you in your early twenties that would permanently alter how they saw their mother? Would there be something within the videos that was supposed to stay hidden, or in the past? What would it do to Soobin, to watch you at your worst, his wife, the mother of his children?

Underneath the table something tapped your ankle. Glancing to Chan, who probably kicked you, you found the boy sitting on his feet, facing his cousin. Something tapped your ankle again, then two feet encased it, pulling it away from you. Shooting a look at Taehyun, he was focused on his son. No one was paying attention, so you took a peek.

It was Taehyun, his legs quickly wrapping around your own, his smile growing as you looked back up at him. His focus was on his son thankfully, he wouldn’t get to watch your eyes bug out of your head.

“They started in the eighties technically,” Taehyun said to the boys, shamelessly rubbing his legs on yours. “Grohl didn’t join until the nineties.”

“Who is Grohl?” Chan asked, eyes narrowed and focused. Taehyun shifted his legs, crossing one over the other, his foot nudging your thigh shamelessly. “Dave Grohl,” he smiled. “He played the drums for Nirvana. He had long hair down to here,” Taehyun gestured at the length below his shoulders, “And he was so cool.” His foot traveled further up your thigh, you fought away the chill that ran down your spine.

“Wait, he was on your wall upstairs,” Chan said.

“He sure is,” Taehyun nodded. “They all are.”

Chan leaned over the table, little elbows holding him up. “Uncle Taehyun, you're so cool, too. Like Grohl.”

Taehyun flashed his grin, looking at you for a few seconds. “Yeah, I am.”

“On those videos we’ll get to see how cool he really was, right Dad?” Minho was smiling, looking from his cousin to his father, who hadn’t stopped looking at you. His gaze shifted to something of slight concern, both of you knowing what the other was thinking.

Taehyun gave his son a slight shrug. “Maybe we will.” He shot Minho a smile, and when the two cousins started to eat and talk amongst one another, the smile fell and the grip he had around your leg loosened.

“I don’t wanna watch ‘em either,” you mumbled. Taehyun shook his head, a miniscule moment only for you to see before he sighed. And it wasn’t brought up again.

“Cell phones are for big kids.”

Chan wasn’t impressed. Tiny fingers pressing into the marble of the kitchen counter, dangling backward on his heels, the five year old whined and whined. Drying the last dish that Soobin handed to you over his shoulder, he shot a look to his son, one that whipped him into shape.

“You can play with Minho’s for now, okay?” Giving him a smile, you placed the dish in a cabinet and tossed the towel onto the counter by the sink. The little one murmured his agreement, hurrying off to follow the other kids' shouts.

Soobin, after folding the towel you threw, slid his arms around your shoulders from behind, pressing a kiss to your neck, one that sent a chill down your spine. Grabbing onto his hands you peered toward him and smirked.

“Let’s skip the movies,” you whispered in the empty kitchen.

Soobin’s grin widened. “Oh, no, I think I want to see this.” With a groan you spun around in his arms, his hands falling to your waist. Cupping his cheeks, you pouted.

“Trust me, you don’t.”

“Darling, I know,” his tone was soft, gentle. “I already know what to expect. After everything, don’t you think if I had a problem I wouldn’t be standing here?”

Averting your gaze to the floor, you shrugged. “I just don’t know what’s gonna be on them, that’s all. I never really remember them having cameras around.”

Soobin took a finger to your chin, tipping it upward for him to kiss the tip of your nose. “It’s okay. Surely if it was anything too bad Jin or Joy wouldn’t show it. Or, they would’ve said something to you by now.”

“Joy’s been acting weirder than usual,” you said, dragging your thumbs along your husband's cheeks. “She’s always inappropriate, and has no filter, but… I dunno. What if watching this stuff makes her realize her daughter was fucked up almost everyday of her life since, like, high school. What if they caught us doing the dr-”

Feet scurrying in the hall stole your attention, both you and Soobin turning to the doorway in record time.

“Who was that?” You breathed. Soobins grip tightened around your waist. Shooting him a look, a wide eyed, worried look, he returned an unknowing one back. “Shit,” you sighed.

“Bad word,” Soobin whispered. For a few seconds neither of you moved, and then it was all too funny, both of you breaking out into giggles that echoed in the empty air. “Let’s go find some seats, if the little’s didn't take them all. I’ll grab the baby, I’ll meet you there.”

Wonwoo, snug in his carseat, had been snoozing on and off throughout dinner. Soobin tucked his arm beneath the handle and hoisted the carrier up, following you into the living room through an archway that was halfway down the hall toward the opposite staircase.

Inside the glorious room with the giant screen, expensive sound system and cozy grey, velvety couches, the boys had all piled up on the loveseat, the twins on either side of Minho. All three of them had kicked off their shoes, the two pairs of dress shoes flung sporadically amongst Minho’s sneakers.  Rosie was in the armchair that matched the other furniture, her legs crossed delicately while she tapped away at her phone screen. 

A large couch lay between the loveseat and the chair, a couch you had spent many nights on. Out of all rooms to redecorate and change again and again, you really had hopes that Joy would’ve chosen this one. The deep bluish-grey of the walls that reflected the furniture had your stomach rolling. While warm and cozy to others, this room made your blood run cold.

A square glass coffee table was in the center of the room. A vase of Christmas flowers spilled out on top of it, and books and magazines circled the sparkling vase. Crystalized, glass coasters were strategically placed over the top, with matching glasses at the bar behind the sitting area. You didn’t even need to look, you could tell exactly where each bottle of liquor lived. It never changed. For twenty years, it’s been the same. You did glance toward it as you walked in the room, and Soobin took note.

Jin and Joy stood by the television, mumbling to one another, trying to figure out how to connect their phones to the screen. The point of Joy's heels dug into the plushness of the rug beneath her feet that extended throughout the room, all the way to the bar. On her tush, staring up at her grandparents working, sat Mina. She was barefoot as well, teetering around in her socks. When she caught wind you had walked into the room she whined and started to crawl toward you.

“No walkin’, huh?” Soobin laughed from behind you as you scooped her up into your arms. “Medicine must be wearing off,” you said, kissing her cheek. Weaving around the furniture you chose to sit on the edge of the couch, letting Soobin plop down beside you, setting Wonwoo on the floor next to his feet. The infant had just opened his eyes, blinking a few times at his father.

“Hey, Soobin,” Jin began, turning around. He didn’t look up from his phone. “Think you can help me figure this out? I thought I knew how…”

“Of course,” your husband smiled, on his feet in an instant. 

Wonwoo’s face scrunched up like it would before he would cry, and sure enough, he started to cry. Mina expressed her shock on her face, looking at you, then her baby brother. “Baby cry,” she said, pointing toward him. Shifting Mina to the side, you sat her down on the couch cushion she was nearly swallowed up by, then reached forward for Wonwoo.

“Get him, Mama,” Mina said quietly. The two year old was always intrigued when it came to the baby. Curious as ever, her attentive eyes studied you as you carefully placed him in your hands and lifted him out of the carseat, kissing his cheek before cradling him in your arms.

“Shut it up,” Rosie groaned from somewhere in the room you didn’t care to acknowledge, but could feel the heat in Soobin’s eyes as he shot her a glare.

Mina leaned over your arms, holding onto your bicep with all of her might, watching you bounce Wonwoo to calm him down. Her pink cheeks and glassy eyes were full of adoration. “Shhh, baby. Shhh.” Wonwoo sucked in a deep breath, quieting down at the sound of his sister's voice.

“Good job, Meens,” you gasped, smiling at her. “Say it again, tell him he’s okay.”

A wail about to escape the infant was stolen by his sister's caring words. “S’okay, baby. Shhh.” As the crying came to an end, Mina gasped and looked to you for approval. Putting one of your arms around her, you tucked her into your side and kissed her head. “Best big sister,” you said.

“Boooring,” Rosie sang. Looking over at her, she was looking back at you. Her phone was on her lap, and her chin was in her hand. For a second she appeared as her mother, sharp eyes, pursed lips and pointed cheekbones. Since she was born it was hard to believe Taehyun had a part in her procreation. For years you had a quiet, delusional, but harmless joke that Sana made Rose herself to trap Taehyun with her. Anything to ease the pain from the night you found out about her. Milliseconds away from opening your mouth, unsure of what to say to the twelve year old you used to blame for ruining your life, her father hustling into the living room took the heat off of you.

“Did I miss it?” Breathless, he glanced about the room. Finding that nothing had even happened yet, he sighed and trudged his way across the carpet.

“Daddy!” Rosie shouted, throwing her arms into the air. Taehyun beamed, a light pouring out of his heart like it was the first time the child had ever said the word. It made you wonder how often she showed him love. This was the first time today you’ve seen her give him any sort of attention.

Taehyun, holding his own arms out, rushed for his daughter and caught her in his arms as she leapt out of the chair and fell into them. She squeezed him tight, pressing her cheek into his chest with her eyes shut.  The smile on his face made your heart flutter. Holding his firstborn, his little girl, the one who stole his heart the second she was born… The only one he’d love more than any other girl who walked into his life. It made you smile, truly. When Taehyun was with his kids, he was happy. And whenever you witnessed moments like this, it healed something broken within yourself.

Sure, that little girl he held and sat down on his lap in the oversized armchair wrecked everything between you two twelve years ago. No, he didn’t care that it wrecked everything you and him once shared. But, he was happy. And you’d do anything, give up anything, to see him happy. Even if it meant watching him walk away after you begged him not go through with fathering the spawn of Satan.

“Here we go!” Jin cheered as the television flashed and the scene of two kitchen remodel’s ago popped up on the screen. The boys' necks snapped to the TV, excitement buzzing off of them as they bounced around to get even more comfortable. Chan had an arm wrapped around Minho’s. “Okay everybody! Thanks to my amazing son-in-law,” Soobin smirked and shook his head as he hurried to sit down beside you, Mina getting squished between your bodies, “We get to see some home movies.” The kids erupted in cheers. Well, the boy's couch did. Rosie just nibbled one of her nails.

“Oh, I am SO ready,” Joy shook her shoulders. “I’ll get the lights, everyone has a seat?” Your mother scrambled for a remote on top of the shelf below the television, clicking it toward the ceiling to shut off the lights built into the top of the room. “If we’re lucky maybe we’ll get to see some of you guys as babies!” She gestured to all the kids as she worked her way through the room to sit on the other side of Soobin, Jin joining her soon after with his phone in hand.

The boys whispered quiet things to one another, and Rosie said something to Taehyun. Soobin gave you a sideways smile, slipping an arm around your back, over your shoulders.

And the clips, shuffled throughout the years, began.

~ august 18th, 2010 ~

Windows open in the house, a refreshing summer breeze flowing through the white curtains that hung to the floor, everything was perfect. Absolutely perfect. The sun had set about an hour ago, leaving everything washed in a deep orange haze that would linger for another twenty minutes.

Dressed in soft checkered high waisted shorts with a white cropped tee on top, one that you stole from Taehyun and cut in half, your bare feet slammed on the wood of the second floor as you darted from your bedroom toward the stairs to the kitchen. Laughter flooded the air, coming out of you, straight from your heart. Gripping the railing, you’re seconds away from leaping down to the dual level landing, but skinny arms wrap around your waist, yanking you backward, lifting you in the air. Screeching, you curl your knees into your chest and accept defeat, throwing your head backward onto his shoulder.

“Lemme go!” Your cackles were meaningless, and he wouldn’t listen anyway. Stumbling backward into one of the walls you’re certain his elbow almost went through, he laughed and put you down on your feet, making sure you didn’t fall over. “Gyu is here!”

“I don-care,” Taehyun breathed, whirling you around in his arms to press you against the wall, caging you in with his hands planted on the drywall. His smile was wide, bright, and blurry. “How dare you leave m’like this.” Glancing down between the two of you, you followed his eyes and almost snorted, throwing your head back again, this time against the wall.

