just a kpop multistan who wasn’t allowed to listen to boy bands growing up, consider this the aftermath. hope i can give you guys scenarios to dream (or crash out) about :P
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masterlist:
short works based on members from various idol groups. all of my work is fiction/simply a reflection of my unhingedness imagination
☆ NEW Long Weekend (sunghoon - enhypen) parents au
☆ 11:48 PM (hyunjin - stray kids) angst college au
☆ 3:55 PM Series (niki - enhypen) angst small town au
☆ 10:00 AM, 10:07 AM (jaemin - nct dream) angst office au
more to come ٩( 'ω' )و
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wip:
♪ yet to come ♪
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abt me:
i’m a artsy kid who thought fanfic might be a good route of creative expression. your girl is college educated #classof2026! i’m from the US (:/) so a lot of my stuff is ethnocentric in that way, but i wanna travel the world some day :D
currently taking some space from Hybe even tho that’s where my roots are (used to be an army n’ i LOVE enhypen downnn, but they’re why i had to step away). k-pop is a moral panic fr
my biases (everyone’s so fine tho it’s hard to pick): JAEHYUN, yuta, JAEMIN, HAECHAN, chenle, jisung, winwin, ten (nct) jaehyun, taesan (bonodo) HYUNJIN, I.N., bang chan (skz) ANTON, sungchan, shotoro (riize) yuma, harua, jo, k, nico (&team) B.I. (solo) sunghoon, niki, jungwon (enha) intak, keeho, jeongseob (p1h) YECHAN, doguyn, seongil (82Major) mingyu, minghao, suengcheol, HOSHI (svt) jackson wang (solo/team wang dawg) KAI, chanyeol, baekhyun (exo) shownu, hyungwon (monstax) q, hyunjae, sunwoo (tbz) YEONJUN, soobin, taehyun (txt) wooyoung, seonghwa, yunho (ateez) jungsu, goan, jooyeon (xdinary heroes) + moreee like honestly shout out all the cool asf k-pop papis i’m occasionally parasocial with （＾ν＾）
other interests: film, poetry, cats, other cute animals, activism, seafood (sry fish), language learning, art, & more
pairing: husband Sunghoon x wife reader | parents au
MOOD BOARD | TEASER
synopsis: after suffering relentless nightmares for months, your husband, Sunghoon, decides to plan a family getaway. little did you know that that trip would be were those nightmares became reality.
general themes/elements: angst, some fluff, fall/autumn (spooky szn), suspense, nightmares/dreams, parenting, family, anxiety, spirituality, missing persons, small town, & more... idk maybe
wc: 12.9k
a/n: been gone & taking space from enha, but i've finally (semi) committed! might edit later or even do a part 2 if its asked of me (i got ideas tho). thank you for allowing me to 'redebut' with my original bias.
likes, comments, and or reblogs are immensely appreciated.
The click of the passenger door to your shared hatchback opening startles Sunghoon into consciousness. You’re standing in the street with the door open. You fix your large cloth tote bag as it slides off your shoulder, resistant to cling onto the texture of your jacket. You pause there with your head tilted slightly to the left pretending like the cool outside air doesn’t bother you.
The sidewalks surrounding the car are empty. The car is off. The radio is soundless, but clanking of neighboring construction a few blocks over fills the silence. The pine scented air freshener dangling from the rear view mirror permeates the space the ruckus forgets. So much so that there air feels thick. Or maybe that’s just you.
"Sorry to wake you," you avert your eyes. A part of you was curious if you’re apologizing out of pettiness, but it tastes mostly genuine against your tongue.
A wave of guilt washes over Sunghoon upon realizing you found him asleep. "Didn’t realize I dozed," he mumbles. His response somehow managed to make you both feel worse. That much is clear when he notices the increasing slump in your shoulders. He straightens his posture and grabs your bag from you, placing it inside the empty black and grey forward-facing car seat resting in the right side of the back row.
You climb into the vehicle and put your seatbelt on wordlessly. Most of your energy is actively being consumed by your thoughts. You’re eyes hold their usual exhaustion, but you make sure to give him a meek closed mouth smile nonetheless. He makes a expression adjacent to a smile, but not as soft. He stares at you expectantly, and its a bit of a bother.
He anticipated that you would be back seven minutes ago. He expected you back in the car as soon as your appointment finished. You were supposed to spontaneously reappear beside him and tell him every thing that happened at your first psychiatrist visit, but that’s not what’s happening. Now you’re here and it feels like you’ll never speak.
What Sunghoon doesn’t know is that you do want to talk; you really do. You just don’t know what to say. That’s partially because you figure you already know what he wants to hear. Maybe something about how the appointment was better than you expected, or how you feel seen or optimistic. But you’re the barer of bad news; you already spent the last seven minutes wishing the prognosis where less… underwhelming. You settle on saying, “They want me to come back in two weeks. They’ll send me some recommendations for talk therapy, but there’s really nothing they can do right now.” The words feel stale on your tongue, too business-y, too formal.
Sunghoon nods without any distinct feelings. He figured you would need to book a few more sessions; these things don’t resolve themselves overnight. “Prescriptions?”
“Just melatonin.”
His gaze turns away from you before you finish your statement. His tongue prods at his cheek. The two of you face the windshield ahead of you without any hope of prolonging the conversation.
There’s a part of you that wants to violently shout I told you so at the top of your lungs, but at this point, you don’t feel much. The walk to the car already allowed the weight of reality to drop atop of your slouched shoulders at full force, such an exclamation would be against the flow of gravity.
You already tried melatonin. You’ve tried several things actually. No sugar before bed. Vivid dream journals. Praying. Soon, weekly meetings with a therapist which probably should’ve been considered sooner.
You cleansed your spaces with sage and palo santo. Sprinkled salt in each corner of the apartment. Rearranged the furniture. Got rid of any material items linked with unpleasant memories, despite practicality. The kitchen knife you nicked your finger with, gone. The couch you cried yourself to sleep on during postpartum, donated. The poster for Sunghoon’s favorite film that you happened to watch twice with your manipulative college ex-boyfriend (before meeting Sunghoon of course), shredded.
Next steps were either seeking a psychiatry specialist or inviting a priest to your abode, but Sunghoon was against that. Modern medicine was his preferred tactic. He promised this appointment would be the solution, so you went out of your way to tell a stranger your deepest darkest thoughts. But no treatment, nor diagnosis can save you from your nightmares.
Truly, you wish you had it in you to say I told you so. But you were fighting tooth and nail to sit upright as is. You can feel yourself leaning into misery like it made up the seat beneath you. Like it was the warmth of this car hidden from the chill of outside.
Sunghoon turns to you amidst the heavy silence and examine you from the driver’s seat. You tried not to look tense, but there was a deep line set between your eyebrows. He lets out a short, unnecessary hum. “Maybe you should start smoking marijuana,” he suggests. He pushes out the syllables to mar-i-juan-a like it tastes funny, his Korean accent making a special appearance.
An airy scoff-like chortle escaped you before words do. You lick your lips mumbling, “Thought that was plan B.”
“… Then we should’ve did that a long time ago.”
Another laugh. The crease between your brows finally softens.
Sunghoon notices and its suddenly easier for him to breathe. He picks back up, “Seriously, we’re on plan—” he counts on his fingers, “—G. Why didn’t we revisit that?”
“Because you promised you’d smoke with me and you’re a freaking hypochondriac.”
He rolls his eyes, “I’m health conscious.”
Your smirk creeps up your lips, “More like health anxious.” You turn to him, warding off your widening smile. You aren’t very successful, it just appears lopsided.
He watches you with reverence for a moment. Then, he makes aface. One of those goofy disbelieving, mock offense faces. One where his eyebrows crinkle and his lips pout.
Its a weird little silly face, but he looks pretty even now. You reach out and cup his cheek, dragging your thumb back and forth once. You don’t try to hide the glaze of adoration that twinkles in your eyes.
This is far from the reaction he was expecting, but he lets his face soften, leaning into you. His eyes scan your face in a triangular pattern. Left eye. Lips. Right eye. His eyes flicker towards your hand that adorns the apple of his cheek; his mouth twist, “Are your hands clean?”
You squint your eyes playfully with a growing smirk, “Freaking hypochondriac.” You drop your hand and drift back into the passenger’s seat, sulking facing the dashboard.
Sunghoon struggles to keep his eyes from trailing to your pout as he admires your profile. You do a good job of acting like you don’t notice, but he can tell you do by the slight twitch in your bottom lip. He lets out a soft sigh through his nose. He reaches and rests a hand on you knee. Without his hand falling off your knee, your curl up into a ball with your knees leaning against the center console.
“I should be the one touching you,” He soothingly runs his hand up and down your thigh. “You’re tired.”
A heavy breath escapes through your nose. You nod. Your eyelids are heavy, but you shouldn’t let them close. Sleep is a luxury you can’t afford.
He looks down at your childlike position. He wants nothing more than to just fix it. Make it all better again. He blurts, “Lets go somewhere,” without a second thought.
Another long breath comes through your nose.
“Where should we go?” He asks before you muster a reply.
Your eyes start to shut against your better judgment, “Somewhere quiet.”
Sunghoon hums in agreement.
You keep talking to avoid falling victim to exhaustion. “Somewhere nice and quiet. Maybe a cabin or a— a bed and breakfast. Somewhere close —and warm.”
Sunghoon smiles without you knowing. He shifts in his seat, moving his hand from your thigh to the crown of your head. “I think we’d have to go a little far to find somewhere warm.”
You shake your head absently, “Not physically.”
“What does that mean?” He cranes his neck down at you with furrowed brows.
You sucks your teeth and open one of your eyes begrudgingly, “Not physically warm.”
His mouth makes a small “o” and he nods pretending he’s confident he understands. He strokes your head in an attempt to get you to relax again. "Like cozy," he clarifies in a whisper to himself.
Exactly, cozy. Your eyes lull shut. You snuggle further into the center console, fully resting your head on the divider between your seats.
“We’ll leave Friday. I can get my parents to watch Ian for the weekend,” he retrieves his phone from his jean pocket laboriously.
Ian? The sudden mention of your son jars you. Your speech comes out muffled from behind your forearm, “I want mouse there.”
Sunghoon tsks and stills his hand. He glances down at you, “I— wasn’t really asking babe. Looking after him will only stress you out more. You need rest Y/n.” He speaks firmly, convinced his argument its air tight, but the prospect alone made it hard for you to hear him out. "We’re his parents," your bottom lip curls up in a frown, "we can’t just leave him and go on a spontaneous vacation."
"That’s not fair, we’re people too. You make it sound like sending him to my parents is a punishment."
You wave your hand dismissively, “Still, not knowing where he is will stress me out more.”
"You’ll know where he is, he’ll be at my parents house."
The idea of leaving Ian stirs anxiety in your belly as your mind wanders into a dark place. A nightmarish place. You can’t leave Ian. You start to slur your words as you fall closer and closer to sleep, “You’ll take care of him for me won’t you?”
He purses his lips, “So now I’m babysitting?”
That comment was almost annoying, it would warrant a slap against the back of his head if you weren’t so tired. “He’s your baby.” Dumbass.
“Our baby,” Sunghoon corrects, "You’re my baby." You mock him lightly under your breath and he just smiles. "I’m just looking out for you. Seriously Y/n, don’t look for unnecessary stress, Ian’ll be fine."
You sigh, you don’t want to leave Ian. "Can you just drop it? He can stay with them next weekend or something. I just want a nice trip with my family, both my babies."
He strokes your head one last time before starting the car. “Fine, but no experimenting with marijuana then.” His pronunciation is still a bit harsh. Your small chuckle competes with the low hum of the jazzy radio station Sunghoon favors. “Just say weed,” you bite back a smile, "and stop acting like you'd know where to get some." A witty comeback of sorts threatens to form, but he only laughs in response. Its the last thing you hear before drifting off.
The clarinet gently fills the car. Sunghoon reaches for the knob to turn down the volume at a red light. You jolt to life, scanning your surroundings, breathing heavy. Another Nightmare. Your eyes land on the road and them toward your husband. You’re only halfway home.
He’s already looking at you with a heartbroken smile. He doesn’t ask you 'What’s wrong?' or 'Do you want to talk about it?' The former is pointless, you both know why you woke up, and more often than not you decline the latter. Instead he waits for you to speak.
“Can you—”
“Mhm,” he cuts you off, resting his hand closest to you on your shoulder.
You’ve gotten into the habit of asking for some sort of physical contact in order to fall to sleep. Fortunately, you didn’t have to ask this time. It always feels awkward on your end, but Sunghoon doesn’t seem to mind.
You slowly recline into your chair. He runs his palm down your arm and lands it above your knee, giving a grounding squeeze. You say, “Thank you,” but its sounds too far away for Sunghoon to respond.
The light turns green. You go back to sleep. And he drives you home.
———
A few days pass and Sunghoon’s already planned your family getaway. He arranges for the three of you to drive a few hours to a cottage in the upper New England area. You leave straight after retrieving Ian from pre-k. The drive up is painless with Ian napping most of the way there. He fell asleep with his
The cottage sits on the right side of a windy two way road. Based on the mailboxes you counted there’s about three other houses within the next few miles, all of which seeming unimpressive. The house you’re staying at is small and white with tall matching fencing around what you assume is the backyard. Secretly anxieties of cobwebs and leaky ceilings flood your imagination as Sunghoon drives down the paved path that led to the singular car park. A narrow front porch was to the left and a large grassy fenced in area stood to the right. There’s a door camouflaged into the fence.
It smells like gasoline and the color green. You step out the car at the same second a nice looking elderly woman in a cable knit sweater steps out of your house for the weekend. She looks like the type of person you’d spot apple picking or baking a dessert from scratch. Sunghoon walks over to her and waves for you to join him as you stir Ian awake.
While it seems questionable from the outside, it’s surprisingly modern inside. It’s a one bedroom falsely advertised as two because of the pull out couch in the living room. There’s a small, well maintained outdoor pool and fire pit hidden in the overgrown backyard. The living room has a wood burning furnace that neither of you or Sunghoon know how to use and the kitchen despite being up to date, is much smaller than the rest of the rooms.
The bedroom and master bath leave no room for improvement. They were both comfortable, clean, and lined with rustic artwork. Every doorknob has beautiful intricate engravings that give the place an extra touch of whimsy. You couldn’t have asked for more.
As expected the woman who walked out is the owner of the property, Mrs. Murphy. She seems unexpectedly air headed, but generally pleasant. She lives in one of the equally quaint houses you passed up the road. The house you’re staying in used to shelter her and her husband, but she can’t stomach sleeping here after his passing a few years ago. Much to your dismay, she explains how they lived here together for twenty years before he passed away in their bedroom on her sixty-first birthday. Her children live out of state, but arranged for the house to be renovated and help her rent it out online, allowing her to make an income that goes towards the mortgage of her new home.
After a lengthy chat over check in, she promises to regularly assist with the furnace and even give a tour of town or watch Ian for a couple hours if the two of you need. Her husband’s family is from the area, but she doesn’t seem to have many friends of her own, so she could use the company. You’re nearly consumed by shame when her solemn offer for free childcare made you wonder if you might be able to find time to sneak in a 'private moment' with Sunghoon. Without missing a beat, Sunghoon guarantees the two of you will give her call if you need anything.
Tonight is the first night of the seasonal local night market. Small vendors from all over the area set up tables offering niche goods and services like airbrush tattoos and vegan mac and cheese. Sunghoon mentions it nonchalantly after walking Mrs. Murphy out. Its seems like a nice coincidence to you, but Sunghoon knew about it since he booked the place. You, Sunghoon, and Ian trek there as a family immediately after settling in.
Right now, you and your family huddle under the white tent that shelters a foldable table covered in nicknacks made from mineral crystals like amethyst paper weights and seven-chakra wall art. Deeper into the tent there’s a couple of beige fold up chairs and a colorful Turkish rug laid atop grass. You’re struggling to decide on getting your palm read by a white man with a controversial hairstyle and Baja hoodie while Ian tries to wander away. Sunghoon catches him out the corner of his eye and grabs him by his scarf. “Where are you off to, huh?” He yanks him closer and envelops him in a back hug.
Ian is four and tall for his age. He has one of those scratchy kid voices that make him sound more delinquent than he is. On the contrary, Ian is quite quiet. That’s why you call him 'Your Little Mouse' or 'Mousey' for short. On an occasion or two you’ve heard Sunghoon teasingly beckon him with squeaky mouse sounds like 'jick jick.’ He takes after his parents in that way and is able to have a conversation through expressive eye contact just as efficiently, if not more than when he attempts to do so verbally.
Ian peeks up at his dad with a raised eyebrow and points at the fried ice cream cart a couple stands over.
Sunghoon fights a smile, turning his attention towards you, “Babe.”
You avert you attention from the fortune teller’s brochure of services and spin on your heels to face your boys with you head tilted curiously.
Sunghoon nods over his shoulder at the fried ice cream cart.
You look between Ian and Sunghoon with a growing downturn smile. “Did you ask?”
Ian looks away bashfully, “Can we have some ice cream, please?”
“We?” You arch a brow and crouch down to Ian’s level.
He nods, “You love ice cream too, Mommy.”
You let out an amused laugh, “I do, but isn’t it a little chilly for ice cream?”
Ian cringes like you’d said something genuinely offensive, shaking his head after regaining some composure. “Its never too cold for ice cream,” Sunghoon chimes in. His son glances up and nods. Ian fidgets with the fuzzy scarf around his neck claiming, “Its not even cold.”
Oh? Him and Sunghoon took after each other in that way because you’re definitely a little chilly. You loosen his scarf, mulling over an answer. “We can go in a second. Mommy is going to buy something from this table first, okay Mousey?”
Ian sighs like a person much older than his age and nods.
You stand to your full height and exchange a look with Sunghoon. He purses his lips, glancing down at Ian sympathetically then back up at you. You squint your eyes at him knowing he’s challenging your decision. The two of you stare each other down, communicating wordlessly all while Sunghoon still holds Ian in his grasp. He starts it, it goes like:
Its only right across, I say he can go.
I don’t think so.
Thought I’m supposed to watch him this weekend.
Well, I’m his mom.
But we’ve been at this table for ten minutes.
Its barely been seven.
You don’t even know what you’re buying yet.
You cave first.
Sunghoon taps Ian and points at a sign in front of the fried ice cream cart. “What number does that sign say?” Ian cranes his neck up to look at his dad and points at the sign at the aforementioned ice cream cart to confirm they were talking about the same sign.
Sunghoon nods.
“I see five,” Ian says uncertainly, oblivious to his father’s intent.
Sunghoon lets go of Ian and fishes in his pocket for his wallet. He pulls out a dingy five dollar bill and wags it in front of Ian teasingly. “Go see if that’s how much how much it costs.”
Your son’s face lights up. He’s already taking a step away from the two of you when he asks, “Then, can I get some?”
“You can get some today and tomorrow if that’s the price,” Sunghoon nods.
Ian runs towards the cart before you can give Sunghoon a sideways glance. “Thought you wanted him to stay home.”
He stride closer to you and places his hands on either sides of your waist. “Well, if he’s here he might as well have some fun,” he shrugs.
Your face softens. You’re too endeared to be bothered.
“And by fun I mean sugar because we are not doing shit all weekend,” he smirks.
You swat at his chest. He pulls you in and kisses the top of your head. You close your eyes and relax into him for a few feebly seconds. Anxiety pries your eyes open, forcing you to coYmpulsively check for Ian at the neighboring cart. You open and shut them thrice, but on the third lull open you don’t see him.
You nudge Sunghoon off you as your face hardens and the deep crease between your eyebrows appears. “Where’s Ian?” Leaves your lips like a secret, like asking will make it worse.
Sunghoon opens his mouth to answer before glancing over at the empty ice cream cart— He doesn’t spot him either.
“Appa,” Ian’s voice sounds from over your shoulder.
