This Was Too Cute - Tumblr Posts

(seven) days a week, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: It only takes seven days (a week) for Jeon Jungkook to get you in his bed to fuck you right. And showing up in weird places. And kissing in the rain. He's crazy. Okay, it's kinda complicated.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language (reader swears a lot); strangers-to-lovers; vague allusions to a loveless childhood and bad parenting (no specifics); JK might be insane and you do tell him that he is; slight crack; fluff; smut (fem reader, fucking with clothes on and off, m and f-receiving oral, light hair pulling, fingering, nipple play, choking, penetrative sex, handjob); non-idol!BTS – persistent!Jungkook x noona, def tsundere!reader lol ft instigator-cupid!Park Jimin setting them up

this directly follows Jung Kook's 'Seven' MV, so make sure to watch it (although I'm sure you've seen it if you wanna read this lmao)

--

monday.

“What? Something on my face?”

You stared at him and he stared back. Wide eyes, slightly parted lips, the look of caught prey and all. You had your hands in front of you, long fingers laced together, elbows on the table. You probably shouldn’t have scowled like that. That was a bit rude, especially to someone you didn’t know well, but this guy had been staring at you all night and barely speaking to you, even when prompted, so you were getting both impatient and annoyed at accepting this invitation.

“You wear… a lot of jewelry,” Jeon Jungkook said out loud, with awe.

You looked down at your hands. Well. The rings, the bracelets, even the earrings on both your ears, all sterling silver or white gold. You had even swapped out the lower lobe piercing for a pair of dangling dice earrings with grey freshwater pearls. You liked the cooler tone to bring some death to your warm-toned skin.

“Yeah. Is that a problem?” Your low voice had an edge of guarded to it.

A quick, nervous head shake. “No. No, it’s cool. I’ve never seen a girl wear so many chunky rings like that. I didn’t think I’d like it either, but then I saw you.”

You opened your mouth to snap out a comeback and then his words hit you.

There was no doubt that Jeon Jungkook was cute. Black-brown hair with a lustrous quality. Bright, expressive dark brown eyes. Slightly rounded cheeks with a distinct jawline. He said he had, and you could see, tattoos and piercings, something you quite liked but not a requirement. Built body, in the way that people where when they were committed to taking care of their physical appearance. Not so much in vanity, but in the way that matched how they felt that they should look in their head. Respect for that. But, in this chance that was what you had expected to be his, Jungkook didn’t taken it.

He looked the part.

Didn’t act it, though.

Black blazer, matching trousers. White t-shirt. Dressy but not too much. To be honest, the outer appearance didn’t matter much to you. It actually mattered the least. You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Really. You were often told that you had too little patience for people, but, come on!

This conversation was awkward.

Hah.

You turned as you sensed a lively presence re-entering your icy atmosphere. Hmph. The actor playing Cupid in the instance. He looked the part too. Baby blue dress shirt with the top buttons undone. Ivory slacks, neatly pressed. Black hair perfectly curled over his forehead, framing an angelic face. Full lips forming an infectious smile that made his eyes disappear as small hands folded away the receipt and tucked his card back into his wallet.

“Ah, the waitress and I had a cute little chat,” flirty Park Jimin chuckled, giving you a little eyebrow wiggle. You rolled your eyes at him. “Did you guys have a nice talk while I was gone?”

“Um…?” Jungkook started, nearly afraid to glance at you for some support.

You gave Jimin a deadpan stare. “You trying to get her number?”

“Me? No, no!” he waved his hands, sitting back down to lean in. “She gave it to me anyway though.”

Figures Park Jimin would introduce you to a guy and also get the number of someone else in the restaurant. You deliberately hadn’t answered Jimin’s question, but he hadn’t noticed.

Jungkook, however, did.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him deflate a little and you winced in unease, not sure if you should have avoided it, but at this point the waitress had returned, lashes aflutter and gushing about how they just had to try to fried ice cream and it was on the house, as long as Jimin promised to come back, right? Right?

Jimin promised of course, of course, with a big smile.

You completely ignored him and picked up one of the pieces of fried ice cream – mango, it seemed, by the color – and placed it on one of the small plates before setting it right in front of Jungkook.

He perked up and gave you these big, hopeful eyes.

You didn’t say anything but felt your cheeks flush and your gaze shift, putting on an expression of reluctant apology. After a half second, you bowed your head just a bit, shaking off the moment and serving yourself before serving Jimin.

What?

Damn flirt didn’t even notice.

-

tuesday.

“You didn’t like him?”

“I mean, there’s nothing to like or dislike. He barely said anything. Also, Jimin, I told you, I’m not really a relationship person,” you sighed into your phone, walking quickly to the train station. “I don’t want to give this guy the wrong idea about me. He didn’t really strike me as a fuck-around-and-find-out kinda guy.”

“You said you would change your mind for the right person though.”

Sometimes you thought Jimin argued with you just to argue.

“Yeah, and I don’t even know what kind of person he is because he didn’t say shit,” you barked back to that snippy tone on the other side of the line. Some idiot honked at you and you resisted the urge to flip him the bird. Maybe he wasn’t honking at you. The hanging out the window and catcalling could be to the couple walking next to you.

You highly doubted it.

Also, maybe you just wanted to give someone the middle finger because you couldn’t show Jimin right now how much you deeply appreciated him.

“Jungkookie’s just super shy, but wait a minute and he’ll make you his.”

You rolled your eyes. Damn bad habit that you were forming ever since you became friendly with this mildly infuriating angel. “He’s not making me do anything.”

“I’m telling you; he suits you perfectly. You’re being stubborn and not giving him a chance. Anyway, I gave him your number, so don’t worry!”

“Wait, you did wha–”

The roar of the subway train below cut you off.

“Oop, you’re at the station. You’re breaking up! Can’t hear you, byeeeeeee!”

You twitched as Park Jimin hung up on you.

Asshole.

You pulled your phone away from your ear and pulled up the app to pay for your ticket. Paused for a second. New message, unknown number. Then it was your turn, so you hovered your phone screen, heard the beep, and hurried to the correct train line, finding the one to take you home. It was hectic even now, still within the dregs of rush hour, so you didn’t even think to check for the content of the text until you sat down with a big sigh, somewhat of a fwump with your distressed bomber jacket and baggy cargo pants, both made of thick black fabric. The side of your jacket slid off, exposing your bare shoulder and tight white tank top.

The guy standing about a meter away from you snuck a glance in your direction.

You tucked your tongue in your cheek and yanked your jacket back in place with the hand that was holding your phone. Noticed the screen flash, reminding you of the notification.

Fuck it.

Pressed your thumb and your phone unlocked.

Hey, it’s me. Jeon Jungkook… I wanted to say that I’m sorry about not talking that much last night. I was really nervous because you were so pretty and self-assured. I was so impressed that nothing I could think of seemed like a good thing to say, so I blanked out. I’m very sorry. I hope it is okay for me to text you like this.

An essay.

You paused for so long that you felt your cheeks heat.

The fuck?

You frowned at yourself. For some reason, even though he hadn’t talked much, you could hear the text in your head as if Jungkook was speaking to you directly. Sense the anxiousness in the typed words. See those big eyes gazing right at you with a mixture of curiosity and wonder and what-ifs. You sighed, feeling defeated. It would simply be rude to not reply.

I apologize for being too intimidating.

You sent it before thinking. Aw, shit. That was a bit short, wasn’t it? Damnnit. You saw the sending quadlet of dots spinning slowly, struggling due to you being underground. Fuck. If you sent another message now, it might be out of order and that would just get confusing. And what else could you add? Oh, geez, you didn’t even confirm it was you. The conversation with Park Jimin must have scrambled your egg brains.

The train roared out of the tunnel.

All of a sudden, the message sent and a reply instantly popped up. Actually, a serious of bubbles, rapid-fire like bullets. The confirmation must have lagged.

You’re not intimidating at all! Well… not in a bad way. In a sexy way. I mean, in a good way! In a cool way, like you’re not afraid to say what you wanna say. I really admire that in a person, so I really admire that in you. Sorry, that was weird, wasn’t it? I made things weird… ㅠ.ㅠ

You blinked slowly at the messages. It was pretty clear Jungkook had sat there and pondered over the first message for quite a while and these subsequent ones were stream of consciousness spewing. Honestly, kind of funny. Heh. You could sort of imagine it. Maybe he hadn’t expected you to respond right away. Hm, you wondered if he had hoped you would. He really was trying hard, huh. For what? What was the reason?

You tucked your tongue in your cheek and responded anyway.

Oh, you’re definitely weird, but you never know. I might like that. What’s the outfit of the day, Jeon Jungkook?

Were you fishing for a photo? Of course. He would probably scramble to put on a good outfit to impress you. To your surprise, the downloading image icon popped up instantaneously, spinning, spinning. You tilted your head, surprised at the prompt obedience. He must have snapped a pic right away when you asked. It was taking time to load though. You saw some people getting off the train and looked up, checking the stop. Oh, yours was next.

You took care not to look directly at anyone around you, keeping your sling bag in your lap.

Then you looked down to the inquisitive dark brown eyes of Jeon Jungkook with messy black hair and a black leather jacket. White t-shirt. It was a selfie, so you couldn’t see the pants. It was something borderline vain about the angle, but also a seek of approval in that parted mouth, silver ring and stud dotting the edge of the right side, flash of white teeth and slight bite of the left side revealing a small mole at the center underneath his lower lip.

You twitched.

Bold, wasn’t he?

You weren’t sure if you liked it – well, you didn’t mind it, you just weren’t sure if you like-liked it, what was he trying to play at here, trying to get your heart to beat fast or something, hmph – and you clutched your phone pointedly, your rings clacking as you prepped your fingers to type back… something, be honest here… and your fingers wavered.

Shaking a little.

You let out a breath you hadn’t known you had been holding.

Oh, the pants are blue jeans, but I’m out right now so there’s no mirror to show you.

You heard your stop being called and stood up automatically, filing behind other people getting ready to step off, the train slowing down, everything slowing down, finding yourself staring at Jungkook’s expression in the photo, why were you staring, shifting your eyes quickly, then back, it wasn’t like Jeon Jungkook could see you, ugh, this was so annoying.

Do you want to see? I can take another photo when I get home.

You let out a frustrated exhale that no one else around you could understand. Maybe not even those closest to you would get it. But you knew what it meant, and knowing also frustrated you.

Being self-aware was a bitch.

You finally sent your answer.

I much prefer this look on you than the blazer. Is this your normal fashion style?

You had worn a flowing white blouse and floaty black skirt the night before at dinner, but it was not your typical style. Well, it was, but it was one of your work outfits since you had come straight from the office. Something you wore to not get in trouble with the dress code and knowing you would have to meet up with people later. Sometimes you were a little riskier if you were feeling frisky, but Jimin had told you to look nice for the friend he was introducing you to.

But maybe it would have been better to look more you.

Then again, the restaurant was pretty high end. They might not have let you in.

Oh. Yeah. Hahaha, I wore the blazer because Jimin-ssi told me to look nice for you. I guess this is street-style? I don’t know… I’m not fashionable, I only wear what I think is cool or comfy. What about you?

You strode out of the train and briskly walked to the elevator, muscle memory already knowing where to go, typing back. Pausing when you saw the vending machine. A green tea would be nice right now.

You veered off course and headed to stand in line.

I think my friends would describe my style as dark and strong. They’re always telling me I should dress more feminine or at least in less black, but one of my core traits is not listening to shit people say. And swearing.

You tapped your card and made your selection. Waited out the whirr and clunk. Didn’t pay much attention to the world around you. It was a typical day, people passing by, no warning feelings. And, besides, your phone was much more interesting right now.

You did not just think that.

You scowled at your reflection in the glass of the vending machine before picking up your drink.

I hope I get to see you sometime soon so I can appreciate it. :)

You raised an eyebrow at your phone as you ticked open the can and started walking again, taking a crisp sip. It was slightly irritating that he was better at flirting over text than in person. Or maybe it had just been the circumstance. Come to think of it, it would have been weird if he did with Jimin right there, although you were sure Jimin wanted to be there to witness whatever unfolded. The awkwardness was probably just as entertaining to him as it would be if Jungkook had been more forward.

Hmph.

What was more irritating was that you weren’t instantly annoyed by it.

Hmmmmph.

Are you saying you aren’t intimidated by me, Jeon Jungkook?

You hurried home, following the streetlights, breathless, not because you were running, but because you wanted to be home so you could be alone with…

I’m saying I like feeling your effect on me in person.

Him.

-

wednesday.

The next time you saw Jeon Jungkook, you were groaning and setting your forehead on the edge of washing machine, screaming internally. Would have banged it against the metal if you weren’t going to lose a substantial number of brain cells. You were going to pay cash because you wouldn’t get that card surcharge if you did but, of course, of course you had accidentally shorted yourself and pocketed the wrong amount.

Fuck!