Heart pounding in your chest, skin ablaze with warmth, veins pumping, extremely intoxicated (both of you), you throw your arms around his shoulders and grip his neck, clawing with your nails, gently. Taehyun sucked a harsh breath between his teeth and let his forehead fall onto yours, his smile still evident on his glistening lips as your hands traveled down his body, over his t-shirt, slipping within the waistband of his sweats where he was bare, wearing nothing beneath them.

“Slut,” you muttered within the shared air, making both of you laugh.

“Mm, mhm, hang on,” he mumbled, sliding a hand beneath your shirt, purposely dragging his fingers lightly up your side to tickle you before he grabs a handful of one of your breasts, where you were bare, wearing nothing beneath the fabric. His smile fell into a smirk when he watched you gasp. “Slut,” he whispered, tone incredulously harsh.

“Stop, Gyu’s here,” you said within a deep breath, feeling your knees buckle.

Taehyun’s brows plummeted. “You know he don’t care. Once he takes what we got he’ll be on another planet, won’t even be able to tell if you’re on top or if he’s takin’ you from the back-”

“M-my moms here.” Your hushed tone and blushed cheeks had his ego blooming with utmost power, and you knew it too. 

“Um,” he chuckled. “Never stopped us before, Baby.”

“You two up there?” Joy’s voice carried up the stairs, making the two of you leap a part, taking your hands back to yourselves. “Beomgyu is here!”

Taehyun looked you up and down, licked his lips and shook his head. “We’ll be right down!” 

With a deep breath you glanced down to his sweats, where he was still hard, eager for you. Shooting him a quick wink, he groaned from his chest, letting out a laugh after you whispered, “Slut,” and hurried down the stairs.

Balancing once your feet hit the floor, you reared to the side and almost knocked into a wall full of pictures, but a pair of strong hands caught your shoulders before you went down. Looking up at the boy almost a foot taller than you, his shoulder length, shaggy dark hair made you grin. Skin pale and cheeks rosy, Beomgyu was stunning, and pure boy, from his smile to his lanky, defined build.

“Start without me?” he grumbled, smoothing out your hair. “Where’s the loser?”

“I can hear you!” Taehyun shouted from upstairs, getting a giggle out of you.

Beomgyu shot you a lazy smile and shook his head. “You guys are so stupid.”

“I’m hungry, actu-lly,” you whispered, leaning into him on your tiptoes, throwing your arms around his shoulders to hug him. 

Beomgyu laughed, wrapping an arm around your back, pressing his hand into your bare skin. Turning around so he could guide you into the kitchen, from over your shoulder he spots Joy, at the counter messing with a new iPhone, holding it up toward the two of you.

Standing on the top of Beomgyu’s shoes, letting him waltz you around the kitchen, you hear your mother laugh and tip your head backward, noticing she was filming you and Beomgyu.

“Mommy!” you shouted into the air, laughing like crazy.

“Oh, you guys are so cute,” Joy smiled, laughing with you, making sure the camera was catching everything. “Where’s Taehyun? He finally let you two spend some time alone?”

Scrunching your face up in disgust, you stood up straight to face Beomgyu, finding him making the same exact face. Laughter corrupted you, going completely limp in his arms. 

Footsteps pounded down the stairs, and Taehyun appeared through the archway, his hair pushed back, his skin alive with what looked like a gleam of sweat. Rushing toward you and Beomgyu, Taehyun grabbed a fistful of his friend's hair and yanked his head back, clamping his teeth on the base of his neck, making the boy yelp. Watching Taehyun as he parted from him, the indentation left on his skin turned your stomach, made you want to drag your tongue over the marks.

“Gyu’s mine, Joy,” Taehyun teased, releasing him. He jabbed a finger into your side, laughing as you shrieked, then approached Joy, putting his face up in the camera. “How do I look? Good, probably.” He winked at the camera and laughed, looking up at Joy who giggled behind the phone.

Adjusting your arms around Beomgyu’s shoulders, you hike your legs up his side and wrap them around his waist, going full koala on his front. He let out a gasp and caught you, his hands gripping the underside of your thighs, fingers digging into your skin as you nuzzled your face into his neck.

“You’re gonna get in trouble,” he whispered to you, still laughing, the camera catching none of his words.

“Um!” You half shouted, taking the attention. “What if Gyu is MINE!”

Meeting Taehyun’s eyes you could see the jealousy that immediately pooled within them. You knew he had to keep his cool in front of Joy, and her camera. Normally you wouldn’t be pulling stunts like this, but you were high. You were high and needy for him, you couldn’t let this opportunity go.

“Uh oh, Taehyun, you’ve got competition,” Joy played right along, fueling the intoxicated fire.

“You have three seconds,” Taehyun said, his hardened glare hitting you right where you wanted it to. “One…” Laying your head on Beomgyu’s shoulder, you hummed and smiled, letting your eyes close.

“Two!” 

Beomgyu bounced you in his arms, laughing, trying to get you to move, but you wouldn’t budge.

“What happens on three!” Joy was ecstatic, beaming behind her phone, her eyes darting between all three of you.

“Yeah, what happens on three,” you teased, shooting Taehyun the calmest smile you could possibly conjure.

“Wouldn’t you love to find out,” he gritted his teeth. “Three!”

A scream came out of you as Taehyun darted toward you and Beomgyu, his arms grabbing your waist, pulling you off of your friend. Beomgyu stumbled back, ready to catch you both if you fell over, his laughter bouncing through the air along with your own. Taehyun put you on your feet, spun you around, then crouched down and threw you over his shoulder.

“Tae!” Reaching your arms out to Beomgyu, you kicked your feet and almost kicked him in the face. “Gyu, help me,” you giggled.

Taehyun turned to him and shot him a wicked grin. “Let’s go.” Looking at Joy, and her camera, he winked again. “See ya, Joy.”

“Bye,” Joy smiled. “Good luck, Beomgyu.” The boy gave her his charming smile, and followed you and Taehyun upstairs, out of the sight of the camera, and your mother.

“What happened on three?” Minho inquired, looking out amongst the group as the video ended.

Unbelievable that was the first video to play. You can vaguely recall what had happened before you walked into the kitchen attached to Beomgyu, and you can barely put anything together as to what happened after. 

You have no idea what happened on three. Taehyun had no idea what happened on three, you were sure of it. After he ran up the stairs with you hanging over his shoulder like a helpless ragdoll, you’re pretty sure the three of you drank until you passed out in your bed. Waking up, you can remember having an arm thrown over Beomgyu’s bare waist where he laid on his back with his arms over his head, upside down on the covers. Taehyun was the only one laying properly, fully clothed, his legs tangled with your own.

“How old were you guys?” Rosie asked, smiling at her father.

“Nineteen,” Taehyun said quietly, his focus on the TV.

Joy and Jin were swiping through the phone, too occupied to pay attention to anything anyone was saying.

“How did you pick up my mom like that?” Sunoo asked Taehyun, eyes wide. His uncle gave him a soft smile.

“I’m pretty strong,” he shrugged.

“Uncle Beomgyu was cute,” Rosie giggled, nibbling on one of her fingernails. Taehyun simply laughed and shook his head. The twelve year old turned to look at you, and you stiffened beneath her curious gaze. “You guys were dating?”

“No,” you answered fast. A little too fast. “He was one of my best friends, one of… our best friends.” Taehyun got the courage to look at you, both of you sharing the smallest, most innocent look just as Joy clicked play on the next video.

~ june 3rd, 2012 ~

 The sun beating down on your bare back was anything but comforting. Standing in your backyard with a crystal champagne glass in your hand on the edge of the commotion, you eyed the guests waltzing about in their dress clothes with a grimace.

Atop the balcony of the porch, pink streamers and pink balloons hung down, keeping the place on theme. Pink plates, pink tablecloths, pink cutlery, pink candy, pink napkins, pink, pink, pink… You were sick of it. All the pink.

Women and men, most you didn’t even know, all paraded around with smiles and witty comments of grace for you and your family and the beautiful home that you have.

Oh, it’s just glorious isn’t it?

Yes, thank you my mother knows how to spend that man's money, that’s for certain. 

He hee! 

Ha ha!

It meant nothing. This whole event, it meant nothing. It felt like some sort of glorified apology. 

We’re so sorry my son knocked up your daughter, here, have a disgustingly expensive baby shower, on us!

Downing the rest of your glass, you placed it on the tray of a waiter who came close to you and took two full ones off of it. Knocking back one of them real quick, you returned it to where it came from and decided to nurse the other.

Messing with one of the thin straps of your dress that dug into your shoulder, a floor length floral thing that Joy picked out for you a couple weeks ago, you groaned and cracked your neck, rubbing the muscle with a sigh. Across the party you spot your mother doting on the guest of honor, Sana, wearing a baby pink strapless gown. Her black hair was pinned up in a bun with a pink ribbon tied around it. 

She was glowing, and you hated it.

Her belly was round as ever, almost one month away from popping. It was the only thing on her to change throughout this pregnancy, not that you were keeping track. She kept her slender figure, her smooth skin, her bright eyes, her luxurious hair… It was wretched. Maybe she was just nineteen, and that was it. You couldn’t believe your family, or hers, was allowing any of this to happen.

Jin hovered around her with his camera, making sure he captured every detail about this momentous day, this memorable occasion. His first grandchild, a baby girl that you knew he would love no matter where she came from. He and Joy were either in shock, or they truly were the ditzy idiots they made themselves out to be.

You didn’t think you’d be able to drink enough champagne to make it through.

Pressing your glossed lips to the rim of your glass, you let the drink spill into you, finishing it quick, actively pursuing another. Hurrying into the house, slamming the sliding door shut, the mouth watering smell of food and baked goods hit you, drawing you toward the kitchen. Heels clicking on the floor, you walked as fast as the torture devices could take you until you were kicking them off, picking them up by the strap, letting them dangle between two fingers. Stepping into the doorway of the kitchen, completely new and redone, everything a sparkling shade of blue, you find, like, eleven women standing around talking with their noses in the air. You didn’t know a soul.

Spinning around on your toes, desperate for an escape, you rushed into the living room where some of the guys were hiding out with a couple of random kids. Beelining for the bar in the back of the room, you drop your heels on top of it, push by two guys standing nearby and bring yourself behind it. Grabbing onto the neck of a tequila bottle, you acquire a shot glass from one of the shelves and fill it up to the top. It went down with ease, you were already filling it up for a second when a hand took the bottle from you, letting some of the alcohol spill onto the bartop.

“Alright,” Beomgyu said, holding the tequila hostage, watching you take the second shot. His gaze lingered on your lips, even after you ran your tongue over them. Once you slammed the glass on the counter and audibly expressed your relief with a happy sigh, he narrowed his eyes. “Do you want me to take you somewhere else? You know Jungkook said you could stay at his house while… this happened.”

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, your lipgloss smearing across the skin, you rolled your eyes. “Your brother doesn’t care that much.”

Beomgyu nodded profusely. “Yes, he does. You know he does.”

“Stupid, it’s stupid,” you muttered, reaching for the bottle he held away from you. “Lemme have it.”

“If you’re gonna get plastered, that’s stupid,” Beomgyu said. “It won’t make him talk to you.”

A guttural laugh escaped you. “You think I want him to talk to me?!”

The boy with long, shaggy hair that framed his face spectacularly softened his eyes. “Let me take you to Jungkook’s, please.” He planted both hands on the bar, leaving the tequila unattended.

Leaning forward, placing your elbows on the counter, you pretended to debate his offer, then snagged the bottle back instead, taking a swig straight from the bottle. Beomgyu sighed, heavily, then circled the bar to stand beside you. He reached up for his own glass and stole the bottle from you, filling both the shot glasses.

“Not gonna let you do it alone,” he said, handing you your little glass. Holding his in the air, you clinked them together and took the shot, smiling with Beomgyu. “Besides… he’s high, anyway.”

Tilting your head side to side, you laughed. “He’s always high.”

Beomgyu refilled the glasses and watched you knock it back. Picking his up, he studied it, then studied you. Big, beautiful brown eyes took you in, swallowed you whole. “I’m sorry,” he said.

You brushed it off with a shrug. “Sorry for what, Gyu.”

