Gyubakeries - Tiya

yo when is my guy coming back I MISS HIM

HAPPY SEUNGHAN DAY 🫧 October 2, 2003

your wip just called. hey man your wip just called. its asking where you've been man.

MAKES SM SENSE BCS perfect relationships are the most flawed bro like u cant tell me they dont fight and argue and everything is perfect ITS ABNORMAL

I think in the same way there's a 90/10 rule with horror and comedy (horror works best when it's 90% horror and 10% comedy and vice versa) there's a 90/10 rule for some relationships in fiction that's like. Wholesome and fucked up. A good friendship is at its most compelling when it's also 10% a bit fucked up. Fucked up relationship is at its most compelling when there's at least 10% of something actually sweet and substantive within. Do you get me

i was fr in the shower w him guys im not lying

MINGYU for L'Occitane

OT13 reaction to: their kid stealing an item from them.

a/n: was struck by random inspo while working on a request i got (i will be posting all requests IM SO SORRY FOR BEING SO LATE) but yeah!!! also credits to @sousydive for suggesting the bonus woozi reaction hahaha 💗 i also think i got a little carried away haha 😭 i hope you guys like it!

contents: seventeen x afab!reader , dad!seventeen , husband!seventeen , crack , fluff , woozi's pink underwear makes a guest appearance , seventeen and reader have kids , some members have a boy and some have a girl, some have both; i just chose at random , just a lot of cutesy vibes

seungcheol:

"babe, where's my rolex?" seungcheol calls out, and you hurriedly rush into the bedroom from the kitchen. "what do you mean where's your rolex? don't tell me you've misplaced it, choi seungcheol!" you hiss, panicked. the rolex was a gift to seungcheol from your parents after you got married, and besides the sentimental value, the price of it alone was enough to make anyone faint.

"i put it right where i put it every day!" seungcheol says defensively. "and i didn't wear it over the weekend either!"

just then, your toddler waddles into the room excitedly, giggling cutely. "mama, look! shiny!"

"baby, not now," you sigh, focused on figuring out where the watch could be.

"daddy! i'm like you now! look!" your child tries again, and seungcheol, always the weakest when it came to his kid, looked down, only to burst into laughter.

you look up at seungcheol, wondering what could be so funny when a rolex is missing. but a quick glance at your child has you rolling on the floor in laughter.

because there your adorable baby was, with a shiny rolex hanging off his wrist and a brighter smile etched on his face.

"do i look like daddy?" your son tilts his head, and you can only sigh in relief as seungcheol pulls your kid into a hug, carefully slipping the watch off his wrist.

"mama thinks you look even more handsome, baby," you tease.

"hey! not fair!" seungcheol pouts.

(your small family spends a morning filled with laughter, until seungcheol has to rush to work because he realizes he's already late to his meeting.)

jeonghan:

"shit! where is he?" jeonghan murmurs under his breath, crouching on the floor to duck under the bed.

"babe? what are you looking for?" you question, walking into your bedroom to find jeonghan crawling on all fours.

"ddoljjongie!" jeonghan sighs, exasperated. "i can't find him anywhere!"

"that's strange," you muse, eyebrows furrowed as you try to recollect where you'd last seen jeonghan's pet rock.

ddoljjongie wasn't just any boring rock, he was jeonghan's 'pet', one he adopted from your first date with him at the beach. the rock was quite precious, always tucked away safely on your dresser, or his study, but right now, it had just disappeared.

"dada! mom! look, i made new friends!" your daughter rushes into the room, practically vibrating with happiness.

temporarily giving up on his search for ddoljjong, jeonghan follows you and your daughter to the backyard.

your daughter leads you both to the couch on the patio, showing off a.... rock collection?

"ddoljjongie!" jeonghan exclaims. before he can get to his rock though, your daughter stops him.

"wait! jjong made new friends! this is momo, that's kkumie, and that's hulk!" your daughter says, the last rock being a pebble covered in green moss.