You look behind you and notice Ian sitting on one of the chairs further into the tent, where you assume the palm readings are done, with a cup of what looks like a ball of fried pancake batter in his hand. He looks between the two of you with a vaguely curious expression. He beckons his dad and extends one of his hands with the five dollar bill he was previously gifted. “It was five dollars, but the lady said I didn’t have to pay so can I get more?”
You chime in before Sunghoon, "Someone gave it to you for free?"
Ian nods. Sunghoon stares down at the bill, then at you. Although you never told him what happens in your nightmares, it was moments like this when you bet he could guess. But he doesn’t push.
Ian shakes the five like he’s running out of patience, whining "Appaaa." Sunghoon walks over and grabs it, returning it to its place in his wallet. He gives you a look you can’t read in time before he puts on his half-joking Dad voice, "What did we tell you about candy from strangers?"
"’s not candy," the nonchalant toddler shrugs. Your husband sucks his teeth and rustles Ian’s hair rough enough for Ian to start whining again while trying to dodge his father’s hand. He cries out "Mommy!"
You swat Sunghoon’s hand away. "Alright, alright. No more free sweets, okay? Ice cream, donuts, candy, whatever, alright?"
Ian nods and scoops up a bite of ice cream offering it to you silently. You bend down generously and eat it off the spoon. There’s a scoop of vanilla ice cream inside the chewy fried dough. You hum at the taste, “Wow.” You give your son an exaggeratedly jovial thumbs up to help further lightening the mood.
He smiles and faces his father, “You want?”
Sunghoon shakes his head with a thin lipped grin, “You first.”
Ian takes a much bigger bite than he gave you, struggling to break the batter evenly. He does a little dance with his eyes still closed from the immersive bite he’d just served himself. Sunghoon mocks him with a silly expression and pats his shoulder, “Lets get some dinner to go with that dessert.” You let out an airy incredulous laugh.
"Can we get more?" Ian asks before he even gets up.
You look at Sunghoon. He shrugs and urges Ian to his feet, "Ask again later," he responds like a 5’11 magic eight ball. You mimic his tone, "Finish your ice cream."
Ian just rolls his eyes at you both and you walk out of the empty palm reading station to keep exploring the market. Sunghoon reaches for your hand and nudges Ian to walk ahead of you two towards the line food trucks in the distance.
———
The rest of night one went without a hitch. The three of you ordered some Asian fusion food to-go and ate it at the cottage while rewatching one of Ian’s favorite film franchises, Sonic The Hedgehog. You watched the first one since it was the shortest and neither your or Sunghoon enjoyed them very much. Sunghoon complained about the blandness and inauthenticity of the fried rice you shared. You complained about the plot holes and fatphobia in the movie.
You had a glass or two of wine. Sunghoon watched you drink contently without indulging in any himself but, making jokes here and there to get a reaction out of you.
Later, Sunghoon put Ian to sleep in the bedroom. You went to bed on the living room pull out to avoid disturbing anyone with your irregular sleep. To your surprise, when you woke up in the middle of the night with a gasp like you always do, Sunghoon and Ian where cuddling on the mattress space behind you. In all honesty, it scared you pretty bad when you rolled over into Sunghoon’s firm shoulder, but it was a pleasant sight. You couldn’t go back to sleep for a while after. Instead you turned your body to face them and watched silently until sleep overtook you. It felt like no nightmares could harm you with them right in front of you like this.
Because of your nightmares you usually wake up earliest. Today you wake up around 5:45 AM, crawling from under the sheets around 6 AM. This time last year you would’ve been snoozing your alarms begrudgingly, but a lack of sleep has been the new normal for you for almost four months now. You’ve grown to appreciate the gradual rise of the sun, even though its often feels eerie being the only person awake.
It works out nicely though because you don’t have to be alone for long. Sunghoon is a close second to wake up with his internal alarm clock forcing his eyes open at 6:30 AM most mornings despite being a heavy sleeper. He always finds you first thing when he wakes up.
This morning, he spots you in the kitchen doing a long stare at the open refrigerator, seemingly half asleep. His feet drag against the cold kitchen tiles as he shuts the fridge and drags you back to the living room. You don’t put up a fight.
He drags you to the cozy love seat in the corner by the furnace and pulls you onto his lap. The chair makes a loud creek at the feeling of your combined weight. You peek at Ian to see if it caused him to stir. It didn’t, so you snuggle closer into Sunghoon as the chair groans beneath him. He lets out a breath, appreciating the new found warmth.
You whisper in his ear, "Was gonna make breakfast."
He hums, patting the underside of your thigh with his eyes heavy. You don’t think he’s really listening, he’s nearly two-thirds sleep and essentially sleep walked over to you just so you would go back to sleep. But you’d already been up for almost an hour and had other plans. "We forgot syrup," you pout. This revelation ruined your scheme to make pancakes before everyone else got up. You know Ian won’t eat pancakes without syrup.
"I forget one thing," he rolls his eyes, nuzzling into the crook of your neck trying to get comfortable.
You pat his chest, "Yeah, the most important thing for our sugar addict son."
You enjoy the scarce opportunity to tease him, but he does have a point. You know he went out of his way to buy a few groceries for this trip, including the wine you drank last night. You’re a grateful, happy woman. Ian would just have to settle with being a tiny bit less grateful and happy.
His eyes stare at you half open with a dry humorless expression. Unbothered, you kiss the corner of his mouth. He lazily bites the air in front of you half threateningly, half theatrically before you retreat away from his face with doe eyes, caught off guard. He smirks. You fight a smile. He shakes his head and kisses you properly. "Stop that."
You roll your eyes, looking between his eyes and lips. You kiss the edge of his lips again, teasingly, "This?"
He shakes his head, "Hiding your smile" He says it with a lazy lopsided smirk like its the most casual thing in the world. "Let yourself smile. That’s all I want to see this weekend."
A blush overtakes your face entirely. You want to smile, but the fact that he’s still looking at you makes you cower. You break eye contact instead, choosing to look at Ian’s calm figure on the mattress.
Accepting your silence as a response, Sunghoon lands a soft, reassuring kiss on your neck and you rest you head on his chest atop of where your hand rests.
A few moments pass. Before either of you can properly doze off, there’s a thunderous knock on the back door. Your head swings up, bumping Sunghoon’s nose in the process. He lets out an annoyed "ouch" and taps your leg for you to get off of him. You do so reluctantly, moving to sit on the mattress with a now fully alert Ian.
Ian’s chest rises and falls quickly like the sound startled him awake. He looks a lot like you after a nightmare and the thought alone squeezes you’re heart. You scootch closer to him and place your hand over his tiny fingers through the sheets. He looks at your hand then the back door.
The front door was in the living room next to the furnace, to the right of where Sunghoon is sitting. The back door was by the sink in the kitchen. It lead to the backyard. You spontaneously put an ottoman from the living room in front of it yesterday after waking up scared and alone early in the night. As far as you know, the backyard is fenced in, but the obstruction in the entry way gave you comfort. Now it serves as a weak second means of defense against whatever the hell was knocking outside the house.
Another wave of knocks hit the door.
Sunghoon rises to his feet.
Ian scrambles closer to the edge of the bed and shakes his head at his father franticly. You grab his hand and turn his face towards yours. You give him a stern yet reassuring look. Ian’s eyes waver, moving back towards the door.
His father notices the interaction out of his peripheral vision. "Its just a knock," he says flatly and more authoritative than necessary. Without as much as a peek in you or Ian’s direction, he takes slow cautious strides towards the back door. His face is stern, it makes him look older than he is. Instead of walking straight to the door, he detours to the homemade stained glass window closest to it, above the kitchen sink. He opens the cute short curtains and attempts to catch whoever might be outside. When he looks at you for the first time in a while, you can tell it was fruitless.
Then, the knocking starts again. A third time.
Before it could stop, Sunghoon swings the rickety door open with seemingly enough force to remove it from its hinges, displacing the ottoman, and catching a disoriented Mrs. Murphy. He stares down at her with utmost confusion. His eyebrows arch downward handsomely.
She’s got a death grip on an empty metal watering can and wears an old jacket that seems like it might’ve belonged to her husband. She just smiles up at Sunghoon with a hand grasping his bicep. She glances between his face and arms bashfully, "Strong." She pats his arm twice.
Sunghoon presses his lips together and lets go of her.
Ian lets out a breath you didn’t realize he was holding. He slouches into himself, suddenly exhausted again.
"Young couples always sleep so late, thought I’d wake you up and add some fuel to the furnace before it gets too cold," Mrs. Murphy dusts herself off with her empty hand. She places down her muddy watering can and claps enthusiastically, crouching with her hands on her knees and eyes locked on Ian, "Ready to start the day?"
It is not her place to ask that question. You frown at her, it goes unnoticed during her amiss attempt at a pleasant moment with Ian.
Ian narrows his eyes at her demeaning behavior.
"We were awake," Sunghoon looks at Mrs. Murphy with an unamused expression that she barely catches since she only turns to him by the time he’s finished talking.
Ian mumbles, "I wasn’t." He looks at the older woman with an scowl identical to his father’s.
You stifle a chuckle. Wish you could take a picture.
"I always have to knock extra heavy when young couples stay over," she defends, "but I don’t mind. Does the job."
"Make a habit of visiting your guests?" Sunghoon chides.
Mrs. Murphy shrugs, "Mostly young ones, and the ones who don’t know how to use the furnace."
"Young ones?" You repeat curiously.
Your husband licks his teeth, "Why the back door?"
"Just watering the garden," the older lady smiles as she shrugs off her jacket. "What’s with the forth degree, am I right?" She looks at you and Ian for support. You and Ian stare at the ring of mud the watering container creates on the floor. Ian sucks his teeth.
Sunghoon tries to glance at the forest-like backyard through the window over the kitchen sink. "It looks like it already gets plenty of water, don’t you think?"
Mrs. Murphy follows his gaze. "Well that’s all my doing." She speaks proudly, missing Sunghoon’s snide entirely.
You nudge Ian off the pull out couch, telling him to go brush his teeth. Doing so makes you realize neither you nor Sunghoon have freshened up yet and were speaking to this woman with un-fresh breath in your pajamas. Ian trudges to the bathroom, but he’s sure to give Mrs. Murphy one last sideways glance for starting his day on such a bad foot.
You watch the interaction between Sunghoon and your renter from the cusp of where the living room hardwood meets the kitchen tiles. She struggles to get off her boats and goes to wash her hands in the kitchen sink above the abandoned dishes of last night. "Now this open pull out couch and a sink of dishes can only mean one thing. Rough first night?"
At some point while she’s talking, you pan your eyes towards Sunghoon, whose already studying you. He’s leaning against the fridge with his arms crossed. He tries to strike a private conversation using his facial expressions, saying: The fucks her problem?
You avert your eyes, feeling too low energy to exchange profanities back. You hear him suck his teeth.
She begins starts up again with her back towards the two of you. "Now, if its too early to talk about it, I can keep chatting you up about my garden. Had it some years now. All wildflowers and native grass. It wouldn’t be so lush if it weren’t for my watering."
Her topic switching and unprovoked anecdote nearly make you gang up on her with Sunghoon, but you don’t. Instead you nod despite the fact that she cannot see you.
"Do you expect a forest to die without watering as well?" Sunghoon raises a brow. You didn’t want this to end badly and the woman is clearly not gifted in social cues. It was only your first full day here. "Hoon—"
Mrs. Murphy cuts in, "No that would be silly, natural ecosystems don’t need so much help. Rain’ll do the trick." She finally turns around back to you and Sunghoon again.
His lips part slightly. He glances at you out the corner of his eye with a subtle expression that asks: Is she serious? Rather than agreeing, your face warns him: Choose your next words carefully. He glares back at Mrs. Murphy. "Seems you’ve made my point," he sighs.
She just gapes at him vaguely curious and confused.
He does her no favors, and avoids providing any further explanation. Shaking his head disapprovingly, he kicks himself off the refrigerator he’d been leaning on. He mumbles, "I’ll check on Ian," glancing at you before trudging towards the bathroom.
Certainly, its hard to imagine the mood becoming any more awkward than it already was, but you feel that upon his absence anyway. Your mostly sure she doesn’t experience the same tension. Its possible that her entry and everything thus far has been painless for her up to this point. You almost pity her obliviousness, but it must make Sunghoon’s impoliteness more bearable.
You walk into the kitchen picking up her dirty watering can, opening the back door, and placing it outside the doorway. From your new position you can occasionally catch the wind beating down hard enough for you to hear it through the walls. It unsettles you slightly.
"I see you’ve redecorated," Mrs. Murphy muses hesitantly. She points at the crocked ottoman in the middle of the kitchen, "Everything good with you both? He seems a tad snappy."
You turn towards her with furrowed brows. So she does pick up on his attitude.You disguise your poor people skills with a fake laugh, "Oh, no, we’re good I promise. He’s just like that, but I got spooked someone might brake in last night." She starts to laugh too. You continue, "Back door seems a bit more flimsy than the front, even though all the knives are near it, so I thought the ottoman was a good insurance policy." She stops laughing.You cursed yourself for being too honest.
Her eyebrows shoot up and her head retracts back into her neck out of surprise. She opens her mouth a few times like she’s decided how to respond, but ultimately closes it and nods.
You nod back.
She takes a few steps towards the living room. "I’ll go start on the furnace then," she tries to smile light heartedly.
You give her a curt, closed mouth smile and grab a few paper towels and run them under water. You move back towards the door, kneeling to clean up the ring of mud the watering can left in its absence. She watches you wordlessly for longer than what feels appropriate. You glance her way in hopes she’ll stop staring; she does.
You decide to stay in the kitchen while she works in the living room. You busy yourself retrieving the box of instant pancake mix, a stick of butter, and a open pack of sausage.
By the time Ian and Sunghoon return the furnace is full and the air between you and Mrs. Murphy is stale. Ian runs straight to the pull out bed in search of the television remote. You’re washing a few strawberries in a bowl when Sunghoon comes and looks at the pots, pans, and miscellaneous food items that clutter the kitchen counter over your shoulder.
"I thought operation pancake was a no go?"
You push your chest out with twinge of pride, "I’m gonna make some strawberry syrup." You hear the TV start up lowly. Ian found the remote.
Sunghoon caresses your shoulders with a disbelieving smile. "How domestic." He kisses the crown of your head, "I’ll make the pancakes then."
Simple as that, your mood is lifted drastically. You lean back into Sunghoon’s shoulder, letting your eyes close with a tiny smile.
Without you knowing, Mrs. Murphy was creeping back into the kitchen behind the two of you. You nod at her. Sunghoon peers over his shoulder toward your line of sight before turning back to you without a drop of amusement.
You address her first. "Thanks for helping with the furnace," you grin half-heartedly.
She shakes her head modestly, "Like I said, I’m here if you need anything."
Sunghoon positions himself to lean his back on the counter next you. "Feel free to use the front door in the future," he attempts to joke.
"I guess I must’ve forgot my manners this morning, won’t happen again," Mrs. Murphy stammers. "I’ll knock softer too, since you all wake up at a decent time."
You both nod. "Or shoot us a text," Sunghoon raises a brow.
She nods, "And again, I’m happy to watch your son anytime. Would be my pleasure, especially if it helps lighten the load. I know family vacations can be a bit much sometimes."
You open your mouth to respond, but Sunghoon beats you to it with a simple, "We’ll let you know."
You gently nudge your elbow into his side, not enough to hurt him, but enough to get his attention. His eyes are soft when they survey you and he unconsciously tilts down in case you have something to say. You gesture towards the back door through which she entered earlier. Sunghoon understands, opening the door for your guest once she’s fully got her shoes and jacket on. A waft of wind fights against him when he initially turns the knob, but he manages to open it anyway.
Seemingly oblivious to the breeze, Mrs. Murphy waves over her shoulder before she picks up the watering can from earlier and exits.
You and Sunghoon stand in front of the door looking like the spitting image of a married couple waving goodbye on television.
Mrs. Murphy stopped and nodded a final time before walking through the backyard gate.
Ian pops into the kitchen, letting out a heavy breath. You can feel the she finally left energy radiating off of him.
You go over and hoist him up, coming back to the sink to offer him a strawberry. He accepts and lulls his head into your chest. With eyes nearly shut, he mumbles, "Hungry," through a mouthful of berry. You put your palm under his chin, closing it softly. "No talking while chewing." He wiggles his face out of your hold and looks at his father for support.
Sunghoon shrugs and moves on almost immediately. He sorts through the pancake ingredients scattered around the kitchen.
Ian’s opens his arms for his father to take him instead, which Sunghoon does without a second thought. Ian puts one of his little hands in his father’s hair, "Where’s the syrup?" Sunghoon peers at you apprehensively out the corner of his eye. You saw this coming. "Mommy’s making strawberry syrup," you smile.
Ian’s eyes widen cartoonishly. His arm reaches out to grab you, initiating a clumsy group hug. You and Sunghoon lean into him.
"Do we have to put the bed away?" Ian surveys the two of you.
You and Sunghoon quickly sidebar through wordlessly deliberation. He assures
Keeping the bed out will make nap time a hell of a lot easier.
Yeah, but I might get sleepy and fall asleep too.
Wouldn’t be so bad, no?
Ehh— I don’t know…
We’ll be with you the whole time.
I guess a little family napping won’t hurt.
You agree reluctantly, "Leave the bed open." You peek at Sunghoon uncertainly. He nods with a downturned smile and lowers Ian to the cold tiled floor. "But fix the sheets, you sleep like an animal." Ian glares at his father before trotting towards the living room secretly still reveling in the promise of pancakes.
Sunghoon turns his attention back to you. You stare up at him with a small smile that makes his heart stutter. The silence between the two of you has no tangible unspoken words, nothing that can be expressed simply, but its warm and feels safer than anywhere else you’ve ever been.
He crosses the space between you and kisses your temple. His voice cracks as he uses his sotto voce, "I’ll take it from here, okay?"
"Yeah, okay," You nod, dusting off your hands. You’re not sure why, but he nods too.
———
You’ve spent the day lounging around with your boys. Sunghoon made the pancakes well enough and your syrup properly prevented your son from complaining. At some point you tried to teach Ian how to play a simple card game, but it seemed you over estimated his attention span and ended up unsuccessful. I mean honestly, what were you thinking? At another point, you ended up judging some spontaneous rough housing and deemed Ian victorious after around thirty minutes because that little boy just wouldn’t quite.
That eventually leads to Ian’s early afternoon nap on the pull out couch while watching a children’s cartoon none of you had ever seen before. Sunghoon held him to sleep and ended up dozing off too. With the way the weather, particularly the wind, has been so far, you think the house must’ve rocked everyone to sleep.
But sleep doesn’t come to you.
As the only conscious person in the house, you wake the them up around 3 PM. You all agree to get dressed and head over to the night market in time for the first wave of buyers. There’s been some snacking here and there since breakfast, but this allows you all a fighting chance at a proper late lunch.
Its 4 PM now and Ian is still yawning. You all stand around the living room dressed in sweats as you psych yourselves up to leave the villa. "Bring your big bag," Sunghoon jeers his chin towards where you left your tote on the bedroom doorknob.
You raise a brow, stepping closer to him, "Going shopping, Mr. Park?"
He smirks with an all too casual shrug, "Might as well. Think about those poor people trying to make a buck out in the cold."
"Not too cold for ice cream," Ian exclaims, joining the banter.
Sunghoon grabs Ian and gently turns him towards you, "Tell your mother that."
Ian opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off quicker than any syllables can form.
"Don’t. Whatever, I’ll get my bag," you roll your eyes, already on your way to the bedroom, "Its not like I made to them sell ice cream and friendship bracelets on the cusps of winter." You have to yell a little for your voice to reach. You saunter back to the living room.
Sunghoon barely laughs, but Ian’s face lights up, asking, "So we can get fried ice cream?!" He probably doesn’t have much interest in most of what you said, but the mention of ice cream is enough to keep him invested.