He gulped, shaking his head slightly before he took his shot, placing it down with a knock on the bar. “All of this,” he gestured around at all of the pink. Beomgyu never discussed what went on between you and Taehyun. Ever. It was rare. “I just… I’m sorry.”

Taking a deep breath, you wallowed in his sorrow for a moment. “He’s stupid,” you muttered, looking down at the shot glasses, messing with them to keep your hands busy. Feeling a buzz already, you couldn’t stop the words from coming out, or the tears. “Gyu, why did he do this?”

A heavy breath fell from his lips as he lifted a hand to brush away a tear. “I dunno.”

“I mean, she… she came out of nowhere, and then this happens?!” you waved your arms around, Beomgyu nodding along, encouraging you to keep going. “She’s a kid, he’s a kid, we’re… We’re kids. He’s throwing the rest of his life away, doesn’t he know that?! Sana’s a total bitch, what the hell does he see in her anyway!?”

“You got me there,” he said, pouring two more shots, one he took fast.

“I mean, like, do you see it? What’s the appeal? Do you think she’s hot?” Taking your shot you missed the way he totally checked you out.

“He totally downgraded,” he mumbled, pouring two more shots.

“Please,” you snickered, following suit, drinking the alcohol. A hiccup came out of you, one that made Beomgyu laugh. “Sana’s gorgeous and you know it.”

“Yeah, but she’s not you,” he said, perking a brow. You took a step closer to him, laying an arm on his shoulder, hooking it around his neck.

Narrowing your eyes, you smirked. “You just mean he won’t share her.” 

Beomgyu’s eyes flickered to your lips, his tongue darting out between his. “I’m gonna miss this.” 

“Just ‘cause he and I are done doesn’t mean we have to be,” you whispered, and he shook his head.

“You’re his,” he said. “Always have been, always will be. I don’t wanna get Yeonjun’d, I’ll keep my distance.”

Digging your fingers into his shoulder, you took one last long, good look at him. And he did the same to you. The alcohol held your heart together for the moment, but you knew once it wore off you’d be falling head first into the most debilitating heartbreak you’ve ever felt. No one had a clue what was supposed to happen after this day was over. 

“You’re still my friend, Gyu.”

He raised a hand and placed it on top of yours, giving it a decent squeeze. “Always have been, always will be.”

Raising yourself on your tiptoes, you pressed your lips to his cheek and gave him a swift kiss before you stumbled back out to the backyard, making sure to grab the bottle of tequila first. People were still swarming, how long were baby showers supposed to be? Doing your best to stand up straight, you wandered across the patio without being noticed by a soul, and planted yourself in a seat underneath the shade of the balcony.

Twisting the top off of the bottle you took a long swig, falling back against the cushion with a giggle as you swallowed. You watched eagerly as girls who were clearly friends of Sana, dressed in tight dresses and high strappy heels, talked with one another and sipped on their champagne delicately, showing off their accessories and touching up their makeup as they spoke. They took tiny bites of their food and judged others around them with their eyes, you could feel it.

Another drink from the bottle. You were finally at the point where it felt like nothing mattered. Jin was still parading around with his phone, catching footage of people saying kind words to the baby and the mom to be. Overhearing most of it, it made you laugh, acquiring a judgemental glare from one of Sana’s minions. Not one person had a word to say about Taehyun. It was all Sana, Sana, Sana, and baby, baby, baby.

“Stupid,” you mumbled, sinking down on the cushion.

You were so focused on the others you didn’t recognize the body that approached you, snatching the tequila from you, dropping your heels on your lap. Jumping, startled as they hit your thighs, you sprung up and nearly toppled forward. 

“Hey!” you shouted, looking up at the blurry figure. His dark hair and black button down made you laugh, loud. “No fucking way.”

“Shut up,” he muttered. “Pull yourself together.”

Gasping, you pressed a hand to your chest. “Pull myself together? Last I heard you were poppin’ molly at your own baby shower.” Taehyun groaned, crouching down to level with you. “Yanno, Gyu said this wouldn’t make you talk to me, who’s gonna tell him that he was wrong?”

“Tell him yourself,” Taehyun nodded to Beomgyu walking along the edge of the patio, Sana’s group of friends shamelessly checking him out. He pretended not to see them. It was laughable.

“GYU!” you shouted, catching his attention. He already knew, he sent you the smallest smile. Sana’s friends glared at you again. “He doesn’t want any of you, don’t even try,” you waved towards them, turning back to Taehyun who had buried his head in his hand.

“Baby, please,” he whispered.

“Baby?” you scoffed. “Your girlfriend over there is the one with the baby, Tae. Did you already forget? I know it happened so fast, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Stop,” he spoke through his teeth, looking up at you with a vengeance. “Please, stop. Don’t make this worse than it already is.”

Catching you off guard, you slid back down in the chair and furrowed your brows. “What are you talking about?”

Taehyun, tired, intoxicated, wobbly on his feet, shook his head and sighed. “I dunno what I’m doing,” he said under his breath.

Lifting a hand, you poked his nose. “Then… you shouldn’t have done it.”

He shot to his feet, glaring down at you. Your body reacted, reaching up for him.

“No,” you whispered. “Come back.”

Taehyun scanned the backyard. “No,” he said, taking one more look at you before joining Sana and her parents where they were sitting with Jin and Joy.

A tear slipped down your cheek, you think. Taehyun smiled, or pretended to smile, while he spoke to her parents. He looked like he was saying nice things to Sana, probably asking her if she was alright, showering her with attention. Attention that used to be yours. It was attention he was allowed to give her in front of these people. That attention was never allowed to be yours. It wasn’t ever meant for you. It will never belong to you. It will never, ever be yours.

You were definitely crying now, alone on the porch in the corner while your family and the guests enjoyed this beautiful day and this beautiful celebration. There was another life coming into the world, a life that was half of the boy you loved, a life he decided to have with someone else. It felt like death. It all felt like hell, a burning, god awful hell.

“Come on,” Beomgyu said to you. Turning toward him, all you could do was reach your arms up for him to take, pulling you to your feet, letting your shoes topple to the floor. “We’re going to my brothers.”

“But, they-”

He brought you into the house. “He told me to take you to my brothers.” Facing you, he wiped away your tears and frowned. “You’re too pretty to cry, stop it.” The hallway you were in was quiet, secluded. Sucking in a deep breath, you gazed at him and pouted. 

“You can’t drive, you-”

“Jungkook’s outside,” he breathed.

Nodding, you slowly wrapped your arms around his shoulders and held him close, giving him a real hug, heart to heart. “I love you, Gyu,” you mumbled into his neck.

The boy sighed, and held you tighter. “I love you, too.”

“No way, I was in Mom’s belly!” Rosie almost leapt off of Taehyun’s lap. The entire video came from Jin, he documented the entire day, the entire shower, every gorgeous detail that you now were able to appreciate. A hole in your heart remained, but it was so long ago now that the cut didn’t burn as deep.

Joy shared her excitement with Rosie, and Minho chimed in with some questions, asking who different people were that only his father and grandparents were able to answer.

You thanked the good lord, or whoever was up there, that you were barely in any of the shots. You remembered that day very differently than everyone else. Soobin even whispered to you how insufferable the day must’ve been, and that he was glad you weren’t together yet, or else he would’ve had to put up with that shit. And yes, he said shit.

“You were with Uncle Beomgyu again,” Rosie said to you, twisting on her fathers lap completely.

Glancing at Soobin who focused his eyes on the baby in your arms, you took a breath and looked at your niece. “Yeah, I was.”

Rosie’s face screwed up, confused. “I thought you guys didn’t date.”

“We didn’t,” you shook your head, tone going a bit stern.

The girl grilled you with her eyes. “Sure seems like you did.”

The room fell into a quiet chatter while Joy and Jin searched for another video. Your boys were talking to Minho, asking him questions about his mom that was just in the video, and Rosie whispered things to Taehyun you were dying to hear.

Soobin, as if he could feel your blood beginning to boil, leaned over and kissed your cheek. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, avoiding his gaze. “Just wasn’t expecting to have to dodge him either.”

Soobin watched you for a few seconds more, then bobbed his head.

Beomgyu hung around Taehyun more than he hung around with you. He showed up to Taehyun’s kids birthdays, not yours. Beomgyu accepted offers to stay at Taehyun’s for long weekends, or to watch sports games, or to go to concerts, or to just simply hang out in his basement. And Beomgyu reciprocated the invites. You never got a single one.

“Think this hurts more than it should,” you whispered, looking at your husband. Soobin, energy doing a complete one eighty, turned to your parents.

“How many more you guys got?” he asked with persistence. “My baby’s need to get to bed. Wonwoo’s on a schedule.”

Joy shoved Soobin by his shoulder and clicked her tongue. “Strict Soobin, come on.” Soobin smiled. He didn’t mind being the bad guy when it came to you. “Let us just watch one more, and I swear we’ll be done. We’re all having so much fun though, aren’t we?” The boys agreed with her, as did Rosie. Taehyun was silent, and so were you.

“One more,” Soobin said.

~ april 1st, 2009 ~

“Ready!?” Taehyun shouted to the crowd around your kitchen counter, standing in the dark, the only light coming from the candles shoved into the cake in front of you. “Here we go!” Thirty people, or more, sang Happy Birthday to you in the most obnoxious way possible, led by Taehyun himself. Friends, family from both sides, neighbors… Everyone was gathered to sing to you, to celebrate you. Though the lights were shaped like stars and the song was distorted in your ears, you were having the time of your life. Taehyun to your left, Beomgyu to your right, and Yeonjun hovering behind you, you had everything you could ever need, it made you want to cry. As the singing came to an end, you squeezed your eyes shut and blew out your candles, basking in the cheers that followed.

“She’s eighteen!” Your boys shouted, holding you in some way, jumping up and down with you in their arms.

The lights flickered on and the cake was whisked away. Your vision was truly tunneling, all you could see were the boys in front of you, congratulating you. Taehyun hugged you first, holding you tight. The one day he could without it being considered weird. Yeonjun was next, slipping his arms around your waist, bending you in half as you laughed and clung to his shoulders. Turning to Beomgyu, you reached for his cheeks and gave them a squeeze, getting a laugh out of him. He grabbed your hands and yanked you toward him, hugging you tight, pressing one of his cheeks to your own.

“Happy Birthday,” he whispered to you. “Taehyun says when the party starts.” Pulling away, you stumbled backward and bit your bottom lip. Beomgyu was smug, but he was subtle. His attention immediately shifted when he watched your cheeks turn pink.

“Hey,” Yeonjun said, grabbing your wrist, pulling you out into the hallway. The pretty boy got you alone, his black hair parted in the center, hanging over his forehead almost brushed against your own. “I have something for you, but I can’t give it to you right now.”

Your eyes focused on his lips. His full, plump, beautiful lips you’d always been dying to kiss, only while under the influence. “Okay,” you whispered, blinking up at him mindlessly.

“It’ll make you feel even better than this,” he smirked, placing a hand on the wall above your shoulder. “I promise.” 

“Really?” you sighed, falling under his charm. Yeonjun grinned, taking his other hand to your cheek, dragging his fingers over your warm skin.

“Really,” he said, his tone turning sultry. “Taehyun got this for you, right?”

Blinking twice, slowly, you nodded even slower. “Yeah,” you breathed. “Took it hours ago… Dunno what it is, Junie.”

Yeonjun’s expression turned serious. “Oh, no, honey, that’s not too safe is it?”

He began to shake his head, and you followed along. “No,” you whispered.

“No,” he lowered his brows. “It’s not. I can tell you exactly what I got you, it’ll-”

“C’mon, Baby,” Taehyun said, abruptly pulling you away from Yeonjun. The boy tumbled back and shot Taehyun a glare. “We’re outta here. Yeonjun you gotta go.”

Taehyun wrapped an arm around your shoulders, keeping you close under his. With Beomgyu close behind, Taehyun had you in a brisk walk, headed for the front door. “Wait, hold on, Tae,” you said, trying to turn back around.