"don't take jjong away, dada," your daughter pouts. "he's having so much fun here!"

jeonghan gives in quickly, ruffling his baby girl's hair. "alright, ddoljjong can stay here. now come back inside, it's bedtime."

you smile at how cute your family is, and you're also surprised at how easily jeonghan parts with his pet rock.

(the surprise only lasts till when you see your husband sneak out, draw a face on another similar shaped rock, put it in ddoljjong's place, and then tip-toe back into the house after your daughter has fallen asleep.)

joshua:

"shua, you should play us something on your guitar!" seokmin suggests, and everyone cheers. all of joshua's 12 chaotic friends have gathered in your living room, along with their families, to celebrate mingyu and his wife's pregnancy.

joshua, ever the crowd-pleaser, gets up to fetch his guitar. you follow him to your bedroom, passing your son's bedroom on the way. seungkwan's daughter and wonwoo's twins are playing an intense game of charades, while your son is busy doing.... something.

before you can find out what he's doing, joshua's panicked whisper catches your attention.

"babe! where's my guitar pick?" he asks, and you're just as confused. joshua's guitar and all related equipment are always stored neatly in your bedroom. there's no reason for the guitar pick to go missing.

you enter your bedroom, looking in the drawers of your dresser to find the guitar pick, but in vain.

your search is cut short by the sound of loud cheers from the living room, and a soonyoung who looks close to tears appearing at your bedroom door.

"you guys have to see this."

soonyoung was known for his dramatic streak, but seeing the sight everyone was cooing at in your living room made you tear up a little bit too.

joshua seems equally affected, if the arm wrapped around your shoulders and the love-filled gaze directed at you is anything to go by.

there's your little boy, sitting in the center of all his uncles and aunts, clutching his toy guitar and joshua's guitar pick. he's strumming the strings to mimic the playing of the instrument. although the strings don't make a musical sound, your son's voice singing 'sunday morning' by maroon 5 is enough to make you shed some tears.

everyone watches him with a smile on their faces, and you feel your chest swell with pride as your son looks like the splitting image of joshua, his eyes and lips curved into the exact identical smile of your husband.

(later, minghao and seungcheol send you videos of your son's performance from various angles, and jihoon leaves the house with a promise of signing your son under his record label one day. you can only feel grateful and happy seeing joshua play 'sunday morning' on his real guitar as your son sings along with him.)

junhui:

"y/n? could you get my lemon gummies along with the popcorn?" junhui requests. it's a movie date night for the two of you, and your twins (one boy and one girl) are asleep in their bedroom.

"god, you and your love for sour things," you sigh, feigning annoyance. when you first met junhui at a frat party in college, you were weirdly drawn in by the fact that he could eat an entire lemon without, like, dying from how sour it is.

"you love it," he winks playfully, making you laugh as you retreat to the kitchen to make popcorn. once the packet is in the microwave, you open the pantry to find the lemon gummies junhui loves to snack on.

from his last visit to his hometown, he had brought back at least five packets, three of which had been finished over the span of a year.

but where were the remaining two?

"babe? did you finish all the gummies?" you call out, moving around the various snacks and items in your pantry, looking for the gummies.

junhui is quick to come in the kitchen. "i remember there were a couple of packets left..." he mumbles, helping you look for the snack.

as if on cue, a loud scream rings out, followed by giggles. you and your husband share a quick glance before rushing up the stairs to your kids' bedroom.

you're bursting into the room, heart beating rapidly at the thought of your children getting hurt, but the sight that greets you calms you down instantly.

your adorable kids are seated on the floor, your daughter giggling loudly, and your son's face scrunched up in disgust. between them lies the missing packets of lemon gummies.

"baba! look, we ate gummy but he spit it!" your daughter chirps, babbling excitedly, while your son is vigorously wiping at his tongue, trying to get the sour flavor off his tongue.

"our daughter is just like you," you tease junhui, and he can only smile. he joins the kids on the floor, and you pass him a glass of water for your son.

"babies, i told you not to touch the lemon gummies," jun says, gentle yet firm. "they're too sour for you."

"not for me! i like sour!" your daughter pipes up, but your son, after finishing the water, scowls.