You and Sunghoon peek down at Ian, saying, "Of course," at the same time. You glance up at him slightly flustered. Your eyes shift between him and your son while straightening out your clothes, "Come on, grab your jackets." As if a demonstration, you walk toward the front door, grabbing your abandoned outer layer off the brass coat hooks.
Ian nearly knocks you over as he bolts past you to half-hazardously toss on his stuff.
———
"Hello, hello family! Oh my—," a bubbly young woman around your age exclaims from behind the ice cream cart, "I remember this cutie." She wears a tan apron under a black waist length rain coat and her hair held in a tight high ponytail by a yellow hair tie. There’s no sign of rain in the forecast and her ears look red and aggressively cold. She leans forward likes she’s either excited for a customer or worried you won’t hear her. "Welcome to my little corner of the market. How’re we doing today folks?"
Her zeal nearly made you buffer. "Good," you assure her. You and Sunghoon glance at each other then at Ian whose bouncing on the tips of his toes in front of you. A smile creeps up on Sunghoon’s face, he rubs his hands together, and splits his attention between Ian and the woman, "What are we getting?" You mimic your husbands body language, clasping your hands together for warmth before resting your grip on Ian’s shoulder.
Ian gapes at the three of you with a dazzling smile and puts a singular teeny finger up, "One vanilla." Maybe he’s trying to charm the lady into another free ice cream.
The woman with the yellow hair tie cheeses almost bashfully, "Same as yesterday, huh?" She nods while preparing the order. Afters she’s done, she walks to a narrow table beside the cart with a cash box, card reader, tip jar, and menu resting atop it. "Well, today," she drags out the 'y' as she quickly regards all three of you, "that’ll be five dollars."
Being the comedian he is, Sunghoon chimes in with a, "How about tomorrow?" while he digs through his wallet. He passes her a five dollar bill anyway.
The lady takes the money and laughs with a bright, well performed smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. When she leans over to hand Ian his treat she motherly caresses the top of his head. Ian grabs the cup with utmost enthusiasm. She manifests a spoon and punctures the spherical fried coating. She hesitates a beat before saying anything, blinking, and refocusing her attention on Sunghoon, "Well tomorrows— how about you come back and find out?" Then, she proceeds to wink at him.
You purse you lips lightly. You did NOT like that.
Sunghoon glances between you and her with a polite smile. He nods at the same time his smile tightens and ruffles Ian’s hair as an excuse to divert his attention. Ian swats at his father’s hand.
Another employee walks up wearing a stylish copper-ish leather jacket, hauling a medium-sized cardboard box. She places it on the checkout table and begins unpacking napkins and utensils with a curt smile. She seems a bit older than you in spirit, yet youthful in the way she wears her clothes.Her disposition seems a lot less bubbly than her counterpart.
The woman with the yellow hair tie turns to the new woman, "Doesn’t he look kinda like Micheal?"
The new woman contorts her face, staring too long at the one serving Ian. She turns away without answering.
Curiosity stirs in you at the comparison. You pull the friendliest expression you can muster, "Whose Micheal?" Your eyes sweep over to Sunghoon inconspicuously. He looks between the two women with furrowed brows but maintains an amicable smile.
The server woman’s eyes sparkle at the question, "Oh, he’s my son! He’s home, her and I traveled out here for the weekend." She turns to her co-worker.
The one with the copper jacket shakes her head, mumbling, "Yeah," dismissively.
Its clear from the second woman’s reaction that this is not the first time her son has been mentioned. You wonder is you’ll become that type of mom in the future. One who circles random topics back to her own kid. You nod, "I’m sure its rough being apart."
Sunghoon snorts, "Yeah, that’s why we brought this guy along," he pats Ian’s shoulder with conviction. Again, Ian tries to dodge him and the two start jostling among themselves.
"Aye, careful with his ice cream" you warn Ian and Sunghoon at once.
The woman with the stylish jacket shifts her eyes towards the duo, cracking a small smile before pulling out a notepad and counting the supplies left in her box.
The woman with the yellow hair tie starts talking after a beat. "Ah, its different being a single mom. Janet," she points to her table mate, "and Micheal," she points to Ian, "are all I have really," she stares at Ian and Sunghoon. "He’d be beside me taking orders or just shoved in a corner somewhere with an iPad," she chortles and turns her head towards the ground.
Your mouth opens and closes. Sunghoon should’ve kept his mouth shut. You nod understandingly, "We’re very lucky." You pivot towards Sunghoon, pleading for help with your eyes.
Sunghoon loosens his grip on Ian, but Ian’s tensions already too high to notice the mood shift. He tugs at Sunghoon’s jacket, breathing heavy, and giggling for seemingly no reason at this point. Sunghoon peers down at him shaking his head discretely with thin pressed lips. Ian furrows his brows, opening his mouth to talk, but ultimately turns back to the ice cream cart. Sunghoon mutters, "Right," as he nods as well.
Woman in the copper jacket, Janet, seems to loose track of whatever she’s counting. She pauses and sighs before restarting her counting.
The woman with the yellow hair tie gives the two of you a one-sided shrug, "That’s all thanks to this guy, right?" She reaches over and strokes Ian’s shoulder, he nudges her off and and you can’t choose who to glare at fast enough, Ian or the woman. Without a proper response, she doubles down on her original comment, "Doesn’t he though, Janet? Like Micheal, just a little?"
Janet frowns and doesn’t turn to her colleague when she replies with apparent agitation, "I guess. I said 'yeah' already." She says something else you don’t really listen to.
In the corner of your eye you spot Mrs. Murphy strolling past a neighboring table in the same boots as earlier. "Mrs. Murphy?"
Her ears perk up and she turns. "Now, isn’t that pretty young lady staying at my house," she brightens as she locks eye contact with you.
For a moment you skim your memory to recall if she ever gave you her first name, so you can refer to her less formally but you honestly have no clue.
"Ice cream break?" She strides over beside you.
"Second one this weekend," you quip back.
She says, "That’s what vacations are for," and waves at a couple people passing by that you assume live in the area.
"What’re you up to?"
Mrs. Murphy glances down at herself and presses her lips together, "Nothing really, just getting my steps in."
You nod without knowing much of what to say next. "Well that’s nice, you seem really active for your age." You might’ve imagined it, but you think you can sense both your hearts dropping at the sound of your last three words.
"Well um—," Mrs. Murphy scans your family, "When are you gonna let me watch little man? Like I said, I wouldn’t mind." She smirks and lightly elbows your side, "Might give you a chance to get a little exercise and ice cream for yourself. I know that stuffs important."
Your eyes nearly double in size. She can be so… overly comfortable at times. You wrap your hands around your waist and internally sigh, "I’ll mention it to Sunghoon again."
"You’re his Mama, you can make those sorts of choices too."
Ian gazes up at you with slouched shoulders and ice cream partially eaten. He got his ice cream, lets not drag this on. You pat his shoulder and he straightens his posture. With your other hand you tug at the elbow of Sunghoon’s coat sleeve.
He discretely acknowledges your gesture by placing a hand on Ian’s other shoulder, mirroring your body language. He takes a deep inhale through his nose, "Thank you both. Say 'thank you’ Ian." Ian shyly follows instruction, mumbling "Thanks" as he waves at the employees. Sunghoon steers Ian toward the makeshift isle between merchant booths. You follow suite, bidding a farewell to Mrs. Murphy too, "Enjoy the market!"
She hollers, "I’m glad you all are enjoying town!" as you try not to move away too briskly.
———
After Ian’s nightly serving of fried ice cream, the three of you lallygag around the market for a while. The winds of the afternoon are now calm and there’s a pleasant warmth to the air.
You purchase a pocket sized black tourmaline crystal from the fortune teller you encountered yesterday. Ian teases you for spending money on a rock. Sunghoon chides at your child for picking on you. You all keep walking nonetheless.
Out the corner of your eye you notice Ian unceremoniously rip his scarf off, loosely stuffing it in his jacket pocket without much care, allowing the edge to drag on the ground. Before you can tend to the matter, Sunghoon snatches it out the boys miniature sized pocket and passes it to you. You give his hand holding the scarf an appreciative squeeze and fold the cloth into your tote bag.
The area you’re skimming through now is on the outskirts where few tables sit atop the uneven grassy earth beneath you. Your careful to watch your step for dog poop, but Sunghoon and Ian walk around with their heads high and oblivious minus your occasional feces warnings.
To the left of you, a table covered in small potted plants and a sign that says "Man’s Best Chance: Daniel’s Plants," in swirly letters plays music from a portable speaker. Its an old song, Corcovado (Quiet Nights of Quiet Stars) by Stan Getz and João Gilberto. The middle-aged man beside the table, assumably Daniel, sits on a metal fold up chair tapping his foot with a dazed yet pleasant expression.
Sunghoon catches onto the song and starts whistling immediately.
His face looks handsome enough for you to stare and you do, offering him a tiny smile when he detects your attention. He smiles back. You are very lucky, aren’t you? You awkwardly start swaying your head to the pattern of his whistling.
"You know this?" He grins.
You shake your head and continue bopping your head absentmindedly.
Sunghoon raises a brow, "No? Thought you might."
You jut you chin forward equally confused, "Why would I lie?"
He shrugs and peers down at Ian who is now subtly moving to the rhythm with his nearly empty fried ice cream cup in hand a few steps ahead of you both. He watches you and your son with eyes that make you feel like the most miraculous and unusual thing in the world. He looks up to the cloudy sky and lets an airy chortle pass his lips. He turns to you with his right hand extended your way, inviting you to dance.
You glance between his face and hand with a school-girlish grin. You place your hand in his and he pulls you in. Your empty palm lands on his chest and your other hand intertwines with his fingers on instinct. His other hand rests above your lower back. Its slightly absurd. You giggle as you gingerly take a step away from him, enforcing an appropriate distance.
Ian turns around to scrutinize the two of you mid bite and cringes so hard he drops his spoon on the lawn beneath him. A flash of annoyance paints his face as he stares at it on the ground. He sighs and returns his attention to his parents. "Mommy, Appa, I needa new spoon," he starts moving to where he knows the fried ice cream sellers are, "I’ll be back."
Your internal alarm rings and you turn towards your child, "Lets grab one from one of these carts."
Ian stops in his tracks, expression is between wounded and bewildered. "— But I need the ice cream spoon."
"The what?" Sunghoon chimes in.
"The ice cream spoon," Ian whines.
You peep at Sunghoon, your hands are still on him and your brain buffers for a second. Right, the ice cream spoons! The fried ice cream cart has special colorful spoons with extra long stems and cute little scoopers. None of the neighboring food carts or trucks seem like they’ll have any utensils as whimsical as that.
"Can’t we get you a nice and quick replacement from the chicken truck or something?" Sunghoon deadpans.
Ian shakes his head and stares at you. "Mom," he takes several steps further away from the two of you. Sunghoon raises his hand from you back and holds it up, "Yah, Ian." Ian stomps and whines "But Appa, my spoon! Mommy?!"
Now they’re both looking at you. Your minds racing between 'How much time is left in the song?’, 'Where’s the ice cream stand?', and 'Whats the name of that show where toddlers run errands in Japan?' You know two things: 1) You don’t wanna go and 2) the damn song is over now. The thoughts suck at you like a mosquito.
Ian making a vaguely sad, whiny sound draws you out of the caverns of your mind. He’s holding his cup of fried ice cream with a trembling bottom lip and side stepping further. Sunghoon lets go of you and tries to take a step toward Ian, but you grab his wrist. Apprehensively, you turn to your husband. He gives you a reassuring nod, but you’re not sure what it means.
"Um—," you blurt, "fine Mousey, no detours. Straight there and back," all before you can second guess yourself. You anchor your eyes on your husband.
Ian lights up like he wasn’t on the brink of tears five seconds ago. His craving for independence never ceases to amaze you.
Sunghoon glances between you and Ian. He unsurely echos, "Straight there, straight back, Ian." He’s pronounces Ian’s name in Konglish to emphasize his sternness.
Ian nods with a very earnest, adult expression and fixes his coat with his unoccupied hand. "Does it need money?" He asks. You shake your head. He nods contently, announcing, "I’ll be right back, I promise," and extending his pinky finger to you. You nod as he pinky promises you and he repeats the action with his father before jogging into the distance with his treat in tow.
For a moment you smile fondly, but after a few seconds of him leaving your sight you become deathly uncertain.
Sunghoon’s hand on your elbow brings you back. "You alright?" He asks. You bite you lip and nod, "Was that wrong?" He shrugs, "I’m just hopping I get to dance with you again." You roll your eyes bashfully. You were too. He bites back a smile. "Don’t hide your smile," you tease.
Another songs comes on, I Got You Babe by Sonny & Cher, and Sunghoon pulls you back in. You bop your head trying to catch the beat. "I definitely don’t know this one," you chuckle awkwardly.
"Me neither," he grins, "you care?"
Maybe it doesn’t matter. You shake your head 'no.’
You close your eyes and try to slow your rampant heartbeat. Ground yourself. The grass beneath you is slightly damp, but not muddy. There is no dance floor or strobe lights, but Daniel whose running the plant booth with an unmistakeable affinity for life subtly increases the volume on his speaker.
You and Sunghoon sway without any space for air between the two of you. He raises an arm and spins you with expertise only for you to trip into him when he pulls you back. You share short laughs and kisses in between verses like a singer’s stolen breaths between lyrics. Its all too brief.
When the song ends a small audience of passing by patrons and market merchants clap a little too loudly for your liking leaving you torn between bowing and covering your face in unmeasurable embarrassment. Sunghoon lowers his head into your shoulder, blushing violently. You rub his reddened ears between your cool finger tips.
By the time he raises his head the crowd has dissipated. Your eyes trail across all the details of his face. His eyes. His nose. The constellation of beauty marks that line his cheeks. Your not sure who leans in first, but your lips gently brush his. He hand raises to caress your cheek, titling your chin up to kiss him. properly. The two of you break apart after a few moments.
Daniel from the plant stand whistles from a safe distance. Its your turn to fold into yourself with embarrassment. Sunghoon laughs lowly and kisses the temple of your head.
"Come on," Sunghoon nudges his head towards a handful of empty fold up chairs nearby, "Let’s wait."
———
The sun sets before you know it. You prevent yourself from checking your phone for the nth time. Instead you tap you foot aimlessly.
Where is he?
Its dark. And quiet. The neighboring air smells like incoming rain and something vaguely sweet. The wind holds its breath as tables of merchants around you all start to pack up with little hope of running into anymore customers at this point in the evening. Daniel and his speaker were one of the firsts to go.
You’re eyes fixate on the isle straight ahead with lips tighter than you’ve ever felt them. Your tote bag is in your lap held securely in your grasp, Ian’s scarf dangles through the opening. You’re sitting alone in the little cluster of chairs Sunghoon lead you to earlier.
He left an hour ago.
You waved over an idle security guard thirty minutes ago.
And Ian’s been gone for about seventy minutes.
Where is everyone?
A large part of you wants to scan the area left to right, but something within you prevents you from moving. Your body feels rigid in a way you can’t pinpoint. Don’t think about it. Your grip tightens around the strap of your bag. Stay calm. You blink. And when that doesn’t help you close your eyes.
Breath in.
Breath out.
An "Excuse me" cuts into the quiet. Its the first time someones spoken to you in a while. Your open your eyes to the security guard from earlier. He rubs his hands together for warmth, blowing in between them once. He nods at you. You stare at him in return.
He continues talking, "I looked all over the place, but I haven’t found him. Fairs about to close, how about you leave your and his name and your number, hmm?"
Suddenly you can’t stomach the sight of him. You turn to face the barren isle.
The guard pulls out a notepad before you properly reply. He scans you up and down, and sighs, "Jot down your boy’s description while you’re at it." He shakes his hand out, silently encouraging you to do as he says.
You glance over at the awkward yet somehow sincere expression on his face and nod, taking his pad. You peer up at him, "A pen?" He rubs his hands together again and turns his attention off to the side, mumbling, "I do— lost it. You got one?" You nod and gently rummage through your bag for the pen you always carry. You take out a singular grey pen that’s running out of ink and try to write everything he asked.
You force out the words, "Thank you," only facing the guard fully when you’re ready to pass back the notepad. "Did run into my husband?"
The officer pockets the booklet and squats down further, "He missing too?"
"No," you shake your head, "he’s looking for him. He’s looking for our son."
"Haven’t heard from him?"
Obviously. You shake your head again.
His lips twist as he shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, "Well, he’ll be back soon. We’re shutting things down now."
You nod.
"I say, you file a formal report before the end of the night. Do what you gotta do and get some rest. Me and the guards’ll keep asking around. Wait for your husband here. We won’t bother you, okay?" He stands to his full height and glances down at you with tight lips and raises a brow. You nod.
He rubs his hands together and pulls out a pair of black gloves that you briefly saw him wear earlier. He enunciates each syllable as he tells you to "Get home safe" and starts putting on his gloves.
"You too," leaves your lips habitually.
The security guard strides away.
You sit there idly for a few seconds. When you suddenly become anxious that you’ve missed a notification from Sunghoon, you dig your phone out of your pocket, but there’s none. No text. No incoming call. No missed call. There’s something in the back of your mind urging you to get up, waiting for Sunghoon’s return is a waist of time. You’re wasting time.
Five minutes pass. He’s still not back. The area around you is desolate. All that remains are security and every few seconds you feel them staring at you curiously. After sending Sunghoon a quick text, you decide to walk to the car to wait.
Your car is in a parking lot on the other side of the market. The moon shines down on you as you walk through isles of abandoned stalls, nodding at the occasional security guard you meet eyes with. All this security and no one has found your son. Or your husband for that matter.
It takes you a few minutes to get there, but when you finally reach your car you see something someone you didn’t expect to see. You speed up your pace, doubling the distance of your steps and knock on the window three times.
Sunghoon sits slumped over in the drivers seat with his head down and his arms thrown over the steering wheel. For a second he doesn’t move. So you knock again, only twice this time. Your knocks are rough and lacking in rhythm. His head twists towards the window as he mumbles, "I told you, I’m waiting for my wife," quite agitatedly into his arm.
His response throws you off guard. Why is he waiting for you here? You put your hand on the door handle and tug once. "Open the door," you try to speak loud enough to penetrate the glass.
Sunghoon’s head snaps toward you. He locks eyes with you and simmers, managing to give you a soft grin. You point down at the door handle and gesture circularly around the car as to say: Open the doors, I’ll go around. He nods and presses the unlock button; you make the trek around the car, opening the door opposite of Sunghoon’s.
He silently grins again at the sight of you in the open doorway, "Come in."
Even as your right leg lifts to enter the car, you imagine that your mind isn’t communicating the action well enough to your unexpectedly awkward legs. You climb into the car embarrassed at how slow you’re moving. You’d been fine on the walk here, but suddenly you need to rest. Maybe that security officer was right. You close the door once you’re seated.
Its quiet.
The car is off allowing the cold autumn air to seep in unabashed. A shiver runs down you back as you lean into the cool passenger seat. Ian’s car seat sits empty behind you, but you don’t look. You stare straight ahead as Sunghoon watches your profile, having not turned away from you since noticing you. You turn to him, give him an apprehensive tight lipped smile with shoulders too high to seem normal.
Questions appear in your head faster than you can decipher. Some are open-ended: Why haven’t you returned my calls? How long have you been here? Who did you think I was? Others are accusatory: You still haven’t found Ian? Is this where you’ve been the whole time? Did you at least talk to security? Your face twists and your eyes drift away from Sunghoon as you try to pick a decent question.
Then, you feel a hand slide into your lap and rest atop yours. He feels warm. Its a pleasant contrast to the chill surrounding you. You peek at Sunghoon again.
His face is more serious now. "I’m couldn’t—," slips past his lips as he positions himself away from you. Its followed by a beat of silence. He puts his head in his hands, "Fuck." His chest rises and falls slowly with his breathing. He sniffles once.