Now you were already at the laundromat. Walk back home and lug your shit to and back to get the right amount? Or just forget it and pay the extra charge? You had already put the detergent in. Fuckity fuck fuck. Technically you could go home, it wasn’t that far, but, ugh, it was extra annoying today because you had slept late and now you were grumpily doing your life responsibilities. Come back a different day? No, you had specifically told yourself to get off your ass and get that pile washed. Damnnit, if you hadn’t slept late and scrambled your egg brains, this wouldn’t have happened!

But you had been talking to Jeon Jungkook.

Ending the conversation had been more difficult than you expected. You gritted your teeth, feeling stupid for pulling such a teenage move. Still young, huh? Young and stupid.

Grr.

You heard the metal slide of the money drawer being closed and then an approval ping!

You jumped back, freaked out at the thing you hadn’t done, and then snapped your head to the sudden presence next to you. Dark blue jeans with giant holes at the knees. Gray hoodie sliding off a built right shoulder. White ribbed tank top. Messy black hair. A piercing, no, two on the right side of open lips.

Big, round, dark brown eyes.

You noticed he was wearing a few silver rings himself.

“Um… hi? I noticed you were short a little so I just…” Jeon Jungkook trailed off, giving you a hopeful look.

You gawked at him.

“What are you doing here?”

Ouch. A little too snappy. Jungkook faltered, those peepers shifting. “Ah… well…”

You bit your tongue and reeled it back. “Sorry. I didn’t expect to see you, is all. Obviously, you came here to wash your clothes like everyone else.”

He reached up and scratched the back of his head nervously. Wait. Why was he looking at you like that?

“W-Well, actually… Jimin-ssi told me you normally come here on Wednesdays to do laundry and I was nearby so I figured., maybe, I’d just check if you were here…”

You stared at him.

“You’re stalking me?”

“N-No!” Jungkook sputtered, waving his hands frantically even though you hadn’t raised your voice.

There was a bristle to your tone though. Indignation and frigidity you couldn’t hide. You frowned, narrowing your eyes, cornering him with your gaze. There were only a few people on this slow day, which was why you picked Wednesday to do laundry, but all the patrons had AirPods or other earbuds in, busying themselves with their shoving of clothing in and out of the washers and dryers. No one was going to interrupt anyway.

Not their business.

“I… I…”

“And how did you recognize me anyway? My head was down,” you remembered, advancing on him, and Jungkook took a step back, swallowing hard. Your outfit was baggy too, dark denim jacket and jeans, the tight black tank hidden by the bulk.

“I couldn’t forget how beautiful your hair is,” he mumbled out quickly, looking a little too mesmerized by your fierceness. Forget that. “And your hands were on the edge of the washer. Your rings. The star chain bracelet you wear. I…”

He was fixated on your collarbones and the thin black choker around your neck.

Or lower.

“Oi! My face is up here,” you hissed, snaping your fingers and making him jerk his head. He had stopped backing up though. You pointed at him, somewhat rudely. Actually, very rudely, but whatever. “What do you mean, check if I was here? And who told you? That idiot. I’ll kill him.”

And why was Jungkook looking at you like that?

Like he thought you were hot when angry.

He better stop that shit because you were losing your irate demeanor for some fuckin’ reason.

“I texted you almost all night. That wasn’t enough?” you half-growled, half whispered.

A tiny head shake.

Ah, shit.

You deliberately did not think that was cute.

“I liked it so much that I…” Oh no, oh no, not that honest tremble and deep gaze into your eyes. “I was hoping I could talk to you again, in person, more bravely this time.”

You opened your mouth to sink in that verbal bite and nothing came out.

The entire laundromat could flood right now and you wouldn’t even notice because you were staring at Jeon Jungkook and wondering if this audacity was freaking annoying or freaking impressive. Not this damn guy within two days leaving you speechless. Well… actually, no, never mind the technicalities.

“Are you even thinking before you do things?” you grumbled, not yet backing down.

Jungkook stuck his hands in his hoodie pockets suddenly. Hm? Nervous and shaking? You couldn’t tell, but you watched him closely, observing his body language, your eyes following those lines.

“Mmmm…” He bit the left side of his lower lip. “No?”

You strongly resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

Shy smile greeting you, accompanying the lip bite.

“I’m just listening to my heart.”

Now you visibly cringed. “Don’t say stuff like that.” Looking away slightly, somehow unable to meet those honest eyes.

“Why? You don’t like it?” Genuinely curious.

“You don’t mean it.” He did mean it and you could see that he meant it but you did not want to admit that you knew that he meant it. Yeah. “You barely know me. We only talked over text.”

“But you gave me thoughtful, frank answers. I don’t believe that you were being dishonest,” Jungkook protested, following you over to the tables a few steps away from the washing machines. You dragged your laundry bag with you and kept your voice down.

“I told you, I’m a straightforward an honest person. I won’t lie to you. And I won’t hesitate to cut you off if you lie to me,” you reminded him.

He nodded. You wanted to shake him and yell at him to stop giving you those eyes. “So I just decided to do what I wanted to.”

You cocked your head at him in disbelief. “You didn’t think you went too far?”

What was with that mischievous smile? “I’m the all-in type.”

You let out a puff of air.

“Also, you haven’t told me directly that you don’t like it,” Jungkook pointed out, leaning toward you, smiling.

You gave him a deadpan stare. “You don’t get me,” you said back flatly.

Those dark brown orbs sparkled. “That’s okay. I don’t have to get you to think you’re cool, clever, and stunning.”

Your eyebrow twitched.

“And why do you say that? Because you see how people look at me? Because you enjoyed my useless facts and tangents last night? Because you think with your dick?” You added the last question with bite, leaning forward too, having enough of this, not really him but…

The fact that you didn’t want to tell him to fuck right off.

Silence.

Jungkook was staring into your eyes.

“The shape of your eyes is so… perfect.”

You felt your ears heat.

He raised a finger and traced the air right in front of your left eye, the scent of his clean cologne drifting in your direction. “The way they sharpen in the inner corner, like a bird of prey… And your irises are so dark and striking…”

You grabbed his finger out of the air.

“Don’t be… weird.”

Why did you pause? Hello? No way you’re being like this over this guy right now.

You pointedly pulled his hand down, pinning it to the table. “Pay attention.”

Jungkook was giving you this dreamy, hazy expression. “Huh? What were you saying?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You can’t even listen.”

He leaned in closer and you caught a whiff of that delicious cologne again. “Sorry. I will. Say it again, please. I’ll listen carefully.”

The fuck were you saying again? The lights of the old laundromat flickered but you barely noticed. A common occurrence in these ol’ mom-and-pop places. And, besides, you were staring at this determined, patient smile and mentally shoving down those butterflies that you definitely weren’t feeling, nope, violently compacting those distracting internalizations into a tiny, windowless box.

“You don’t seem very good at listening,” you finally said, tight and even.

“I am,” he insisted softly. “I promise.”

“I’m too much for you.”

Or was Jungkook too much for you?

“I’m offering all of me,” he whispered to the shared air between you and him. “It might not be enough so I’ll be to work hard and do my best.”

What was he so earnest for? You hesitated, the edges to your hard demeanor softening. You didn’t want to trust stuff like this. It was so easy to get burned and you wanted to be the one to do the burning. And how could you trust people? Even you didn’t say everything out loud. Some things you could say and some you couldn’t say. It was too much trouble to believe in someone.

You had never received unburdened kindness when you were younger.

“We’re not on the same page.”

Jungkook tilted his head. “Aren’t we? But you’re reading me easily and I’m doing my best to learn about you too.”

Your shoulders released the tension. “Don’t pretend with me. It’s clear you’re a relationship kind of guy. And, while I’m not against them, I can’t deliver the same kind of devotion you are willing to give. Can’t you see that?” You removed your hand from his, not realizing it was still there.

His fingertip traced a line on the back of your hand.

Sparks raced along the base of your head.

You remained stern, feeling heavy and hot in your clothes.

“Why do you say that? You don’t think you’re loyal?” he asked very sincerely.

Your eyes narrowed. “Of course, I am. If I like you in that way and you asked me to bury a body, I’d already be digging the grave. But I’m not a flowers-and-chocolate kind of girl. That’s not how I show affection.”

You had no idea how far your clothes were in the cycle. The whole world could crash down and you would still be staring at Jungkook and his body language. His shoulders slouched a little more so he could look up at you with those pleading eyes.

Inhale still in your throat.

“Then, do you not like me?”

Say something.

But you didn’t say anything at all, gazing down at Jeon Jungkook and wondering why you couldn’t get through his thick skull that you were a bad decision. Honestly? Honestly, fine, it was because you grew up with parents that never liked each other nor their kids. Honestly, it was because you grew up too fast and with too much independence to not see the filthiness of the world. Honestly, it was because you saw the finicky innate nature of humanity of never devoting themselves to anything, much less anyone, and why would they?

People were crazy.

Call it personal experience.

You sighed.

“Jungkook, I’m not gonna lie to you. I fuck before I care about anybody. I’m only living to get my pleasure and not take care of anyone, okay? I’m barely keeping my own head together. I’m blunt. I don’t need or want romantic gestures. I just want dick. There. I’m not a good person.”

He was smiling.

Aw, shit.

“I must be favored to know you.”

You twitched, tucking your tongue in your cheek to avoid scowling, which was pretty much scowling anyway, so you failed spectacularly.

“Also, you haven’t said you don’t like me,” Jungkook pointed out. Infuriatingly. “Because it’s not true and you don’t lie. Right?” He said your name with a little too much sweetness and knowing.

You yanked your hand out of his and shoved his hard, muscular chest. He bounced back, grinning a little too happily. You told yourself to hate it and you didn’t. Fuck. “What are you even still doing here? Gonna fold my clothes for me or something?”

The energy at being offered a household chore was disturbing. “Oh! I can! I’m very good at doing laundry. And washing dishes. And cleaning. I like doing that stuff.”

“Sure, you do,” you puffed sarcastically,

“I do,” Jungkook insisted, coming around the table. “And I’m good at it.”

You scrutinized him up a down. “Yeah? Because you don’t know where else to put all that energy of yours?”

His lips parted but all he did was gawk at you. Oop. Right on the money. You were liking this expression a little too much. Maybe it was time to lower these walls a bit. After all, it didn’t seem like Jungkook was going to go away any time soon. He was pretty harmless anyway.

“I could drain you in a night,” you chuckled, smirking.

The tips of his ears were getting red at your lowered tone.

“You think you could keep up?”

-

thursday.

Ugh, it was one of those days that fuckin’ suuuucked.

Woke up late and had to rush to get dressed and bounce, then got to work and some shit was going down about missing documents and people moving papers they shouldn’t have, forcing you to play manager because everyone else had no goddamn spine to fix anything. This department would be a disaster without you. To top it all off, you had people stalling, keeping an irrelevant conversation going, leading you on a wild goose chase with no funny honking – turns out the documents were in some random copier right behind you, for fuck’s sake – and you had a very strong inkling it was because of what you looked like.

Which was fine.

Unless you were actually trying to do your job.

Then, one of your side dishes you had brought for lunch had gone off, so you ended up slightly less full than you wanted to be, and you forgot your jacket at work, leaving it hanging on the back of your chair in your rush to leave, and the train halted several stations before your stop because there was some emergency maintenance or some shit.

Fuckity fuck.

It wouldn’t be so annoying it if wasn’t so windy, but it was and you were wearing a sheer sweater with splashes of jewel-toned colors and a longline black sports bra under it – you had worn your jacket half-zipped until your boss had left in the middle of the day and your co-workers didn’t care how you looked, the dress code was stupid anyway – and black jeans, mid-rise. The rules were more about being covered up rather than being professionally dressed.

The job was primarily sitting at a desk and sorting documents, did it matter how you looked?

Or maybe you just broke the rules a little because you were a rebel.

Your stomach growled angrily and you told it to shut the fuck up.

You stood on the corner halfway between work and home, debating on whether or not to do some damage. The problem was you didn’t have any of the usual bad habits most people had. You didn’t drink, so getting stupid drunk and getting thrown out of the noraebang was out of the question. Also, you couldn’t sing. But, anyway, you barely took medicine, let alone know where or how to procure the illegal fun stuff, so that was also out. You didn’t have a sweet tooth either so you couldn’t down a whole cake with gusto, although that sounded like a great way to go.

You sulked.

You had an addiction, but you just stared at the names in your phone and felt guilty. Guilty! For what? For some guy you met literally less than four days ago? Ugh, no, this couldn’t be you right now. Seriously? Seriously? You crossed and stalked up the block, not yet deciding what to do so you kept walking until you figured it out during this internal battle. You had to keep this guy at a distance. Okay, yes, you could admit you liked him.

And that was the problem.

If you didn’t really like him, you could just fuck him and establish those hard boundaries. No issue. You had been in love before but that was a long time ago and ultimately you ended it because it wasn’t right and you weren’t good enough to be devoted to.

You breathed out hard, the unease spilling out of your insides.