“No, keep walking,” Taehyun muttered.

“Where the fuck are you guys going?” Yeonjun called after you, throwing his arms out to the side. Taehyun turned toward him for only a moment more.

“Somewhere without you,” he narrowed his eyes. “Till you stop being a shady piece of shit.”

Yeonjun placed his hands on his hips, his gaze shifting between Taehyun and Beomgyu. “You two are the ones being shady pieces of shit, like what even is this?” He gestured toward you. “It’s her party and you’re leaving? And I’m not going with?”

“Why’s he not coming with?” you parroted his words, but Beomgyu shut you up with a glare. “Oh, right.”

Yeonjun clapped his hands together and laughed sarcastically. “Shady shit! You guys suck.” He made it to the front door first. “Happy Birthday,” he said to you, reaching in his pocket, tossing a small bag of powder by your feet. Beomgyu was quick in picking it up and pocketing it, making sure no adult had rounded the corner. By the time the three of you looked back at the door, Yeonjun was gone.

“Did he touch you?” Taehyun asked, his eyes burning into yours. A shake of your head didn’t appease him. “Words, Baby.”

“No,” you said, trying to swallow, but your mouth was suddenly really, really dry. “I need water.” Your voice was hushed.

Taehyun cringed. “Ah, shit, right,” he mumbled, then looked up at Beomgyu. “Jungkook wanna make a pitstop on the way to your house?” Both boys started you for the door once again, your feet almost stumbling over the other.

“Am I supposed to feel more… more dizzy?” you laughed. Beomgyu and Taehyun shared a look, laughing with you.

“We gotta catch up,” Taehyun whispered. You could barely see the boys around you as they spoke, you only heard their voices that were as beautiful and as soothing as a lullaby. “I wanna feel what she’s feeling.”

Beomgyu wrapped an arm around you, helping Taehyun get you out the door. “I wanna feel what she’s feeling while feeling her.” 

You managed to swat a hand at his chest. “Gyu,” you sang. The front door shut behind you, and it was just the three of you on the porch. Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, you pulled him toward you and pressed your lips to his, feeling like you had no control over anything you were doing. He kissed you back, it was a rough, wet mess. You were just slipping your tongue between his lips when a hand grabbed your hair and pulled you back.

Stumbling into Taehyun's chest, you giggled and spun around, throwing your arms around his shoulders, letting your lips meet more gentle than they did with Beomgyu’s. Taehyuns kiss was careful, and sweet, and full of feeling, and, and…

“Who was that lady with the white hair?” Minho called out as the video ended on a scene of family lounging around the living room.

“That’s your Great-Aunt Jennie,” Jin said to the boy, smiling at him. “That was my favorite one,” he glanced at his wife, “Full of people I haven’t seen in ages.” Joy placed a hand to his thigh and gave it a squeeze. Great-Aunt Jennie passed away two years ago.

Mina had climbed onto Soobins lap at some point during that last one, where your brain was trailing off elsewhere. Your family was watching scenes of your family, but you were on the front porch, getting in the car with Beomgyu’s older brother, driving to their house to spend two nights in a row there. The three of you missed two days of school that week, of your senior year.

“I think I’m all videoed out,” you said a bit too loud, standing to your feet, heading out into the hallway without a look back. With Wonwoo in your arms you took it upon yourself to head upstairs and put the baby in the bassinet you brought with you after changing and nursing him.

Keeping your mind clear, blocking out every and any thought you were having, you got changed yourself, throwing on one of Soobin’s t-shirts and a pair of flowing sweatpants. You didn’t bother to brush your teeth or take off your makeup, instead you curled up in your bed and tried to not let the thoughts consume you while you waited for Soobin to come up.

Coming here for the weekend was one thing. You were already thrown into a torturous mess of family and remembering things, you didn’t know you’d be forced to relive so many different memories you had suppressed for a multitude of reasons. Laying here in the dark, you’re beginning to think this weekend was meant to happen this way to show you exactly how far you’ve drifted from this life. That Soobin and your kids was where you were meant to be, happy and dramaless, safe and growing in positivity and a pureness your children were not going to get from this house.

It was nauseating, and would give you a migraine if you thought about it for too long. In just one day, after yearning for what used to be, you’ve realized it wasn’t what it was. It’s not the same as it was. Whatever you were longing for would not feel the same as it did when you were eighteen, nineteen, even twenty-one. You were at an entirely different aspect of life now. A healthy one.

“Darling?” Soobin whispered, the door opening slowly, light flooding in from the hallway. Sitting up, you watched him shut the bedroom door quietly so as to not wake the baby, then he walked to your side, catching you as you fell into him. “Are you alright?”

“Next Christmas we stay for a day,” you whispered. “Then, we leave and spend it with the kids. Just the kids.”

Soobin drug his hand in a circle around your back, letting it slip beneath the shirt you wore. “You know, I’m not going to say no.”

Looking up at him, you tried to give him a smile. “Thank you.”

“For?” Soobin quirked a brow.

“For being you,” you whispered. “For believing in me, and sticking by me, and supporting me, and treating me nicely, and… loving the kids.”

Soobin held back a smile, his eyes going slightly wide. “That’s a lot of thank you’s.”

“I mean every word,” you said. “I love you so much. I think I’m… content… not having heavy ties here.”

Your husband sucked in a breath, like relief had struck him suddenly. “Moving on.”

You finally smiled, nodding. “Moving on.”

“Thank god,” Soobin groaned, pushing you backward against the pillows to smother you with kisses. His lips were halfway down your neck until you pushed him off.

“Where’s the kids?” you asked.

A soft smile graced his lips. “Taehyun offered up his bedroom for all of them. He got Mina’s little crib set up in there, and the boys snuggled up in his bed with Minho.”

“Rosie?” You raised your brows.

Soobin chuckled. “She’ll be in a sleeping bag on the floor next to Mina.”

“No way.”

“Yes way,” he said. “Now, may I continue?”

Glancing at the baby’s bassinet that was set up in the corner furthest from you, you turned back to your husband with a smile and hummed. “Continue,” you giggled.

It seemed impossible to sleep, and no, it wasn’t Christmas excitement keeping you up. Soobin, sound asleep beside you, had done his best to tire you out, to relax you enough that you’d want to shut your eyes and snooze, but it wasn’t enough.

After Christmas you were heading back home to be a family of six, unsure of when you’d be coming back here to visit your family, unsure of when you’d ever see Taehyun again. Everything was still unclear between the two of you, whether or not your relationship was in good standing. Those videos gave you a decent idea of where you were headed with your decision on making up.

Slipping out of the covers carefully so you didn’t startle Soobin, you checked on Wonwoo who was also sound asleep, then tiptoed out to the hallway. It was dark, and quiet, the only light coming from the stairs, where the Christmas throw up was. Pushing your hair back out of your face, you took yourself down there, the stairs creaking beneath you as snuck down. Peeking into the front room with the tree and the lights, you find mountains of gifts waiting for your kids under the branches. Gifts upon gifts you didn’t even approve of were patiently awaiting their sticky little fingers to tear them open. Two little green bikes were standing by the windows. Your twins were going to lose their minds.

The rest of the house was silent, everyone was clearly asleep. Sneaking down the hallway into the kitchen, a gasp escapes you when you find Taehyun sitting at the kitchen table in the dark with a glass of water sitting in front of him.

“Jesus, Tae,” you whispered.

“Sorry,” he breathed a laugh. “Didn’t wanna cause any commotion.”

Taking a breath to calm your beating heart, you walk over and take a seat next to him, keeping your focus on the table in front of you. “No, you’re good, I just wasn’t expecting anyone to be up.”

Taehyun bobbed his head and twisted his glass on the wood. “Sober sleep is hard.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “You wake up feeling a lot better though.”

He laughed. “True.”

Silence fell between you, a suffocating silence, like there was so much more to say yet not enough time to say it. Either that or neither of you had the balls to do so.

“Everything that I’ve said today,” Taehyun began, gulping, “I’m sorry.” He looked to you with only his eyes. You did the same. “It wasn’t appropriate of me to let you hear any of it.”

Shifting your body, you turned to face him, pulling your legs up on the chair. “I needed it.”

He looked at you with wild eyes. “Really?” Copying your stance, he twisted to give you his full attention. 

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “We can’t live with all that shit trapped inside of us. That’s what’s made these last twelve years really, really hard. We stopped talking.”

Taehyun rolled his eyes. “I stopped talking.”

“Why did you?” Your voice was a whisper, one that made him recoil with a slight shake of his head. “And don’t say it’s ‘cause of Sana, because I know for a fact that it’s not.”

He stared down at nothing for a few seconds, before a gentle groan came out of him and he gave you a half smile. “Beomgyu.” The name, after those videos, made your stomach turn. In the not fun way.

“What about him?” Your voice was small.

“I don’t even think I need to say it.”

“Taehyun, please.”

He exhaled heavily and squeezed his eyes shut. “You guys… liked each other.”

A breath corrupted your lungs, a lump lodging in your throat as you tore your eyes away from him, looking about the kitchen. Taehyun smiled something of sorrow.

“I was a toy for him to play with,” you mumbled, and he detested immediately.

“That is a lie and you know it,” he said. Meeting his eyes, you felt a tear slip out of one of yours. “You saw those videos, I couldn’t watch anything except for how he looked at you. Shit, Baby, I was there. I could see, I could feel how he felt. And I know how it feels to be loved by you. You loved him too.”

Wiping your hands over your face, letting them sit there for a moment, you sniffled. “Oh, it’s so fucked, Tae.”

“I know,” he whispered. “It’s so fucked.” He went quiet, glancing around the room, watching the snowfall outside. “I don’t blame it for our problems, though. I don’t blame him. He’s still my best friend, he’s still…” You snapped your eyes toward him, begging him to not say the words. A sigh and a head shake was answer enough that he’d keep his mouth shut.

“I had Rosie on purpose,” he decided to tread carefully. “We know this, I… yelled it at you.”

“Sorry for trying to talk you out of it.” Your hushed voice surprised him. “You love her, so much. Both of them. It hurts me that I tried to take that away from you.”

“You didn’t know,” he said, the look in his eye accepting your apology. “We didn’t know we’d be here. We didn’t know Sana would stick with me. No one knew if I’d make it this far, have them with me, have any sort of custody… It’s okay.” He nodded. “You wanted to protect me.”

“That day, at her shower,” you rested your chin on one of your knees, “You wanted to protect me. I remember you telling Gyu to take me to his brothers.”

Taehyun let the memory find him. “I did. He wanted to bring you there anyway, without me telling him to. We both knew you wouldn’t go if I didn’t say something.”

“Where were going with this before?” you asked. “Talking about Rose.”

Taehyun attempted a smile. “I… had her on purpose. Which sounds pretty shitty to say out loud.” The two of you shared a quiet laugh. “But, I got with Sana for more of a reason than to just piss you off.”

“You did piss me off pretty bad,” you giggled, and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m good at that,” he popped his brows once. “I just…” The energy shifted. “There was no life with me,” he whispered, looking at you. “There was no life… with you. You and I, we could never have this.” He gestured around the kitchen.

Raising your brows you sighed. “You and I couldn’t ever afford this.” It made him laugh, thankfully. His hands found his lap, folding together between the sweats he was wearing to bed.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do,” you said, tone as soft as his.

“I had to do something, something that would force us to stop what we were doing, ‘cause there was little to nothing that would stop us.” He huffed a laugh watching you force back a smile. “As much as it hurt… It hurt so bad. I did it for you.”

“That’s ass backwards,” you muttered. 

“Totally,” he agreed. “I saw you and Gyu. Saw how you were. I thought, if I did this, you two would get together. Eventually.”

Trying to swallow the lump in your throat away, it seemed it was there to stay. Another tear fell. “And how did that plan work out?”

Your whisper just about punched him in the gut. “I didn’t think any of this would happen.”

Wiping your own tears, you took in a shaky deep breath. “You know, you could’ve just said the words, Taehyun. That’s all I ever wanted, was for you to talk to me. A majority of my life was one big secret, I didn’t need anymore from you.”