"it's too sour, baba," he pouts. "tastes yucky."

"you're just a scaredy-cat," your daughter teases your son, sticking her tongue out at him.

junhui turns back to meet your gaze, giving you a smile so sweet and loving that it makes you melt.

(you, junhui, and your kids spend the rest of the night, cuddled up on your twins' too-small-for-4-people bed, eating caramel popcorn and strawberry candy. your life has never been sweeter.)

soonyoung:

a loud shriek wakes you up abruptly. you were dozing off on the couch on a lazy, sunday afternoon, hoping to catch up on some much needed sleep after staying up with your daughter the entire night to help her finish a project.

but judging from how horrified your husband sounds, you realize that there really isn't much scope to catch a break in a household with two, hyper-active kwons.

"love? what's up?" you ask, walking into your bedroom. you see soonyoung clutching his hair in despair, standing in the middle of your bedroom. what was once a neatly arranged room now looks like a hurricane named 'kwon soonyoung' just rampaged through it.

"tamtam."

"what about tamtam?" you ask.

"he's gone. tamtam is missing." soonyoung whispers frantically, looking like he's about to absolutely lose his shit any moment now.

"he'll be around here somewhere," you try to placate him. "when did you last see him?"

"i know i brought him to the living room with me before we started on the family tree..." soonyoung mumbles, referring to the previous night, when you both stayed up with your daughter.

"let's go look there," you suggest, and soonyoung follows you, biting his lips in worry.

you look on the sofa, under the sofa, behind the sofa, even between the sofa cushions, but your search has been pointless.

until....

"wait, what's floopy doing here?" soonyoung asks, holding up your daughter's bunny plushie. if her father had an attachment to his tiger plushie, your daughter was impossibly glued to her bunny, floopy. it was extremely difficult to get her to do anything without floopy by her side, especially sleeping.

but if floopy was here, how was your daughter asleep upstairs?

soonyoung and you make your way to your daughter's bedroom, opening the door softly so as to not wake her up.

you tiptoe into the room first, smiling at how peaceful your daughter looked while she was sleeping. you peel back the blanket covering her gently, and sure enough, tamtam, soonyoung's beloved plushie, was cuddled up next to her, some of her drool dripping down to tamtam's poor face.

"too bad, soons. looks like she's taken over tamtam now," you whisper, only joking, but the look of pure sadness in soonyoung's eyes makes you laugh out loud, which in turn wakes your daughter up.

"daddy! look, tammie slept here today! we had the bestest sleepover," your daughter grins, ever the happy pill, just like her father.

"and you left floopy all alone in the living room," soonyoung pouts. "she's all upset and said she wouldn't talk to you, because you took tamtam with you."

your daughter's eyes widen immediately, and she's springing out of bed, chucking the tiger plushie in soonyoung's general direction and running over to the living room to reconcile with her precious floopy.

("you're a menace, soonyoung," you sigh. you had just managed to calm your daughter down after she began wailing because floopy wouldn't talk to her. soonyoung talking to her in a high-pitched voice, pretending to be the bunny plushie had managed to console your daughter.

"at least i provided a solution!" soonyoung says defensively, and you can only kiss his cheek because of how endearing he is.)

wonwoo:

"babe! breakfast is ready!" you call out, dishing out the last of the pancakes on a plate. you then open the fridge to grab the maple syrup, when you hear a loud crash in your bedroom.

"shit, wonwoo, are you okay?" you gasp, entering the bedroom to see wonwoo sitting on the floor, rubbing at his forehead, which had a red patch forming on it.

"can't see," he groans. "my glasses aren't here."

you rush to help him up and guide him to sit on the bed. you press your cold hands to his forehead, hoping to relieve some of the sting from the collision he had with the cupboard.

"that's strange," you mutter. "you always leave them on the bedside table. did you leave it in your study last night?"

"nope," he shakes his head. "i'm not that forgetful."

"i'll go check to be sure," you offer. "sit here, don't move. if you crash into my dresser and break the vase, you're a dead man, jeon wonwoo."