It was definitely easier to not expect anything from anyone. You had spent a lot of life not having and, ultimately, not needing to rely on others, both out of necessity and simply having too much to work on by yourself. Years of fighting off bitterness that you had always tasted, years of letting go of important moments realizing that supposedly important people in your life would never be there for them, years of lashing out and becoming the shadow of the abuse you endured. Eye for an eye and all that. Keep the cycle going, until you had that moment in the eye of the storm to get hit by lightning and realize that this wasn’t right.

It wasn’t any particular thing.

Just finally accepting the creeping self-awareness that you had been miserable and were making other people miserable on purpose because you tore them open and took their hearts to find yours.

Metaphorically, duh.

So now you sort of did this martyr shit of being there for people when you could and not asking for anything back. Especially not a relationship. Intimate to heal a heart and then give it away, which totally worked if they weren’t into you, just into what you could do.

You didn’t really feel it yourself but you did get sex out of it.

Bad addiction, yeah.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket.

You ignored it.

Stepped into a chicken place and stood in line, feeling the weight of your world on your shoulders. You brain tried to reason with you that it was Jeon Jungkook’s own fault if he got hurt. He was the one who chose to spend all that time sitting at the laundromat with you talking about random shit. Your favorite video game – Persona 5, excelling in your top three most important things about a video game: music score, gameplay, and art style. Your favorite American rapper – Ludacris and the way he could rhyme the weirdest words. Your favorite movie genre – surrealist psychedelic drug movies, which earned you a confused head tilt. You had asked Jungkook what he liked. Mood lamps. Singing. Watching cooking videos on YouTube.

Had asked him if he believed in soulmates.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you ordered at the kiosk and paid.

You don’t think I could have met you in another life?

You stood with the other waiting patrons, ignoring everybody and your phone thrumming against your hip, thinking about last night.

I probably broke your heart.

Thinking about that smile with two piercings and a lip mole. That smile didn’t trust your answer at all.

Maybe the universe is giving me another chance to make up for my past mistakes. I can’t give up.

You made a face at past Jungkook’s answer, too taken aback all those hours ago to scowl properly. Maybe you had been too tired. Too worn down by his earnest nonsense to fight it properly at that moment. Your hand hovered over you hip, wondering if you should check it. Then dropped.

What, did you need to see him every day or something?

Your name was called and you stepped up to receive your order.

Oh, fuck, you miss him.

You yanked your phone out of your pocket and stared at it as you walked out of the restaurant, only to get plopped by a fat raindrop on the lit-up screen. You looked up to the gray sky and let out a hiss.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

You turned around and sat down, grumbling as rain poured down and you replied to Jungkook’s texts.

Stupid.

Not him. Just you.

-

friday.

“What are you trying so hard for?” you snapped.

“Why aren’t you trying hard enough?” Jeon Jungkook shot back.

It was going really well.

Clearly.

You let out a hiss and flicked your hands as if you were trying to physically get rid of his reply. Argh, this… man! The thundering rain was pouring down, down, and you were both standing under a bus stop with no intention of taking the bus. You bit back the volume of your sudden anger. There was no need to yell anyway. No one was coming out in the thick of this monsoon.

Only you and crazy-ass Jeon Jungkook.

Switched tactics. "And what makes you think your virgin ass–"

"I'm not a virgin!"

"You are here!"

And you jammed two fingers into that very muscular chest, right next to the left side of his sternum. Too fast to be stopped. The shove actually made him stumble. Or maybe it was the utter shock of the verbal and physical double jab combined with the deep growl that your voice had suddenly become. His racer jacket and black hair were slick with rain. Half of his white t-shirt soaked. Even the front of his blue jeans drenched.

You panted hard after your outburst, the anger draining away all in a flash of lightning.

Jungkook stared at you with stricken eyes.

The rain pelted down, down, beating into the silence.

“How did you know?” he breathed out.

You didn’t but somehow you did, feeling something inside of you break. Not afraid of the world. Never, never again. No, afraid of what you could do, afraid of breaking something this pure, because you broke your first love too and that past guilt still lingered. Not that you thought Jungkook loved you. He couldn’t This was only the fifth day of him knowing you.

The fuck is going on?

“I see your type all the time,” you sighed, your damp hair all over your face. “Looking for light in black holes instead of stars.” The rain had slipped off your black leather jacket. Your cropped band shirt wasn’t wet, but your black cargo pants were sodden knees down.

This coldness, however, didn’t come from the rain.

“You really should stop. For your own good.”

You looked away from him, feeling as if your own words had pierced bullet holes into your walls. Dark sky, never-ending rain, cars struggling to drive, people running with umbrellas and ponchos, arms huddled close to their bodies, and here you were just standing here in the rain, the world acting out your mind. How nice. You thought you had come to terms with everything, but obviously not. Somehow once you saw Jungkook again, once you felt his presence again, the pull was even stronger and the storm was even more intense and the worst part was that you didn’t want to leave.

You heard Jungkook’s soft, silvery voice through the gray rain.

“Why are you blaming yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened yet?”

You turned your head to look into those pleading brown eyes.

Lightning shot across the sky.

Thunder followed seconds after, eating up the night.

“W… What?”

He shook his head, dripping water.

“You haven’t hurt me. You don’t mean to, either.”

That smile, his hand extended, the inked snake on his wrist showing.

You stared at Jeon Jungkook with droplets beading on your skin but those goosebumps weren’t from the weather. Jerked your head away. What is with this gentleness? How could he know anything? He couldn’t know anything. He was just an airhead who watched too many dramas and made others believe that they could be real.

“Noona?”

You whipped your head to Jungkook, shocked at his use of the honorific. He only used it when Jimin was at the meal. Afterwards, the conversations had been clearly directed at you. Not completely informal speech, but sometimes you slipped and he did too. You never corrected him because, well.

You slapped his hand away.

Nothing was going to happen.

You closed the distance and grabbed his head, pressing your lips to his shaking ones.

It was going to be terrible. Cold. Wet. Acidic from the lingering feelings. There was no way that this kiss could be anything else with this setting.

This was real life.

Not a story.

Your hands cupped his cheeks and you sunk into his kiss. The hard edge of his jewelry and the softness of his breath, caught by your mouth, your eyes already screwed shut, nothing to do but feel, feel the way he instantly pressed back and set his hands on your elbows, pulling you closer, shuddering as your forearms pressed to his chest. A weird feeling, like two fires melting together, prickling racing across your skin, no, deeper, past your ribs and into your heart.

The storm raged on.

You snapped out of the kiss, nose to nose, water trickling in places it shouldn’t, over your eyelashes and down your neck, feeling fingers graze across your elbows. Slipping under the leather. Droplets soaking into your shirt and then warm hands lingering at the curve of your exposed waist.

Tracing your lines.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

And you kissed Jeon Jungkook again.

-

saturday.

No, you didn’t take him home. You’re reckless, yeah.

But you knew how that would go.

Not that Jungkook didn’t try. Maybe you would have done it, if you weren’t the equivalent of wet cat and equally torrenting emotions. His hands around your waist, pulling you closer, heat blossoming between layers of rain-drenched clothing, kiss after kiss, your hands in his hair, tangling those dark waves into wilderness, getting more and more breathless, heady with a feeling you knew but didn’t want to believe in.

For someone who hated lying, you sure enjoyed lying to yourself.

You had reasons.

How could this time be different if it was just following the same trajectory that you always followed?

You had to pry yourself from him, lips tingling, tongue curling, feeling your blood course through your veins and your heartbeat as loud as thunder, opening your eyes to his blissed-out expression, his own eyes still closed, pressing his lips together to savor your taste.

Damn.

You had wanted to tell him to stop it, stop it with all this falling, you were being dragged down by his vibe, clothes feeling heavy, desperate to be stripped away, but you kept your hands along the sides of his head, your exhale escaping but giving you away like a bad con artist.

Those shimmering dark eyes had opened, following Jungkook’s smile.

“You’re a great kisser, noona.”

His hands stayed on your waist, drumming his fingertips on your skin, tangible kisses creating invisible but no less real electricity.

You scoffed, corner of your lips rising.

“Shut up.”

Tendrils of his black-brown hair clung to his forehead. The rain drummed but it had lessened a bit. You had looked back to his eyes, defeated.

“Shut up so I don’t miss you more.”

One last, drawn-out kiss, tongue to tongue and you had broken from him, warning him sternly.

“Don’t follow me.”

Ran all the way home, face burning, not even feeling the rain even though it was still falling.

Now, present time, you sat at this boring farewell party in some fancy hotel with the sun blaring outside. Figures the nice weather would come out when you would have to stuff yourself in a fitted blazer dress and pretend to care about your boss’s boss retiring. Black, of course. For the formal occasion. Sadly, no one was dying except this old coot’s career.

Maybe you were a little salty that you couldn’t retire yet.

You looked down at your phone, which was on silent, noticing you had a new message.

ㅎ.ㅎ

O… Okay. Whatever that face was supposed to mean. You didn’t even bother to answer. Couldn’t, anyway, forced to plaster on a mildly interested expression as your boss gave a speech that you zoned out of. There were multiple large circular tables in the hotel ballroom. Outside the ballroom was an outdoor area with the buffet. Everyone had served themselves before sitting down, but, first, a few words.

A few was turning out to be too many and your salmon was getting cold.

Employees had been allowed to bring plus ones. Wives and husbands. There were a few empty seats, and a few significant others popped in mid-speech, trying to be quiet and politely bowing in apology. Of course, they weren’t required to be on time, having other obligations and such.

You twitched.

Was that why this was dragging on? So everyone could eat at once? For fuck’s sake, who cared if they were late. Then you noticed your boss’s wife stepping in, looking pretty and put-together in a forest green high-necked dress, holding the small hand of a kid in a lopsided children’s tuxedo with an equally confused expression.

Oh.

Come on.

You suddenly felt a disturbance in the Force.

“Excuse me. Sorry, sorry.”

You whipped your head around to see Jeon Jungkook in a black pinstripe suit cha-cha sliding in the empty chair next to you, picking up your black velvet purse and holding it out to you with a grin that made his large, dark brown eyes light up.

You gawked at him.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” He added your name politely and with affection, smooth as butter, criminal undercover. Even the honorific, oh, shit.

The blood drained out of your face and you tried not to think about how your co-workers sitting at the table were staring at you and him like you both had three heads. Of course, no one was supposed to be talking, so no one asked questions yet, but that was definitely going to start the second your boss was finished with his sentence.

You took your purse without another word and glared at Jungkook with such fire that you hoped he burned alive at the spot. Oh, this could turn into a murder and a funeral real fucking fast. All he did was give you those shining big peepers that made you want to strangle him. In an unsexy way.

For now.

You leaned over as the clapping started. He caught on and delicately leaned over, offering his ear to your lips.

“The fuck are you doing?”

Jungkook turned his head so only you could hear his whisper.

“I was nearby, so I figured…?”

You stared at him, plumb slack-jawed at this audacity.

He closed the distance and gently kissed your cheek. You ticked your head almost robotically, piercing eyes following his playful ones, and now you wondered if Jeon Jungkook was truly not right in the head or perfect for you.

Well.

You weren’t right in the head either.

You did text him earlier this morning that you needed to come to this party at this hotel to send off this important retiree. If you missed this, then it would have reflected poorly on you, especially when you wanted to keep your job, so, yes, it was part of the reason why you had not attempted to convince Jungkook to sleep over – not that he needed any convincing whatsoever – and the other reason was to get enough sleep so you could tolerate socializing. Did you think Jungkook was gonna finesse his way into the seat next to you? Hell no. Did you think he was gonna dress smartly and with his black hair parted neatly in the center, fuckin’ black tie pressed and collar pinned? Fuck, no.

Did you think you would like it?

No!

“How did you get them to let you in?” you hissed under your breath.

Jungkook was clapping like a seal because everyone else was. A champagne bottle was being popped. He looked systematically impressed and awed. Amazing acting. “I just said I was with you.” Glanced at you and grinned, the silver piercings on his lip gleaming. A hoop and a stud. “Aren’t I, noona?”

The urge to growl at him to shut the fuck up was silenced by your brain reminding you to be safe-for-work.

You felt a poke at your sleeve. Your co-worker sitting at your left, bleach-blond and with the curiosity of a child. Full of sudden comments and questions too, just like a kid.

“Oh, oh! You never mentioned anything about a boyfriend!” Because you didn’t have one until right now, apparently. “So handsome!” Yes, he was. You had taste. “How did you meet?” Circumstances beyond your control.

“Through a… friend.”

That was a very generous word for instigator Park Jimin.

Jungkook poked his head past you and waved. “Hi! Nice to meet you.” He was using you as a shield to avoid directly interacting with these people he didn’t know. Just chiming in with polite nods as you introduced him to the table and sitting back to let you have this uninvited spotlight that was burning you like the sun did to vampires.

Pretty close, in all honesty.

“Aw, what a sweet guy. It’s nice to meet you too. I didn’t think your type was so young and cute.”

You almost made a face of distaste. “You thought my type was old and ugly?” Oop, there goes your sharp tongue.