He took you in, accepting defeat. “I’m sorry. You deserved better.”

A sarcastic laugh came out amongst the tears. “And you thought that was Gyu?” you whispered, sniffling, and laughing. “He literally told me he wouldn’t do anything because I was yours. Always was, always will be.” Taehyun averted his gaze. “If you weren’t involved, I barely heard from him. To this day, I don’t hear from him.” But, you knew he knew that.

“Do you know how lucky I am to have the man that I do upstairs?” you continued on, Taehyuns eyes eventually finding yours again. “Do you know how unbelievable it is that he’s even with me? I already fucked up with him once, with undeniable, living proof that we’ll have for the rest of our lives, and he married me, Taehyun.” You took a second to wipe your tears. “Where was Beomgyu?”

Getting up out of his chair, he paused you for a moment. “Hang on,” he muttered, leaving the kitchen, then reappearing after a minute or two with envelopes in his hands. “I wasn’t sure when I’d be able to give you these.” He sat beside you and placed the long white letter envelopes on the table. “Was worried you wouldn’t come this weekend.”

Jaw tight, you reached for the envelopes and kept a strong face as you picked them up. Your tears betrayed you, as you read the names on the front of the four letters they fell steadily. Two were dated from the boy's fourth birthday, their names written neatly on the front, as well as the other two, from their fifth birthday this year. 

This was how it went. An envelope for each boy with a birthday wish and a hefty amount of cash. Usually these were slipped to you at one of Taehyun’s kids parties, discreetly, like it was hush money and not birthday gifts for your children. Words were never spoken, nor exchanged. The letters were given to you, by Taehyun, and you handed them off to your husband without a second thought.

“Have you ever read them?” he asked, eyeing the envelopes you held.

“No,” you breathed, and he nodded. “Soobin has, though. I might, eventually.”

Nodding again, Taehyun sat quietly, letting you have a minute before he said, “He’s a good man.”

Flickering your eyes up to him you smiled. “He’s a damn good man, Tae.” Holding up the letters, you scoffed. “After this? Taking care of and accepting those boys like they’re his own? I swear… I don’t deserve him.”

“Yes, you do,” he said. “You deserve him and so much more.”

Six years ago, you and Soobin’s gap year, that sounded so superficial at this point, you ran back to the two boys, both Taehyun and Beomgyu. A taste of your old life, one that Soobin was detoxing you from. It scared you, to think you were losing a side of yourself, the only side of yourself you had ever known. You weren’t able to stay at Taehyun’s, and you sure as hell didn’t want to stay back at home, so you settled on living at Beomgyu’s for some time. 

Having his own place by then, not too far from Taehyun’s, the three of you lived like you were twenty again, and it was exhilarating, it was freedom, it was familiar. Thinking about it now you cannot believe that you allowed half of it to happen, Taehyun was a married man with two children, but most of that year, those collective months, was a blurred mess. Neither of the boys tried to talk you out of anything with Soobin, in fact, they barely spoke his name. You led… everything.

At this point it seemed that Beomgyu had somewhat gotten over his, ‘you’re always his’, thing, because most mornings you weren’t waking up in the spare room, you were waking up beside him, with tangled limbs and hungover, naked bodies.

You didn’t know you were pregnant until you made up with Soobin. After months of living in hazy chaos, you had an epiphany, much like the one you had a few hours ago after watching the home movies. It wasn’t a life you wanted. It clearly wasn’t a life Beomgyu wanted either.

Living back here at home, days away from moving in with Soobin, into the first tiny home you shared together, you found out you were expecting. Positively gutted, knowing there was no way in hell that Soobin had fathered the child, you were at a loss. You sat on the tiled floor of the bathroom upstairs, alone, for an hour. There was no Taehyun to rush in to save you, to hold you in his arms and tell you everything was going to be okay. You were completely alone, and you had no other choice but to tell Soobin.

Sure, you could’ve taken the other route and gotten yourself out of the shitty predicament, but something in your heart was begging you to tell him. So, you did. And, you hurt him. He didn’t ignore you, he didn’t push you away, he didn’t postpone your move in, he was there for you, and cared for you.

It was one thing you still couldn’t wrap your mind around. How one day he woke up, and decided it was the day to propose, at your bedside in the early morning when you just peeked open your eyes. He spoke words that, still to this day, had the power to bring you to tears. He accepted you, he promised to love and to care for you. He accepted your boys, before either of you even knew there were two. For six years he’s kept his promise. For six years he’s been the best damn father any child could ask for.

“Taehyun, I know we both said things we still mean,” you spoke carefully, keeping his gaze on yours. “You said that you love me, and I… I love you, too.”

He cringed to himself. “I hope you know I don’t mean it in the, I want you to divorce him, way.”

You nearly leapt out of your seat, reaching forward for his hands. “God, no, Tae,” you sighed. “Listen, part of me came here wondering what was left. Of us.” He listened intently, soaking up every word. “You probably thought I was gonna try to… get you back, or something.” He nodded solemnly, a confession he didn’t want to reveal. “And, maybe part of me wanted to find out, but that stuff isn’t important anymore. We’re two entirely different people now. We’re both sober, we’re both on track to live happy, fulfilling lives… We cannot go backward.”

Watching you, wondering if you had anything else to add, he asked, “Will you ever tell them? The boys?”

Your heart sank. “Soobin and I discussed it. When they’re old enough, we’ll tell them. We’ll give them the letters.” Your eyes burned, the tears coming on fast. “Though I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready for them to find out that he didn’t want them. I don’t wanna break their hearts. I don’t want them to have to go through the same pain I did, the realization that your father rejected you, acting like you don’t exist.” Taehyun squeezed your hands. You swore a tear slid down his cheek. “How do I do that to them?”

Taking a deep breath, Taehyun gestured to the letters you threw down on the table. “Read them,” he whispered, his eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t place. “Before you tell the boys… read them.”

After a sniffle you nodded, wiping your tears on your shoulder. “I said it earlier, I want my kids to know you.” He drug his fingers over your skin delicately. “Especially the boys, you’re…” a shaky breath shot through you, “You’re the closest thing they have to him.”

It fell quiet once again, the brisk wind and snow outside the only thing to be heard, calming you both. Taehyun gave your hands one last squeeze before he let them go and tucked his back into his lap. “Yanno, Joy was saying some funny stuff.”

“That the boys look like you,” you said quickly, both of you laughing together.

“Yeah,” Taehyun screwed his face up. “It made me think. It made me think some things I shouldn’t think-“

“Tae,” you said gently. “They’re his. Gyu’s their daddy. I promise you.”

He looked at his lap. “Right,” he whispered, lips firmly pressed together. 

Ignoring everything that changed about him in this moment, you kept things moving, picking up the letters off the table. “Thank you for these,” you smiled. “And, thank you for being here. For talking to me.”

He flashed you that grin that made your heart skip a beat. “What are friends for, Baby?”

Glittering wrapping paper littered the floor, more being thrown by the minute. Every child was beaming, showing off each gift they unwrapped to whoever's eye they could catch. The twins, absolutely losing their minds over their bikes, Mina, asking Jin to open up her new baby doll, Minho, reading the back of a vinyl record, and Rosie, counting how many new lip glosses she’s opened. The room was happy, full of life.

Soobin sat on a couch with Wonwoo in his arms, the infant holding onto a teething ring for dear life, chewing on it while he watched his family go crazy over their gifts. He shot you a smile each time one of your kids opened something new, a screech sounding off when they recognized it was something they’d been asking for.

“You boys want Daddy and Uncle Taehyun to teach you how to ride them?” you asked, holding up your phone to take photos of the twins trying to sit on their bikes. Taehyun, on the floor next to the tree, handing out gifts whenever a child asked for another, looked up at your husband, eyes full of hope.

“Oh my god, yes!” Chan shouted, jumping up and down on his feet covered by the fuzzy footed pajamas he wore. Sunoo, matching his brother, threw his arms in the air and cheered. Eyeing Soobin carefully, you sighed as you watched him smile and nod at Taehyun.

“Can we go now?” Sunoo pouted, eyes going wide. Taehyun snickered and looked over at you.

“Sun, look outside,” you pointed to the window. All the kids followed, glancing out to the snow that was probably going to have you stuck here for another night. “Don’t think you’ll be able to ride a bike out there.” Soobin shot you a look, his smile sarcastic, already dreading staying here one more time.

The boys moved onto other gifts, taking their time, scoping the scene, helping their sister and asking Minho what he got. Taehyun moved to the couch next to Soobin, a foot of space separating them, the three men falling into conversation with one another, Jin seeming happy to have them both there with him. Observing the organized chaos, you didn’t notice your mother approaching you, sliding her arm around your back where you stood in the archway.

“Merry Christmas, my love,” she smiled, speaking quietly to you. Giving her a quick smile, you focused back on your husband, who was handing Wonwoo over to Taehyun.

“Merry Christmas, Mom,” you whispered. Taehyun gazed down at your son in awe, the first time he’s actually held him this weekend. The first time he was getting to know one of your kids before they learned how to walk. He didn’t get to do this with Mina. He barely got to do it with the twins. Wonwoo smiled up at him after he whispered something to the baby, and when he did, he looked up at you and the look on his face warmed your heart.

“He’s so…” Joy began.

“Good with the kids,” you finished, giving her a look. “I know, Mom.”

She forced a smile onto her lips, looking back at you like she was in pain. Her eyebrows were flipped and her eyes were glistening. “I’m sorry if those videos were a lot,” she said, and you scoffed, brushing it off. “No, I mean it. It’s clear you’re moved on from then, I think I was just so caught up in the past. It’s lonely here without you.”

Sighing, you turned to face her. “Mom, the videos-”

“I don’t need you to try to reassure me,” she actually smiled, rubbing your forearm. “They were a lot for me, too. Seeing that day,” her eyes widened for a second, her voice dropping back down to a whisper, one that sent a chill down your spine, “I was reminded how grateful I am that it wasn’t you.”

“Mom,” you gasped, clamping your jaw shut. Her eyes flickered toward Taehyun quickly, then back to yours without much else to say.

“I hold onto hope that one day you’ll open up to me,” she said. “I’m here for you. I always have been.” With another gentle rub of your arm she scurried off into the room to celebrate with the kids.

Your skin has flushed, you know it has. Frozen where she left you, you can’t comprehend what had just happened, what she had just told you, what she had literally admitted to you. Nausea washed over you, your throat closing, like the ability to breath was stolen from you.

She knew.

Willing yourself to turn toward the room where the commotion continued, but you heard half of it, you took one look at the men on the couch. Soobin and Taehyun, both looking back at you with concern. Soobin’s was protective, but Taehyun’s was straight worry. You didn’t know what to do, you didn’t know how to process. A secret you were planning to keep from her for the rest of your life, one that you and Taehyun were going to take to the grave, she knew about. She left you without any indication as to when she found out, who she found out from, if she figured it out herself, if Jin knew as well… She knew, and you didn’t know how.

Looking at your boys, your beautiful twin boys showing their grandmother their new books they had unwrapped, you felt your heart rate skyrocket as you realized that as she sat there talking with them, she thought they were Taehyun’s children.

You were crying, and you weren’t totally sure you were breathing either. Shaky hands pushed back your hair and wiped your tears. Shaky legs took you away from the celebration, into another room, the living room, where you fell onto a couch and buried your face in your hands, finally letting out a decent sob you’d been suppressing all weekend.

It wasn’t long until a pair of strong arms wrapped around you, cozying up next to you, pulling you into their lap. Smothering yourself in their chest, you grabbed onto them somehow, and cried. There weren’t any words to say. Looking up at your husband, teary eyed, there wasn’t a thing either of you could say, or do, to make this any better.

“I’ll find a way to get us home tonight,” he whispered. “I promise.”

Okay, maybe there was one thing he could say to make this a little bit better. And you knew damn well, better than anyone, that Soobin kept his promises.

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[sophistired18]

Kryk ficlet about something something nail clippings, romance, dragons, and estranged family. Pt. 1/2(?)

