Chapter Text
“This is nice,” you murmured, nuzzling your face on your husband’s shoulder.
He peered down at you through his circular frames, smiling softly. “It is,” he agreed. “We should do this more often.”
The two of you were snuggled up under a crocheted blanket in your basement, watching a movie on the big screen with candles lit around the room in your combined attempt to be romantic. It wasn’t everyday that you had a moment to yourselves, especially since both of you had jobs that required lots of attention. Today was the first night in god knows how long that you were able to sit back, relax, and enjoy each other’s company. 20th Century Girl was playing on the screen, but you were half-watching, half talking to each other about everything and nothing all at once. Your wine glasses had been filled halfway at the start of the movie, but now, more than halfway through, there was nothing but a sip left in each. Your love of wine had only sparked after being with him, so whenever you were able to spend one-on-one time with each other, you’d bring out the expensive bottles your friends and family gifted you at house parties or anniversaries.
“We really should, babe,” you turned your gaze onto him, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I miss you.”
He chuckled, pulling you closer into his side and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I see you everyday.”
“It’s not the same,” you insisted. “This is different. It feels like the old days.”
“Don’t say that—it makes me feel old.”
You giggled, tucking your face into his neck. He always smelled like old wood and clementines—your favourite. “Well, that’ll make me ancient, since I am older than you,” you said as an afterthought.
“Only by a year,” he clucked his tongue; you brought it up more often than you ought, but he never once cared that you were older, even when you were first introduced to each other.
“ Still .”
While you didn’t care about your age difference either, lots of other people did. For instance, your mother. God bless her, but she’d been a bit more than alarmed when you told her about your husband—who had been your then-boyfriend for nearly a year. She’d said that younger men were immature and only wanted to be with older women so they could be taken care of. That wasn’t the case with your husband. He had taken care of you . The two of you were introduced through mutual friends in university; you were a senior, and he a junior. You had just gone through a terrible breakup and he was there to pick up the pieces. It was unexpected to say the least; you hadn’t even seen him in a romantic light until your graduation day, where he showed up with a bouquet of flowers and his shy and beautiful smile. You had realized, on the spot, that you had developed feelings for him all along.
And the rest is history.
“I love you, Jisung,” you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his neck and feeling more than satisfied to hear his breath catch in his throat.
“And I love you, my angel,” he replied, shifting slightly in his seat.
You chuckled, knowing how to get him going after being together for so long. You pressed another kiss to his neck and gasped when his cold hands slithered under your shirt and touched your skin. He turned his body towards yours, looking down at you with flushed cheeks and lust in his eyes. He had always been so shy to initiate anything more than a meager make-out session, and you found yourself falling deeper—if that was even possible. You pulled his face down to attach your lips to his, causing him to sigh into the soft kiss you shared. His hands ran up and down your sides, while yours ran through his hair—a habit you developed after you’d started dating. Apart from his smile and signature scent, the one other physical thing you loved about him was his fluffy hair. You could play with it for hours on end.
Once Jisung got going, you could never stop him. It had been a bit more than surprising when you’d first taken that next step, but you loved it. While you were always the first to initiate, he was the one to follow through. Despite not wanting to have sex on your sofa in the basement, you felt a certain urge—more like a fire in your lower belly—that swept away all worries of how uncomfortable it may be. After all, it was Jisung. He was probably the only person who could make you feel safe.
With him pressing hot kisses to the base of your neck, and you gasping at the intoxicating feeling, you were more than ready for what was to come next. You could feel your heart thumping in your chest, as well as a similar feeling in between your legs, but before he could even take your shirt off, a loud slam from above caused you both to startle.
Jisung’s lips were red, and he was panting from the need of having you as he asked, “What was that?”
You shook your head, eyes focused on his lips. “Maybe the cat.”
It couldn’t be your cat, especially when you heard multiple footsteps and voices—even above the movie that was now long forgotten and playing in the background.
“Are you kidding me…?” you groaned, leaning up on your elbows as your eyebrows knit together in frustration.
Jisung pushed himself off of you, using his index finger to slide his glasses up his nose as he shook his head. “I thought they were staying with Shotaro and Renjun overnight?”
You huffed. “So did I.”
He looked at you, a curious expression replacing the one of lust from moments ago. “Are you upset they’re home?”
Your face softened slightly, sitting up properly. “I mean…a little. Aren’t you?”
“Well, maybe,” he said, before suddenly flushing, “They did just stop me from having you, so yeah.”
You smirked at him. “You know you can have me anytime you want, right?”
He flushed harder. “Yeah, I know. It’s just awkward when they’re sleeping down the hall.”