You scotch around in your chair to face him fully. On instinct you reach out to comfort him, resting your left hand on his shoulder, caressing in small circles. You whisper, "What are you sorry about?" with clear confusion.
He sniffles again and drags his hands down his face. He doesn’t look at you.
"Hey," you gently hold his chin and turn it to face you, "What is it?" Despite your calm exterior, your heart is beating irregularly fast and your mind is falling into the worst. "Baby—"
"Its just—"
Your grip on him goes slack, "Sunghoon?"
He remains silent.
"What happened?" The silence that meets you increases your dread tenfold. You sigh. "Talk to me. Why aren’t you talking to me?" Your question comes out more agitated this time. You face the dashboard. "God, I don’t have time for this," you gesture at his posture, "Whatever this is."
His eyebrows furrow, "Your attitude—"
"Yes, and you pointing that out makes it go away."
"Now isn’t the time to turn on each other."
"No Sunghoon, but you can’t even answer my questions."
He scoffs, "I can, but you’re being impatient Y/n."
You turn to him in disbelief, "I was sitting there for over an hour!"
"So, what? I’m supposed to act and feel however you expect me to as reparations?" He boggles.
"You don’t know how rich that is coming from you, Babe," you coo sarcastically.
He faces away from you with another scoff, "Babe, you don’t get how fucking stressed I’ve been, while you were just— out there."
"You think I wasn’t stressed?! Check your phone next time, you absolute fucking idiot," you scowl. Sunghoon goes into his front jean pocket and tosses his phone on the middle armrest console. Its dead. You continue anyway, "I’ve been worried out of my mind about both of you, but no ones told me anything, so please forgive me if I’m tired of waiting."
"Well, that’s all you did Y/n. You waited."
Everything around you paused. Is that how he feels? You turn to him in utter disbelief. He still sits facing the dashboard without moving, his face saddens. You let out a heavy exhale. "You fucking asshole," you scotch away from him, "Where is Ian?" You turn to him when he doesn’t respond and scream, "Where is Ian, Sunghoon?!" at the top of your lungs.
"I don’t know!" He blurts back.
A sudden silence washes over you like hail. You don’t know what to make of his responses and you’re sick and tired of the run around. The cryptic answers. The quiet. This damn market. Its all sickening. You fold your arms over your chest and look intently out of the window of the still unmoving car.
Sunghoon draws his hands up to his face and lets out a shake breath. He starts again, "I always tell you to worry less. 'Relax Y/n.’ 'Everything’s going to be alright Y/n.'"
You angle yourself towards him a little.
"I keep telling you— we’re together and things are fine— and I—"
"Stop," you wave him off, "I was doubting myself by doubting Ian’s safety to begin with."
He shakes his head distantly, "That’s not true. You doubted his safety around anyone, but you."
His words wrap around you reassuringly like a warm blanket after sitting in the cold for too long. You pivot face him fully, "I know you didn’t want him to go before. That was my call and I shouldn’t have done that."
Sunghoon shakes his head and lowers his hands, "It doesn’t matter." He stares into the bounds of the empty parking lot ahead of you both absently. "I couldn’t find him."
You reach towards him, but decide against touching him as you rest you palm on his side of the center console. "We can still find him, did you find out anything?" You lean into his side of the car with a sudden burst of unstable hope.
He tilts his head and kisses his teeth, "Not really."
You turn back to face the baseboard, nodding at no one in particular. Silence settles in.
"We should— the security said we should head the nearest police station. We don’t have to wait, we can just go now and I already told them what he looks like. I don’t know if he was a real police officer, but I— they have my name and number, so we don’t have to stay here," you ramble. "Hes probably not here anyway."
Sunghoon turns to you for the first tine in moments, "We don’t know that."
You face him too, "No, we don’t, but we won’t find out sitting here."
Sunghoon nods and faces the steering wheel preparing to turn the car on. Light jazz music hums through the car as the engine comes to life. Sunghoon immediately turns the radio down. He pulls off slowly without either of your seatbelts buckled, "Can you pull up the address?"
You nod and lean down on the middle console with your bottom lip between your teeth. You pull out your phone and open it to the maps app where the nearest precent is already open.
"Thanks," Sunghoon nods glancing between you and your phone.
You nod back.
"I’m sorry I couldn’t—"
You cut him off, "We’ll find him."
A silence falls between the two of you that Sunghoon is the first to break.
pairing: husband Sunghoon x wife reader | parents au
MOOD BOARD | TEASER
synopsis: after suffering relentless nightmares for months, your husband, Sunghoon, decides to plan a family getaway. little did you know that that trip would be were those nightmares became reality.
general themes/elements: angst, some fluff, fall/autumn (spooky szn), suspense, nightmares/dreams, parenting, family, anxiety, spirituality, missing persons, small town, & more... idk maybe
wc: 12.9k
a/n: been gone & taking space from enha, but i've finally (semi) committed! might edit later or even do a part 2 if its asked of me (i got ideas tho). thank you for allowing me to 'redebut' with my original bias.
likes, comments, and or reblogs are immensely appreciated.
The click of the passenger door to your shared hatchback opening startles Sunghoon into consciousness. You’re standing in the street with the door open. You fix your large cloth tote bag as it slides off your shoulder, resistant to cling onto the texture of your jacket. You pause there with your head tilted slightly to the left pretending like the cool outside air doesn’t bother you.
The sidewalks surrounding the car are empty. The car is off. The radio is soundless, but clanking of neighboring construction a few blocks over fills the silence. The pine scented air freshener dangling from the rear view mirror permeates the space the ruckus forgets. So much so that there air feels thick. Or maybe that’s just you.
"Sorry to wake you," you avert your eyes. A part of you was curious if you’re apologizing out of pettiness, but it tastes mostly genuine against your tongue.
A wave of guilt washes over Sunghoon upon realizing you found him asleep. "Didn’t realize I dozed," he mumbles. His response somehow managed to make you both feel worse. That much is clear when he notices the increasing slump in your shoulders. He straightens his posture and grabs your bag from you, placing it inside the empty black and grey forward-facing car seat resting in the right side of the back row.
You climb into the vehicle and put your seatbelt on wordlessly. Most of your energy is actively being consumed by your thoughts. You’re eyes hold their usual exhaustion, but you make sure to give him a meek closed mouth smile nonetheless. He makes a expression adjacent to a smile, but not as soft. He stares at you expectantly, and its a bit of a bother.
He anticipated that you would be back seven minutes ago. He expected you back in the car as soon as your appointment finished. You were supposed to spontaneously reappear beside him and tell him every thing that happened at your first psychiatrist visit, but that’s not what’s happening. Now you’re here and it feels like you’ll never speak.
What Sunghoon doesn’t know is that you do want to talk; you really do. You just don’t know what to say. That’s partially because you figure you already know what he wants to hear. Maybe something about how the appointment was better than you expected, or how you feel seen or optimistic. But you’re the barer of bad news; you already spent the last seven minutes wishing the prognosis where less… underwhelming. You settle on saying, “They want me to come back in two weeks. They’ll send me some recommendations for talk therapy, but there’s really nothing they can do right now.” The words feel stale on your tongue, too business-y, too formal.
Sunghoon nods without any distinct feelings. He figured you would need to book a few more sessions; these things don’t resolve themselves overnight. “Prescriptions?”
“Just melatonin.”
His gaze turns away from you before you finish your statement. His tongue prods at his cheek. The two of you face the windshield ahead of you without any hope of prolonging the conversation.
There’s a part of you that wants to violently shout I told you so at the top of your lungs, but at this point, you don’t feel much. The walk to the car already allowed the weight of reality to drop atop of your slouched shoulders at full force, such an exclamation would be against the flow of gravity.
You already tried melatonin. You’ve tried several things actually. No sugar before bed. Vivid dream journals. Praying. Soon, weekly meetings with a therapist which probably should’ve been considered sooner.
You cleansed your spaces with sage and palo santo. Sprinkled salt in each corner of the apartment. Rearranged the furniture. Got rid of any material items linked with unpleasant memories, despite practicality. The kitchen knife you nicked your finger with, gone. The couch you cried yourself to sleep on during postpartum, donated. The poster for Sunghoon’s favorite film that you happened to watch twice with your manipulative college ex-boyfriend (before meeting Sunghoon of course), shredded.
Next steps were either seeking a psychiatry specialist or inviting a priest to your abode, but Sunghoon was against that. Modern medicine was his preferred tactic. He promised this appointment would be the solution, so you went out of your way to tell a stranger your deepest darkest thoughts. But no treatment, nor diagnosis can save you from your nightmares.
Truly, you wish you had it in you to say I told you so. But you were fighting tooth and nail to sit upright as is. You can feel yourself leaning into misery like it made up the seat beneath you. Like it was the warmth of this car hidden from the chill of outside.
Sunghoon turns to you amidst the heavy silence and examine you from the driver’s seat. You tried not to look tense, but there was a deep line set between your eyebrows. He lets out a short, unnecessary hum. “Maybe you should start smoking marijuana,” he suggests. He pushes out the syllables to mar-i-juan-a like it tastes funny, his Korean accent making a special appearance.
An airy scoff-like chortle escaped you before words do. You lick your lips mumbling, “Thought that was plan B.”
“… Then we should’ve did that a long time ago.”
Another laugh. The crease between your brows finally softens.
Sunghoon notices and its suddenly easier for him to breathe. He picks back up, “Seriously, we’re on plan—” he counts on his fingers, “—G. Why didn’t we revisit that?”
“Because you promised you’d smoke with me and you’re a freaking hypochondriac.”
He rolls his eyes, “I’m health conscious.”
Your smirk creeps up your lips, “More like health anxious.” You turn to him, warding off your widening smile. You aren’t very successful, it just appears lopsided.
He watches you with reverence for a moment. Then, he makes aface. One of those goofy disbelieving, mock offense faces. One where his eyebrows crinkle and his lips pout.
Its a weird little silly face, but he looks pretty even now. You reach out and cup his cheek, dragging your thumb back and forth once. You don’t try to hide the glaze of adoration that twinkles in your eyes.
This is far from the reaction he was expecting, but he lets his face soften, leaning into you. His eyes scan your face in a triangular pattern. Left eye. Lips. Right eye. His eyes flicker towards your hand that adorns the apple of his cheek; his mouth twist, “Are your hands clean?”
You squint your eyes playfully with a growing smirk, “Freaking hypochondriac.” You drop your hand and drift back into the passenger’s seat, sulking facing the dashboard.
Sunghoon struggles to keep his eyes from trailing to your pout as he admires your profile. You do a good job of acting like you don’t notice, but he can tell you do by the slight twitch in your bottom lip. He lets out a soft sigh through his nose. He reaches and rests a hand on you knee. Without his hand falling off your knee, your curl up into a ball with your knees leaning against the center console.
“I should be the one touching you,” He soothingly runs his hand up and down your thigh. “You’re tired.”
A heavy breath escapes through your nose. You nod. Your eyelids are heavy, but you shouldn’t let them close. Sleep is a luxury you can’t afford.
He looks down at your childlike position. He wants nothing more than to just fix it. Make it all better again. He blurts, “Lets go somewhere,” without a second thought.
Another long breath comes through your nose.
“Where should we go?” He asks before you muster a reply.
Your eyes start to shut against your better judgment, “Somewhere quiet.”
Sunghoon hums in agreement.
You keep talking to avoid falling victim to exhaustion. “Somewhere nice and quiet. Maybe a cabin or a— a bed and breakfast. Somewhere close —and warm.”
Sunghoon smiles without you knowing. He shifts in his seat, moving his hand from your thigh to the crown of your head. “I think we’d have to go a little far to find somewhere warm.”
You shake your head absently, “Not physically.”
“What does that mean?” He cranes his neck down at you with furrowed brows.
You sucks your teeth and open one of your eyes begrudgingly, “Not physically warm.”
His mouth makes a small “o” and he nods pretending he’s confident he understands. He strokes your head in an attempt to get you to relax again. "Like cozy," he clarifies in a whisper to himself.
Exactly, cozy. Your eyes lull shut. You snuggle further into the center console, fully resting your head on the divider between your seats.
“We’ll leave Friday. I can get my parents to watch Ian for the weekend,” he retrieves his phone from his jean pocket laboriously.
Ian? The sudden mention of your son jars you. Your speech comes out muffled from behind your forearm, “I want mouse there.”
Sunghoon tsks and stills his hand. He glances down at you, “I— wasn’t really asking babe. Looking after him will only stress you out more. You need rest Y/n.” He speaks firmly, convinced his argument its air tight, but the prospect alone made it hard for you to hear him out. "We’re his parents," your bottom lip curls up in a frown, "we can’t just leave him and go on a spontaneous vacation."
"That’s not fair, we’re people too. You make it sound like sending him to my parents is a punishment."
You wave your hand dismissively, “Still, not knowing where he is will stress me out more.”
"You’ll know where he is, he’ll be at my parents house."
The idea of leaving Ian stirs anxiety in your belly as your mind wanders into a dark place. A nightmarish place. You can’t leave Ian. You start to slur your words as you fall closer and closer to sleep, “You’ll take care of him for me won’t you?”
He purses his lips, “So now I’m babysitting?”
That comment was almost annoying, it would warrant a slap against the back of his head if you weren’t so tired. “He’s your baby.” Dumbass.
“Our baby,” Sunghoon corrects, "You’re my baby." You mock him lightly under your breath and he just smiles. "I’m just looking out for you. Seriously Y/n, don’t look for unnecessary stress, Ian’ll be fine."
You sigh, you don’t want to leave Ian. "Can you just drop it? He can stay with them next weekend or something. I just want a nice trip with my family, both my babies."
He strokes your head one last time before starting the car. “Fine, but no experimenting with marijuana then.” His pronunciation is still a bit harsh. Your small chuckle competes with the low hum of the jazzy radio station Sunghoon favors. “Just say weed,” you bite back a smile, "and stop acting like you'd know where to get some." A witty comeback of sorts threatens to form, but he only laughs in response. Its the last thing you hear before drifting off.
The clarinet gently fills the car. Sunghoon reaches for the knob to turn down the volume at a red light. You jolt to life, scanning your surroundings, breathing heavy. Another Nightmare. Your eyes land on the road and them toward your husband. You’re only halfway home.
He’s already looking at you with a heartbroken smile. He doesn’t ask you 'What’s wrong?' or 'Do you want to talk about it?' The former is pointless, you both know why you woke up, and more often than not you decline the latter. Instead he waits for you to speak.
“Can you—”
“Mhm,” he cuts you off, resting his hand closest to you on your shoulder.
You’ve gotten into the habit of asking for some sort of physical contact in order to fall to sleep. Fortunately, you didn’t have to ask this time. It always feels awkward on your end, but Sunghoon doesn’t seem to mind.
You slowly recline into your chair. He runs his palm down your arm and lands it above your knee, giving a grounding squeeze. You say, “Thank you,” but its sounds too far away for Sunghoon to respond.
The light turns green. You go back to sleep. And he drives you home.
———
A few days pass and Sunghoon’s already planned your family getaway. He arranges for the three of you to drive a few hours to a cottage in the upper New England area. You leave straight after retrieving Ian from pre-k. The drive up is painless with Ian napping most of the way there. He fell asleep with his
The cottage sits on the right side of a windy two way road. Based on the mailboxes you counted there’s about three other houses within the next few miles, all of which seeming unimpressive. The house you’re staying at is small and white with tall matching fencing around what you assume is the backyard. Secretly anxieties of cobwebs and leaky ceilings flood your imagination as Sunghoon drives down the paved path that led to the singular car park. A narrow front porch was to the left and a large grassy fenced in area stood to the right. There’s a door camouflaged into the fence.
It smells like gasoline and the color green. You step out the car at the same second a nice looking elderly woman in a cable knit sweater steps out of your house for the weekend. She looks like the type of person you’d spot apple picking or baking a dessert from scratch. Sunghoon walks over to her and waves for you to join him as you stir Ian awake.
While it seems questionable from the outside, it’s surprisingly modern inside. It’s a one bedroom falsely advertised as two because of the pull out couch in the living room. There’s a small, well maintained outdoor pool and fire pit hidden in the overgrown backyard. The living room has a wood burning furnace that neither of you or Sunghoon know how to use and the kitchen despite being up to date, is much smaller than the rest of the rooms.
The bedroom and master bath leave no room for improvement. They were both comfortable, clean, and lined with rustic artwork. Every doorknob has beautiful intricate engravings that give the place an extra touch of whimsy. You couldn’t have asked for more.
As expected the woman who walked out is the owner of the property, Mrs. Murphy. She seems unexpectedly air headed, but generally pleasant. She lives in one of the equally quaint houses you passed up the road. The house you’re staying in used to shelter her and her husband, but she can’t stomach sleeping here after his passing a few years ago. Much to your dismay, she explains how they lived here together for twenty years before he passed away in their bedroom on her sixty-first birthday. Her children live out of state, but arranged for the house to be renovated and help her rent it out online, allowing her to make an income that goes towards the mortgage of her new home.
After a lengthy chat over check in, she promises to regularly assist with the furnace and even give a tour of town or watch Ian for a couple hours if the two of you need. Her husband’s family is from the area, but she doesn’t seem to have many friends of her own, so she could use the company. You’re nearly consumed by shame when her solemn offer for free childcare made you wonder if you might be able to find time to sneak in a 'private moment' with Sunghoon. Without missing a beat, Sunghoon guarantees the two of you will give her call if you need anything.
Tonight is the first night of the seasonal local night market. Small vendors from all over the area set up tables offering niche goods and services like airbrush tattoos and vegan mac and cheese. Sunghoon mentions it nonchalantly after walking Mrs. Murphy out. Its seems like a nice coincidence to you, but Sunghoon knew about it since he booked the place. You, Sunghoon, and Ian trek there as a family immediately after settling in.
Right now, you and your family huddle under the white tent that shelters a foldable table covered in nicknacks made from mineral crystals like amethyst paper weights and seven-chakra wall art. Deeper into the tent there’s a couple of beige fold up chairs and a colorful Turkish rug laid atop grass. You’re struggling to decide on getting your palm read by a white man with a controversial hairstyle and Baja hoodie while Ian tries to wander away. Sunghoon catches him out the corner of his eye and grabs him by his scarf. “Where are you off to, huh?” He yanks him closer and envelops him in a back hug.
Ian is four and tall for his age. He has one of those scratchy kid voices that make him sound more delinquent than he is. On the contrary, Ian is quite quiet. That’s why you call him 'Your Little Mouse' or 'Mousey' for short. On an occasion or two you’ve heard Sunghoon teasingly beckon him with squeaky mouse sounds like 'jick jick.’ He takes after his parents in that way and is able to have a conversation through expressive eye contact just as efficiently, if not more than when he attempts to do so verbally.
Ian peeks up at his dad with a raised eyebrow and points at the fried ice cream cart a couple stands over.
Sunghoon fights a smile, turning his attention towards you, “Babe.”
You avert you attention from the fortune teller’s brochure of services and spin on your heels to face your boys with you head tilted curiously.
Sunghoon nods over his shoulder at the fried ice cream cart.
You look between Ian and Sunghoon with a growing downturn smile. “Did you ask?”
Ian looks away bashfully, “Can we have some ice cream, please?”
“We?” You arch a brow and crouch down to Ian’s level.
He nods, “You love ice cream too, Mommy.”
You let out an amused laugh, “I do, but isn’t it a little chilly for ice cream?”
Ian cringes like you’d said something genuinely offensive, shaking his head after regaining some composure. “Its never too cold for ice cream,” Sunghoon chimes in. His son glances up and nods. Ian fidgets with the fuzzy scarf around his neck claiming, “Its not even cold.”
Oh? Him and Sunghoon took after each other in that way because you’re definitely a little chilly. You loosen his scarf, mulling over an answer. “We can go in a second. Mommy is going to buy something from this table first, okay Mousey?”