"okay okay," wonwoo nods. "please go check, i feel like my vision has been taken away from me."

you laugh at how helpless and silly your husband looks, sitting on the bed with a pout, his hair messy, and his forehead red.

"you're such an old, blind man," you tease.

"don't make me want to chase you around the house, y/n," wonwoo threatens playfully.

"you can't even see me, baby," you retort, and before wonwoo can reply, you're going off to the study to find his glasses.

just as you enter the study, you hear a loud crash coming from your son's room. you quickly hurry there, and it seems like your husband heard the crash too, because he's walking to the room with his hands held out in front of him to avoid any more accidents.

you open the door to find your son sitting in the same position you found wonwoo in not too long ago, rubbing at his forehead.

and, wait, is that wonwoo's glasses he's wearing?

"oh baby, what happened?" you coo, kneeling to the ground to gently pry the too big glasses slipping off your son's nose and handing it back to wonwoo.

"was wearing daddy's glasses to look like him, but i couldn't see anything, so i bumped into my cupboard," your son whines, and you can't believe you have two clumsy boys living in your house.

"you're just like your daddy, aren't you?" you laugh, and wonwoo chuckles as well. you sit down on the floor, pulling your son into your lap to fuss over him and make sure he's not seriously injured, and wonwoo joins you too.

"does anything else hurt, baby?" you ask, and your son shakes his head. "just have a boo-boo here, mommy," he says, pointing at his forehead.

you lean in to press a loud smooch to your son's forehead, pulling away to grin at him. "now your boo-boo will go away!"

"and what about my boo-boo?" wonwoo interrupts, and you can't help but laugh at how serious he looks.

"come here, you big baby."

(the rest of the morning is spent in both your boys arguing over who needs more cuddles from you. the stack of pancakes grow cold in the kitchen.)

jihoon:

"welcome hom- woah, what's got you in a rush?" you ask when your husband whizzes past you just as he returns home from work. you see him disappear into his studio, so you know he has a 'musical emergency.'

back from your dating days in college, jihoon had always been interested in producing music. although he didn't make a career out of it, he'd still write and compose songs in his free time.

at this point, you've lost track of how many songs jihoon has dedicated to you and your precious daughter. his family was his biggest inspiration, and you could really feel the genuine love and care he had for the most important girls in his life from his songs.

but today, there was something off about his production process.

"y/n, have you seen my headphones?" he asks you when you enter the studio.

"i swear i haven't touched them!" you raise your arms in surrender, reminded of how you had accidentally knocked a glass of water onto jihoon's headphones a few years back. ever since that day, you've made sure not to touch his music equipment, because you knew how precious they were to him.

"shit...." he mumbles worriedly. it wasn't like him to misplace his belongings, and no one really went into his studio if he hadn't invited or allowed them to.

just then, your daughter waddles into the room, a proud grin etched on her face.

"papa! i made you a song!"

jihoon, momentarily forgetting about his lost headphones to switch into girl-dad mode.

"can we hear it baby?" you ask encouragingly, and your daughter just gestures for you both to follow her.

jihoon and you trail behind your daughter, entering her bedroom to find an amusing sight. the mini pink, barbie piano and microphone set you bought for her was set up with a torch laying on the floor, which probably meant to imitate a spotlight.

on the bed was a toy laptop one of her friends had gifted her, and jihoon's headphones.

"used papa's special earmuffs to make a song!" your daughter claps, and all the tension in jihoon's body melts away in an instant. "mom, will you hold the spotlight please?"

you nod, silently gesturing at jihoon to record your daughter's performance. once her stage is set, she sits at the mini piano, positions the microphone near her mouth and starts playing her song.

it was endearing to see her look as serious as her father when he would play and sing his songs for you. the lyrics were mostly random sentences about unicorns and ice-cream, and the keys of the piano played discordant notes, but you'd never heard a more beautiful thing in your life before this.

(your daughter gets bored of performing after repeating 'twinkle twinkle little star' 5 times, so she runs away to watch cartoons, and jihoon finally stops recording. neither of you point out the happy tears that must've spilled out sometime during your daughter's rendition of 'old mcdonald had a farm' with extra animals like hippos and zebras. you can only wish the melody of your life remains this beautiful forever.)