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps came tumbling down the basement stairs and someone threw themselves at you and Jisung like it was second nature. (It was.)
“Mommy, Daddy!” Dayeon cried, causing you to wave away all horny thoughts to attend to your youngest daughter’s needs.
“What happened, honey?”
“Are you okay, Princess?”
She sat on Jisung’s lap, circling her arms around his neck with tears trickling down her cheeks. “I-I couldn’t find you.”
You and Jisung shared a concerned look.
“What do you mean?” you asked.
“I looked…I looked upstairs, but you weren’t there,” she croaked, hiding her face in Jisung’s chest. “We watched a—a sad movie. The parents died. I thought…I thought something h-happened to you guys.”
You let out a sympathetic sigh, scooting closer so you could hug both her and your husband. “Oh, Dayeonie…”
“Nothing will happen to us, Princess,” Jisung soothed, rubbing her back. “We’ll always be here.”
“You won’t be able to get rid of us,” you said, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
“I-I hope not,” Dayeon sniffled, turning her head to look at you. “I love you too much.”
You felt your heart clench in your chest. She was too sweet for her own good. You wanted to hold onto her innocence and capacity for love for as long as you could. If she turned out to be like her older sister, then you only had three years left of hugs and snuggles and endless kisses. Dayeon was different, though. She had been different from her sister from the start. She was more like her brother—more like Jisung. They were quiet, attentive, and caring. Your eldest was a carbon copy of you, no matter how much you hated to admit it. She was defiant, bratty, and selfish—much like how you used to be at her age. You dreaded having to go upstairs to face her, especially after a night with her two favourite uncles was cut short.
“We love you, too, sweetheart,” you murmured, wiping Dayeon’s tears from her cheeks.
“More than you’ll ever know,” Jisung softly spoke, caressing her hair.
Dayeon’s bottom lip quivered, but no tears escaped her eyes. She looked more relieved than anything, removing one arm from Jisung’s shoulder to swing it around yours. She pulled you close and squished her soft nearly-nine-year-old cheek against yours—a habit that you absolutely loved and knew would cease to exist in just a few years. You closed your eyes, relishing in the feeling of being loved—and wanted—by your child. Things were already moving too fast for you and it didn’t help that your work kept you away from the kids at times. You just wanted everything to stop—freeze in place. However, you also wanted to resume what you were doing with your beautiful husband.
Dayeon held Jisung’s hand as the three of you made your way up to the main floor of the house. You braced yourself for the sounds of complaints from your eldest, finding her easily; she was slumped over at one of the chairs at the kitchen table, a huge pout on her lips as she tapped away on her cellphone. It seemed like she was already preoccupied with the next big thing, but you could never be so sure with her.
Your son was fumbling through the fridge, which was not an unusual sight, as he was fourteen and seemingly always hungry. He was the most useful of your three children, which you knew was just a symptom of his Middle Child Syndrome. Your eldest seemed to brush all of her responsibility onto his plate, and yet you never heard him complain once.
“Okay, don’t be mad!” your best friend’s voice sounded from the hallway.
You turned your head and found him emerging from the bathroom, looking extremely guilty as he wiped his wet hands on the fabric of his sweatpants.
“Is there no towel in there?” is what you asked instead.
Shotaro Osaki looked puzzled; he was more than prepared to be scolded for bringing all three kids back on your and Jisung’s night-in. Maybe you were saving it for later. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d scolded him, especially when you’d been friends since high school.
“Uh, no, but that’s besides the point,” he replied, coming to a stop just where the kitchen began. He lifted his clasped hands, begging for your forgiveness. “Neither of you were answering your phones, and Dayeonie was really concerned about you. I didn’t know what else to do.”
Before you or Jisung could say anything, your eldest muttered, “You didn’t have to drag all of us back, Uncle Taro.”
“Dami...” You sighed, not wanting to get angry but still not loving her attitude. She seemed to be getting worse everyday. It was infuriating, to say the least.
“She’s right,” Shotaro cut in before you started an argument with her. “Renjun told me to just take Dayeon, but I didn’t listen. She wanted Dami and Doha to come along, too.”
You looked over at your youngest and smiled softly when you saw the embarrassed flush on her cheeks.
“Sorry,” she squeaked, still holding onto Jisung’s hand.
“The movie was sad,” Doha reassured her with a soft smile.
“It was Frozen ,” Dami scoffed, putting her phone down on the table with an annoyed thud . She looked at Dayeon and rolled her eyes. “You need to grow up.”
Anger bubbled in your chest, but Jisung was quick to intervene. “Hey, don’t talk to your sister like that,” he said with a furrow of his brow. “Her feelings are valid, alright?”