Ian sighs like a person much older than his age and nods.
You stand to your full height and exchange a look with Sunghoon. He purses his lips, glancing down at Ian sympathetically then back up at you. You squint your eyes at him knowing he’s challenging your decision. The two of you stare each other down, communicating wordlessly all while Sunghoon still holds Ian in his grasp. He starts it, it goes like:
Its only right across, I say he can go.
I don’t think so.
Thought I’m supposed to watch him this weekend.
Well, I’m his mom.
But we’ve been at this table for ten minutes.
Its barely been seven.
You don’t even know what you’re buying yet.
You cave first.
Sunghoon taps Ian and points at a sign in front of the fried ice cream cart. “What number does that sign say?” Ian cranes his neck up to look at his dad and points at the sign at the aforementioned ice cream cart to confirm they were talking about the same sign.
Sunghoon nods.
“I see five,” Ian says uncertainly, oblivious to his father’s intent.
Sunghoon lets go of Ian and fishes in his pocket for his wallet. He pulls out a dingy five dollar bill and wags it in front of Ian teasingly. “Go see if that’s how much how much it costs.”
Your son’s face lights up. He’s already taking a step away from the two of you when he asks, “Then, can I get some?”
“You can get some today and tomorrow if that’s the price,” Sunghoon nods.
Ian runs towards the cart before you can give Sunghoon a sideways glance. “Thought you wanted him to stay home.”
He stride closer to you and places his hands on either sides of your waist. “Well, if he’s here he might as well have some fun,” he shrugs.
Your face softens. You’re too endeared to be bothered.
“And by fun I mean sugar because we are not doing shit all weekend,” he smirks.
You swat at his chest. He pulls you in and kisses the top of your head. You close your eyes and relax into him for a few feebly seconds. Anxiety pries your eyes open, forcing you to coYmpulsively check for Ian at the neighboring cart. You open and shut them thrice, but on the third lull open you don’t see him.
You nudge Sunghoon off you as your face hardens and the deep crease between your eyebrows appears. “Where’s Ian?” Leaves your lips like a secret, like asking will make it worse.
Sunghoon opens his mouth to answer before glancing over at the empty ice cream cart— He doesn’t spot him either.
“Appa,” Ian’s voice sounds from over your shoulder.
You look behind you and notice Ian sitting on one of the chairs further into the tent, where you assume the palm readings are done, with a cup of what looks like a ball of fried pancake batter in his hand. He looks between the two of you with a vaguely curious expression. He beckons his dad and extends one of his hands with the five dollar bill he was previously gifted. “It was five dollars, but the lady said I didn’t have to pay so can I get more?”
You chime in before Sunghoon, "Someone gave it to you for free?"
Ian nods. Sunghoon stares down at the bill, then at you. Although you never told him what happens in your nightmares, it was moments like this when you bet he could guess. But he doesn’t push.
Ian shakes the five like he’s running out of patience, whining "Appaaa." Sunghoon walks over and grabs it, returning it to its place in his wallet. He gives you a look you can’t read in time before he puts on his half-joking Dad voice, "What did we tell you about candy from strangers?"
"’s not candy," the nonchalant toddler shrugs. Your husband sucks his teeth and rustles Ian’s hair rough enough for Ian to start whining again while trying to dodge his father’s hand. He cries out "Mommy!"
You swat Sunghoon’s hand away. "Alright, alright. No more free sweets, okay? Ice cream, donuts, candy, whatever, alright?"
Ian nods and scoops up a bite of ice cream offering it to you silently. You bend down generously and eat it off the spoon. There’s a scoop of vanilla ice cream inside the chewy fried dough. You hum at the taste, “Wow.” You give your son an exaggeratedly jovial thumbs up to help further lightening the mood.
He smiles and faces his father, “You want?”
Sunghoon shakes his head with a thin lipped grin, “You first.”
Ian takes a much bigger bite than he gave you, struggling to break the batter evenly. He does a little dance with his eyes still closed from the immersive bite he’d just served himself. Sunghoon mocks him with a silly expression and pats his shoulder, “Lets get some dinner to go with that dessert.” You let out an airy incredulous laugh.
"Can we get more?" Ian asks before he even gets up.
You look at Sunghoon. He shrugs and urges Ian to his feet, "Ask again later," he responds like a 5’11 magic eight ball. You mimic his tone, "Finish your ice cream."
Ian just rolls his eyes at you both and you walk out of the empty palm reading station to keep exploring the market. Sunghoon reaches for your hand and nudges Ian to walk ahead of you two towards the line food trucks in the distance.
———
The rest of night one went without a hitch. The three of you ordered some Asian fusion food to-go and ate it at the cottage while rewatching one of Ian’s favorite film franchises, Sonic The Hedgehog. You watched the first one since it was the shortest and neither your or Sunghoon enjoyed them very much. Sunghoon complained about the blandness and inauthenticity of the fried rice you shared. You complained about the plot holes and fatphobia in the movie.
You had a glass or two of wine. Sunghoon watched you drink contently without indulging in any himself but, making jokes here and there to get a reaction out of you.
Later, Sunghoon put Ian to sleep in the bedroom. You went to bed on the living room pull out to avoid disturbing anyone with your irregular sleep. To your surprise, when you woke up in the middle of the night with a gasp like you always do, Sunghoon and Ian where cuddling on the mattress space behind you. In all honesty, it scared you pretty bad when you rolled over into Sunghoon’s firm shoulder, but it was a pleasant sight. You couldn’t go back to sleep for a while after. Instead you turned your body to face them and watched silently until sleep overtook you. It felt like no nightmares could harm you with them right in front of you like this.
Because of your nightmares you usually wake up earliest. Today you wake up around 5:45 AM, crawling from under the sheets around 6 AM. This time last year you would’ve been snoozing your alarms begrudgingly, but a lack of sleep has been the new normal for you for almost four months now. You’ve grown to appreciate the gradual rise of the sun, even though its often feels eerie being the only person awake.
It works out nicely though because you don’t have to be alone for long. Sunghoon is a close second to wake up with his internal alarm clock forcing his eyes open at 6:30 AM most mornings despite being a heavy sleeper. He always finds you first thing when he wakes up.
This morning, he spots you in the kitchen doing a long stare at the open refrigerator, seemingly half asleep. His feet drag against the cold kitchen tiles as he shuts the fridge and drags you back to the living room. You don’t put up a fight.
He drags you to the cozy love seat in the corner by the furnace and pulls you onto his lap. The chair makes a loud creek at the feeling of your combined weight. You peek at Ian to see if it caused him to stir. It didn’t, so you snuggle closer into Sunghoon as the chair groans beneath him. He lets out a breath, appreciating the new found warmth.
You whisper in his ear, "Was gonna make breakfast."
He hums, patting the underside of your thigh with his eyes heavy. You don’t think he’s really listening, he’s nearly two-thirds sleep and essentially sleep walked over to you just so you would go back to sleep. But you’d already been up for almost an hour and had other plans. "We forgot syrup," you pout. This revelation ruined your scheme to make pancakes before everyone else got up. You know Ian won’t eat pancakes without syrup.
"I forget one thing," he rolls his eyes, nuzzling into the crook of your neck trying to get comfortable.
You pat his chest, "Yeah, the most important thing for our sugar addict son."
You enjoy the scarce opportunity to tease him, but he does have a point. You know he went out of his way to buy a few groceries for this trip, including the wine you drank last night. You’re a grateful, happy woman. Ian would just have to settle with being a tiny bit less grateful and happy.
His eyes stare at you half open with a dry humorless expression. Unbothered, you kiss the corner of his mouth. He lazily bites the air in front of you half threateningly, half theatrically before you retreat away from his face with doe eyes, caught off guard. He smirks. You fight a smile. He shakes his head and kisses you properly. "Stop that."
You roll your eyes, looking between his eyes and lips. You kiss the edge of his lips again, teasingly, "This?"
He shakes his head, "Hiding your smile" He says it with a lazy lopsided smirk like its the most casual thing in the world. "Let yourself smile. That’s all I want to see this weekend."
A blush overtakes your face entirely. You want to smile, but the fact that he’s still looking at you makes you cower. You break eye contact instead, choosing to look at Ian’s calm figure on the mattress.
Accepting your silence as a response, Sunghoon lands a soft, reassuring kiss on your neck and you rest you head on his chest atop of where your hand rests.
A few moments pass. Before either of you can properly doze off, there’s a thunderous knock on the back door. Your head swings up, bumping Sunghoon’s nose in the process. He lets out an annoyed "ouch" and taps your leg for you to get off of him. You do so reluctantly, moving to sit on the mattress with a now fully alert Ian.
Ian’s chest rises and falls quickly like the sound startled him awake. He looks a lot like you after a nightmare and the thought alone squeezes you’re heart. You scootch closer to him and place your hand over his tiny fingers through the sheets. He looks at your hand then the back door.
The front door was in the living room next to the furnace, to the right of where Sunghoon is sitting. The back door was by the sink in the kitchen. It lead to the backyard. You spontaneously put an ottoman from the living room in front of it yesterday after waking up scared and alone early in the night. As far as you know, the backyard is fenced in, but the obstruction in the entry way gave you comfort. Now it serves as a weak second means of defense against whatever the hell was knocking outside the house.
Another wave of knocks hit the door.
Sunghoon rises to his feet.
Ian scrambles closer to the edge of the bed and shakes his head at his father franticly. You grab his hand and turn his face towards yours. You give him a stern yet reassuring look. Ian’s eyes waver, moving back towards the door.
His father notices the interaction out of his peripheral vision. "Its just a knock," he says flatly and more authoritative than necessary. Without as much as a peek in you or Ian’s direction, he takes slow cautious strides towards the back door. His face is stern, it makes him look older than he is. Instead of walking straight to the door, he detours to the homemade stained glass window closest to it, above the kitchen sink. He opens the cute short curtains and attempts to catch whoever might be outside. When he looks at you for the first time in a while, you can tell it was fruitless.
Then, the knocking starts again. A third time.
Before it could stop, Sunghoon swings the rickety door open with seemingly enough force to remove it from its hinges, displacing the ottoman, and catching a disoriented Mrs. Murphy. He stares down at her with utmost confusion. His eyebrows arch downward handsomely.
She’s got a death grip on an empty metal watering can and wears an old jacket that seems like it might’ve belonged to her husband. She just smiles up at Sunghoon with a hand grasping his bicep. She glances between his face and arms bashfully, "Strong." She pats his arm twice.
Sunghoon presses his lips together and lets go of her.
Ian lets out a breath you didn’t realize he was holding. He slouches into himself, suddenly exhausted again.
"Young couples always sleep so late, thought I’d wake you up and add some fuel to the furnace before it gets too cold," Mrs. Murphy dusts herself off with her empty hand. She places down her muddy watering can and claps enthusiastically, crouching with her hands on her knees and eyes locked on Ian, "Ready to start the day?"
It is not her place to ask that question. You frown at her, it goes unnoticed during her amiss attempt at a pleasant moment with Ian.
Ian narrows his eyes at her demeaning behavior.
"We were awake," Sunghoon looks at Mrs. Murphy with an unamused expression that she barely catches since she only turns to him by the time he’s finished talking.
Ian mumbles, "I wasn’t." He looks at the older woman with an scowl identical to his father’s.
You stifle a chuckle. Wish you could take a picture.
"I always have to knock extra heavy when young couples stay over," she defends, "but I don’t mind. Does the job."
"Make a habit of visiting your guests?" Sunghoon chides.
Mrs. Murphy shrugs, "Mostly young ones, and the ones who don’t know how to use the furnace."
"Young ones?" You repeat curiously.
Your husband licks his teeth, "Why the back door?"
"Just watering the garden," the older lady smiles as she shrugs off her jacket. "What’s with the forth degree, am I right?" She looks at you and Ian for support. You and Ian stare at the ring of mud the watering container creates on the floor. Ian sucks his teeth.
Sunghoon tries to glance at the forest-like backyard through the window over the kitchen sink. "It looks like it already gets plenty of water, don’t you think?"
Mrs. Murphy follows his gaze. "Well that’s all my doing." She speaks proudly, missing Sunghoon’s snide entirely.
You nudge Ian off the pull out couch, telling him to go brush his teeth. Doing so makes you realize neither you nor Sunghoon have freshened up yet and were speaking to this woman with un-fresh breath in your pajamas. Ian trudges to the bathroom, but he’s sure to give Mrs. Murphy one last sideways glance for starting his day on such a bad foot.
You watch the interaction between Sunghoon and your renter from the cusp of where the living room hardwood meets the kitchen tiles. She struggles to get off her boats and goes to wash her hands in the kitchen sink above the abandoned dishes of last night. "Now this open pull out couch and a sink of dishes can only mean one thing. Rough first night?"
At some point while she’s talking, you pan your eyes towards Sunghoon, whose already studying you. He’s leaning against the fridge with his arms crossed. He tries to strike a private conversation using his facial expressions, saying: The fucks her problem?
You avert your eyes, feeling too low energy to exchange profanities back. You hear him suck his teeth.
She begins starts up again with her back towards the two of you. "Now, if its too early to talk about it, I can keep chatting you up about my garden. Had it some years now. All wildflowers and native grass. It wouldn’t be so lush if it weren’t for my watering."
Her topic switching and unprovoked anecdote nearly make you gang up on her with Sunghoon, but you don’t. Instead you nod despite the fact that she cannot see you.
"Do you expect a forest to die without watering as well?" Sunghoon raises a brow. You didn’t want this to end badly and the woman is clearly not gifted in social cues. It was only your first full day here. "Hoon—"
Mrs. Murphy cuts in, "No that would be silly, natural ecosystems don’t need so much help. Rain’ll do the trick." She finally turns around back to you and Sunghoon again.
His lips part slightly. He glances at you out the corner of his eye with a subtle expression that asks: Is she serious? Rather than agreeing, your face warns him: Choose your next words carefully. He glares back at Mrs. Murphy. "Seems you’ve made my point," he sighs.
She just gapes at him vaguely curious and confused.
He does her no favors, and avoids providing any further explanation. Shaking his head disapprovingly, he kicks himself off the refrigerator he’d been leaning on. He mumbles, "I’ll check on Ian," glancing at you before trudging towards the bathroom.
Certainly, its hard to imagine the mood becoming any more awkward than it already was, but you feel that upon his absence anyway. Your mostly sure she doesn’t experience the same tension. Its possible that her entry and everything thus far has been painless for her up to this point. You almost pity her obliviousness, but it must make Sunghoon’s impoliteness more bearable.
You walk into the kitchen picking up her dirty watering can, opening the back door, and placing it outside the doorway. From your new position you can occasionally catch the wind beating down hard enough for you to hear it through the walls. It unsettles you slightly.
"I see you’ve redecorated," Mrs. Murphy muses hesitantly. She points at the crocked ottoman in the middle of the kitchen, "Everything good with you both? He seems a tad snappy."
You turn towards her with furrowed brows. So she does pick up on his attitude.You disguise your poor people skills with a fake laugh, "Oh, no, we’re good I promise. He’s just like that, but I got spooked someone might brake in last night." She starts to laugh too. You continue, "Back door seems a bit more flimsy than the front, even though all the knives are near it, so I thought the ottoman was a good insurance policy." She stops laughing.You cursed yourself for being too honest.
Her eyebrows shoot up and her head retracts back into her neck out of surprise. She opens her mouth a few times like she’s decided how to respond, but ultimately closes it and nods.
You nod back.
She takes a few steps towards the living room. "I’ll go start on the furnace then," she tries to smile light heartedly.
You give her a curt, closed mouth smile and grab a few paper towels and run them under water. You move back towards the door, kneeling to clean up the ring of mud the watering can left in its absence. She watches you wordlessly for longer than what feels appropriate. You glance her way in hopes she’ll stop staring; she does.
You decide to stay in the kitchen while she works in the living room. You busy yourself retrieving the box of instant pancake mix, a stick of butter, and a open pack of sausage.
By the time Ian and Sunghoon return the furnace is full and the air between you and Mrs. Murphy is stale. Ian runs straight to the pull out bed in search of the television remote. You’re washing a few strawberries in a bowl when Sunghoon comes and looks at the pots, pans, and miscellaneous food items that clutter the kitchen counter over your shoulder.
"I thought operation pancake was a no go?"
You push your chest out with twinge of pride, "I’m gonna make some strawberry syrup." You hear the TV start up lowly. Ian found the remote.
Sunghoon caresses your shoulders with a disbelieving smile. "How domestic." He kisses the crown of your head, "I’ll make the pancakes then."
Simple as that, your mood is lifted drastically. You lean back into Sunghoon’s shoulder, letting your eyes close with a tiny smile.
Without you knowing, Mrs. Murphy was creeping back into the kitchen behind the two of you. You nod at her. Sunghoon peers over his shoulder toward your line of sight before turning back to you without a drop of amusement.
You address her first. "Thanks for helping with the furnace," you grin half-heartedly.
She shakes her head modestly, "Like I said, I’m here if you need anything."
Sunghoon positions himself to lean his back on the counter next you. "Feel free to use the front door in the future," he attempts to joke.
"I guess I must’ve forgot my manners this morning, won’t happen again," Mrs. Murphy stammers. "I’ll knock softer too, since you all wake up at a decent time."
You both nod. "Or shoot us a text," Sunghoon raises a brow.
She nods, "And again, I’m happy to watch your son anytime. Would be my pleasure, especially if it helps lighten the load. I know family vacations can be a bit much sometimes."
You open your mouth to respond, but Sunghoon beats you to it with a simple, "We’ll let you know."
You gently nudge your elbow into his side, not enough to hurt him, but enough to get his attention. His eyes are soft when they survey you and he unconsciously tilts down in case you have something to say. You gesture towards the back door through which she entered earlier. Sunghoon understands, opening the door for your guest once she’s fully got her shoes and jacket on. A waft of wind fights against him when he initially turns the knob, but he manages to open it anyway.
Seemingly oblivious to the breeze, Mrs. Murphy waves over her shoulder before she picks up the watering can from earlier and exits.
You and Sunghoon stand in front of the door looking like the spitting image of a married couple waving goodbye on television.
Mrs. Murphy stopped and nodded a final time before walking through the backyard gate.
Ian pops into the kitchen, letting out a heavy breath. You can feel the she finally left energy radiating off of him.
You go over and hoist him up, coming back to the sink to offer him a strawberry. He accepts and lulls his head into your chest. With eyes nearly shut, he mumbles, "Hungry," through a mouthful of berry. You put your palm under his chin, closing it softly. "No talking while chewing." He wiggles his face out of your hold and looks at his father for support.
Sunghoon shrugs and moves on almost immediately. He sorts through the pancake ingredients scattered around the kitchen.
Ian’s opens his arms for his father to take him instead, which Sunghoon does without a second thought. Ian puts one of his little hands in his father’s hair, "Where’s the syrup?" Sunghoon peers at you apprehensively out the corner of his eye. You saw this coming. "Mommy’s making strawberry syrup," you smile.
Ian’s eyes widen cartoonishly. His arm reaches out to grab you, initiating a clumsy group hug. You and Sunghoon lean into him.
"Do we have to put the bed away?" Ian surveys the two of you.
You and Sunghoon quickly sidebar through wordlessly deliberation. He assures
Keeping the bed out will make nap time a hell of a lot easier.
Yeah, but I might get sleepy and fall asleep too.
Wouldn’t be so bad, no?
Ehh— I don’t know…
We’ll be with you the whole time.
I guess a little family napping won’t hurt.
You agree reluctantly, "Leave the bed open." You peek at Sunghoon uncertainly. He nods with a downturned smile and lowers Ian to the cold tiled floor. "But fix the sheets, you sleep like an animal." Ian glares at his father before trotting towards the living room secretly still reveling in the promise of pancakes.