(bonus, inspired by sousy. jihoon has a son in this:)

"y/n, has jihoon ever told you about his pink underwear?" mingyu giggles, like the menace he is.

"mingyu, have you told your wife about that horrendous bowl cut you had in high school? i have pictures i can show her right now." jihoon glares at his friend.

"pink underwear?" you laugh, amused. "i'm yet to hear about it."

"god, y/n, don't listen to him," jihoon groans, but the sound is drowned out by seokmin and soonyoung's ridiculously loud cackling. they point in the direction behind you, so you and jihoon turn around to see what they're laughing at.

sure enough, it's your son, running around the house like a madman with his father's infamous pink underwear atop his head.

"what?" jihoon gasps. he clearly remembers placing the underwear at the very back of his closet so no one would see it. how on earth did his son find it?

the answer comes in the form of a mischievously smirking jeonghan and joshua who emerge from your bedroom a few seconds later, fist-bumping each other.

yeah, jihoon has a bad headache now.

seokmin:

"lovie, have you seen my dodgers jersey?" seokmin asks, popping his head into the bathroom, where you were currently finishing up your skincare routine.

"it should be in your closet," you reply, applying sunscreen on your face.

"but it isn't," seokmin pouts, and that alarms you.

seokmin's doders jersey is one of his most prized possessions. he's even joked about being buried with it when he dies so he can continue being a fan in the afterlife. (you don't really encourage those jokes.)

if it isn't in his closet, where else would it be?

"i'll help you look for it," you offer, and the both of you nearly empty out your entire wardrobe to find the jersey, but it was nowhere to be seen.

"it's okay, we're getting late," seokmin smiles. "the guys will kill us if we're late. i'll just wear something else."

and with that, seokmin changes into another outfit, and you wonder how he's always so easy-going. if you weren't able to find your favorite shirt, you'd sulk about it till the time you found it.

the jersey is forgotten a while later. you busy yourself with packing a baby bag for your toddler, and seokmin had rushed to the convenience store when he realized that they hadn't bought any ice-cream.

you're grabbing some extra clothes for your daughter, when you realize that the house has been awfully quiet.

where's your daughter?

you call out her name, but there isn't any response that follows, and it gets you worried.

you look around the house just to be sure your daughter isn't playing hide-and-seek with you again. (she hid from you the entire day once. anything was possible.)

finally, you think of going out to the backyard to check if your daughter was there, and surprisingly, you're met with a crying seokmin.

"wha- when did you let yourself in? why are you crying, lovie?" you ask, and he sniffles.

"i forgot the keys, and i thought you'd be busy, so i let myself in through the back door, and then, i saw...."

his voice trails off, and he gestures behind him. your daughter is clad in his precious dodgers jersey, and the previously white material is stained with mud and dirt from rolling around on the floor.

"oh my god, seok," you gasp, thinking your husband was crying because his jersey was ruined, but you're even more surprised when he stops you from going over to your daughter to take the jersey away.

"i'm not sad," he explains, and you wipe his tears away. "i'm just- i'm just really happy. i asked her why she was wearing the jersey, and she said-"

"if daddy likes, then i like!" your daughter's cheery voice cuts in.

"you wore the jersey because daddy likes it?" you ask, endeared by your daughter's antics.

"mhm! daddy loves the jersey, and daddy loves me, so i wore it to make him extra happy and smiley!" your daughter grins, her eyes crinkling just like her father's, and you hear seokmin cry even louder.

"baby, i got so scared when i saw you crying," you whine, playfully hitting his arm, but then pulling him in for a hug anyways.

"i'm sorry, i couldn't contain the tears," seokmin chuckles wetly. the moment is interrupted by a phone call from seungcheol, who says that if your family doesn't arrive in the next 30 minutes, all the food was going to be finished.