“Nooo.” You tried not to flinch at the playful slap of your arm. “More mature, maybe? But this is better. You don’t have to be so serious. Look at his smile! I bet that’s what drew you in.”

You glanced at Jungkook and he appropriately smiled big at the right time. Somehow, he had obtained a plate of steak. How, you didn’t care. You narrowed your eyes just a sliver. Jungkook did not stop smiling but there was at least an iota of fear in those big brown eyes. Speaking of vampire, maybe you should suck the life out of him because he was being too fuckin’ much.

“Well, he was persistent to put it lightly. Might as well give him the chance to win me over.”

Jungkook beamed like a billion-kilowatt lightbulb. Or a crystal chandelier. It depended if you wanted to say the light came from his white teeth or sparkling eyeballs.

Fuckity fuck.

You wanted to rub your temples but refrained.

You would never recover from this.

“Are you mad at me?” Jungkook asked you later.

Oh, now he wondered if you’re mad. You didn’t even look at him, dragging him away from the crowd by the elbow. Hopefully you had stayed long enough but there had been so many of the same questions that you were either getting dizzy or murderous. Hm. Why not both?

“I’m not mad at you,” you muttered.

“You kinda sound mad.”

“I’m not mad but I’m gonna get mad if you keep saying I am,” you warned. “Don’t start a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“A what?”

“Where did you park?”

His voice became small even though he was right next to you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

The sun was blaring down on the open parking lot, it was annoyingly humid, you were socially drained, and this, not this. You spun abruptly, too much crashing down too fast, flinging Jungkook’s arm from you.

“No,” you hissed out. “No. Don’t you dare take it back. You wanna be crazy and drive me crazy, fine, do it, keep doing it, don’t stop, but own up. I’ve got enough push-and-pull jammed into my head and I don’t need you adding to it.”

It was so easy to simply give in to the rising anger, but you found yourself locked into Jungkook’s wide, taken-back eyes, drowning in them, deeper than the ocean, seeing how rueful he was.

“Don’t do that to me,” you sighed.

At least your voice didn’t crack. You didn’t want to be angry anyway.

You raised your hand to cup his cheek but paused, not knowing anymore what was what. Always been so sure until the world started getting flipped upside down by Jeon Jungkook. You always knew all of the things to do to make someone interested, all the things to say to make them swoon, and now you didn’t know anything at all because this guy showed up and jumped right in, not even caring about the damages, the fine print, or the past that lingered.

Why are you blaming yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened yet?

Jungkook leaned forward and completed the curve of his cheek into your hollow palm, now looking at you eye-to-eye with a curious expression.

The corner of your lips curved upwards.

You leaned forward, saying your next words very seriously.

“You. Are. Crazy.”

-

sunday.

You sat against the window, waiting for the document to print out.

No one was in the office. You had rolled over here out of sheer boredom, looking up at the gray-blue sky and watching shafts of sunlight phase in and out. Overtime to prepare documents for Monday. You hadn’t bothered to follow dress code, but there was a breeze today, so you wore brown plaid trousers and an old vintage t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. The faded album cover of Papa Roach’s Infest. Your oversized black leather jacket was on the back of your office chair once again.

You spun in your chair, the print job long done.

Thought back on the week.

Day one, awkward dinner and the start of a rollercoaster.

Day two, clutching your phone and waiting for replies due to the spotty service of the subway.

Day three, washing machines and dryers and long conversations.

Day four, shitty day with a nice ending to more texts. Better service too.

Day five, cold rain and warm lips.

Day six, surprise! You have a boyfriend and everybody knows!

You got up and wandered to the copier. Stacked everything up and clipped the right parts together, setting it on your boss’s desk. Glanced at the time at your computer. The blank screensaver abruptly appeared, showing you your blurred reflection.

Your fingertips lingered on your chest, the soft, worn fabric of the shirt reminding you of night after tumultuous night of the past. Time that made you, you. Scars you made by holding on too tightly to pain others gave you. The thought of scars in others that you started and they held on to. Repenting, in a way, healing the hearts that came in your path with intimacy and the passion you were afraid to show Jeon Jungkook because what if, what if…

What if it actually matched well?

“You,” Park Jimin had said to you months ago, “You need someone who thinks of you as their whole world.”

“I don’t want that.”

“You don’t want it. But you need it.”

You didn’t have Park-Jimin-being-right on this year’s bingo card, fuck.

You clocked out and collected your stuff, turning off the lights as you left the office, black boots the only solid sound around you, pulling out your phone to check the address one more time.

“Why are you wearing clothes?” you asked accusingly.

“Um…?”

You gripped the sides of the denim jacket and yanked it off his shoulders, pinning Jeon Jungkook’s arms to his sides. He immediately yelped but you silenced him by stepping through the door and pulling him to you by the button placket, tracing the edge of his open lips with your tongue.

“W-Wait, noona, the d-door…”

“I don’t care.”

Kissed him, deeply.

That now familiar scent, closer, slipping your tongue between his lips, succumbing to the flutters. In, out, feeling him collapse under you and moan in his throat, hard body stumbling into yours, hand haphazardly smacking the edge of the door.

It closed behind you.

You rolled your body into his, closer than close with too many layers in between, tangling his arms in his own jacket, swallowing his gasp and feeling him wiggle determinedly to free his hands and then they were on your face, strong fingers fanning out over your jaw, his jacket falling to the floor, hungrily following your tongue and lips with his own.

Something addicting about the addition of metal to those soft mouth.

This was your forte, the ability to make fantasies come true, and you took it seriously, throwing your bag onto the table by the door and shedding the protective layer of leather. Pressed chest to chest, holding his head and tracing his lips, slow fucking them, running your fingertips over the curve of his ears and making him shiver, noting the three hoops along his left ear.

Pressed your hands down his chest, over the smooth ribbed white tank molding to his muscular torso, down, down, kissing past his lips, to that mole underneath, down his chin, his head tipping back, your name drifting above your head as you kissed down his neck, the sharp clean scent of his cologne getting stronger.

“I thought… we were… o-oh, g-going out…”

“I’m gonna fuck you,” you breathed into his collarbones, hot and low, nicking his skin with your teeth and making him shiver. “Right now. Tonight. Maybe tomorrow too.” Undid the button of his jeans with some effort, yanking him towards you again and molding your hips to his, thighs to hard thighs, and that stiffness wasn’t only a sturdy zipper. “Tuesday as well. Fuck it.”

“The whole week,” Jungkook gasped as you unzipped his charcoal jeans.

“Yeah, good, you’re keeping up,” you murmured and grabbed his head again, catching a fistful of his black hair, kissing him hard with your other palm pressed to his hardness. Your tongue tracing the edge of his lips, breathing into his mouth and swallowing Jungkook’s wanton moan, intoxicated by the moment.

You pulled back just to yank your shirt over your head, tossing it to the floor.

It took longer for it to float down than for you to get on your knees.

“Woah…!”

Hooked your fingers on the elastic waistband of his Calvin Kleins and tugged them down, exhaling over that thick length that popped out. He smelled clean, like he had just showered, and you half-smiled, approving, closing the distance to curl your tongue around hard taut skin.

“Ooooh… fuuuuuuuck…”

Tightly taking control, using only your tongue to scoop around his girth and flick against his balls. Kisses, licks, flutters of breath, all of it, sensation after sensation, layering on the heat, adding sweetness to the obscene, his twitching cock hitting your cheek as you pressed kisses to his balls.

“Let me show you something,” you hummed and swallowed his pride.

Jungkook gasped so loud that his hands shot up to his mouth, fingers laced over his moan, one inked arm and one tan one, tilting his head back as your lips closed around him, softly, your tongue cupping the head, caressing the underside, the slit, letting him throb against wet muscle. Pushed him up to the roof of your mouth and slowly, in and out, rubbing the base of the head against your lips every time you ascended, fanning your fingers over his crotch to hold the base and cup his balls in between your index and thumb. Steady and consistent, sucking him off with deliberate precision.

You had a lot of fancy skills to show off but, for this first time, might as well give him the stripped-down version.

Heh.

So you blew Jungkook at his front door in your bra and pants with his clothes half-on and struggling to breathe.

“A-Ah, so s-soft… and so tight… h-how…”

You didn’t speed up. Didn’t put in more force. Used your whole torso, not just your head and neck, to avoid strain, holding his hips to take him deeper but at the same pace, letting the orgasm build with his heart rate, running your thumbs over his balls, a gentle caress, closing your eyes to savor it. Hard and twitching, but you didn’t let him disturb what you had going on, extending out the minutes, saturating every second with flowing, unavoidable bliss.

What?

You could match his vibe with your kind of romance.

You heard Jungkook’s pitch hike and the muscles under your fingers all tensed up. You spared a look upwards, but he wasn’t looking at you, shoving his hands into his messy black hair, displaying his prominent triceps, and moaning to the ceiling, dragging his bangs over his eyes.

“Oh my God, I’m cumming, fuuuuck…!”

You pillowed your tongue around the head and his salty orgasm flooded your mouth, spilling out and down your throat, but you cupped what you could and coated the sensitive head, pleased to hear Jungkook’s shudder and whimper of ecstasy, gripping his hair and pulling. The close-fitted nature of his tank top left nothing to the imagination, the aftershock rippling up his chest, even his hardened nipples poking against the fabric.

You swallowed.

Jungkook moaned and his head fell back again, his eyes probably rolled back.

Gotta finish him off right.

You licked around him carefully, cleaning him off and keeping him hard.

“You…”

Cocked an eyebrow as you shifted your eyes up, his cock buried in your throat, pulsing your muscles around his length. His chin was on his chest, wayward dark curls hanging down, shaking wide eyes watching you with fascination, his shaking voice full of awe.

“You know… how porn calls it a mouth-pussy? I really thought that shit was fake and sounded stupid, but… you have a mouth-pussy.”

You blinked at him and tried not to snort out in laughter.

You just raised both eyebrows and flicked his balls with your tongue. A few seconds later, you pulled back and countered with, “Really? Mouth-pussy? That’s how you show gratitude for the best suck of your life?”

“B-But it’s true!”

You shook you head and waved a hand at him.

“Clothes. Off.”

Every hour, every minute, every second.

Full of sex.

Jungkook wasn’t lying. He wasn’t a virgin. He was a little too good at fingering to be a virgin. Well, you hadn’t had his dick yet but it was pretty obvious with the slow circles on your clit and the kissing of your collarbones. Clothes didn’t even make it to the bedroom. Most of them were left by the door. Your shoulder blades and ass touching the bed, his other hand along your back and tracing your spine as he kissed across your breasts, shyly shifting his gaze back to your face to constantly check if you were enjoying it, not quite confident that he was making your heart flutter. You smirked back at him, taking his hand and pressing his fingers to your wet slit, pushing them in yourself.

He breathed out with you, watching your face as the pleasure snaked out from your core.

Two of them, taking it slow, but you shook your head and pressed his down, your hard nipple against his lips, and he followed your lead, faster, harder, your inner walls clenching around him, sighing deeply as the pleasure flowed, soft licks and tracing tongue. You let him have it, the slower, more romantic pace, spreading your fingers over his sheets and thrusting into his hand, adding to the pleasure, and Jungkook’s eyes glittered, kissing from one nipple to another with a smile.

“Harder?”

“And faster,” you agreed, licking the air between you and him.

Hey, you weren’t a virgin either and you liked it rough.

He kissed you first, entranced by your tongue, harder, faster, your hips following his hand, entangled in this beat, and then it was back to your nipples, kissing sucking, sparks of sensuality over your skin, your hands diving into his hair. Heat. Roughness. Passion, catching your breath and your head falling back, inhaling his scent and the clean sheets, the orgasm flooding through you, delicately forming his name with your lips.

“Ah, Jungkook…”

You didn’t let it stop there though.

His hand moved to pull out and you clutched his wrist and pushed him back in, your nail catching his ring finger, collecting it too, gasping at the added fullness, and you pulled his left hand out from under your back.

Jungkook watched you curiously as your rode his right hand and turned his left, thumb down.

You fitted it around your neck and positioned it correctly, grinning devilishly at him.

He got the hint.

Slightly unsure at first but you built his confidence, comfortably laying back on his bed and spreading out your fingers, moaning softly for him, rocking your hips into his hand, climbing to the high again, stronger his time. His fingers pressed inwards and you breathed out, savoring the choking, the way time slowed down, the way the sensations heightened, your spine arching, low gasp like heavy smoke, immortalizing the moment in his memory, black pupils blown out in those beautiful dark eyes, leaning forward to run his tongue over your nipples.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, thrusting into his fingers harder.

Lids heavy, drowning in the pleasure, his tongue, his hands, the way he looked at you like you were his whole world, the tension between you and him, sweet and intense and overwhelming, just perfect, your exhale only a thin wisp now, closing your eyes and moaning to the ceiling as you came.

It was a hard, thundering pulse, much more powerful than before, your shivering pussy gripping his fingers and your hips bucking. Thighs snapping closed, whining as you felt the hardness of his tattooed forearm, your head snapping to the side the second he released you, the rushing blood knocking you down and making your nerves sing, strong flinches across your arms and torso. Gasping to catch your breath.