Sunghoon turns his attention back to you. You stare up at him with a small smile that makes his heart stutter. The silence between the two of you has no tangible unspoken words, nothing that can be expressed simply, but its warm and feels safer than anywhere else you’ve ever been.
He crosses the space between you and kisses your temple. His voice cracks as he uses his sotto voce, "I’ll take it from here, okay?"
"Yeah, okay," You nod, dusting off your hands. You’re not sure why, but he nods too.
———
You’ve spent the day lounging around with your boys. Sunghoon made the pancakes well enough and your syrup properly prevented your son from complaining. At some point you tried to teach Ian how to play a simple card game, but it seemed you over estimated his attention span and ended up unsuccessful. I mean honestly, what were you thinking? At another point, you ended up judging some spontaneous rough housing and deemed Ian victorious after around thirty minutes because that little boy just wouldn’t quite.
That eventually leads to Ian’s early afternoon nap on the pull out couch while watching a children’s cartoon none of you had ever seen before. Sunghoon held him to sleep and ended up dozing off too. With the way the weather, particularly the wind, has been so far, you think the house must’ve rocked everyone to sleep.
But sleep doesn’t come to you.
As the only conscious person in the house, you wake the them up around 3 PM. You all agree to get dressed and head over to the night market in time for the first wave of buyers. There’s been some snacking here and there since breakfast, but this allows you all a fighting chance at a proper late lunch.
Its 4 PM now and Ian is still yawning. You all stand around the living room dressed in sweats as you psych yourselves up to leave the villa. "Bring your big bag," Sunghoon jeers his chin towards where you left your tote on the bedroom doorknob.
You raise a brow, stepping closer to him, "Going shopping, Mr. Park?"
He smirks with an all too casual shrug, "Might as well. Think about those poor people trying to make a buck out in the cold."
"Not too cold for ice cream," Ian exclaims, joining the banter.
Sunghoon grabs Ian and gently turns him towards you, "Tell your mother that."
Ian opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off quicker than any syllables can form.
"Don’t. Whatever, I’ll get my bag," you roll your eyes, already on your way to the bedroom, "Its not like I made to them sell ice cream and friendship bracelets on the cusps of winter." You have to yell a little for your voice to reach. You saunter back to the living room.
Sunghoon barely laughs, but Ian’s face lights up, asking, "So we can get fried ice cream?!" He probably doesn’t have much interest in most of what you said, but the mention of ice cream is enough to keep him invested.
You and Sunghoon peek down at Ian, saying, "Of course," at the same time. You glance up at him slightly flustered. Your eyes shift between him and your son while straightening out your clothes, "Come on, grab your jackets." As if a demonstration, you walk toward the front door, grabbing your abandoned outer layer off the brass coat hooks.
Ian nearly knocks you over as he bolts past you to half-hazardously toss on his stuff.
———
"Hello, hello family! Oh my—," a bubbly young woman around your age exclaims from behind the ice cream cart, "I remember this cutie." She wears a tan apron under a black waist length rain coat and her hair held in a tight high ponytail by a yellow hair tie. There’s no sign of rain in the forecast and her ears look red and aggressively cold. She leans forward likes she’s either excited for a customer or worried you won’t hear her. "Welcome to my little corner of the market. How’re we doing today folks?"
Her zeal nearly made you buffer. "Good," you assure her. You and Sunghoon glance at each other then at Ian whose bouncing on the tips of his toes in front of you. A smile creeps up on Sunghoon’s face, he rubs his hands together, and splits his attention between Ian and the woman, "What are we getting?" You mimic your husbands body language, clasping your hands together for warmth before resting your grip on Ian’s shoulder.
Ian gapes at the three of you with a dazzling smile and puts a singular teeny finger up, "One vanilla." Maybe he’s trying to charm the lady into another free ice cream.
The woman with the yellow hair tie cheeses almost bashfully, "Same as yesterday, huh?" She nods while preparing the order. Afters she’s done, she walks to a narrow table beside the cart with a cash box, card reader, tip jar, and menu resting atop it. "Well, today," she drags out the 'y' as she quickly regards all three of you, "that’ll be five dollars."
Being the comedian he is, Sunghoon chimes in with a, "How about tomorrow?" while he digs through his wallet. He passes her a five dollar bill anyway.
The lady takes the money and laughs with a bright, well performed smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. When she leans over to hand Ian his treat she motherly caresses the top of his head. Ian grabs the cup with utmost enthusiasm. She manifests a spoon and punctures the spherical fried coating. She hesitates a beat before saying anything, blinking, and refocusing her attention on Sunghoon, "Well tomorrows— how about you come back and find out?" Then, she proceeds to wink at him.
You purse you lips lightly. You did NOT like that.
Sunghoon glances between you and her with a polite smile. He nods at the same time his smile tightens and ruffles Ian’s hair as an excuse to divert his attention. Ian swats at his father’s hand.
Another employee walks up wearing a stylish copper-ish leather jacket, hauling a medium-sized cardboard box. She places it on the checkout table and begins unpacking napkins and utensils with a curt smile. She seems a bit older than you in spirit, yet youthful in the way she wears her clothes.Her disposition seems a lot less bubbly than her counterpart.
The woman with the yellow hair tie turns to the new woman, "Doesn’t he look kinda like Micheal?"
The new woman contorts her face, staring too long at the one serving Ian. She turns away without answering.
Curiosity stirs in you at the comparison. You pull the friendliest expression you can muster, "Whose Micheal?" Your eyes sweep over to Sunghoon inconspicuously. He looks between the two women with furrowed brows but maintains an amicable smile.
The server woman’s eyes sparkle at the question, "Oh, he’s my son! He’s home, her and I traveled out here for the weekend." She turns to her co-worker.
The one with the copper jacket shakes her head, mumbling, "Yeah," dismissively.
Its clear from the second woman’s reaction that this is not the first time her son has been mentioned. You wonder is you’ll become that type of mom in the future. One who circles random topics back to her own kid. You nod, "I’m sure its rough being apart."
Sunghoon snorts, "Yeah, that’s why we brought this guy along," he pats Ian’s shoulder with conviction. Again, Ian tries to dodge him and the two start jostling among themselves.
"Aye, careful with his ice cream" you warn Ian and Sunghoon at once.
The woman with the stylish jacket shifts her eyes towards the duo, cracking a small smile before pulling out a notepad and counting the supplies left in her box.
The woman with the yellow hair tie starts talking after a beat. "Ah, its different being a single mom. Janet," she points to her table mate, "and Micheal," she points to Ian, "are all I have really," she stares at Ian and Sunghoon. "He’d be beside me taking orders or just shoved in a corner somewhere with an iPad," she chortles and turns her head towards the ground.
Your mouth opens and closes. Sunghoon should’ve kept his mouth shut. You nod understandingly, "We’re very lucky." You pivot towards Sunghoon, pleading for help with your eyes.
Sunghoon loosens his grip on Ian, but Ian’s tensions already too high to notice the mood shift. He tugs at Sunghoon’s jacket, breathing heavy, and giggling for seemingly no reason at this point. Sunghoon peers down at him shaking his head discretely with thin pressed lips. Ian furrows his brows, opening his mouth to talk, but ultimately turns back to the ice cream cart. Sunghoon mutters, "Right," as he nods as well.
Woman in the copper jacket, Janet, seems to loose track of whatever she’s counting. She pauses and sighs before restarting her counting.
The woman with the yellow hair tie gives the two of you a one-sided shrug, "That’s all thanks to this guy, right?" She reaches over and strokes Ian’s shoulder, he nudges her off and and you can’t choose who to glare at fast enough, Ian or the woman. Without a proper response, she doubles down on her original comment, "Doesn’t he though, Janet? Like Micheal, just a little?"
Janet frowns and doesn’t turn to her colleague when she replies with apparent agitation, "I guess. I said 'yeah' already." She says something else you don’t really listen to.
In the corner of your eye you spot Mrs. Murphy strolling past a neighboring table in the same boots as earlier. "Mrs. Murphy?"
Her ears perk up and she turns. "Now, isn’t that pretty young lady staying at my house," she brightens as she locks eye contact with you.
For a moment you skim your memory to recall if she ever gave you her first name, so you can refer to her less formally but you honestly have no clue.
"Ice cream break?" She strides over beside you.
"Second one this weekend," you quip back.
She says, "That’s what vacations are for," and waves at a couple people passing by that you assume live in the area.
"What’re you up to?"
Mrs. Murphy glances down at herself and presses her lips together, "Nothing really, just getting my steps in."
You nod without knowing much of what to say next. "Well that’s nice, you seem really active for your age." You might’ve imagined it, but you think you can sense both your hearts dropping at the sound of your last three words.
"Well um—," Mrs. Murphy scans your family, "When are you gonna let me watch little man? Like I said, I wouldn’t mind." She smirks and lightly elbows your side, "Might give you a chance to get a little exercise and ice cream for yourself. I know that stuffs important."
Your eyes nearly double in size. She can be so… overly comfortable at times. You wrap your hands around your waist and internally sigh, "I’ll mention it to Sunghoon again."
"You’re his Mama, you can make those sorts of choices too."
Ian gazes up at you with slouched shoulders and ice cream partially eaten. He got his ice cream, lets not drag this on. You pat his shoulder and he straightens his posture. With your other hand you tug at the elbow of Sunghoon’s coat sleeve.
He discretely acknowledges your gesture by placing a hand on Ian’s other shoulder, mirroring your body language. He takes a deep inhale through his nose, "Thank you both. Say 'thank you’ Ian." Ian shyly follows instruction, mumbling "Thanks" as he waves at the employees. Sunghoon steers Ian toward the makeshift isle between merchant booths. You follow suite, bidding a farewell to Mrs. Murphy too, "Enjoy the market!"
She hollers, "I’m glad you all are enjoying town!" as you try not to move away too briskly.
———
After Ian’s nightly serving of fried ice cream, the three of you lallygag around the market for a while. The winds of the afternoon are now calm and there’s a pleasant warmth to the air.
You purchase a pocket sized black tourmaline crystal from the fortune teller you encountered yesterday. Ian teases you for spending money on a rock. Sunghoon chides at your child for picking on you. You all keep walking nonetheless.
Out the corner of your eye you notice Ian unceremoniously rip his scarf off, loosely stuffing it in his jacket pocket without much care, allowing the edge to drag on the ground. Before you can tend to the matter, Sunghoon snatches it out the boys miniature sized pocket and passes it to you. You give his hand holding the scarf an appreciative squeeze and fold the cloth into your tote bag.
The area you’re skimming through now is on the outskirts where few tables sit atop the uneven grassy earth beneath you. Your careful to watch your step for dog poop, but Sunghoon and Ian walk around with their heads high and oblivious minus your occasional feces warnings.
To the left of you, a table covered in small potted plants and a sign that says "Man’s Best Chance: Daniel’s Plants," in swirly letters plays music from a portable speaker. Its an old song, Corcovado (Quiet Nights of Quiet Stars) by Stan Getz and João Gilberto. The middle-aged man beside the table, assumably Daniel, sits on a metal fold up chair tapping his foot with a dazed yet pleasant expression.
Sunghoon catches onto the song and starts whistling immediately.
His face looks handsome enough for you to stare and you do, offering him a tiny smile when he detects your attention. He smiles back. You are very lucky, aren’t you? You awkwardly start swaying your head to the pattern of his whistling.
"You know this?" He grins.
You shake your head and continue bopping your head absentmindedly.
Sunghoon raises a brow, "No? Thought you might."
You jut you chin forward equally confused, "Why would I lie?"
He shrugs and peers down at Ian who is now subtly moving to the rhythm with his nearly empty fried ice cream cup in hand a few steps ahead of you both. He watches you and your son with eyes that make you feel like the most miraculous and unusual thing in the world. He looks up to the cloudy sky and lets an airy chortle pass his lips. He turns to you with his right hand extended your way, inviting you to dance.
You glance between his face and hand with a school-girlish grin. You place your hand in his and he pulls you in. Your empty palm lands on his chest and your other hand intertwines with his fingers on instinct. His other hand rests above your lower back. Its slightly absurd. You giggle as you gingerly take a step away from him, enforcing an appropriate distance.
Ian turns around to scrutinize the two of you mid bite and cringes so hard he drops his spoon on the lawn beneath him. A flash of annoyance paints his face as he stares at it on the ground. He sighs and returns his attention to his parents. "Mommy, Appa, I needa new spoon," he starts moving to where he knows the fried ice cream sellers are, "I’ll be back."
Your internal alarm rings and you turn towards your child, "Lets grab one from one of these carts."
Ian stops in his tracks, expression is between wounded and bewildered. "— But I need the ice cream spoon."
"The what?" Sunghoon chimes in.
"The ice cream spoon," Ian whines.
You peep at Sunghoon, your hands are still on him and your brain buffers for a second. Right, the ice cream spoons! The fried ice cream cart has special colorful spoons with extra long stems and cute little scoopers. None of the neighboring food carts or trucks seem like they’ll have any utensils as whimsical as that.
"Can’t we get you a nice and quick replacement from the chicken truck or something?" Sunghoon deadpans.
Ian shakes his head and stares at you. "Mom," he takes several steps further away from the two of you. Sunghoon raises his hand from you back and holds it up, "Yah, Ian." Ian stomps and whines "But Appa, my spoon! Mommy?!"
Now they’re both looking at you. Your minds racing between 'How much time is left in the song?’, 'Where’s the ice cream stand?', and 'Whats the name of that show where toddlers run errands in Japan?' You know two things: 1) You don’t wanna go and 2) the damn song is over now. The thoughts suck at you like a mosquito.
Ian making a vaguely sad, whiny sound draws you out of the caverns of your mind. He’s holding his cup of fried ice cream with a trembling bottom lip and side stepping further. Sunghoon lets go of you and tries to take a step toward Ian, but you grab his wrist. Apprehensively, you turn to your husband. He gives you a reassuring nod, but you’re not sure what it means.
"Um—," you blurt, "fine Mousey, no detours. Straight there and back," all before you can second guess yourself. You anchor your eyes on your husband.
Ian lights up like he wasn’t on the brink of tears five seconds ago. His craving for independence never ceases to amaze you.
Sunghoon glances between you and Ian. He unsurely echos, "Straight there, straight back, Ian." He’s pronounces Ian’s name in Konglish to emphasize his sternness.
Ian nods with a very earnest, adult expression and fixes his coat with his unoccupied hand. "Does it need money?" He asks. You shake your head. He nods contently, announcing, "I’ll be right back, I promise," and extending his pinky finger to you. You nod as he pinky promises you and he repeats the action with his father before jogging into the distance with his treat in tow.
For a moment you smile fondly, but after a few seconds of him leaving your sight you become deathly uncertain.
Sunghoon’s hand on your elbow brings you back. "You alright?" He asks. You bite you lip and nod, "Was that wrong?" He shrugs, "I’m just hopping I get to dance with you again." You roll your eyes bashfully. You were too. He bites back a smile. "Don’t hide your smile," you tease.
Another songs comes on, I Got You Babe by Sonny & Cher, and Sunghoon pulls you back in. You bop your head trying to catch the beat. "I definitely don’t know this one," you chuckle awkwardly.
"Me neither," he grins, "you care?"
Maybe it doesn’t matter. You shake your head 'no.’
You close your eyes and try to slow your rampant heartbeat. Ground yourself. The grass beneath you is slightly damp, but not muddy. There is no dance floor or strobe lights, but Daniel whose running the plant booth with an unmistakeable affinity for life subtly increases the volume on his speaker.
You and Sunghoon sway without any space for air between the two of you. He raises an arm and spins you with expertise only for you to trip into him when he pulls you back. You share short laughs and kisses in between verses like a singer’s stolen breaths between lyrics. Its all too brief.
When the song ends a small audience of passing by patrons and market merchants clap a little too loudly for your liking leaving you torn between bowing and covering your face in unmeasurable embarrassment. Sunghoon lowers his head into your shoulder, blushing violently. You rub his reddened ears between your cool finger tips.
By the time he raises his head the crowd has dissipated. Your eyes trail across all the details of his face. His eyes. His nose. The constellation of beauty marks that line his cheeks. Your not sure who leans in first, but your lips gently brush his. He hand raises to caress your cheek, titling your chin up to kiss him. properly. The two of you break apart after a few moments.
Daniel from the plant stand whistles from a safe distance. Its your turn to fold into yourself with embarrassment. Sunghoon laughs lowly and kisses the temple of your head.
"Come on," Sunghoon nudges his head towards a handful of empty fold up chairs nearby, "Let’s wait."
———
The sun sets before you know it. You prevent yourself from checking your phone for the nth time. Instead you tap you foot aimlessly.
Where is he?
Its dark. And quiet. The neighboring air smells like incoming rain and something vaguely sweet. The wind holds its breath as tables of merchants around you all start to pack up with little hope of running into anymore customers at this point in the evening. Daniel and his speaker were one of the firsts to go.
You’re eyes fixate on the isle straight ahead with lips tighter than you’ve ever felt them. Your tote bag is in your lap held securely in your grasp, Ian’s scarf dangles through the opening. You’re sitting alone in the little cluster of chairs Sunghoon lead you to earlier.
He left an hour ago.
You waved over an idle security guard thirty minutes ago.
And Ian’s been gone for about seventy minutes.
Where is everyone?
A large part of you wants to scan the area left to right, but something within you prevents you from moving. Your body feels rigid in a way you can’t pinpoint. Don’t think about it. Your grip tightens around the strap of your bag. Stay calm. You blink. And when that doesn’t help you close your eyes.
Breath in.
Breath out.
An "Excuse me" cuts into the quiet. Its the first time someones spoken to you in a while. Your open your eyes to the security guard from earlier. He rubs his hands together for warmth, blowing in between them once. He nods at you. You stare at him in return.
He continues talking, "I looked all over the place, but I haven’t found him. Fairs about to close, how about you leave your and his name and your number, hmm?"
Suddenly you can’t stomach the sight of him. You turn to face the barren isle.
The guard pulls out a notepad before you properly reply. He scans you up and down, and sighs, "Jot down your boy’s description while you’re at it." He shakes his hand out, silently encouraging you to do as he says.
You glance over at the awkward yet somehow sincere expression on his face and nod, taking his pad. You peer up at him, "A pen?" He rubs his hands together again and turns his attention off to the side, mumbling, "I do— lost it. You got one?" You nod and gently rummage through your bag for the pen you always carry. You take out a singular grey pen that’s running out of ink and try to write everything he asked.
You force out the words, "Thank you," only facing the guard fully when you’re ready to pass back the notepad. "Did run into my husband?"
The officer pockets the booklet and squats down further, "He missing too?"
"No," you shake your head, "he’s looking for him. He’s looking for our son."
"Haven’t heard from him?"
Obviously. You shake your head again.
His lips twist as he shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, "Well, he’ll be back soon. We’re shutting things down now."
You nod.
"I say, you file a formal report before the end of the night. Do what you gotta do and get some rest. Me and the guards’ll keep asking around. Wait for your husband here. We won’t bother you, okay?" He stands to his full height and glances down at you with tight lips and raises a brow. You nod.
He rubs his hands together and pulls out a pair of black gloves that you briefly saw him wear earlier. He enunciates each syllable as he tells you to "Get home safe" and starts putting on his gloves.
"You too," leaves your lips habitually.
The security guard strides away.
You sit there idly for a few seconds. When you suddenly become anxious that you’ve missed a notification from Sunghoon, you dig your phone out of your pocket, but there’s none. No text. No incoming call. No missed call. There’s something in the back of your mind urging you to get up, waiting for Sunghoon’s return is a waist of time. You’re wasting time.
Five minutes pass. He’s still not back. The area around you is desolate. All that remains are security and every few seconds you feel them staring at you curiously. After sending Sunghoon a quick text, you decide to walk to the car to wait.
Your car is in a parking lot on the other side of the market. The moon shines down on you as you walk through isles of abandoned stalls, nodding at the occasional security guard you meet eyes with. All this security and no one has found your son. Or your husband for that matter.