(on the drive to the picnic, you tap seokmin's shoulder to catch his attention. "thank you, for teaching our daughter how to love. she's this way because she learned from the best."

seokmin can only smile back at you, and none of you talk about how tears well up in his eyes again.)

mingyu:

it was a friday evening, and mingyu decided that his tried-and-tested, well-loved kimchi jjigae would be the perfect dinner. he grabs the ingredients and utensils and gets to work right away.

while you were finishing up some work, you were greeted by the comforting aroma of mingyu's cooking. unable to help yourself, you quickly go over to the kitchen, and your heart is filled with warmth at the sight of mingyu, tall mingyu, hunched over the too-low stove, making dinner for your family of three.

"what's cookin', good-lookin'?" you say, sneaking up behind mingyu, effectively startling your husband, who jumps up in the air with a squeal.

"shit, baby, you gave me a heart-attack," mingyu whines, pretending to be upset but still leaning down to kiss you sweetly.

"and a stained white t-shirt," you giggle, and mingyu stares at the white tank top he was wearing, with a large stain forming on it. the stew must have spilled on him when he got startled, and the thought of having to remove the stain made him groan.

"wait, where's my apron?" he questions. being a clumsy person by nature, mingyu has perfected some fool-proof techniques for himself so that he can reduce the number of disasters he creates on a daily basis. one of these techniques was to always wear an apron while cooking so that nothing splatter onto his clothes.

"isn't it here?" you ask, walking over to a cabinet where his apron is usually kept, but the spot was empty.

"that's strange," mingyu mumbles. "maybe i put it in the laundry accidentally. i'll check later."

none of you notice the blue-checkered apron stashed in a corner of your son's bedroom later that night, when you tuck him into bed.

a week goes by, and both mingyu and you forget about the missing apron, till mingyu is spilling marinara sauce on his favorite sweater.

"we'll just buy a new one," mingyu sighs when another extensive search of the kitchen had still not helped you find a new apron.

being workaholics, and chronically bad at remembering things, mingyu and you somehow forgot to buy a new apron. in fact, the thought doesn't strike him till the next week, when everyone was gathered in seungcheol's backyard for a barbecue party.

"shit, i don't have an apron," mingyu groans, having realized the lack of an apron just as he was about to start grilling the meat.

before seungcheol can give mingyu a spare, your son is rushing towards you, mingyu's missing apron tied around his waist, and the ends clutched in his tiny fists to avoid tripping on the too-long fabric for his too-small body.

"dada! i'm cooking today!"

your boy even grabs one of the kiddie plastic forks and spoons, standing next to mingyu at the grill, the apron hanging off his tiny frame, and a makeshift chef hat (a plastic bag) atop his head.

"okay, you can be my sous-chef," mingyu grins, looking at your son with love and affection in his eyes.

(your son only helps mingyu sprinkle salt over some of the pieces of meat he was grilling, but the unbridled giggles escaping him made the memory more precious.)

minghao:

"i'm bored." you announce, plopping next to your husband on the couch, snuggling up against him.

"what, you want me to dance or something?" minghao replies, looking at you with an amused grin.

"wonwoo did tell me you could bust a few moves back in the day," you tease, and minghao rolls his eyes.

"those moves were meant to be left in those days, cutie," he smiles, booping your nose. "anything else i can do to entertain you?"

you hum, contemplating what your answer should be, when you finally find the best answer.

"you should do a tea ceremony!" you suggest. "i always feel so relaxed watching you do it."

minghao gapes at you, his eyes widening. "i thought the exact same thing! i'll get the tea set, can you grab all the ingredients and utensils?"

"on it, boss," you salute, making your husband laugh at your playful demeanour, before he heads into the bedroom to retrieve his tea set.

the set was very precious to him; his grandmother had handcrafted each cup, saucer, and teapot with utmost care. she had even hand-painted each utensil, and minghao cherished the set a lot.

to his surprise, when he looks for the tea set in the dresser, where it is always stored, it's missing.

"darling, can you come in here for a sec?" minghao calls out for you, making you leave the ingredients on the kitchen counter and rushing into your bedroom at the urgency of his tone.

"where's my tea set?"