Let me cut your nails.

"I wanna meet your sister one day." Yaku says offhandedly as he clips Kuroo's nails on their sofa.

"What??" Kuroo jolts, moving his hand suddenly.

"Hey stop moving!" Yaku grumbles as he yanks Kuroo's hand back.

"Why did you ask that??" Kuroo asks with a mix of confusion and shock.

Yaku pauses from Kuroo's nails and lets out a sigh like it's so obvious. It's always so obvious to Yaku.

"Well, isn't it kinda like a formal standard to get to know your partner's entire family before marriage or something?" Yaku says. Like it was obvious. As if it was obvious that he was reflecting on marriage and a future with Kuroo while doing something as mundane as clipping his boyfriend's fingernails. It was obviously, obvious.

Kuroo inhales. "Yakkun. Morisuke. What the actual fuck."

"What??!" Yaku lets out defensively. Because for some reason Kuroo is the unobvious one here. "Am I wrong though?" Yaku says like he's right. He is right.

Kuroo exhales. "No, you're not wrong." Kuroo grins in a stupidly sappy way. "You're just, so unromantic."

"Excuse me? Is doing my boyfriend's manicure because he needs one, badly I might add, not the most romantic deed ever?" Yaku huffs, but his smile grows wider. "Did I need to slay a dragon to prove worthy of your love and ask for your hand, your majesty?"

"And you say I'm the drama queen." Kuroo rolls his eyes. "And honestly, you're probably one of the only people I know that could kill a dragon, so maybe yeah, that'd be very romantic of you. That'd be really hot to see now that I think about it."

"Oh so I guess I'll just find a dragon then." Yaku remarks sarcastically. "But besides that, you're avoiding my question."

"Which one? The hot dragon slaying one or the manly manicure one?" Kuroo replies with a stupid question with an equally stupid grin.

"Neither, you dumbass." Yaku gripes, before jabbing Kuroo in the side of his torso. "I'm serious. I wanna get to know your family."

"You have met my-" Kuroo starts.

"ALL of your family! Besides Kenma doesn't count." Kuroo just gives him a look. "Okay, you're right, Kenma counts, but still! You know what I mean!" Yaku finishes.

"I know.. it's just, well, it's my sister, Mori." Kuroo groans.

"Look, I know you guys aren't close, but that doesn't mean I can't meet her! I want to know this part of your life." Yaku explains. "You've met all of my family, and they love you. Don't I deserve to get to meet yours too? I'm not asking for her approval or to love me, but.. I just think it'd be nice, you know?"

"Yes, you're right." Kuroo admits. "It's just that, she wasn't really a part of my life, Yakkun. I barely know a thing about her besides the Christmas photos my mom used to send. I mean you already know how I feel about my mom, and she is well, my mom. On the otherhand, my sister?? We're like practically strangers." Kuroo huffs.

"You guys don't have to stay that way." Yaku adds.

"Mori, I can literally count on my two hands how many family dinners I've had. I can count on one hand how many family dinners I've had with her attending them." Kuroo spits.

"And I still mean what I said." Yaku spits back. "You're a grown ass man now, and she's a grown ass woman! I'm pretty sure it's not impossible for the two of you to talk to each other! Besides! For someone who's managed to connect with volleyball maniacs from all over the world that you've barely met before, I'm sure connecting with your sister is absolutely doable."

This sucks. This sucks because Kuroo knows Yaku has a point. And Kuroo knows he should stop fighting on this because it's true. He does want Yaku to meet his family. He just never really felt like he ever received any kind of approval from his sister. And for some reason, he's afraid that Yaku won't get that approval because of him. And that's not fair to Yaku. But he's also not being fair to Yaku either.

Kuroo huffs. "I'll give her a call and see when she's available."

Yaku's lips form a wide smile. "Thank you, Tetsu." Yaku sets down the nail clipper and crawls onto Kuroo's lap. "Y'know, if you weren't being such an ass about this, I might be tempted to kiss you."

"But I'm an ass about everything and you still kiss me regardless." Kuroo smirks.

"Only to shut you up, jerk."

"Then shut me up. Or I could keep goi-"

Yaku shuts him up, and Kuroo can't help but think that it's the most romantic thing.

[knifedancer]

What-If: MultiFelix

What if Felix met Multimouse before his appearance in canon?

What if Adrien wasn’t the only blond crushing on a super heroine in the family?

~~~~~~~ “Shit!” Felix cursed as he dodged a wayward akuma blast, the wall of the store he had been hiding beside becoming nothing more than a crumbling pile of bricks in his wake. He stumbled as the ground shook again, hazel eyes darting around to seek out another route away from the battlefront before the akuma-of-the-week targeted the blond directly instead of the thinning crowds around him.

‘There! I can hide in that alley!’ Felix rushed forward, panting as he sprinted across the street towards perceived safety. However, just before he could breach it, another blast struck the building to the left and the debris blocked the mouth of the alleyway – a few bricks slammed into his left leg, their bruising impacts ripping his pants and leaving a smattering of cuts on his thigh. By the way the material of his black slacks bloomed matching glossy spots, there were likely more bloody wounds than those visible through the tears. Cursing under his breath, he spun to his right to begin limping further down the avenue when the sound of maniacal laughter sent chills down his spine. Felix turned and dropped into a fighting stance; hazel eyes focused on the threat approaching slowly. The akuma was dressed as a Medieval court jester; bells jingling as they bounced from foot to foot, legs and arms as pale as snow and unnaturally long like some sort of spider. Eyes wild and toothy grin wide, their head tilted like an inquisitive puppy looking at a new toy.

‘Well, new fear unlocked…’ Felix thought, his rising panic hidden behind a carefully constructed mask of indifference and splotches of plaster dust.

“When I was a lad, I was gloomy and sad / As I was from the day I was born / When other babes giggled and gurgled and wiggled / I proudly was loudly forlorn. / My friends and my family looked at me clammily / Thought there was something amiss…” the akuma’s unhinged, sing-songed limerick coming out dejected as it approached slowly, their grin temporarily dropping into an overexaggerated frown. Felix took a cautious step back, was this the victim’s backstory?

“What else could he be but a Jester? / A Jester? A Jester! / A funny idea, a Jester!” Suddenly the akuma’s mouth stretched up into an unnaturally feral grin, like some sort of horror game villain – equal parts terrifying and disturbing that would certainly not haunt his dreams later – and squealed with joy, clapping its hands around their marotte. “Only the sharpest eye, the keenest nose / the quickest ear and the fleetest toes / Can ever outfox the Jester! Can ever outfox the Jester! / Only the stoutest arm, the bravest heart / with a magic charm and a good head start / Will ever outfox the Jester!”

The hazel-eyed teen braced himself to fight as the akuma lunged with a sharp jingle, marotte extended above their head as if to club the blond over his skull rather than shoot a blast from the tip. Out of nowhere and with a quiet fwip, a pink jump rope shot in front of the jester, tripping them. Just as soon as the rope appeared, it retracted in the blink of an eye and, in its place, a grey dressed figure somersaulted in the air directly above the flattened akuma. Time seemed to slow as Felix watched her pink hair ribbons flutter in the air behind the space buns holding back her hair, tresses as dark as a raven’s wing. His breath briefly caught as bright, bluebell eyes flashed – focused and calculating – from behind the edges of a baby pink domino mask. She brought her black booted feet together and ruthlessly planted them directly into the back of the akuma’s skull, impaling their head into the pavement like some sort of avenging Valkyrie taking down a mythical beast. Felix felt breathless and his knees turned to putty watching the graceful, powerful display. Just who was she?

Shaking off the foreign feelings clouding his mind, the blond limped backwards, unsure if this lithe woman was a friend or foe. Perhaps she would attack him next. Why did he feel a thrill at the idea of sparring with her? Focus! The movement drew the attention of those enchanting blue eyes. She squeaked in surprise, as if just noticing him for the first time. However, they took on an intelligent gleam, quickly assessing his physical state – those eyes pausing on his leg – as she approached him with her hands outstretched in a placating manner. “Um. Excuse me, garçon, I’m here to help. You need to evacuate. Are you badly injured?”

Ignoring the way that her sweet voice – which sounded like silk wrapped around steel – made his heartbeat quicken, he evaluated her for a threat. She was petite and so thin that it looked like the next strong breeze might knock her over. Hazel eyes trailed down the woman’s grey suit – lines of pink breaking the black and grey tightly hugging her tiny frame, the fabric caressing each toned curve and valley in a way that made his mouth run dry – before taking note of a familiar pink jump rope hanging around her waist like a tail. He relaxed fractionally and cleared his throat. “You were the one that tripped him before, weren’t you?” he questioned, gesturing to the now thrashing akuma attempting to free itself from the ground. If Jester had not been struggling to free themselves, Felix would liken the akuma’s current state to an ostrich hiding their head in a hole – the blond choked on a laugh over that mental image!

The grey suited woman glanced back and nodded, “I apologize but…we need to get you out of here before Jester sees us and decides to get revenge.” She drew out the jump rope and stepped into his personal space. Felix realized just how much shorter she was, the top of her head just barely clearing his shoulder, before her words finally registered.

“W-wait, what are you—OOF!” The lithe figure quickly lifted him in a fireman’s carry over her shoulder with shockingly little effort before whipping out the rope and tugging them into the air as if snapping a rubber band. Watching the ground flash by beneath them at a dizzying speed, Felix was pretty sure he was going to be sick. ‘What a way to go…throwing up while escaping an akuma, being manhandled by some superhuman, spandex wearing, midget!’ He refused to admit that this position also provided a lovely angle on some of her finer assets…which was distracting enough to assuage the rising bile in his throat.

With a jolt, they landed on a rooftop, but she only paused for a moment. The woman returned the rope to her waist and shifted him into a bridal carry before dashing quickly across the uneven terrain as if it were second nature. Felix’s arms instinctually wrapped around her neck in a desperate attempt to prevent being dropped. He glanced over her shoulder to see the rapidly expanding distance from whence he was kidnapped – perhaps rescued? – off the street while the wind whipped noisily past his ears. ‘It appears she’s just as strong and fast, even with my added weight,’ the blond thought with mounting admiration. The grey suited woman began to slow and hopped onto a flat roof with a small garden next to a fire escape, finally halting their advance and gingerly returning him to his feet. The blond attributed his racing heart from the unexpected flight rather than their proximity.

“Sorry about that! We didn’t have much time and I needed to get you away from that akuma before they freed themselves. You should be safe here and, if you’re not in too much pain, you can easily take the fire escape down to the streets. Just try to avoid Rue de Rivoli or else you might bump into our crazed jester friend again.” Her lips curved into a gentle smile that made him feel fluttery—er, reassured.

Felix furrowed his brow, “Who even are you?”

The woman blinked and opened her mouth to reply when a cry of “MOUSINETTE!” came from his right, followed by a black blur crashing into the grey suited woman. She stumbled back a few steps with a giggle that sounded like wind chimes dancing in sunlight. Wrapped around Felix’s savior, belt tail seemingly interweaving with the hanging jump rope length, was none other than a grinning Chat Noir. “What are you doing here?! Milady said she was sending in help, but I didn’t think she’d send you after…” The cat hero trailed off, one hand gesturing towards her mask. Now what was that about?

“O-Oh…Yeah…She said that it was just temp-temporary since she’s…uh…” The young woman glanced over towards Felix and then back to Chat, dropping her voice to a soft whisper, “…indisposed.”

“Indisposed? But isn’t her kwam—” Chat Noir looked confused before finally realizing they had company, his mouth dropping into a silent ‘oh’. “Gotcha. Ixnay.” Then he grinned again and ruffled her hair, “It’s good to see you again, Little Mouse! No one deserves it more than you!”

Her cheeks flared in rosy embarrassment and her lips protruded in a pout at the hero’s praise. “Um…I-I…Thank you, Chat. That’s very sweet but…uh, don’t get your hopes up?” The mousey girl cringed and backed away, tugging her jump rope free as she prepared for her departure.

Felix’s lips quirked up slightly at her increased nervous vocal quirks, ‘First she’s badass, then she’s adorable. Just who is she?’

“Since you’re more, uh experienced than me, wo-would you mind checking out this man’s le-leg? I’m heading back to see if Jester has um…broken free from where I…uh…left him.” With that, she scurried away, using her jump rope to swing back towards the akuma.

“Wow! You don’t know it, sir, but you’re a very lucky man… saved by THE Multimouse!” Chat crowed with joy while slitted eyes watched her disappear from sight.

“…Multi-who?” Felix questioned awkwardly, wondering why the cat hero appeared to be so excited.

Chat chuckled softly before turning to him, “Multimouse. She’s smart and funny and strong and sweet…She’s one of the temporary heroes, our greatest strategist (next to my Bugaboo, of course)! Our heavy hitter!”

“Is she some sort of stealth hero? I don’t recall ever hearing about her online…” In fact, he had researched all the heroes before this trip and found not a single mention of a mouse hero.

The black clad cat deflated slightly and sighed, “Yeah…she’s only been out once or twice before this…never really been caught on camera but something happened last time and…well, Ladybug said we couldn’t call her back out. I guess Milady decided it was enough of an emergency… Not that I mind!”

Felix took in the goofy smile that slowly stretched across Chat’s face while he looked off in the direction Multimouse had retreated. Suddenly he felt nauseous, as if something ugly was twisting up and clenching in his stomach, causing his neck to burn red. Unable to control his emotions any longer, his tone became clipped and hard as a lump of anger gripped his vocal cords. “Aren’t you…supposed to be in love with Ladybug?” Did he sound jealous? It was definitely not jealousy!

Chat Noir’s eyes widened comically, his arms swinging wildly in the air as if to physically dispel any misunderstanding. “Yes! Milady is the only one for me! B-but—wait...” Green eyes narrowed with suspicion and the cat stalked closer to the injured teen, his entire demeanor flipping like a switch: from nervous house cat to dangerous panther. Felix struggled to keep himself calm and attention locked on the approaching predator so that he could leap away at a moment’s notice. The cat leaned into his face before a huge grin broke through, his voice a smug murmur. “Do you have a crush on Mousinette?”

Now it was Felix’s turn to panic – eyes widening, heart racing, body trembling, and face burning red – as the image of a grey suited, blue-eyed Valkyrie popped up in his head. His mind replayed the way the breeze tugged at the ribbons in her hair, the obvious strength her petite body contained while effortlessly holding him, the intelligence that showed in her eyes, the blush painted across her cheeks and a giggle that made something inside him sing!

‘Oh…’ he thought dazedly. Sure, Felix had always heard of ‘love at first sight’ but had excused it as nothing more than romantic fantasy! Some unrealistic and overused movie trope! Yet here he was…falling for some mystery heroine that hadn’t even spoken more than a handful of meaningless sentences to him. Mortification bled through the warmth expanding in his chest.

Chat Noir’s grin became sharp, as if he could hear the hazel-eyed blond’s heart beating in time to the heroine’s name. “You and I aren’t so different; I was the same way for Ladybug. Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