It takes you a few minutes to get there, but when you finally reach your car you see something someone you didn’t expect to see. You speed up your pace, doubling the distance of your steps and knock on the window three times.
Sunghoon sits slumped over in the drivers seat with his head down and his arms thrown over the steering wheel. For a second he doesn’t move. So you knock again, only twice this time. Your knocks are rough and lacking in rhythm. His head twists towards the window as he mumbles, "I told you, I’m waiting for my wife," quite agitatedly into his arm.
His response throws you off guard. Why is he waiting for you here? You put your hand on the door handle and tug once. "Open the door," you try to speak loud enough to penetrate the glass.
Sunghoon’s head snaps toward you. He locks eyes with you and simmers, managing to give you a soft grin. You point down at the door handle and gesture circularly around the car as to say: Open the doors, I’ll go around. He nods and presses the unlock button; you make the trek around the car, opening the door opposite of Sunghoon’s.
He silently grins again at the sight of you in the open doorway, "Come in."
Even as your right leg lifts to enter the car, you imagine that your mind isn’t communicating the action well enough to your unexpectedly awkward legs. You climb into the car embarrassed at how slow you’re moving. You’d been fine on the walk here, but suddenly you need to rest. Maybe that security officer was right. You close the door once you’re seated.
Its quiet.
The car is off allowing the cold autumn air to seep in unabashed. A shiver runs down you back as you lean into the cool passenger seat. Ian’s car seat sits empty behind you, but you don’t look. You stare straight ahead as Sunghoon watches your profile, having not turned away from you since noticing you. You turn to him, give him an apprehensive tight lipped smile with shoulders too high to seem normal.
Questions appear in your head faster than you can decipher. Some are open-ended: Why haven’t you returned my calls? How long have you been here? Who did you think I was? Others are accusatory: You still haven’t found Ian? Is this where you’ve been the whole time? Did you at least talk to security? Your face twists and your eyes drift away from Sunghoon as you try to pick a decent question.
Then, you feel a hand slide into your lap and rest atop yours. He feels warm. Its a pleasant contrast to the chill surrounding you. You peek at Sunghoon again.
His face is more serious now. "I’m couldn’t—," slips past his lips as he positions himself away from you. Its followed by a beat of silence. He puts his head in his hands, "Fuck." His chest rises and falls slowly with his breathing. He sniffles once.
You scotch around in your chair to face him fully. On instinct you reach out to comfort him, resting your left hand on his shoulder, caressing in small circles. You whisper, "What are you sorry about?" with clear confusion.
He sniffles again and drags his hands down his face. He doesn’t look at you.
"Hey," you gently hold his chin and turn it to face you, "What is it?" Despite your calm exterior, your heart is beating irregularly fast and your mind is falling into the worst. "Baby—"
"Its just—"
Your grip on him goes slack, "Sunghoon?"
He remains silent.
"What happened?" The silence that meets you increases your dread tenfold. You sigh. "Talk to me. Why aren’t you talking to me?" Your question comes out more agitated this time. You face the dashboard. "God, I don’t have time for this," you gesture at his posture, "Whatever this is."
His eyebrows furrow, "Your attitude—"
"Yes, and you pointing that out makes it go away."
"Now isn’t the time to turn on each other."
"No Sunghoon, but you can’t even answer my questions."
He scoffs, "I can, but you’re being impatient Y/n."
You turn to him in disbelief, "I was sitting there for over an hour!"
"So, what? I’m supposed to act and feel however you expect me to as reparations?" He boggles.
"You don’t know how rich that is coming from you, Babe," you coo sarcastically.
He faces away from you with another scoff, "Babe, you don’t get how fucking stressed I’ve been, while you were just— out there."
"You think I wasn’t stressed?! Check your phone next time, you absolute fucking idiot," you scowl. Sunghoon goes into his front jean pocket and tosses his phone on the middle armrest console. Its dead. You continue anyway, "I’ve been worried out of my mind about both of you, but no ones told me anything, so please forgive me if I’m tired of waiting."
"Well, that’s all you did Y/n. You waited."
Everything around you paused. Is that how he feels? You turn to him in utter disbelief. He still sits facing the dashboard without moving, his face saddens. You let out a heavy exhale. "You fucking asshole," you scotch away from him, "Where is Ian?" You turn to him when he doesn’t respond and scream, "Where is Ian, Sunghoon?!" at the top of your lungs.
"I don’t know!" He blurts back.
A sudden silence washes over you like hail. You don’t know what to make of his responses and you’re sick and tired of the run around. The cryptic answers. The quiet. This damn market. Its all sickening. You fold your arms over your chest and look intently out of the window of the still unmoving car.
Sunghoon draws his hands up to his face and lets out a shake breath. He starts again, "I always tell you to worry less. 'Relax Y/n.’ 'Everything’s going to be alright Y/n.'"
You angle yourself towards him a little.
"I keep telling you— we’re together and things are fine— and I—"
"Stop," you wave him off, "I was doubting myself by doubting Ian’s safety to begin with."
He shakes his head distantly, "That’s not true. You doubted his safety around anyone, but you."
His words wrap around you reassuringly like a warm blanket after sitting in the cold for too long. You pivot face him fully, "I know you didn’t want him to go before. That was my call and I shouldn’t have done that."
Sunghoon shakes his head and lowers his hands, "It doesn’t matter." He stares into the bounds of the empty parking lot ahead of you both absently. "I couldn’t find him."
You reach towards him, but decide against touching him as you rest you palm on his side of the center console. "We can still find him, did you find out anything?" You lean into his side of the car with a sudden burst of unstable hope.
He tilts his head and kisses his teeth, "Not really."
You turn back to face the baseboard, nodding at no one in particular. Silence settles in.
"We should— the security said we should head the nearest police station. We don’t have to wait, we can just go now and I already told them what he looks like. I don’t know if he was a real police officer, but I— they have my name and number, so we don’t have to stay here," you ramble. "Hes probably not here anyway."
Sunghoon turns to you for the first tine in moments, "We don’t know that."
You face him too, "No, we don’t, but we won’t find out sitting here."
Sunghoon nods and faces the steering wheel preparing to turn the car on. Light jazz music hums through the car as the engine comes to life. Sunghoon immediately turns the radio down. He pulls off slowly without either of your seatbelts buckled, "Can you pull up the address?"
You nod and lean down on the middle console with your bottom lip between your teeth. You pull out your phone and open it to the maps app where the nearest precent is already open.
"Thanks," Sunghoon nods glancing between you and your phone.
You nod back.
"I’m sorry I couldn’t—"
You cut him off, "We’ll find him."
A silence falls between the two of you that Sunghoon is the first to break.
pairing: husband Sunghoon x reader | parents au | TEASER
synopsis: after suffering relentless nightmares for months, your husband, Sunghoon, decides to plan a family trip. little did you know that that trip would be were those nightmares became reality.
a/n: was supposed 2 be done for Halloween lol but i've been super hard on my writing. its getting fun again tho. thinking should i split it (2 parts) or just push thru its gonna get done regardless. also, titles are hard (send help!) missing timestamps
My Masterlist ;; Tasteless Part 1 ;; Part 2 Coming Soon!
Daywalker Vampire Jake x f!reader | Wc estimate: 17k-20k
Synopsis: Jake killed a man. Yes, you saw it. Yes, it happened on your front lawn. And yes, Jake did it with his bare fucking hands and teeth in the most graphic way you can imagine. But what happens now?
Themes: Small town au, runaway criminals, aged up au (mid-late 20s), loose soulmates au, angst, humor, fluff, Vamp Enha, blood + gore/ violence, roadtrip au, isolation/ loneliness, strong suggestive content, hurt/ comfort, death, heavy guilt, eating, reading, vomit, Blue Collar Jake x Stay-at-Home Reader, cursing, romantic slump?, friendship?, lots of vampirism, just buckle up for the ride
Guest Starring: Heeseung (Enhypen), Niki (Enhypen), Taehyun (TXT), Taesan (BoyNextDoor), Jungwon (Enhypen), Sion (NCT Wish), a few OCs, ...TBD
A/N: Soo excited for this :3 The vibe is a little different, but I absolutely love it! Like I'm barking at my screen. Estimated release is the end of the year, & I'll be making a taglist (comment/ send asks to be added!) Check out the Pt 1 mood board here
synopsis: after suffering relentless nightmares for months, your husband, Sunghoon, decides to plan a family trip. little did you know that that trip would be were those nightmares became reality.
synopsis: after suffering relentless nightmares for months, your husband, Sunghoon, decides to plan a family trip. little did you know that that trip would be were those nightmares became reality.
pairing: husband Sunghoon x reader | parents au | TEASER | FIC
synopsis: after suffering relentless nightmares for months, your husband, Sunghoon, decides to plan a family trip. little did you know that that trip would be were those nightmares became reality.
a/n: was supposed 2 be done for Halloween lol but i've been super hard on my writing. its getting fun again tho. thinking should i split it (2 parts) or just push thru its gonna get done regardless. also, titles are hard (send help!) missing timestamps
A/N: Putting this here for vibes! Full fic dropping this weekend :D Let me know if we want more because I have like 30 pins saved & this was fun af to make. Also, comment/ ask to be added to the taglist
Current wc: 5k+ | Estimate wc: 12k+? idek | Estimated Release: late October
Synopsis: Jake's been one of the most powerful beings in the world for centuries. He's not looking for excitement anymore. He just wants a simple life of solitude. And he's finally found it in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Then you walk in, setting his normalcy on fire.
Elements (for the entire work, not just the teaser): Tension, desire, obsession, Vamp Enha, death/ violence, small town au, angst, suggestive content, menstruation/ reader gets period, house party, dub con, BoyNextDoor members, hopefully crumbs of fluff lol, maybe more …
A/N: Wanted to share a snip from what I'm currently working on. Happy spooky season everybody 🧛🏽♀️
Jake whistles a tune as he unlocks the dealership door, his shoes continuing to click against the shiny tile floor. As he makes his way past BMWs, Benzs, and high-end Sudans to his office, he’s greeted by a wall adorned with his framed portrait 10 times over. A moderately different tie in one photo, shorter bangs in another, but all him nonetheless. Always with his same sharp smile, canines on full display, like he likes it.
Jake has been casting away in this small countryside town for a little over a year, been working here for almost 11 months. His life has become pleasantly predictable.
In this town, there are all but 3 supermarkets, 2 public schools, and 1 county jail. Cloudy weather and quiet streets are constant. By 9 PM on a Monday, the entire town is tucked away at home.
This level of mundane is the type of normal Jake dreamed of when he was living with his old coven. When he was still trying to manage the veil of his demons. When his desire felt unquenchable.
Now, he’s doing what he does best, and he’s having a damn good time while doing it. What better job for a mind controling vampire than a salesman?
In the months that he’d been living here, he’s never found himself particularly triggered by anything. All the blood here was the same because all the people here were the same. Or so he thought.
That was all before he got a whiff of you strolling down the parking lot one afternoon while his co-workers were out for lunch.
...
The parking lot full of options instantly overwhelms you. It feels like there are more cars in and around this dealership than there are people in this damned town. You find yourself window shopping as you journey down the concrete aisle toward the entrance. When you finally make it, you notice a sign on the door: “Out for Lunch”
You suck your teeth. There is no way you’re turning around after basically hitchhiking to get here. You had to ask your neighbor for a ride, which at the time felt like a very hard thing to do. If you had to drag yourself outside during your period, you were going to make the trip at least somewhat useful.
“Hello?” You knock on the glass experimentally. In the shadowy distance, you see what looks like a man. Blocking the sun from your eyes, you lean into the glass.
“Excuse me?” You tap the glass again. “Are you open? Seems like you might be the only one not out eating.” You force a laugh, trying to sound friendly.
That’s one of the things you hate about this town, all the fake fucking laughing. Everyone’s always feigning an amicable attitude, forcing smiles and pretending to be polite. It felt like everyone was in one big theater performance all the time. It’s exhausting, but it’s the only way you can get anything done properly around here, so you do it too.
Don’t tap the glass. The thought travels through your mind like a foreign agent. You straighten, taking a step back without thinking. Both hands return to your sides stiffly. The unexpected urgency of your movements makes your blood run cold. Maybe you don’t need to buy a new car today.
Jake uses your distraction to disappear into his office. He feels weak, like his knees could buckle if he stood there any longer. He shuts the door behind himself, instantly reaching for a bottle of peppermint oil he keeps in his desk drawer to mask the smell of unexpected killings and other everyday odors.
He can’t believe he smelled you from the parking lot. He douces his hands in the fragrant oil and rubs it over his hair, neck, and hands, hoping it’ll mask the scent of the customer, you.
Before he even steps outside his office, he can feel that you’re leaving. It’s like he can hear your footsteps on the pavement. Conflict rushes through him as he steps back onto the showfloor to see that you did indeed turn around.
Reasonably so, his telepathy must’ve freaked you out.
Still, he can’t believe you’re really just going to leave? He huffs, frustrated by all the questions mixing in his head. The least you can do after nearly giving him a panic attack is buy a car, so he can get the commission.
You were going to try and catch a bus home. That was the updated plan. Still, your feet stutter as you walk away from the dealership’s shiny windows. Your mind feels like a storm of contradiction. Then you hear the ring of a wind chime.
“Can I help you?” The employee shouts from the entrance. His head barely peeks out.
You pivot to get a better look at him. He looks pale under the cloudy sky. “I’m looking to buy a car. Can you help with that?”
He doesn’t say anything, he just scrunches his nose and opens the door further.
You saunter back to the entrance, a strong smell of peppermint filling your nostrils. You stare at the man skeptically as he lends you a similar distrusting gaze.
“I wasn’t sure if you guys were closed.” You watch as the man’s body takes up most of the doorframe.
“We’re not.”
You nod. Yeah, that much is obvious at this point. “Can I come in?” You point past him to the empty show floor.
Jake isn’t entirely convinced you’re not some evil, vampire-adjacent creature sent to disturb his peace. He can’t bring himself to formally invite you in. “Do what suits you.” He looks you up and down, stepping away as your hand reaches for the door.
Rude. You catch the door before it can fully close and walk into the showroom. It’s spacious, and the cars are all polished enough to see your reflection in the hood.
Jake lets you wander, grateful for the distance. He mulls over the familiar scent. Maybe he could just have one little taste—No.
He loosens his tie with a sigh. "How can I help you?" He forces a smile.
…
Later that night as he’s driving to his quaint home on the edge of town, the blood of a drunken bastard fresh on his lips, he’s hit by the scent once more. The scent of you. His foot instantly switches to the break, his head whipping from left to right. What— Where is that coming from?
Panic flashes over him. His neighborhood is empty, as usual. That’s why he picked it. There were only 3 families, 2 empty houses, and a park— he turns to see one of the empty houses spilling fluorescent light from every uncovered window.
In the window across the street stands you, holding a brown box. You’re moving in.
His heart sinks for the first time in decades. He didn’t even know that was still possible. Even after a meal, your scent starts a slow churn in his stomach. His fang throb with expectation. You’re an anomaly disturbing the peace, his peace. The peace he’s been waiting centuries for.
He sighs. It’s decided, he’s going to drain you.
———————————————————————————
Again, this is just the teaser. More to come soon, so stay tuned~
A/N: I pulled bits and pieces from a few different scenes. This idea will not let me sleep lol, I hope you guys can be half as excited about it as I am :)
This is gonna take a little bit longer 😞 i’ve been outside too much, but she’s already at 10k! Hoping to have her polished & ready to go in a few weeks max
pairing: Niki x fem reader | small town au | total wc: ~18.2K
synopsis: The moment you and Niki have your first argument at a cutesy frozen yogurt shop out of town and everything that follows.
themes: different character POVs, angst, unlabeled/non monogamous relationship, time jumps, underage drinking, weed, Niki a year younger than reader, high school, college, poor communication, shorter reader, fluff, etc (listed in each part)
ft: Maki (&team), Taki (&team), Soul (p1h), Jo (&team), Jake (enha), Jay (enha), Heesueng (enha), Sunoo (enha), Sunghoon (enha), Jungwon (enha), Kazuha (le sserafim)
although i’m closing a chapter, ik imma revisit & critique these into next year lol. think i’ll write fully mapped out stuff moving forward (because i was gasping at straws in each part of this)
please look forward to the Sunghoon one shot i’m cooking up! i’m so excited (^○^) thanks for the love on that
synopsis: Niki hangs back after your first big movie night.
themes/elements: Y/N's POV, fluff, skinship, internal dialogue, reader is shorter than Niki, low-key gn-reader, generally happy & sweet vibes, let me know if i missed something
a/n: not proof read sorry! might clean this up later, but i fought to get it done as is lol. @aloveminsalade you helped me push thru and finish this. i hope its at least okay :D
likes, comments, and or reblogs are immensely appreciated!
The front door to you family house slams shut. A little aggressively if you might add. You can still hear the murmurs of friends through the closed door. If you had access to the doorbell camera, you’d probably be watching them discretely.
The living room was empty except for you. It smelt like cooked butter and slightly musty air conditioner. There’s still popcorn crumbs on the table. A few greasy finger prints decorate your parents’ favorite suede couch.
The air felt still. But full. In a good way.
You just finished hosting your first ever movie night and your jitters are still radiation off of you. It was a success. You just have unshakeable high tension.
You want to make it a rotating thing, one friend hosting each week for the rest of the summer. You’re unemployed, so you have a bunch of free time in particular. Right now, its just an idea, but you’re waiting to see if someone will circle back to it in the groupchat now that you’ve made the first step.
It is super duper unlikely you will be able to host next week. You begged your parents for a week straight to give you the house to yourself just for today.
Your dad was skeptical, but he didn’t really care as long it was on a weekday. He had work anyway. Your mom was harder to crack, she was a bit weary about strangers coming to her house unattended. You ended up having to make a whole power point presentation with pictures and descriptions for each person you were inviting.
That’s how you ended up hosting a movie night on a random Tuesday in July. High school you would be quaking. You might’ve been well-known because of student council and stuff, but you didn’t have a lot of people you considered friends until recently. Maybe you’re just more open to it now.
This is all part of your reform plan full of little ways you can improve your relationship with Niki. Today marked the beginning of step three: become friends with his friends.
Your first official step was to soft launch him on at least one of your socials. It was nothing special, just a caption-less picture of you two on FaceTime uploaded to your story. He liked that a lot, but he’s too nonchalant to admit it. The only reason you know is because he screenshot it and put it as his phone lock screen. He was giddy for days, probably annoyed Maki and Taki pretty bad.
Step two was having him interact with your parents somehow. You aren’t exactly ready to formally introduce him to them, but you know for a fact they’ve seen him from your doorbell camera. You let him get even by putting your phone call with them on speaker one day, this way he could east drop like how your Dads been spying. You weren’t sure how effective that was, but hopefully it demonstrates how comfortable you are with him.
Niki’s footsteps interrupt your train of thought.
He walks into the living room with a few trash bags and a roll of paper towels. He places the roll on the coffee table and tries to toss an empty plastic bag your way, but it barely gets anywhere and he fumbles to catch it while its falling. Its a little silly. He glances between you and the bag. His ears grow a little hot.
You look at him expectantly, wide eyes shifting between him and the bag.
A breathy laugh escapes through his nose. Little did you know that your ‘dear caught in headlights’ confused expression has Niki swooning. Its possible he likes being around you a little too much these days. He shakes his head, looking towards the hardwood floor with the tiniest smile. He makes his way over to you, handing you the bag properly.
You smile a little too, mumbling “Thanks,” as you take the bag from him with furrowed brows.
His lip twitches, but he simply nods in response.
You shove at his shoulder while he walks away. “Don’t act all cool,” you smirk, “you were juggling take out bags a second ago.”
Caught him. He shrugs, “Jugglings cool.”