"in the dresser," you answer.

"it isn't there now," minghao frowns, and when you come closer to check, you notice the missing box.

"ah, maybe i put it somewhere else?" you mumble. "i was clearing out the dresser a few days back, and i remember taking the set out to put it somewhere else. it was too heavy for the dresser, and i didn't want to risk breaking it."

"do you remember where you put it?" minghao asks, calm and composed. he was a little antsy at first, but he trusts you with keeping his belongings safe.

"maybe in the kitchen?" you sigh, not being able to recollect. "let's go look there."

minghao follows you to the kitchen, and you both open up various cabinets and drawers, but the tea set wasn't in any of them.

just at the moment, your daughter walks into the room, confidently striding up to the fridge, opening it and grabbing a carton of orange juice.

"hi sweetie, do you want me to pour you some?" minghao asks your daughter, but she shakes her head.

"the juice isn't for me," she explains. "it's for the tea party."

"tea party?" you and minghao ask in unison, and your daughter smiles.

"come join us!"

she leads the both of you into her room, and the black box you'd been trying to find all this time is on the floor of your daughter's bedroom.

but that wasn't the end of it. your daughter had made four of her favorite dolls sit upright on plastic chairs, one left empty for her, and placed them around the small table she had in her room. and surely enough, minghao's tea set was placed on the table, with each chair having a cup placed in front of it, and the teapot in the middle.

in moments like these, with minghao's fragile tea set involved, you were glad that your daughter was responsible and careful with handling precious things, just like her father.

"do you guys want a cup too?" your daughter offers, and, is 'no' ever an answer?

(the tea set only had 6 cups, and with the last cup being handed over to you, minghao had to resort to sipping lukewarm orange juice out of his daughter's purple unicorn mug. he'd never felt happier.)

seungkwan:

making your two sons watch a horror movie, late at night, probably wasn't seungkwan's best decision as a father. but when they shot him with the puppy eyes, he couldn't help but give in.

so now, you have two seven year-olds, clutching onto you for dear life while 'monster house' plays on the TV.

"momma! make the house stop!" one son shrieks, trying to hide his entire body behind you, while your other son grips onto seungkwan's arm tightly, as if scared of being sucked into the TV and joining the kids in the movie.

"okay. that's enough," you decide, reaching for the remote and pausing the movie. "this is why we have a zero tolerance policy for horror movies in this house, seungkwan."

"i'm sorry, baby," seungkwan pouts. "they looked so-"

"i know. i get it," you sigh, you yourself having given into many of their ridiculous demands only because of how wide and watery their eyes would get.

your kids really need to stop spending time with mingyu and seokmin.

"off to bed, both of you," you instruct your boys, and they waste no time, scurrying out of the living room as quickly as possible.

"should i go check if they're okay?" seungkwan asks, feeling guilty.

"they'll be fine," you insist. your boys would have been screaming their heads off by now if anything scared them even the slightest bit.

"how about we finish the movie? i'm kinda curious to see how it ends," you suggest, and seungkwan agrees.

at some point during the movie, you must have dozed off, because when you open your eyes, you find yourself in your bedroom with the sunlight peeking in through the curtains.

and you discern the cause behind your disrupted sleep.

"babe, have you seen my badminton racquets?" seungkwan whispers gently, hovering above you.

"mm, not in the storage room?" you croak out, rubbing your eyes.

"nope, i already checked, and- wait, don't fall asleep!" seungkwan whines when you cover yourself with the blankets and turn to your side to sleep again.

"it's saturday, just sleep in kwan," you groan.

"but i told jeonghan i'd play badminton with him today," seungkwan frowns.

"alright, no morning cuddles for you then," you huff, feigning annoyance.

"i guess jeonghan wouldn't mind if i don't show up," seungkwan mumbles, and you smile triumphantly as your husband joins you in bed, holding you close.

the next time you wake up, you scream.

"what happened?" seungkwan gasps, immediately waking up as well. his panic dies down as soon as he sees the sight that made you scream.

both your sons holding seungkwan's missing badminton racquets, standing at the foot of the bed. their faces were covered by ski masks, and they stared at you both, racquets ready to attack.