~~~

He refreshed the Ladyblog and scrolled through the latest posts for possibly the hundredth time, the habit becoming a daily routine for the blond. There was no real evidence of Multimouse’s existence, merely anecdotal or the occasional passing comment about a pink jump rope appearing during a time of crisis. The only images captured during the Jester akuma were blurry and taken at too far of a distance, Felix checked. Thoroughly. He questioned his memory more with each passing day as little details seemed to slip away, like a well-worn film played so many times that the sound and images began to distort. He could recall that her voice and laughter were sweet but why was it so hard to remember the exact tone? Was she really as lovely as in his dreams? Did her eyes sparkle like the sun glancing off a lake’s surface or were they more like the color of a cloudless sky at noon? What was the shape of her face like again? Did she have freckles?

Frustrated, the blond refreshed the page yet again.

The next time that Felix visited Paris, he watched the skies for a streak of grey and pink. No matter how many akumas appeared, it was simply the original pair: Ladybug and Chat Noir. His attention was divided between his phone and the skies, constantly hoping for another glimpse of the heroine that stole his heart; enough that even his cousin seemed to notice the level of his distraction.

“Hey Fe, you seem really out of it. You okay?” Adrien asked, concern seeming to drip from every pore.

Felix sighed and dropped his phone back down into his lap, “Yes. Apologies, cousin, I’m simply…” He made a motion with one hand as if scrolling through a list of words before settling on one, “…distracted.”

The model approached and hung himself over the back of the couch like a discarded throw blanket, glancing down at what had captured his interest on the screen. “Oh, are you checking out the Ladyblog? My friend, Alya, actually runs it!”

The hazel eyed teen turned with interest, desperately he tried to keep hope from bleeding into his voice. “Do you know if she has a database of images of the various heroes, perchance?”

“Besides the gallery on the blog itself, no, I don’t think so. Why?”

Felix’s posture deflated a bit as he stifled a groan, “It’s…nothing.”

“Are you looking for a certain hero, maybe?” Adrien innocently asked.

“No!” The Londoner answered a little too quickly, unable to keep his ears from turning bright red as he denied the question emphatically.

A playful grin spread across the green-eyed blond’s face, “Yes, you are, Fe! Who is it? Was it a temporary hero during that attack you were caught up in last time?”

He gripped his phone and clenched his teeth, attempting to stifle the spread of the blush now blooming across his cheeks. Good gods, he would never live this down…but his cousin was a fan of the heroes, surely, he might have some information? He hated feeling vulnerable. Felix pressed his eyes shut as if pained to admit it, his voice coming out as more of a whispered hiss than he would care to admit. “…Yes.”

Adrien seemed to light up, “Really? Who was it?” Bouncing like a puppy with a new toy, the model’s eyes gleamed. “Viperion? Or perhaps Ryuko? Rena Rouge? Or...Carapace?! No judgment.”

Felix scoffed and looked down into his lap pensively, his fingers gliding over the darkened surface of his phone’s screen as he struggled to open up. “No…none of them. She doesn’t appear on the Ladyblog anywhere and there’s no pictures of her in battle…I—”

The model gently set a hand on his shoulder, finally hazel met green. “Hey, it’s okay to have a crush on whoever it is. I mean I…” He watched as his cousin blushed, his eyes looking out the wall of windows with a dreamy, far-off look. Felix couldn’t help but think that his cousin looked like some sort of melancholic-romantic lead pining for their lover. “I’ve…had a huge crush on Ladybug ever since she saved me.”

The formal boy stared at his cousin’s profile, dumbfounded at finding common ground with his lookalike. They had been raised so differently, had lost contact, lost parents, and pursued different routes in life… The model was like sunshine incarnate while the magician resembled that of a thunderstorm. All their lives, Felix had always been compared to Adrien and found lacking. Perhaps they weren’t so different after all?

Adrien sighed softly and turned his gaze back towards him, excited once more. “So? What was she like?”

“She…” He allowed his eyes to drift up briefly as he recalled the encounter once again. “She was…strong and agile. Small, but powerful, like some sort of petite battle angel.”

“Yeah… I’m a sucker for a strong woman, too.” Adrien climbed over the sofa and settled beside him with a chuckle, leaning back so that the model’s face looked up at the ceiling. “And beautiful.”

“Graceful,” Felix supplied with an agreeable hum, lost in thought as his eyes drifted down to his lap once again. Fingers tracing the edges of his phone case as the image of bright eyes framed by a pink mask flooded his memories.

“Kind,” his cousin sighed into the air around them, his mind’s eye bringing forward images of his Lady.

“Capable.”

“Smart.”

“Clever.”

“Confident.”

“…yet adorable.”

“Especially how her nose crinkles when she laughs…”

“Laughter that makes your heart dance.”

“And a smile that makes you feel warm all over.”

“With blue eyes as clear as crystal…”

“Hair the color of the midnight sky…”

Felix laughed wryly, “Almost sounds like we’re in love with the same girl.”

“Oh gods, I think we have a type!” Adrien’s whole body shook with his laughter.

“Seems so, cousin!” The formal boy’s chuckles died out as the original issue arose to the forefront of his mind yet again. “At least you can find pictures of Ladybug all over the blog. Multimouse doesn’t appear on camera nor is she called out much. It’s…It’s like she never existed!” He ran a hand through his hair in visible frustration.

“Yeah, I’ve…uh…heard rumors of a mouse hero. But I’ve um, never seen her myself,” the model admitted while twisting his ring. “Wait! What if I ask Chat Noir – he, uh…patrols nearby sometimes – to get you a picture?”

Felix scoffed at the idea, “That’s not likely to happen. Even that cat mentioned that she is hardly ever called out to help. Besides, I don’t need any of the heroes to find out about my…inclinations. They might think I’m some sort of stalker and never call her out again.” Crossing his arms, he glared at the tops of his knees.

“Oh. Um.” Adrien seemed to deflate a little, his eyes twitching back and forth pensively as if trying to find an answer. “Then…what if you describe her to me and I can try to get my friend to draw her for you? His name’s Nathaniel, he’s really good – even has his own Ladybug comic book! Here, I’ll show you some of his work.”

Felix watched as his cousin pulled up a few screenshots he had saved of the bug heroine – obviously full colored, pre-print cells from the final draft – and was begrudgingly impressed. “That…that might just work. I…” He furrowed his brow and cleared his throat; an uncomfortable tightness having lodged deep in his chest. Hazel eyes rose to look into the model’s face once again, his voice a murmur of gratitude. “Thank you, Adrien.”

A genuine smile stretched across the model’s face. “Hey, what is family for?”

~~~

A few weeks later, a small package arrived at Felix’s door in London with a return address from Paris.

Retreating to the privacy of his room, the blond allowed his emotions to go unguarded as he quickly peeled back the tape with anticipation. A small gasp echoed in the silent room as hazel eyes finally laid upon the contents. Inside the rigid packaging and protected by a stiff plastic sleeve, lay three realistic drawings of various sizes and poses, all professionally colored and inked in a way that made it seem almost like the heroine could jump straight off the page.

“Multimouse…” his whispered voice filled with awe and admiration.

Felix pulled the largest image from the sleeve, an action shot that he had described in great detail – repetitively – to Adrien. Jump rope curled around her waist, ribbons blowing in the breeze, her booted feet together and arms extended above her head as she came down upon the akuma… Suddenly he felt as if he was right back in that moment! The artist had drawn her form as if hovering in the air, looking like an instant frozen in time, and filled in the background with a simple watercolor burst that accentuated the grays, pinks, and dark blues in the rest of the piece. With trembling fingers, he reverently traced the curve of Multimouse’s domino mask. He gazed into the bright blue eyes that had bewitched him and haunted his dreams. Somehow Adrien’s artist friend had even perfectly captured the determined sparkle in her eyes!

Gently setting that drawing aside, he pulled the medium sized image out next and found another action shot of the heroine mid-flight. Jump rope extended beyond the paper’s edges, legs extended behind her in freefall, her eyes partially closed against the wind whipping at her face – it was a beautiful vision! However, what captured his interest and stole his breath was the bright smile stretched across her face. She looked so carefree and relaxed, as if she were simply patrolling the rooftops with the rest of the team. Had they used Ladybug for reference? Or did someone see her recently?

No, if she had been seen, it would have been on the Ladyblog.

Placing that piece beside the other on his desktop, Felix finally pulled the last from the sleeve. Unlike the others, this one was laminated and covered by a sticky note in Adrien’s usual scrawl.

Dear Fe, I asked Nath to make this one small enough to fit in your wallet. We asked my very good friend, Marinette, to pose for it. I hope you like it! ~AA

The hazel eyed teen scoffed and peeled it away, freezing once he revealed the image beneath. The mouse heroine was pictured sitting on the edge of a building, reclined back on one arm while glancing over her shoulder almost flirtatiously, the sunset and Eiffel Tower behind her so that part of her face was cast in shadow. One delicate hand was brushing her bangs from her eyes, a shy smile upon her lips, her body language open and comfortable. The angle was close enough to make out long lashes and a light blush on her freckled cheeks. It almost felt as if she were looking right at him!

Knees shaking from the weight of his overwhelming emotions and eyes still locked on the small drawing, he sat heavily into the desk chair with a sharp creak in protest. Felix raised a hand to his chest, as if trying to calm the rapidly thumping organ currently threatening to flee from his body. His imagination ran wild – supplanting memories of the Jester with daydreams of shy smiles, sweet giggles, and teasing banter as they watched the sunset…

‘Wow…’ thought Felix, looking back over the three drawings before his eyes settled back on the one still in his hand. ‘I don’t know how I’m ever going to return the favor for this… Perhaps I can help my cousin with his crush the next time I visit?’

After all, what could possibly go wrong?