Wasn’t his first time choking, but maybe the first time he got really turned on by it, because Jungkook was ogling you like a three-star Michelin meal.

It was like that all night.

From the first time he entered you, one condom wrapper the start of many, biting the left side of his lip and shuddering – “H-How are you so tight…? I just f-fingered you – oooh!” – and you wrapped around him tightly, smirking a little too smugly, one arm around his neck and one leg on his shoulder. Your fingers petaled around the base of his head, cupping him in the flower of your touch. Your thigh against his hard chest still trembling from your kisses. You angled your hips and he slipped in deeper, groaning in disbelief, his brows furrowing at you.

“H-Hey!”

Your tongue pocketed in the side of your smirk and you fucked him right.

“Gah!”

Jungkook, too, fucked you right.

You lead the pace so he could bring the force of his hips. Ah, fuck, right there, like that, and you let him know, the cries tumbling out and mixing with his, rushing wave after wave pressing into you, filling you with his girth and his power. You brought the intensity, the flint to his flame, the break in his pride and Jungkook was looking down at you, shoulders flexed, jaw tight and eyes hazy, clear emotion swirling within them and you saw your own gaze fixated on him, wanting him more than you wanted the sex.

Oh.

Shit.

You gasped and dug your nails into his scalp, grasping the pillow and throwing your head back, not expecting the suddenness of your high, injected into your heartbeat and pushing all the air out of your lungs, veins ablaze with heat as your core clenched, inner walls throbbing all around him. Jungkook groaned, biting his lower lip and thrusting hard, the small mole underneath shaking just as hard as his shoulders, but he couldn’t hold back any longer, squeezing his eyes shut, muffled scream as he came, his head falling back, two tones the start of an ongoing, wanton melody.

“Holy… fuck…”

Well, more like unholy fuck but you didn’t correct him.

You kind of expected him to pull out and leave, but instead his head snapped back and he dived down, catching your lips and dripping sweat on you, making you both laugh. Kiss after kiss, all over your face, and you could barely sputter out – “Oi, you’re sweaty!” – but he didn’t care, kissing all over your cheeks and down your neck, your chest, slurping at your nipples, you narrowed your eyes at that but those playful eyes just sparkled with deviousness, trailing down, down.

Slowing.

Jungkook pressed his lips to your waist, looking up at you.

Your heart thundered against your chest and sparks danced over your skin.

Somehow at ease.

“What?”

You smiled down at him.

“I don’t ever want to leave your side.”

Your lips parted to give him a snappy comeback, yeah, well, I gotta go to work, but nothing came out.

Jungkook grinned, his whole face lighting up and dove between your legs, biting and kissing the inside of your thighs, attacking them with his menacing mouth.

“Hey! Oi! I’m sensitive, f-fuck!”

Even planting a fat wet kiss on your clit for good measure.

“Ah!”

Shoving his tongue in your pussy.

“YO!”

You gawked at his audacity, twisting away from him. Infuriatingly, he followed, scrambling for your ass.

“There was just a condom in there!”

“Ah, who cares,” said the one that clearly didn’t. “Kiss me.”

“Hell no!”

After cleaning up and pinning him down on his own bed and thoroughly scolding him, somehow you ended up making out with Jungkook and his fingers were in your pussy again. It sounded very wet and squishy down there, probably because you showed Jungkook just now much you liked kisses under your earlobe. His tongue against your skin, teeth nicking, sucking hard and making you moan and grind on his hand, pressing against his chest.

“Sit on my face,” he whispered in your ear.

Which was know you ended up grasping his headboard and his tongue between your legs, the piercing pressed against the left side of the outer lips. You kept your weight on your knees, but Jungkook grabbed your ass and tipped your hips at a different angle, your clit right on his tongue, his nose against your crotch.

“Fuuuuck, you smell so good…”

You could barely hear him but you felt him speak, gasping at the strange sensation of hot breath and swiping tongue, his lips wrapping around your most sensitive nerves. He had a much softer tongue, but there was consistency there and plenty of gusto. It helped, actually, to have his hands gripping your thighs, adding the amplifying pleasure of restraint. You rode his face, matching the movement of his tongue. One of your hands left the headboard. Trapped your nipples between your fingers and pulled at them, making Jungkook’s eyes go wide and watch eagerly, licking and sucking harder.

Layered and intricate, full of sensation and emotion, gazing down at him and smirking as the sparks turned into lightning and you soaked his face, shivering, tipping forward at the flinches of climax, swearing under your thin breath, panting, snapped tension draining you and wetly sticking to his lips, his tongue, his cheeks.

He shoved his tongue into your quivering pussy and you sucked in a breath, feeling your inner walls pulsate around his curling muscle, his low, gravelly moan filling what little air there was between his mouth and you, his satisfaction vibrating through your body and mixing with your afterglow.

You slid down his chest and kissed him again, tasting your subtle sweet-sour on his slick lips.

He wanted you to jack him off hard and fast, the fingers of your other hand splayed out over his chest, forgetting about anything else, time only a construct, your phones discarded by the door, and here, in this bed, there was only Jungkook and you, his cock pulsing in your grip, your foxy expression to his desperate one, his eyes rolling back in the intensity, biting down hard on the left side of his lip, the small mole underneath shaking in anticipation, the tendons of his neck popping out.

You raised your free hand and gently stroked his cheek with your knuckle as you punished his cock.

His lower lip popped out of his mouth and he groaned, rough and breathless.

“A-Ah, fuck!”

A hot stream of liquid dripping down the back of your hand, drenching you and him in the strong scent of sex. Thick and potent, and you leaned forward and kissed him deeply, tightly holding his jerking cock and squeezing it all out of him.

“You’re amazing,” Jungkook panted, even after getting up – once again – to attempt to clean up your collective mess.

“Mhm,” you hummed, sitting beside him. He was radiating heat. “I was never worried about that.”

“Hah… You’re… You’re crazy…”

You had obtained your phone and just now sent a message to your boss that you would be taking a sick day on Monday. You have plenty of those. “Speak for yourself.”

“I mean, you’re like… um… uh, oh! A semen demon…”

“What?”

You almost threw your phone in laughter. Actually, you couldn’t even hear Jungkook’s explanation for what the hell he meant by semen demon because you were laughing too hard, barely able to breathe. There wasn’t a normal explanation anyway – how could there be? – and you kept inelegantly snorting afterward at inappropriate times. Jungkook, for his part, seemed proud for making you laugh so much.

“You look so beautiful laughing.”

Your response was quick, immediate, and lighthearted.

“Shut up.”

He snuggled his still too warm head into the crook of your shoulder.

“Will you stay?”

You gave him a look and then showed him the sent text message on your phone. There was something special and perfect about the smile that lit up his face, clearly showing his devotion and clearly seeing yours.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

Jungkook skipped work too. Both of you ended up sleeping in.

--

masterpost

---

Felt all the feelings with this fic 😩

So beautifully written 👏🏼

A Still Day or A Hurricane (Series Masterlist) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: single mom lawyer!OC x pastry chef!Jungkook; angst, fluff, smut; slow burn; age gap

Series Warnings: foul/explicit language; mentions of abandonment, death, cheating; case mentions of murder, sexual harassment but I’m shit at law linggo pls forgive me; pregnancy, artificial insemination, child birth; bits of 💔 but so much 💞🌸🌈; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Word count: 139.3k

Status: Completed

Series summary: Driven by your perfectionist attitude and need to have everything in order, you planned that by age 30, you’d have made junior partner, bought your own apartment, and have children. You achieved them, of course, and while the last bit required you to take matters into your own hands - no thanks to your ex-boyfriend who dumped you but to your best friend who directed you to a fertility clinic - you’re now a 31-year old who pretty much has her life under control. You’re ready to raise your child on your own, that is, until the 20-something pastry chef flirts his way into your heart, messing up the perfect little life you worked so hard to have for yourself.

Playlist 🎶

A/N: The story that kept me afloat the past few weeks is here! I got an ask a few months ago from @rodejeon about what I think of single mom OC bc we always get single dad jk and I said the first thing I thought of was Leslie Mann’s character in How to Be Single. So that was my inspiration for this - successful woman, flirty younger man - but more. 

It’s a little different than what I’m used to writing but I hope you don’t get put off by all the fluff and flirting. Blame instagram and vlive JK. But I just srsly wanted to feel happy and that’s what this story makes me feel. Also features all our favorite men (w/ wooga squad cameo) and an adorable little one whom I fell in love with as well 😍 Please watch out! 

Chapter 01 (wc: 10.4K)

Chapter 02 (wc: 10.2k)

Chapter 03 (wc: 9.7k)

Chapter 04 (wc: 10.6k)

Chapter 05 (wc: 8.6k)

Chapter 06 (wc: 11.2k)

Chapter 07 (wc: 13.8k)

Chapter 08 (wc: 11.8k)

Chapter 09 (wc: 12.5k)

Chapter 10 (wc: 12k)

Chapter 11 (wc: 16.2k)

Chapter 12 (wc: 12.3k) || End

#Extras:ASDOAH

masterlist

---

Hi, I was wondering if it was alright for you to make a scenario or drabble based of of something? Ok so my birthday is coming up and every year there's a meteor shower that happens around the same time, and I've always wanted to have someone sit with me and watch the metor shower. Problem is, it only happens at like 4 or 5 am! So I was thinking that y/n could have this happen to them where everyone is too tired, but Bakugou, the man who goes to bed at 8, is the one that actually joins them. <3

[ Happy Early or Belated Birthday! I know this request took me some time to get to. But either way, happy wishes to you, my dear! Consider this your birthday present from me! I hope you enjoy it! With much love❤️, Faulty. ]

Tsuyu sat next to you on the couch and asked, "Ribbit, what are you reading?" Uraraka was sitting to your left and Kyoka and Momo were sitting in a nearby chair. "Yeah, you've been staring at that pamphlet all night," Kyoka said.

"Is that something for school?" Momo asked as you placed the pamphlet on your thigh and shook your head. "You all know it's my birthday tomorrow, right?" you asked. Uraraka replied, "Of course! We wouldn't forget your birthday."

"Heh," you picked up the pamphlet and opened it to reveal information about something peculiar. "Every year there's this meteor shower on my birthday, and…" you paused, looking at each girl. Before enrolling at Yuuei you attended a private boarding school and never really made any friends.

Not that it mattered because you watched the meteor shower alone for as long as you could remember but this year would be different! "There was something I wanted to ask…" You took a deep breath and pressed your hands against your chest. "Would you mind watching the meteor shower with me?"

Silence followed until Kyoka spoke. "What time is the meteor shower?" She asked, leaning against Momo who wrapped her arms around her. "Uh…oh well…" you rubbed the back of your head, feeling your stomach twist.

Another reason you watched the meteor shower alone every year was because the astrological event took place at "4 in the morning," as expected, their faces twisted with uncertainty. "Uh, huh," Uraraka glanced around, hoping to hear from one of the girls.

It was then that you felt Tsuyu's hand on your shoulder. "Hm?" You looked at her, and her sympathetic smile. "Well, we'll see what we can do, but it's a school night." Unfortunately, you couldn't help but frown despite her good intentions.

"Oh, right…" You looked down at your hands, now curled on your lap. "I…I think I'm going to go to my room," you said, standing up. "Huh? What's wrong?" Momo asked. "Is everything okay?" Uraraka reached out to grab your arm, but you shook your head.

"Nothing to worry about…I'm just tired," you said, stepping on the pamphlet as you walked away. Katsuki was leaning against the nearby wall with his arms crossed as you made your way to your room with your head hanging low.

He raised an eyebrow as you disappeared down the hallway. "Tch," he snarled and followed behind you, his steps swift and silent. Luckily, you seemed too focused on your thoughts to notice him until you reached your door, and he used his quirk.

As soon as his palm touched your door, a loud 'boom' sounded, and you scrambled back into him, eyes tightly shut. There was no surprise that his quirk was blinding, and the noise made your ears ring briefly. "What the hell is going on!?" you growled, blinking once or twice to readjust your vision.

Katsuki narrowed his eyes as he crossed his arms. He took a deep breath and sighed, debating on what to say. After a moment, he spoke, "Your birthday is coming up." You continued to rub your irritated eyes and hissed "Yeah so!?" in reply.

"Why the hell did you ask extras to spend your birthday with you?" Your eyebrows knitted, and your hands curled into fists. Opening your mouth, you were about to yell at him but stumbled back and into your door when he stepped forward.

"You think it'd matter watching some damn meteor shower with them!?" His words made your heart sink, and you curled your fingers inward, feeling your nails dig into your palms. You weren't sure whether you would react with anger or tears.

A lump formed in your throat, and you swallowed hard, trying to ignore his gaze. "Does that matter to you?" Your words were coated in anger. "Usually, I watch the meteor shower alone. I shouldn't have thought it would be different this time."