“In your clown era, huh?” You raise a brow, resting the hand with the still empty bag on your hip, making a loud rustling sound in the process.
Niki scoffs, eyes scanning between the bag on your hip and your face. “What if I am?” he takes a step closer, tilting his head playfully. His eyes briefly peek at you your lips, like he’s checking if they’re still there.
You jut your lips out and narrow your eyes, staring at him like he grew a second head. You blink at him. He’s weird sometimes.
He laughs airily more to himself than anyone else. He closes the gap between the two of you, patting your head with a hushed, “Cutie,” departing his lips like a confession. Then seemingly casual as ever, he starts collecting abandoned glasses off the coffee table, stacks them in his hand, and makes his way back to the kitchen.
On the outside, you’re composed, considerably unamused even, but its hard to ignore the fluttering of your heart. You’re still getting used to the honeymoon stage. You try to clean like you’re unfazed.
A wave of ‘damns’ roar from outside the house interrupt your futile attempts to wipe up stubborn popcorn grease. You dust off your hands, place the makeshift trash bag down, and make your way toward the window to check out the commotion.
You peek through the blinds of the window nearest the front door. Niki walks up behind you, resting his head atop yours to watch the scene unfold outside your house. You suck your teeth.
Maki, Taki, Jake, and Heeseung stand on the lawn outside your parents house in a wide messy semicircle around your only lasting friend from high school, Kazuha. She stands with both hands on her hips and a tight smile. They’d been flirting with her all day. It was kind of annoying, but whatever. Maki cartoonishly rubs his hands together and takes a step forward, she puts her arm out before he gets anywhere near her. Jake bites his lip to suppress a chuckle. Jungwon watches everything unfold from against his parked car.
It hadn’t occurred to you that they might still be outside. You twist your lips, asking, “Think I should go outside?”
Niki looks down at you befuddled, “Why?”
“They’re bothering her.”
“Nah,” he drags out the 'h' lightheartedly and peers out the window again, looking closer this time. "They’re just messing with her."
That isn’t a very girls girl response. You put some space between the two of you and glance at him uncertainly, "Niki, be for real—"
As if on cue, your dad’s voice cuts in through the doorbell at full force. “GET OFF MY DAMN GRASS!” His voice is so loud you wouldn’t be surprised if his lips were kissing his phone’s microphone to maximize his reach.
Your neck whips back towards the window.
All the boys jump, even Jungwon who was safely on the pavement. Taki rushes into Maki’s arms, Maki holds him for a second before registering he’s hugging Taki instead of Kazuha. Upon realizing, he glares at Taki threateningly enough for him to retreat.
Jake bites his lip so hard you wonder if it might bleed as he scans the yard for the source of the scolding. Heeseung grabs Jake by his collar and drags him towards Jungwon’s car with deeply furrowed brows. By the time he reaches the back seat Jungwon is seated comfortably behind the steering wheel.
Kazuha is the most entertained you’ve seen her all night. Your pride takes a little offense since you imagined that sort of reaction going with the intentionally comedic film you selected, but you’re glad she’s alright. She’s the only person outside with the knowledge of your smart doorbell, let alone your father’s voice. She surveys the front of the house, noticing you and Niki perching at the window and waves humorously.
You wave back and watch her strut to her parked vehicle.
How long had he been watching? Although the the issue of your father repeatedly monitoring you through the doorbell camera came to mind, you decide to allow the wave of relief to wash over you instead.
Everyone is gone. Except Niki.
You spin on your heels to face him, placing a hand on his chest and fiddling with the fabric timidly. He looks down at you with a soft expression.
You gleam up at him, "Did you have a good time?"
He nods before you finish asking. "You?"
You nod, lending him a small, but genuine smile. "Do you have to go? I mean," you pause trying not to sound clingy, "What time are you heading out?"
"Whenever," Niki shrugs. A sign of amusement disguised as a breath sneaks past his lips as he tosses his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a hug. "I’m down for whatever."
You hum in response and hug him back.
The quiet that engulfs you feels almost awkward on your end, but you doubt he feels it too. How did you get here? A piece of you doesn’t know what to do with the domesticity that has developed between the two of you.
You sigh, "We should get back to cleaning."
"When do your parents get home?"
"My Mom gets home around six," you close your eyes.
Niki lets one of his arms fall off your shoulders to dig in his pants’ front pocket for his phone. Its only 5:09 PM. He smirks at the screen triumphantly and pans the phone your direction, nudging you with the side of it to grasp your attention.
You open you eyes to the dim screen. You figured the sun was still high due to the time of year, but its generally earlier than you thought. This was really more of a movie day.
You wiggle out of Niki’s hold, scanning his face apprehensively. "Wanna come to my room?"
A beat of silence.
On the outside, the pair of you look very chill. Your too deep in your little nonchalant olympics to give Niki access to the part of you that was immediately mortified by your own question. You swear its more innocent than it sounds.
As you anticipated, Niki’s mind is in the gutter. He is equally composed physically, you are yet to see the cartwheeling adolescent boy hidden behind his stoic expression, although you do notice the red of his ears when you study him too hard.
He twists his lips and raises a brow, "Why?"
You aren’t expecting that question. "Because I wanna show you my room," you say it like you’re asking.
Another beat of silence. Now you’re certain you both feel awkward. This is real awkwardness.
So, you start rambling, "I always thought about how I really wanted to see your room in person when we started facetiming. I guess I just wanted to see it up close, ya know?"
He nods almost robotically, providing you with minimal comfort.
"Well, last time I came over I— I got to see your room and— it was cool and—"
He cuts you off as he rubs his chin obviously still processing everything, "Why was it cool?"
Now you’re both looking at each other confused. You look away first, "I don’t know." You know.
Niki tilts his head in search of your eyes, but you persistent in avoiding him.
"Seeing all your stuff, sitting on your bed, it just felt like— I got to see a more intimate part of you… And now I want to show you an intimate part of me… That’s all." It doesn’t really feel like a 'thats all' type of thing to say, but you’re becoming increasingly anxious as he inspects your facial expressions from the corner of your eye. You clear your throat and face him. "You wanna see?"
Niki’s whole face is tomato red, well maybe not that vibrant, but red nonetheless when you finally take a peek at him. All he can do is nod.
"We don’t have to be there long," you reassure him, "I just want you to look around real quick. I don’t even know if you know what I’m talking about." You almost laugh to ease the tension.
He nods again.
You begin walking towards you’re room, only stopping in your tracks when he grabs your wrist.
He peers between your face and hand and gives you a tight mouthed grin, "Actually, can we just— chill there for a minute?"
You're both mortified.
You nod once, curtly. And survey his face and your hands.
But that’s okay.
He slides his hand down you wrist and into your palm like its second nature. He stares like your tangled hands are worth looking at.
It might even suit you two.
You nod again, in response to nothing in particular with a face so flustered that it comes off as disapproving. You pull yourself together before he finally focuses on your face.
The ground beneath you is even. You’re seeing eye to eye. And you’re together. That’s more than okay.
pairing: husband Sunghoon x wife reader | parents au | MOOD BOARD | Part 1 Out Now! FIC
synopsis: after suffering relentless nightmares for months, your husband, Sunghoon, decides to plan a family trip. little did you know that that trip would be were those nightmares became reality.
general themes/elements: angst, thriller, cute married couple moments, nightmares/dreams, parenting, spirituality, missing persons, sexual tension, more...
teaser wc: 1.5K | current wc: 5.8K | est. wc: ~9K idk
a/n: i have several wips, but life was kicking my butt. thought id put this out in the nether to keep me motivated (plus I love this spooky lil story, happy Halloween). just slapped that name on b/c it doesn't have timestamp (yet?)
likes, comments, and or reblogs are immensely appreciated.
A few days later and Sunghoon’s already planned your long weekend family getaway. He arranges for the three of you to drive a few hours to a cozy cottage around Milford, Connecticut. The drive up is painless. You leave straight after retrieving Ian from pre-k.
While the house seems questionable from the outside, it’s surprisingly modern on the inside. It’s a one bedroom falsely advertised as two because of the pull out couch in the living room. There’s a small, well maintained outdoor pool and fire pit hidden in the overgrown backyard. The living room has a wood burning furnace that neither of you know how to use and the kitchen despite being up to date, is much smaller than the rest of the rooms. The bedroom and master bath leave no room for improvement. They were both comfortable, clean, and lined with rustic artwork. Every doorknob has beautiful intricate engravings that gave the place an extra once of whimsy. You adore it. You couldn’t have asked for more.
The owner of the property is an older lady, Miss Jasmine, who lives up the road at an equally quaint house. The house you’re staying in used to shelter her and her husband, but she can no longer stomach sleeping here after his passing a few years ago. Her children live out of state, but help her rent it out online, allowing her to make a sizable income that goes towards the mortgage of her new home.
After a lengthy chat over check in, she promises to regularly assist with the furnace and even watch Ian for a couple hours if the two of you need. You’re nearly consumed by shame when her offer for free childcare made you imagine lewd images of you with Sunghoon before any parental concerns. Sunghoon guarantees the two of you will call if you need anything.
Today is the first night of the local October night market. Sunghoon mentioned it nonchalantly after walking Miss Jasmine out. Its seems like a nice coincidence to you, but Sunghoon knew about it since he booked the place. Small vendors from all over the area set up tables offering niche good and services like airbrush tattoos and vegan mac and cheese. You, Sunghoon, and Ian trek there as a family immediately after dropping off your luggage.
Right now, you’re struggling to decide on getting your palm read by a white man with a controversial hairstyle wearing a colorful Baja hoodie while Ian tries to wander away. Sunghoon catches him out the corner of his eye and grabs him by his scarf. “Where are you off to, huh?” He yanks him closer and envelops him in a back hug.
Ian is four and tall for his age. He has one of those scratchy kid voices that make him sound more delinquent than he is. On the contrary, Ian is quite reserved. That’s why you call him your little mouse or mousey for short. He takes after his parents and is able to have a conversation through expressive eye contact just as efficiently, if not more than when he attempted to do so verbally. That’s probably why his first words came so late, he didn’t need them.
Ian peeks up at his dad with a raised eyebrow and points at the fried ice cream cart a couple stands over.
Sunghoon fights a smile, turning his attention towards you, “Babe.”
You avert you attention from the fortune teller’s brochure of services and spin on your heels to face your boys with you head tilted curiously.
Sunghoon nods over his shoulder at the fried ice cream cart.
You looks between Ian and Sunghoon with a growing downturn smile. “Did you ask?”
Ian looks away bashfully, “Can we have some ice cream, please?”
“We?” You arch a brow and crouch down to Ian’s level.
He nods, “You love ice cream mommy.”
You let out an amused laugh, “I do, but isn’t it a little cold for ice cream?”
Ian cringes like you’d said something genuinely offensive, shaking his head after regaining some composure.
“Its never too cold for ice cream,” Sunghoon chimes in.
His son glances up and nods. He fidgets with the fuzzy scarf around his neck pleading, “Its not even cold.”
Oh. Him and Sunghoon took after each other in that way because you’re definitely a little chilly. You loosen his scarf, mulling over an answer. “We can go in a second. Mommy is going to buy something from this table first, okay mousey?”
Ian sighs like a person much older than he is and nods.
You stand to your full height and exchange a look with Sunghoon. He purses his lips, glancing down at Ian sympathetically then back up at you. You squint your eyes at him knowing he’s challenging your decision. The two of you stare each other down, communicating wordlessly all while Sunghoon still holds Ian in his grasp. He starts it, it goes like:
You said I’m supposed to take care of him this weekend.
Well, I’m his mom.
But we’ve been standing at this table for ten minutes.
Its barely been seven.
You don’t even know what you’re buying yet.
You cave first.
Sunghoon taps Ian and points at a sign in front of the fried ice cream cart. “What number does that sign say?”
Ian cranes his neck up to look at his dad and points at the sign as a way to confirm they were talking about the same sign.
Sunghoon nods.
“I see a five,” Ian says un certainly, oblivious to his father’s intent.
Sunghoon lets go of Ian and fishes in his pocket to retrieve his wallet. He pulls out a five dollar bill and wags it in front of Ian teasingly. “Go see if that’s how much how much it costs.”
Your son’s face lights up. He’s already taking a step away from the two of you when he asks, “Then, can I get some?”
“You might be able to get some today and tomorrow if that’s the price,” Sunghoon nods.
Ian runs towards the cart before you can give Sunghoon a sideways glance. “I thought you wanted him to stay home.”
He stride closer to you and places his hands on either sides of your waist. “Well, if he’s here he might as well have some fun,” he shrugs.
Your face softens. You’re too endeared to be bothered.
“And by fun I mean sugar because we are not doing crap all weekend,” he cringes.
You swat at his chest. He pulls you in and kisses the top of your head. You close your eyes and relax into him for a few meekly seconds before anxiety pries your eyes open, forcing you to check for Ian at the neighboring cart. You don’t see him.
You push Sunghoon off you as your face hardens all over again, the deep crease between your eyebrows reappearing.
Sunghoon looks down at you confused.
“Where’s Ian?”
Sunghoon’s posture stiffens.
“Here, Mommy.”
You look down and notice Ian standing in front of you and his father with a cup of what looks like a ball of fried pancake batter in his hand. He looks between the two of you with a perplexed frown. He taps his dad and extends one of his hands with the five dollar bill he was previously gifted. “They said it was five dollars, but I was cute so the lady gave it to me for free. I told her we’ll be back tomorrow.”
Sunghoon stares down at the bill. Ian shakes it like he’s running out of patience. Sunghoon grabs it and returns it to its place in his wallet.
You watch Ian like he was a ghost, eyes glossed over and quivering. Sunghoon noticed. He was watching you like a hawk. Although you never told him what what happens in your nightmares specifically, it was moments like this when he could guess. But he didn’t push.
Ian looks between the two of you slightly disturbed and annoyed by the awkwardness that has overcome the group. He sighs and scoops up the first bite of ice cream offering it to you with a nod. You bend down generously and eat it off the spoon. There’s a scoop of vanilla ice cream inside the chewy fried dough. You hum at the taste and stimulating texture. “Wow,” you give your son an exaggerated and jovial thumbs up trying to lighten the mood.
He smiles and faces his father, “You want?”
Sunghoon shakes his head, “You first.”
Ian nods and takes a big bite of his own, struggling to break the batter evenly. He immediately starts doing a little dance with his eyes still closed from the immersive bite he’d just served himself. You giggle at Ian’s tiny dance. Sunghoon mocks him with a goofy expression and rustles his hair. “Lets get some dinner to go with that dessert.” He reaches for your hand and nudges for Ian to walk ahead of the two of you towards the line food trucks in the distance.
pairing: Niki x fem reader | small town au | total wc: ~18.2K
synopsis: The moment you and Niki have your first argument at a cutesy frozen yogurt shop out of town and everything that follows.
themes: different character POVs, angst, unlabeled/non monogamous relationship, time jumps, underage drinking, weed, Niki a year younger than reader, high school, college, poor communication, shorter reader, fluff, etc (listed in each part)
ft: Maki (&team), Taki (&team), Soul (p1h), Jo (&team), Jake (enha), Jay (enha), Heesueng (enha), Sunoo (enha), Sunghoon (enha), Jungwon (enha), Kazuha (le sserafim)
status: complete!
Part 1 (3:55 PM) wc: ~4K
Part 2 (7:57 PM) wc: ~5.9K
Part 3 (9:23 PM) wc: ~6.1K
Epilogue (5:09 PM) wc: ~2.2K
last updated: Dec 28, 2025
a/n: thanks for stopping by & big big thank you to everyone giving this love
npt: @saintsqueensbutchers, @mycovenclaudia, @croweden, @feralnataroni, @puppysepulchre, @rippedpatches, @tiredandsapphic and to everyone else who wants to join!!
"Character" just being Anok Yai? 😭 To be fair, I am obsessed. Everything pretty much checks out ✮⋆˙ Thanks for the tag Starri!
tagging the chef @kpapidontknowme @anyone-else... lmao I don't interact with a ton of ppl on here, so if you see this you're formally invited to join 🫡
very accurate :) ngl i’m eating up how some of the same things are popping up for several of us. shout out communal experiences
ty @rrradduh for the tag!! passing on to @mweoga @aloveminsalade (hope you don’t mind the tag again lol) @liuvisions @kongjjen (because i sent you an ask once & you were so sweet)
it comes from my 5th grade music group that happened during the first year of Covid when we were stuck at home hence the Home part, then glitch is because computers glitch. Once I left I took the name with me
Also sorry if you get tagged multiple times moots, we share them
I originally made my username as a joke for a fanfic I was writing, and just combined three of my favorite things: poetry, potatoes, and the color purple! 💜
Some moots! (No pressure!): @queenofhalloween94 ; @dream-land-gurl ; @lov3rachan ; @justwonder113 ; @mlsohee ; @dea-nimus
i had this fascination over the name kim kisun. and then i thought of usernames. and then came 'to kim to the ki to the sun' but obviously it was too long and i cut pieces from here and there.
my orignal username on tumblr when i first started writing was hyperdramas...and i don't remember where it even came from 😭 easy answer would be to say its inspired by the album that a song i was obsessed w last year (neverender by tame impala & justice) came from (the album itself being named hyperdrama) BUT i've used the same handle for almost 2 years now so...that doesn't make much sense to me 😭
seokminfilm came about because of seokmin and his love for cameras. i combined seokmin's name and the word "film", and therefore seokminfilm was born!
tagging my favorites! @hanniescookie @1009high @chwerio @callisrecords @himewonu @realmofclouds @kwnnies and anyone else who wants to chime in!
my first user (macapunoz) comes from the word macapuno which is something relating to coconut (but in my head i took it from coconut jelly or paste on those jars…)
then i wanted to make my user more related to svt and something else i love ! the word hime comes from a j-fashion style i always do everyday called himekaji (meaning casual princess) (or in tiktok terms 😭 “shoujo girl” style) so himewonu means princess wonwoo (◡‿◡✿)
tagging ! @ihankaji @riumori @starshuas @wooahoe @coriihanniee @beomniiz + anyone else who wants to join (>‿◠)
I can't exactly remember my first username bcs I only used this app to read so I didn't bother paying any attention to the aesthetics of my account before 😭 I started writing a few weeks after attending the seventeen concert in my country where I had major pcd and changed my user to cinnashuas (combination of cinnamoroll, my fav sanrio character, and Joshua, my svt bias, plus carats say Joshua resembles cinnamoroll a lot !!)
I changed my username to my current one (coriihanniee) in the middle of my first bnd smau bcs I was certain I would most likely use my account to mainly write for boynextdoor since they're my ults, coriihanniee is just a combi of leehan's fav fish (corydoras) and his own little nickname (ihan) !!
tagging - @ring4hiy @prodkwh @kjwluvr @lovehakie @taestulipss @pupillary + anyone else who wants to join! 💕
i actually only started using tumblr in july and i had seen so many amazing writers and wanted to write too since i had been a onedoor since debut and my bias is woonhak so love + (woon)hakie!!
pretty simple name actually...
tagging: @starriniqhts, @nanaluvsyouu, @ilysungho (i fear its too obvious...), @altersin, @ring4hiy + anyone that wants to join!! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
The first fic I ever wrote on here was a leehan fic and I was REALLY getting to them and tried to find names associated with Leehan so I thought of stars and starry + ihan (how his name is pronounced in Korean) = starrihan :)
Lol soo… Does anyone know the 2000s cartoon called Chowder? The character Schnitzel (the tall grey chef thing) only says the phrase “radda.” It was the first thing that came to mind, but I made the spelling cute 😭 Not Kpop related at all, just me being impulsive :P
Thanks for the tag!
Tagging: @kpapidontknowme @guppiechuu @jongst4rs + anyone else who wants to join in
my user name is silly. me & my friends used to call kpop guys k-papis (kpop combined with papi) so my username basically means “kpop dudes don’t know me” which is a lie because yechan must remember me deep down in his heart