~~~~~~~Author's Notes: I had a this thought and decided to type it up. I'm the only one to blame here. I couldn't stop myself if I tried. I swear, I don't know why my brain spits this stuff out…

Jester lines are modified prose from character dialogue in 'The Court Jester' (1955).

Jester's visuals were inspired by a combination of Spinel (corrupted) from 'Steven Universe', Joker from 'Batman', and Huggy Wuggy and Mommy Longlegs from 'Poppy's Playtime'. Disturbing enough? Check.

Marotte: Originally the medieval fool's stick or sceptre, a short rod topped with a small head.

Adrien hints about Marinette's secret mouse identity, said hint goes right over Felix's head.

[st4rbe0m]

SUMMARY ▸ 20 years ago, a gruesome murder shook the town hard. A type of murder that should've never happened, much less in their quaint town. A lovely family killed in cold blood with an unforgiving axe wielding maniac - a mother, a father and a little girl.

It's been 20 years down the road, hasn't it? Then why are these 10 teenagers stuck in a loop of the same day, being haunted by a little girl who died 20 years ago?

PAIRING ▸ Park Jongseong (Jay) x fem!reader

STARRING ▸ Enhypen members, aespa members (Giselle and NingNing). Any pairings made between Enhypen and aespa members is with clear fictional intent

WC ▸ 2.7K

TAG LIST ▸ open!! send an ask to be added

A/N ▸ I'm so proud of this cliffhanger hehehe had my hands rubbing devious grin on my face and everything as I typed it out. Also thank you for the support on this fic! Pls PLS don't be silent readers and do leave comments and reblogs! I'd love to hear thoughts and remarks from you guys <33

WOULD YOU LIKE TO CONTINUE THE BODY SEARCH ?

▊ yes -> CHAPTER 6

▊ no -> CHAPTER 4

BODY SEARCH MASTERLIST

The salt air is sticky and tangy on everyone’s tongue, mouths wide open in shrieking laughter and joyous squeals. A much needed break, it was today, the repeat of the day before and the day after, that the group had decided to head down to the beach. 

“I can feel my lungs close around me. I can’t breathe guys. I can see the light.” Heesung was sprawled across the stone bench of the school park, while Sunghoon chewed on a mango popsicle and eyed his friend wearily, annoyed by his complaints. “Heesung, you’d probably stop dying if you complained less”, said Sunoo, equally fed up with Heesung - not because the boy was in any serious danger. No, he just missed his girlfriend. Giselle, it seemed, reveled in the time she had with Y/N and NingNing, which made her boyfriend’s spirits shrivel as he was left to hangout with the other boys of their group. “You don’t get it, you guys. It’s withdrawal symptoms. Oh Jungwonie, I can barely even see you, my vision is going out.” Jungwon called out from where he was - completely opposite and in no way near Heesung’s line of sight, as he exclaimed, “I’m nowhere even near you dipshit, of course you can’t see me!”

Jay was sort of done with Heesung’s whining, and if he had to hear about how much Giselle would save Heesung from his fate, his head would explode. So he did the only thing he could think of, the only solution - he dialed Y/N. He had just remembered to ask her for her phone number just yesterday, when they walked to class together. Hands intertwined, sharing warmth, it certainly made his classmates raise hell when they saw the school loner with the school’s golden goose. But it didn’t matter, because they didn’t remember anything today anyways. 

The memory of yesterday still had his heart leaping in gleeful somersaults inside him, as he remembered just how beautiful Y/N looked under the waning glow of the sunlight, hair caressing the sides of her face softly, skin that he was sure would feel like heaven under his touch. Maybe if he got bold enough, one day he’d get there. One day, where the sun rose for a second time to greet a different day. 

“Jay, you’re thinking something again”. Y/N pointed out as she noticed the furrow in his brow. “Nothing, nothing”. The pair kept walking down, hands now swinging in mild amusement of their circumstances. Now they were recounting their hilarious fails from all their deathly escapades every night - “I honestly don’t know how she found us in the pool! And seriously, I don’t know what got into NingNing that made her think hiding in the pool - a body of water where we can drown easily is a wonderful idea!” Y/N animatedly recounted to Jay, hands flying about as she chatted along in enthusiasm, Jay hanging on to her every word with wonder, as he gazed upon the girl who seemed more talkative than ever now that she’d broken out of her shell. “Wait, you can’t swim?”, asked Jay, who was now more than amused as he got to know of this little tidbit. “Hey, that’s not what you should be focusing on right now.”, she laughed and swatted his arm. “No, no. I just think it’s cute that you haven’t learnt even after the water park.” “Well back then I had you, didn’t I?”. Y/N looked at him with a twinkling mirth, which made his breath hitch in his throat. And having no idea where the surge of confidence came from, he just looked right back into her eyes, and said, “Aw, so you still need me to save you? Just stay close to me, like I said”, flexing a bicep up, he added, “I can fight.”

In any other case, this would’ve had Y/N cringing. But this was Jay. Tall, smart, muscular and chivalrous Jay. So obviously, it just had Y/N standing in a flustered mess as gaping eyes stared into him. Breaking out of the embarrassing stupor, she just continued along, tugging at the boy who was now sporting a confidence in his gait, “Alright, alright we get it, basketball captain.” Offhandedly, she also said, “At least we know Sunghoon can’t save me since he’ll be busy saving Ning”, in reference to the newfound knowledge she had about her friend’s feelings, when she gasped in realization about what she’d spilled. Looking at Jay in shock, she hastily waved her hands around, trying to undo the damage. “Forget I said that! Who even is Sunghoon? I don’t know anyone with that name!”, laughing unsurely. Jay just slowly grabbed the palm of her hand that she’d let go from his, pulling her closer by just an inch to him, as he said smugly, “Don’t worry, I know. Who do you think has been wingman for both of them?”. That’s when Y/N remembered why NingNing and Jay would hangout so often. Softening up from her slip up, her hand relaxed into his as they kept going again. “Yeah, Ning told me and Giselle while we were talking about our crushes.” “Our crushes?”, asked Jay, which had Y/N slightly stiffening up again. Damn Park Jay, she thought, he has me spilling everything out in the open just like that. “Ning has a crush on Hoon, we know this. Giselle and Heesung have been together since eternity. So ‘our’ here would also mean the crush you have on someone, right?”. Damn that Park Jay, was all Y/N could think as she laughed nervously and said, “Well not necessarily right? I don’t think so.” Jay halted Y/N again, still holding her hand. The smile he gave her was dazzling this time, and it seemed that Y/N was collecting all of his charming grins like a bouquet in her mind. “That’s a slight relief.” “Why?” Y/N was confused. Not meeting her eyes, he just said, “Wouldn’t want the prettiest girl in school falling for anyone else now, would we?”

That was yesterday. And today, as Jay had dialed up Y/N and explained Heesung’s lamentations, a half-annoyed, half-charmed Giselle had just asked the boys to meet the girls where they were planning to go - the beach. To have a day off, and as a celebration. Because the group had achieved something they were building up to for a while - they’d collected almost all of the body parts. In fact, only one crucial part was missing. The head. The head of the missing, dead girl was all they had to find, to brave past the girl covered in blood bent on haunting them. 

“Last one in the water loses!”, called out an excited Jungwon, breezing past the girls in his striped tank top and pineapple beach shorts. “Someone’s excited”, commented Riki, who was lugging along a picnic basket he’d arranged impromptu. The youngest of their group, albeit quiet, was one of the most thoughtful juniors Y/N had met. Thanking him for his gesture, he just laughed and gave her a cheeky salute as he joined Jake, wrestling the older yet shorter boy into the water. The excited screams of the group were a much-needed contrast from the blood-curdling ones they heard during their deathly games. The girls had quickly changed from their coverups into their beachwear, and Y/N was involved in a serious game of beach volleyball with NingNing on her team, against Sunghoon and Jay. Giselle was lounging on the beach towel as Heesung, who finally got the girlfriend time he was deprived of, sat next to her, lathering sunscreen onto himself. “How is this split even fair? You guys are literally trained athletes”, complained the ever-competitive NingNing, who also did have a fair point. “Fine then, let’s switch. Sunghoon, join NingNing. I’ll join Y/N”. The double intention of these actions didn’t fly past anyone, as all four of them seemed to be hyper aware of themselves now. Sunghoon, who simply greeted Ning with a nod and cleared his throat as he set his eyes on the ball that Jay was serving, stood opposite Y/N, who was also watching Jay, for completely different reasons. The way the heat beating down on them made him sweat, the sheen covering his tan skin deliciously. The way he posed with accuracy with the ball, slender yet toned arms accentuating his biceps. Jay served the ball with precision, and it was immediately received by NingNing as she expertly passed it over to where Y/N was, blushing as Sunghoon praised her as she did. Y/N also caught the ball with a dip, hitting right over the net by a bare minimum, which had Sunghoon pile diving into the sand to catch.

The game went on until Sunghoon and NingNing won, the pair high fiving each other, giggling to each other with burning ears, praising the way they both handled themselves. A teasing Jay made his way to where Y/N was, dusting the sand off her shorts. “You know what, let me buy you an ice cream. Let’s celebrate how we held our own against the Ice Prince and his Class President Princess over there.” Glancing over to where NingNing and Sunghoon were still talking amongst themselves, now much more calm and with eyes fixed on each other, Y/N simply nodded as she followed Jay along to the corner store right by the beach. After paying the vendor, the two of them sat on the staircase that led to the beach, simply enjoying the weather, the view and the company. A silence that blanketed them in comfort, not awkwardness. “Y/N.” Jay broke the silence suddenly, but not startlingly. “Hmm”, Y/N hummed in response, curious as to what the boy wanted to ask. “Have an ice cream with me tomorrow as well?”, he asked. “Sure, why not”, Y/N said, not thinking too much into it. Her and Jay were hanging out quite frequently anyways, and this was not all that of a strange request from him. “No, I mean the real tomorrow. A tomorrow that isn’t a Tuesday again. A tomorrow where the sun rises over a new time”. His eyes were determined as he looked at where she sat. There was no guarantee in this. This wasn’t one of Jay’s basketball games where the outcome of the match could be predicted. But the way Y/N’s hand was on top of his palm, her body leaned slightly into him, and from the way she smiled at him all the time - he had a feeling the odds were in his favor. “What do you say?”

The hope that was in the air was buzzing. It was thrown into the wind along with caution, and it was about whether Y/N would catch onto it. 

“Yes, Jay. I’ll have ice cream with you tomorrow.”

A promise. 

A promise between two hearts, young and beating with life and purpose. A promise that neither of the two hearts were sure they’d be able to keep. 

“Guys, come here!”. The urgence in the outcry of Giselle’s voice made the two run as fast as they could, kicking up sand to where the rest of the group had already assembled. Sunoo was on the sand, clutching the bag which contained all the evidence Jungwon had collected regarding the body search. “I was looking for my sunglasses in this bag, when I saw it.” There seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary in what Sunoo was clutching, the newspaper article and the books. That’s when Y/N looked to see the color draining from Jay’s face, and the rest of her friends looking right at her in indescribable fear. And when she looked down again at the newspaper, she saw the difference. 

‘10 year old Y/N Y/L/N brutally murdered along with her parents at Sakcho WaterPark by unknown intruder ; body of the deceased is yet to be found.’