As painful as those words were, you knew they were true. Are you destined to watch such a spectacular phenomenon on your own forever? You lifted your head, once again ready to scream at Katsuki. However, to your surprise, he laid a gentle hand on your shoulder making you freeze yet stiffen in response.

His serious expression contrasted with the confused look on your face, which would have made him smirk otherwise. "You shouldn't waste your time asking extras anything like that, dumbass!" Your eyes widened and you leaned back, feeling various emotions fill you.

The strongest ones were anger and sadness, and you struggled again to respond to Katsuki. "Y-yeah, I'll remember that…thanks," you said bitterly as he raised his eyebrows. Your response to his questionable expression was a monotone one before you opened your door.

Even though there was a soot stain embedded in the wood of it, you entered your room half expecting him to stop you. Instead, he only raised his hand, wanting to say something but ultimately deciding not to. After closing the door, you slumped against it and sighed.

'Why did I ask them!? I'm so stupid!' Gritting your teeth and putting your hands into your hair, you grunted in frustration and slid to the floor. The fact that it was your birthday tomorrow didn't matter to you, as it now felt even less special. Katsuki may have been right.

If your friends didn't want to spend time with you during your birthday, doing something with you that held sentimental value, then were they really friends? As a potential hero, you know never to let darkness cloud your thoughts or heart.

Nonetheless, it was hard not to let your emotions take over. Taking a look around your room, you sighed again. "Might as well just get ready for bed…" yeah maybe you just needed to sleep this off. After changing into your appropriate sleeping wear, you lay in your bed staring at the ceiling.

Sleep didn't come easily to you, and you knew why. After lying awake for hours, you grunted and pondered whether pacing around your bedroom might finally exhaust you enough to get some shut-eye. However, this was not the case, and you looked at the clock after pacing for what seemed like hours.

It was just past midnight and you growled, frustrated with yourself. "Is there something wrong with me?" You hissed, ready to scream when you caught a glimpse of the night sky through the window curtain. Slowly pulling back the curtain, you were bathed in the gentle glow of the moon.

As you stared at the brilliant sparkling dots that adorned the sky, the world froze, and you breathed a sigh of contentment. Something unusual, however, stood out among the stars. As you leaned toward the window and pressed your hands against the cool glass you knitted your eyebrows trying to make sense of it.

You realized what you were looking at after a moment and clasped your hands together in glee, before exclaiming, "A shooting star!" Like a child, you believed in the concept of wishing on a shooting star. On the basis of that, you closed your eyes and wished for what your heart desired.

There was nothing more simple than wanting someone, just one person, to watch the meteor shower with you. The shooting star was nowhere to be found when you opened your eyes, but you smiled anyway. The next morning went as usual, you received a few birthday wishes and a few small gifts, but nothing major.

It's not like you expected a big party. As a matter of fact, you didn't give a damn. You were only looking forward to the meteor shower. After a brief sleep that night, you awoke promptly at three in the morning. Before climbing onto the roof of the student dorm building, you changed into a different outfit and gathered some supplies.

You shivered as you laid the blanket down on the roof, luckily you brought some hot chocolate thermoses to warm you up. You sighed contently as you drank one and let the steam caress your chilled face and your nose inhale the sweet chocolate aroma.

After a minute or two, you picked up your phone to check the time. "Almost…" you said, putting it away. After another sip of hot chocolate, you capped the thermos and pulled your knees up to your chest. When you finally saw the first meteor soar through the sky, you gasped in awe.

The rest soon followed, illuminating the otherwise dark sky. You were so absorbed in the moment that you didn't hear someone approach you until one of your shoulders was touched. A hand clamped over your mouth when you screamed out in surprise.

"Shut up! If you don't, you'll wake everyone in the building, and I don't need that damn Deku bothering us," your eyes widened, and you immediately recognized the voice. You pulled his hand away from your mouth, turning to look at him.

"Bakugou?" you asked in disbelief, unable to see his facial features clearly but feeling his glare nonetheless. After a few seconds, you turned back to watch the meteor shower. At the same time, you notice the temperature of your cheeks increasing.

If it were lighter outside, Katsuki would see that said cheeks were dusted a soft red color. "I just…I didn't expect you to join me," you said, briefly remembering your wish. Regardless of whether it was the shooting star or Katsuki's own decision to join you, your heart was racing.

For once you weren't alone watching the meteor shower. As he sat beside you on the blanket, you tensed up. "Just…you're normally the person who goes to bed first, so…" you swallowed heavily. "I'm just surprised to see you up at this hour."

As his eyes followed the meteors' path, he replied, "Tch, oh yeah?" He grumbled and brought one leg up to his chest, resting his elbow on it. "When those damn extras you call your 'friends' refused to watch this with you I…" He clenched his jaw. He wasn't used to or thought it appropriate to share his feelings.

Yet somehow you felt like a completely different case. What could he say he felt when he saw the look on your face when your 'friends' denied your request? On your damn birthday no less, it struck a chord. No…not a chord, more like a nerve in him.

It was impossible, he thought, for them to say no to you and still consider themselves your damn friends. Dumbasses are what they are, dumbasses who are not worth your time. Hell, he couldn't say all that. Instead, he glanced at you or at least in your direction.

When he moved his hand, his fingers brushed across the top of yours, making you gasp and snap your head toward him. You caught a glimpse of the smirk on his face. More than likely, he was proud of himself for causing such a reaction in you.

He looked back at the sky, which was still filled with meteors. Taking a deep breath, he watched it evaporate before him. He almost forgot how cold it was outside for a moment, but maybe that was because your warmth radiated through him.

"Look…" he began, "I don't do friendships but…" Okay maybe that was a lie, but the "friends" he had, like Eijirou and Hanta just forced their friendship on him, it's not like he asked for it. "As far as I'm concerned if someone you know is in need and asks you for a damn favor, you do it," he said with a growl.

"And if they refuse to do that damn favor, screw'em! They aren't worth your time and…yeah y-you're not my friend but I…care about you," he admitted, glancing away. "But don't tell anyone about that!" He snapped, making you jump in response. "I…I won't!" you replied, holding up your hands.

The tension between you two seemed to fade as you continued to observe the phenomenon before you and exchanged a few words over hot chocolate. Towards the end, your hands became intertwined and the distance between you grew smaller until you found yourself resting your head on his shoulder.

He tensed up a little at this simple act of affection but made no move to push you away or tell you to stop. Despite his quirk which many would think would give him rough skin, his hand was smooth, warm, and comforting.

Your chuckle broke the silence between you two. "Hm, what?" He demanded, and you shook your head trying to muffle your laughter. "N-nothing it's just...uh, f-funny," you said, continuing to snicker. He raised his eyebrow.

"What's funny?" he demanded, thinking you were laughing at him. You lifted your head, gazing into his eyes that were somehow visible in the dark. "I'm sorry, it's just that you told me not to waste my time with 'extras' for something like this." Your laughter died down.

"But you are the one watching it with me because you care," you said, smiling. After he blinked, almost as if he was trying to process the information you gave him, he leaned down and pressed his lips against your cheek, which made you squeak.

"Yeah well, I already said I care about you damn it, or did you miss that?!" He snarled, but you didn't react to this. Instead, you pressed your hand against your burning cheek. "A-and that kiss was?" He grumbled, rolling his eyes.

"I…I don't know. Consider it a damn…birthday gift…I guess," he replied and stiffened when you laughed again. "What is it this time!?" He snapped, and you shook your head. "Uh…nothing, just I…I wished on a shooting star I saw last night," you exhaled.

"Well, I guess you are my birthday wish so…thank you." His eyes widened and although you couldn't be certain, his cheeks seemed to light up. "Yeah well…whatever, just finish watching the meteor shower so we can go back inside. I'm losing sleep over this, dumbass…" he muttered, although part of him knew he didn't mean it.

Despite losing sleep, he was happy to spend time with you like this. A few hours later, he helped you pack everything you brought to the roof, walked you to your room and said goodnight. Although you felt incredibly tired by the time you got up from your short slumber, ate breakfast, and stumbled into class hunched over like a zombie.

The smile on your face was evident that you were still happy. Out of everyone who could have chosen to watch the meteor shower with you, Katsuki showed how kindhearted he was and frankly, you couldn't thank him enough. Taking a seat, you slumped down in your desk until you could see the ceiling.

Upon noticing your abnormal behavior, Ashido walked over. "Hey," she said, smiling before scratching her cheek. "Sorry, I missed your birthday yesterday. Uh, how was it? Did you have a good time watching the meteor shower?" She asked, slightly embarrassed.

"Hm? Oh…uh," you groaned, sitting back up and yawning loudly. "I mean…it was…" You glanced around the room, letting your eyes settle on Katsuki who was currently sitting at his desk with Eijirou and Hanta who were chatting his ear off.

However, that wasn't what made you smile, it was, yet again, remembering what he did for you. "Hm?" Ashido placed her hands on her hips and looked in the direction you were staring at. "What are you looking at?" She asked before scoffing.

"All I see is Bakugou over there," her response made you laugh, and she turned her head back. "What?" She demanded but you shook your head. "Nothing, nothing," you said, suppressing your laughter. "Yeah, I had an amazing time watching the meteor shower. Honestly, my birthday was…better than I could have wished."

---

souvenir

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 3k

glimpse: shouldn’t this be the part where you tell him not to stay out too late?

alternatively, yoongi thinks you hate him because you don’t coddle him after a fight.

[ So Much Pining but they’re already in a relationship lol, some angst from a lil fight, yoongi likes being chased but u don’t indulge him this time, 10/10 wholesome ]

notes: a little something as i come back to writing <3 this is a new fic universe altogether and may be a slice of life series :O

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even replying to this post sends me over the moon :)

Yoongi relishes in being difficult.

He’s difficult in the way that he’s stubborn for whatever it is, no matter how low he could stoop. It’s definitely a working progress, but your husband just still hasn’t shaken the urge to always have the last say.

It wasn’t a deep control thing, honestly — Yoongi just really loves pushing your buttons. 

If Yoongi could find a route to piss you off, he’d take a million little detours in the process just for you to take the cake by the end of it. When you present to him a simple yes or no question, he’d find a way to shift the topic altogether for your conversation to go absolutely nowhere.

He’s annoying, there’s really no doubt about it. It was a learning curve at first because seeing your then-boyfriend (now your husband) become snarky at you for surprisingly no reason at all wasn’t exactly the best feeling. All it took was a simple call to Jin, Yoongi’s closest friend, to make you realize that he was just being playful. Your husband being a brat to you, simply put into words, is his love language.

It’s the tiny accumulative moments where he purposely irritates you that in hindsight, it’s become oddly endearing. 

When you pick where to order take-out because Yoongi keeps saying whatever, he whines to no end once the food arrives because apparently, it’s not what he had in mind. You used to be so pissed about it that you’ll order what he wants, but nowadays, you just tell him to suck it up and put more food on his plate.

When you do all the laundry in one go (no, the colors don’t bleed together) and Yoongi insists that you do separate batches for each color that he could enumerate, you would try and appease him by pretending to separate each one. Now, all that Yoongi gets is a high-pitched sarcastic compliment for knowing all his colors.

Whatever Yoongi purposely gave you to incite a reaction, it all melted into your understanding that this was just him. You’re no longer affected by the tiny little things because weirdly enough, they no longer serve its purpose of annoying you. 

It’s just like taking care of Ginger, the spoiled little family cat you grew to take care of back in your childhood home. When she was still a kitten, she’d purposely go up your shelves, look at you in the eye before dropping an item, and you’re leaping after the orange devil to reprimand her. When she became an adult, she still had the same annoying tendencies, and yet you evolved enough not to even bat an eye when she does it now.

Yoongi being annoying to you now isn’t the same thing of him being annoying to you back then. What you used to hate, you now tolerate. What used to piss you off, now makes you endeared. When your husband pushes your buttons now, you’re reminded of how much more mischievous he used to be and the memories that came with it.

This is now your peak — there’s really nothing Yoongi could do that make you fazed anymore.

In a great bout of karma, this is Yoongi’s trough. 

You barely give him an adverse reaction nowadays and that scares him right to his core because you used to be so enthusiastic over him. There’d be days where he picks fights intentionally and you’d spend the whole night trying to make it up to him, even if he necessarily wasn’t in the right.

Yoongi thinks that he’s witnessing himself being old news right in front of you and it scares him. 

You’re more well-versed when it comes to this. You’re the more attentive, more vocal lover between the two of you. You’re the one who can read minds and interpret actions. You’re the one who tends to be more confrontational and he’s the passive one. You’re the one who makes sure that a night wouldn’t pass without the two of you making up.

Yoongi, who thought this was the best thing he’s ever thought of until twenty minutes ago, decides to rekindle your romance by picking a fight with you.

Twenty minutes later, he’s never regretted a decision more in his life.

“I’m going out.” 

He announces as the last resort, head pounding because the fight became bigger than necessary. It’s 9 in the evening and he isn’t even dressed to be going out, his matching pajamas with you too soft and too worn to be even seen wearing while driving in the comfort of his own car.