Dami scowled. “Fine. Can we go back to Uncle Taro’s now?”
“I want to stay home,” Dayeon mumbled, sending a semi-apologetic look toward Shotaro, who only gave her a gentle smile in return.
“I meant me and Doha,” She corrected.
“Why are you so mean to Dayeon?” you asked with a slight frown. “She’s your little sister.”
“Yeah, I know . You remind me, like, a thousand times a day, Mom,” she huffed.
Your face hardened. “Just for that, you’re staying home.”
Jisung’s mouth parted in surprise, but he was unable to say anything due to the obnoxious gasp Dami let out. “Are you serious ?!” she screeched. “I didn’t even say anything!”
“I’ve had more than enough with your tone, Dami,” you told her firmly, unbothered by the fact that Shotaro was witnessing this very embarrassing moment on Dami’s behalf. It didn’t help that he had seen plenty before. “Just because you don’t like me doesn’t mean you can speak to me like that.”
“Y/N, come on—” Jisung sighed, but Dami just bulldozed right over him, standing up from her chair and snapping, “Well, forgive me for having the most nagging mother ever!”
You were glad that there was some distance between you and Dami, otherwise you would’ve smacked her across the face. You tried your best to remain calm, balling your hands into fists and breathing heavily through your nose, but it was no use. She knew exactly how to push your buttons, and this—showing no respect—was exactly it. There had been a time where she would be so excited to see you, whether it be after a long day at school, or after a night at her grandparents’ house, running to you with the brightest smile on her face. You always lifted her into the air just to hear her thrilled screams and giggles, but now…
Now, she looked at you with disdain and contempt. You were her number one nemesis, and you had no idea why. It had just happened overnight. One day you had been so close, snuggling with each other and laughing as you swiped each other’s noses with whipped cream, and the next mortal enemies. When she was in a good mood, you walked on eggshells around her, using a light voice as you tried not to ask too many questions about how her day was or what she was up to. It was horrible. You just hoped this hating-mom-phase would blow over soon. It was getting old, and quick.
“Dami Park.” Jisung said firmly, causing Doha to close the fridge door to watch in curiosity. It was common knowledge that the discipliner in the house was you; Jisung was too soft, especially on his girls. “We’ve had a talk about this before. You absolutely cannot behave like this. If you wanted to go back to Uncle Taro’s house, you should’ve thought about the consequences of speaking to your mother like that. Why would we let you go when you’re being nothing but disrespectful?”
She looked stunned, almost as if she couldn’t believe her father wasn’t taking her side like he usually did. Sure, there had been a number of times where he had no choice but to agree with you, but he almost always defended Dami’s behaviour. He reasoned that this was just a phase—that teenagers rebelled in different ways, and treating you like shit just so happened to be Dami’s—but not today. Today, he sided with you. You didn’t know if it was because he actually agreed with you, or if your almost sex-capade was still on his mind, but, nonetheless, you were grateful.
Dami shook her head, coming to her senses again, and glared at Jisung—betrayal written all over her face. “God! Everyone in the house sucks !” she declared, before stomping her way upstairs like an irrational toddler.
You let out a sigh, hearing her loud footsteps recede to her bedroom, before the slam of her bedroom door echoed throughout the house.
“Nice going, Taro,” you said, looking at your best friend with a pointed look.
Guilt returned to his face and you instantly felt bad for pinning the blame on him. Dami’s behaviour was not his fault in the slightest; in fact, as one of her godfathers, he was the one person who could actually put her in a good mood. It was the fact that he brought her home that caused her to return to her charming self.
“Sorry, Y/N-ie,” Shotaro said, shoving his hands into his pants’ pockets. “I should’ve listened to Renjun. He’s definitely going to hit me with the I-told-you-so line.”
Jisung chuckled. “I bet he’ll be so smug, too.”
“Oh, without a doubt,” he replied with a shake of his head. “But, I really am sorry for cutting your date night short. I’ll make it up to you.”
You waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Don’t worry about it, Taro. You do way too much as it is.”
He smiled softly, the guilt ebbing away from his face. “It’s only because I love you, your husband, and your beautiful kids.”
Doha snickered from where he now sat at the kitchen table, scooping into a bowl of what looked like cereal. “So cringe, Uncle Taro,” he told him.
“Oh, really?” Shotaro hummed in amusement. “I have more where that came from.”
“I’m sure you do,” Doha said with his mouth full, causing you to wrinkle your nose at him in slight disgust.
“I’ll save it for the next time I see you,” Shotaro said, lifting a hand and saluting everyone. “Goodnight, and I’m sorry again.”