("boys, we aren't ghosts," you try again. your boys still aren't very convinced. they've held seungkwan and you hostage in your bedroom for an hour under the pretext of protecting themselves from 'ghosts.'

"if we're ghosts, then i guess you won't get pancakes for breakfast," your husband declares, and your boys are immediately pouncing upon you two, apologizing for thinking you were ghosts and begging you to make them pancakes.

that day you make seungkwan promise that he won't let the boys near horror movies till they're eighteen.)

hansol:

winters always got freezing cold, and you insisted that everyone in the house must have at least one woollen on, even if they're just at home. the rule was made mainly because hansol tended to run a little cold, and you had to make sure that he was bundled up in warm clothes and socks at all times.

naturally, you're surprised when you find hansol on the couch, shivering even though he's wearing a thick jumper with a hoodie on top.

"honey, what's wrong?" you frown, immediately pulling your husband into a tight hug, hoping to warm him up.

"my warm socks, i can't find them," he complains. "they've been missing for, like, a week."

"but i remember washing them last week and putting them in your dresser," you say, clearly remembering when you had put the socks along with your other laundry.

"i'll buy some later," hansol sighs, cuddling into you for more warmth. at that moment, your daughter and son run into the living room, their hands hidden behind their backs.

"mom! dad! do you wanna see something fun?" your son asks enthusiastically, and you both nod at your children.

"okay, close your eyes, and be prepared to see a beautiful princess and a dragon!" your daughter instructs. both hansol and you share an amused glance before shutting your eyes, anticipating what your children have prepared.

you hear them whisper softly, and after a couple of minutes, they tell you to open your eyes.

your children have ducked behind the table, their bodies hidden, but their arms raise upwards.

and on their arms were puppets, made with...

... hansol's socks?

your children had drawn various faces and clothes onto the socks, and they confidently started their puppet show, narrating some version of a fairytale in which a dragon is locked in a tower, and the princess comes riding in on a horse and saves the dragon.

you look down at your husband, who is thoroughly enjoying the puppet show, his laugh reverberating in the living room, which only spurs your children on to making more exaggerated motions and voices as they narrate the story.

(in the end, you give hansol some of your own pink woollen socks, and the sight of him walking around the whole house with baby pink socks is surely a memory you'll remember for a long time.)

chan:

"mm, you need to shave," you groan when chan playfully nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his stubble grazing your skin.

"you're just like the others," chan pouts.

"well, the others are right," you smile. "plus, i happen to like my husband beard-less."

"whatever you wish, is my command," chan sighs dramatically, rolling out of bed to head into the bathroom.

"don't forget to use your electric razor!" you laugh, and he groans in response.

"neither my wife nor my friends will ever let me live in peace," chan laments, walking into the bathroom. he fetches his razor, which had been kept in a box on a high shelf so that their daughter wouldn't be able to reach it, but for some strange reason, the shaving foam wasn't there next to it.

"babe, did you keep my shaving foam somewhere?" chan calls out.

"it's always in the bathroom," you answer. "i have no use for it anyways."

chan sighs, looking in different cabinets to locate the shaving foam, but it had gone missing.

just then, your daughter walks into the room, banging a spoon on a plastic lid.

"breakfast is ready!"

after making her announcement, she scurries out of the room. chan and you are quick to follow, wondering if your daughter had messed up the kitchen.

surprisingly, she takes you to her bedroom, where there's a few plastic lids filled with something, and...

"my shaving foam!" chan points out, locating the can on his daughter's dresser.

"no! whipped cream! for pancake!" your daughter retorts, pointing to the plastic lids on her bed.

she had made purple-colored pancakes with clay (the other colors had gone missing) and they were topped off with chan's shaving foam.

"yum yum!"

chan and you burst into laughter at the same time.

(later, you make some real and edible pancakes, which your daughter and husband finish up quickly. they even fight over the last pancake.

amidst the chaos of the fight, they don't notice you quietly finishing up the last pancake too.)

- fin.

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