Yoongi feels tears pricking in his eyes because clearly you laid onto him just as much as he made digs at you tonight, but what’s even more hurtful is that looking at you now, you don’t even look as startled as he is.

Maybe it’s just his mind. His silly, smooth, little mind that thinks the fight was bigger than it actually was. It was just a tiny argument about him baselessly accusing you of not putting in any effort that went off-topic for a brief second. In reality, it really was just a casual fight that most married couples have on a rare weekend but to Yoongi, it was explosive.

It was far more hurtful than he anticipated because in his eyes now, you don’t love him that much anymore.

“Okay. Go ahead,” you mumble for him to hear, putting away leftovers like any other night. You meticulously wrap the plates with cling wrap, your back turned to him when you mutter. “I hope the door hits your ass on the way out.”

“O-oh?” Yoongi backtracks when he hears your go-ahead, literally shell-shocked to see that you’re not stopping him. He wipes away his tears before you turn your neutral gaze back to him, swallowing the lump on his throat. “I’m going now. To get some air.”

“Okay, Yoongi.”

He’s done this before. There’s been fights where you tell him not to walk out on you and he complies. There’s also been fights where he walks out anyways, but you’d always tell him I love you and not to stay out too late.

He’s attempting the second option because clearly, you’re not pleading for him to talk this out and later on could the two of you get some air together.

“I’m really, really going now.”

He looks at you with shaky eyes, clearly pleading for you to indulge him by making him stay. 

You see right through him. You see right through your husband and in any other day would you just laugh this off, but tonight isn’t working for you. You were tired from work, Yoongi picked a fight with you for no reason, and you neither have the energy to tolerate nor chase him.

Every now and then, you should stop coddling Yoongi and give him exactly what he claims to want.

“Okay. Bye.”

You leave no room for any more replies, sauntering over the stairs without looking back.

Yoongi doesn’t want to look like a coward for not following through what he said so he audibly opens the door with the creak being heard all the way up the stairs. He’s not even a fourth out of the door but his bottom lip already blubbers, legs trembling from another type of chill that his pajamas can’t protect him from.

Shouldn’t this be the part where you tell him not to stay out too late?

( ♡ )

It’s 9:30 on a Saturday, Yoongi’s at a friend’s club wearing his sleeping pajamas on, drinking Pocari Sweat because crying on the way here really dehydrated him.

Yoongi is not doing well.

Jin’s originally here to survey his club at a peak night, but that plan went downhill as soon as Yoongi spotted him and immediately clung to his back asking for electrolyte water.

“Call Y/N using my phone.”

Yoongi mumbles when the two of them are settled at a secluded booth, all the noise being significantly decreased but not enough for it to be unrecognizable that he’s at a club through a phone call.

“And why exactly would I do that?” Jin snorts, already having an inkling to know where this is going from having a quick run-down from your husband himself.

He’s just about to lecture him with the words he’s always been wanting to say; something along the words that Yoongi’s bratty tendencies were eventually gonna bite him in the ass hard.

Seokjin doesn’t get to do that though because a phone is thrust to his face that it almost punches him, making him faux spit into nothing and wave off his bodyguards standing at a distance from him.

“Quick. She’s probably worried sick about me!” Yoongi convinces Jin, or atleast tries to because he’s the one that needs it. You’re probably wondering where he is, right? There may be no texts in his inbox, but who’s to say that you’re telepathically texting him to ask what time he’s coming home… right?

“No she’s not,” he sing-songs. He plans to annoy his friend for about 98% the time he’s going to be here (he’s gonna send him home to you anyway before 10:30) and the other 2% for semi-sincere consoling.

Then an idea pops into Jin’s head.

“What should I say?” he suddenly and eagerly takes up Yoongi on his request, not waiting for an answer before the perfect scenario pops in his head. “Ah wait, let me be in charge of that.”

Jin’s already pressing to call you much faster to Yoongi’s expectations because he really thought that it would take more amounts of convincing to do this. The phone’s put on speaker and as soon as it rings, Yoongi feels the urge to duck. He’s steadily about to snatch his phone back but you answer your phone even faster than he could do that.

“Hi Y/N!” Seokjin beams and it makes you smile from the other end, a clue already being filled in your head where exactly your husband went to. “Whatcha doing?” 

Jin makes conversation with you on Yoongi’s phone, sleazily smiling as he takes it off of speaker as soon as his friend hears your voice. Yoongi clearly takes an outrage with that but he contains it when Jin fully extends his arm out, holding him back by the face.

“Ugh, did you make popcorn? No way, not one burnt kernel? I knew it-!” Jin yelps when Yoongi bites his palm, quickly standing up from his seat in the booth so Yoongi couldn’t catch up with him. “I told you- I told you that brand’s way better!” 

“She’s not asking why you’re using my phone?” Yoongi whisper-yells as he circles around Seokjin, hands anxiously attempting to grab his phone back. “She’s not asking about me?”

Jin hears him loud and clear but he pretends not to, only sparing a glance. “Did you use the microwave preset? Personally I recommend only popping it in for two minutes and fifteen seconds because- motherfucker!”

Yoongi pinches him by the nape quite harshly like how you’d do with a kitten and it makes Jin freeze for a brief second, stealing his phone back with the call on-going.

“Y/N!” he almost yells to the phone, the momentary silence making it sink to him that he’s finally talking to you after so long. 

Read: it has only been forty minutes.

“What?” you groan into the phone, pushing your voice to be further disinterested. You’re no longer mad at him anymore — you’re just having some bit of fun at this point.

“I-I...” the words dissolve quickly on his tongue, the taste being bitter once again even when he was certain that the Pocari washed it out earlier. Yoongi says the next best thing he could that first pops up into his head, the random blurting of words being amusing even for Jin’s bodyguards.

“I uhm, I have a splinter.”

“Then take it out.”

“It hurts,” he whines at another attempt, screwing his eyes shut at the secondhand embarrassment because from the corner of his eye, one of the three bodyguards is actually clutching at his stomach from laughing. 

“Have Jin do it for you then.”

“Jin and I are in the club, by the way!” he reminds you, perking up slightly now that you indirectly acknowledged where he is and who he’s with.

“Mhmm.”

Just one last pathetic attempt of skirting around and if it doesn’t work, Yoongi will immediately come home to you.

“Is the popcorn good?” 

Read: it doesn’t work.

Jin steals his phone back before he could even hear your response to his dumb-witted question, getting a painful run-down from his friend instead. “You’re painful to watch, y’know that?”

He sighs disappointedly at Yoongi, rolling his eyes before pressing the phone to his ear. “So? What’s it taste like? It’s not really oily, I told you already. The cheese doesn’t smell obnoxious either. Because actually — exactly! It doesn’t stain your fingers!”

Yoongi… will lose it. But before he loses it completely, he gathers all his remaining sanity to continue your tradition while Jin keeps you preoccupied. He spots two things quickly and puts it into his arms with no semblance of shame, even if Jin’s bodyguards saw him technically shoplifting. Yoongi thinks it doesn’t count as such because Jin already knows about the tradition between the two of you, and as predicted, his friend just waves him off in acknowledgement.

It’s a tiny tradition.

Whenever one of you goes somewhere without the other, it’s a rule to bring back a souvenir. There’s no specifications to it, just whatever item you could bring back as proof that you thought about the other while you were out.

Some of the souvenirs you brought home to Yoongi: a pretty rock, a duvet cover, a liter of hand sanitizer, a designer card wallet, and a scrunchie with his name embroidered on it.

Some of the souvenirs Yoongi brought home to you: a fancy teaspoon, a hotel pillow, ten perfume testers at the same time, a remote holder, and a teddy bear with his voice as its squeezable heart.

Yoongi thinks that he doesn’t have shoplifting tendencies but in hindsight of some of the souvenirs he’s gotten you, there may be a pattern to it.

“You brought home... a shot glass.”

You look at the tiny glass, the remnants of electrolyte water still swishing around it.

“Wrong,” he sternly replies, bringing an item from behind his back that couldn’t be anymore obvious even if he tried. “I brought home a shot glass and a tiny potted plant.”

“Since when did bars have potted plants?” you mutter in disbelief, taking the miniature bonsai from him and looking at it in wonder.

“Since tonight! Jin’s, I don’t know, entrepreneurial like that. I wanted to show it to you so I brought it home.”

Your husband says it’s like the most obvious thing to do; his desire for you to know that he indeed thought about you while he was gone manifesting into bringing home one shot glass, and one tiny bonsai to prove it.

“You stole it, Yoongs.”

The amusement lilts in your voice and Yoongi catches on to it, but he just can’t seem to let it go, a little upset that you’re focused on him “stealing” it instead of the fact that he’d go through whatever lengths for you.

“Again, I brought it home because I wanted you to see it!”

“You could’ve just sent me a picture,” you giggle, setting down the pot on your side table. You peel back the covers you momentarily left, patting the spot beside you and Yoongi clearly could not have went to bed any more eager than this.

“How was I supposed to know?” he mumbles in defeat, a frown on his face. “You probably would’ve iced me out.”

“You didn’t even ask me what time I’d get home.” 

Yoongi sighs and even if the moment’s already been significantly lightened with the souvenirs, it brings you a greater relief now that your husband’s choosing to say what’s exactly bothering him instead of pissing you off.

“You didn’t even chase me through the door! I didn’t even want to go!” he’s almost one step into a tantrum and you have to hold him by the arm to not get too carried away by reminiscing, rolling your eyes when you hold him closer.

“You went out because you thought I’d chase you.”

“Exactly,” he affirms, albeit a little upset now that he’s confirmed you knew all along. “Can’t you just chase after me?” Yoongi asks innocently, soft eyes staring you down.

The moment’s too tender that it makes your shoulders hunch, hand automatically moving to the side of his face to guide him into nuzzling into the crook of your neck — a move he looks forward to especially after tonight.

“I’m not always gonna chase after you, Yoongi,” you confide, lips brushing on his temple. “You’re just so damn stubborn sometimes. Like, makes-my-jaw-clench type of stubborn.”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi sincerely apologizes, his face still buried to your neck with his arms clinging around your middle. “I guess I’m just so used to you making amends with me that it makes me act out on purpose.”

Yoongi faults himself at the end of the night this time, without your prompting, and you can’t deny that it makes your heart full.

“I’m sorry, baby.”

He lifts his head up to look at you directly, lips puffed into a pout with his eyes in slow blinks. “Yoongi’s very sorry.”

Maybe you spoke too soon. Maybe Yoongi’s just always gonna be slightly annoying.

“Did you just talk about yourself in third-person?” you mumble, eyes suddenly snapping open when it sinks into you.

“Isn’t it cuter that way? Is it working?” your husband heartily laughs, stretching his arms out to put around you and invade your personal space even more. “Why, do you feel it working?”

“I don’t know what to feel about it, that’s for sure,” you chuckle, the atmosphere completely lightened at this point.

“I promise I’ll try not to be difficult anymore. Won’t piss you off either.”

“That doesn’t happen overnight, Yoonie.” 

Yoongi’s just… mischievous. His love language was to pull stuff with you and although it keeps you on your toes more often than necessary, you wouldn’t be tired of him.

“Tell you what, promise me this instead,” you turn right when Yoongi was about to do it himself so he could bury his face to the crook of your neck again, blinking owlishly to listen at what you have to say.

“Try to chase after me too. Let me be the difficult one sometimes.” 

Yoongi smiles, the switch being more than intriguing. “M’kay. That’s not as hard to promise doing.”

The concept of it makes him happy too much that it lingers there, reverting back to calling you his term of endearment for you and that’s when you know that there’s nothing left unresolved between the two of you now.

“I like that, bear. You should try picking fights with me too. It’s fun sometimes, trust me!”

“I can tell,” you hum, blindly reaching out your arm to turn off the nightlight at your side.

“Yoongi likes that.”

“Stop talking about yourself in third person.”

“I think it’s already growing on me,” Yoongi admits, tilting his head and knowing for a fact that it would take more than fifteen minutes to sleep tonight while in thought.

“Is it gonna stick?” 

The groan leaves you automatically and by the lack of response, you already know your answer.

“Bear,” you hum. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna pick a fight with you tomorrow, alright?”

“M’kay! Remind me tomorrow what time you’re gonna start pissing me off, yeah?” he grins from ear to ear, not requiring a nightlight to see that your husband looks at you so fondly.

“Good night, baby,” Yoongi finally bids you, pressing a tender kiss right to your lips before tucking you with the comforter exactly how you liked it. “Loving you is my favorite part of the chase.”

---

Hi again!! Thanks for the American and Gojo squad! Now I’m just gonna wing it cause this idea makes me all giddy but can you do the Gojo squad reacting to their new American friend offering to make bentos for them cause they interested in cooking. (Cause I would do this for them) thank you!!

A/N: Let's all thank @broad-strokes87 for keeping the JJK part of my blog active 🙇‍♀️😌

When their American friend offers to make them bentos!

Incl: Teen Gojo, Geto, Shoko, Nanami, Haibara

GOJO - HESITANT AF - But would graciously accept your offer (he's shaking in his boots) - Discreetly shows you different cookbooks, homemade recipes he likes, etc. under the guise of educating but he just really doesn't want you to mess up or be embarrassed by your attempts - Will definitely poke at it like it's alien food once he gets his hands on his bento - Expecting it to taste bad - Is visibly shocked when it tastes good - "Cut the cameras... You're actually really good at this..." - It's honestly disheartening to see how relieved and surprised he is, he really thought you were gonna basically poison him - Inhales the rest of his food and has the nerve to pick off of the others bentos and ask if you have more - Doesn't have any decorum when asking you to bring him bentos from now on (will put on a cute act to get you to say yes... eventually will offer money for your services)

GETO - Accepts graciously and sweetly - Offers to help you out and figure out what goes into a bento if you want him to - Teases you a bit in the days leading to you bringing in the bentos - "Thought you said you'd try and make us something good? Not lying are you?" - Always makes sure you know he's joking though - If any of the others are actually pressuring you to make them he tells them to back off and always gives a reassuring smile - Slightly cocky when you give him his bento because it's so nicely prepared (he thinks it's due to his guidance) - Is pleasantly surprised when everything tastes really nice - With every bite, he's acting like it's the best thing he's ever tasted in order to boost your confidence - "Tell me when you're feeling like doing this again, I really enjoyed everything."

SHOKO - Confused as to why you would want to try something like that in the first place but concedes and is happy that you'd make something for her - Another one who is keen on helping you but actually gives you good advice instead of pressuring you to make good food or looking over you like master to an apprentice - Would even offer to show you how to make simple bento dishes in the kitchen you want her to - Helps you dissect bentos and lowkey gives you lessons on how things should be and what pairs well with what - Is impressed when you bring the bentos in but not entirely surprised (she knows you worked hard) - Gives small critiques but praises you soooo much as well - "You did really well for your first time doing bento's and you made so many for all of us too!" - Gives you a pat on the back for your work and offers you some of her candy as a "dessert"

NANAMI - "I'm good but thank you for offering." - Refuses vehemently at first and doesn't realize that it hurt your feelings when he does so -Haibara has to convince him to say yes eventually (Haibara is much more likely to notice you sulking than Nanami tbh) - Doesn't push you to make good on your words in the following days, low-key hopes that you forgot - It's really not so much that he wouldn't want a bento from you but he doesn't want you to go through all the hassle for him - Completely surprised when you actually give him a bento - Gives a full-scale review of every dish at your request - Laughs when you're dutifully taking in every word he's saying - "You don't have to take it seriously, it's good. You're food's good."

HAIBARA - The only enthusiastic and genuine "YES!" you get lmao - Honestly, he just likes food and even if you gave him something burnt to a crisp he would love it - Doesn't offer any help but tells you what his preference for dishes are - Is super worried if he's pressured you to make his favorite stuff though so he immediately apologizes - "No no no, I meant that I'd like anything you're willing to make! You really don't have to make what I want just because I said so!" - When he gets his bento and sees some of his favorite stuff he tears up thinking that you did it because of him - Thanks you up, down, and sideways for the meal - Buys you snacks for the rest of the week because he's still worried about pressuring you - Also, swears that your bento is even more delicious than the ones he would get from his mom when he was younger

A/N: This one was so cute!! I'll be real, I think Haibara might be ooc but what do y'all think?? We didn't get much of him but he's still my baby boy and I write him as such!!

Please Reblog and Comment if you enjoyed ! (They act as power-ups for me)

Taglist (OPEN): @iluvmattyb

---

I loved this so much!!!😭❤️

stray kids as dads

skz ot8 x reader

word count: 13.9k (1k-2k per member)

genre: fluff, some suggestive content, a dash of angst with minho - MINORS DNI

warnings: illness (stomach bug - chan), mentions of birth, jisung gets a lil mopey, mentions of food, almost oral (seungmin, fem receiving), it's just really fluffy tbh. if i missed anything - PLEASE LET ME KNOW.

summary: a day in the life of dad stray kids

a/n: i have baby fever and i'm making it everyone's problem. also sometimes i write fluff - this brought me lots of comfort so i hope it does for you as well.

this is a work of fiction. this fic in no way represents stray kids members as people or the band as a whole. you are responsible for the media you consume. please read responsibly.

taglist: @lix-ables, @rachalixie, @agustd-essert, @gibbysupremeacyisreal, @katieraven, @miamormi, @woahfruity, @isilentprincess

Bang Chan

When you’re expecting, everyone tells you to get all the sleep you can, because it’ll be a while before you get a full night’s sleep again. All these things about “sleep when the baby sleeps” or “you won’t ever be able to catch up”. In Chan’s case, he found the lack of sleep the easiest part of parenting. He never slept anyway, what difference did a baby make?

Chan functions best between the hours of midnight and 5 am, which made him the obvious choice to take over night time feedings/diaper changes. You were exhausted, Chan wasn’t, so what was the point in waking you up? 

He spent most nights in his home studio after you fell asleep, keeping the baby monitor on full volume so he could run back upstairs when needed. Most nights, when the baby stirred, he would just take them back down to the studio with him, snuggling as he worked until they fell back asleep.

It was a great routine, and Chan was almost sad when all his kids started sleeping through the night. There was no need for a monitor in his studio anymore, nobody waking up for a midnight snack or just some cuddles - he wasn’t really needed at night anymore. Chan went to his home studio less and less at night, trying to adjust to everyone else’s sleep schedule. There were some positives to this; he got to fall asleep with you now instead of after you, he never missed family breakfast anymore, he got to take his kids to school. Following everyone else’s routine was better in the long run.

Even though he missed the one on one time he got with his kids. There was something special about those late night snuggles that he wasn’t able to recreate.

A stomach bug entered the Bang household suddenly and aggressively. It started with the oldest daughter. Chan got a call from her piano teacher to come pick her up from practice, saying that she had been vomiting aggressively for the past ten minutes. He broke many traffic laws racing to his daughter's school, and then just as many to get to the ER, just to be told it’s just a really shitty stomach bug.

The bug then began to bounce around, hitting his youngest daughter next. For two days, Chan ran between the girls’ bedrooms, bringing soup, gatorade, crackers - whatever they needed, he was right there to help him. He wanted to help them feel better while keeping you and the baby away from the bug. The last thing he wanted was for either of you to get sick. So, it made sense that the next person to get sick was himself.

Chan slept on the floor of the bathroom the first night. The tile was so cool against his body, which was so hot. He opened every window in your bedroom to try and cool his body off as he laid immobilized on the bed. The second day, you came in and shut the windows.

“I understand you’re hot, Chan, but it’s snowing outside.”

With all the strength he could muster, he rushed you out of the bedroom. The top floor of the house was ground zero, and now knowing first hand how awful this bug was, he wanted you as far away from him as possible. 

The third day, Chan began to feel better. He was able to make it to the bathroom without having to stop for a break, and could successfully hold down soup. With the girls fully recovered, and Chan more than halfway there, he began to feel optimistic that the bug would skip over you.

Then, the baby got sick.

Within the next 10 hours, you started to vomit.

Chan was moved out of the bedroom and into his home studio so you and the baby could quarantine in there. From what Chan could tell, you got the worst of it. The first night he sat next to you while you sobbed into the toilet, afraid to leave because you didn’t know when the nausea was going to hit again. You could barely pick your son up, who weighed at least 10 pounds less than both the girls did at 15 months. Every time he cried, you would cry harder, feeling both miserable and guilty, like you were the one who got him sick.

The only positive was that both you and the baby slept, and slept hard. The physical exhaustion from vomiting and sweating all day meant you both were getting at least 12 hours a night. That was the only time Chan would leave your side, wandering down to the couch in his home studio.

Chan tried really, really hard to fall asleep that night. He took melatonin, drank sleepy time tea, even wore an eye mask to make sure it was completely dark. He just couldn’t shut his brain off. It was jumping all over the place - from worrying about you, to coming up with new track ideas. He couldn’t calm down enough to go to sleep.

Chan removed the eye mask to check the time on his phone. 11:00. He had been trying to fall asleep for 45 minutes without success.

“Fuck it.” He mumbled to him before turning on the lights and powering up all his equipment.

If he couldn’t sleep, he sure as fuck could work.

///

2:45 am, and Chan was thanking whatever God he could that Jisung’s sleep schedule was just as fucked up as his.

“I just finished the hook for this track, if you want to give it a listen.” Jisung’s groggy voice filled the empty studio. “If you’re too tired, I get it. Just thought you might want to-“

“Nah, man. I’m wide awake. Send it.” Chan said, clicking open his email to get ready for the track.

He listened to Jisung’s keyboard click as he waited. “Sent. Everyone in your house still feeling bad?”

The notification popped up before Chan could even refresh the page. “Almost everyone. The girls are feeling better, for the most part. I still feel a bit nauseous but not bad. Not as bad as…”

“Yeah, no, we got it too.” Jisung sighed. “I’m the only one who hasn’t started throwing up, so I’ve been on newborn duty.”

Chan smiled to himself, remembering when his kids were that small and the long nights spent together in the same room he was in now. “That was my favorite part.”

“Of course it was. You never sleep, it makes sense for you to take on the night shift.”

“I mean, true. But god, the alone time with them? The way their weight felt against my chest as they slept while I worked? There’s nothing like it. I miss it.”

Jisung chuckled softly. “I get that. Being needed is always nice.”

The conversation ended there, as Chan pulled up the track to review it. He smiled while listening to it; Jisung never produced a bad track, even if he hated hearing it.

“Ji, man. You just get better everyday.” Chan said as soon as the track ended.

“Shut the fuck up. The beat at 15 seconds sounds funny-“

“It’s different, but it flows well with the rest of the song.” Chan saved the track to his computer. “I want to play around with it a bit but I doubt there’s any adjustments I need to make. It’s fucking good.”

He could hear Jisung getting flustered on the other end of the phone. “You can change whatever you need. I have some other-“ his friend was cut off by a sudden wailing noise in the background. “Again? She literally fell asleep an hour ago- Ah, Channie, I gotta go.”

Chan smiled, feeling slightly envious of his friend. “Go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Jisung gave a quick goodbye before he ended the call, leaving Chan alone in silence. He pulled Jisung’s track back up, deciding to start messing around with it now. Maybe he could get it back to him before 5:00-

Chan was so caught up in the track that he didn’t hear the basement door close, or the thumping of tiny feet against the hardwood floor. He didn’t even notice his youngest daughter sneaking into the studio, dark, curly hair clinging to her face, a kangaroo doll clutched to her chest. He didn’t know she was there until he felt something tugging on his shirt sleeve.

Chan whirled around, spooked by the sudden movement. “Jesus Christ- oh. Jellybean, you scared me.” Chan said with a laugh. “What are you doing awake?”

She sniffled, and then Chan realized she had been crying. “I had a nightmare, Papa.”

“Oh, baby.” Chan scooped his daughter up, gathering her in his arms. His fingers found her hair, slowly threading them through it in an attempt to calm her down. “Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head as she squeezed Chan tighter. “Just want Papa.”

“I’m right here, love.” Chan slowly moved the chair back and forth in a rocking motion, like he would do when they were babies. He kissed the top of her head, sweaty from sleep. As long as she needed him, he would stay, holding her against his chest.

“I have to do some work, Jellybean, but you can stay here with me if you want?” Chan whispered, pulling his chair back into the desk.

Sniffling, your daughter gave a small yes, determined to stay until she was certain there wasn’t anything lurking in her closet like her dreams had made her believe.

Chan played Jisung’s track at a low volume, adding some minor adjustments. He felt his daughter’s heart rate slow down, her sniffling stop, and he was almost certain she was asleep until she spoke again:

“Papa make this?”

“I wish. It sounds good, right?” She nodded her head in response. “Uncle Ji made it.”

He felt her smile softly against his chest. “Pretty.”

“It is pretty.”

His daughter moved her head to look up at her father. “Uncle Ji has a new baby, right?”

“Mhm. Baby girl.”

“Can we see baby soon?“

Chan smiled down at his daughter before pressing a kiss against her forehead. “When mommy and bubba feel better, we can go over and meet the baby.”

She smiled for the first time that early morning as she thought about holding the new baby. She nuzzled back into her father’s chest and said: “I like babies.”

“Babies are great.”

“I wish I was still a baby. Like Bubba. Or Uncle Ji’s baby.”

“Well, you may not be a baby. But, you’re my baby.”

“I like being your baby.”

Chan felt his heart swell as he squeezed his daughter. 

Babies were fun. That bonding time Chan had with all his kids was fun. But this? This was so much better.

Lee Minho

Minho had been looking forward to this trip for weeks.

He had “spontaneously” planned it about a month ago after a long phone call with his mom. His parents didn’t live too far away from you guys; in fact, you often saw them once a week for family dinners. But, within the last few months, you all saw less and less of each other; weekly family dinners turning into monthly, if you’re lucky. The loss of family time had made his mom sad, and Minho shared that sentiment. He was close to his family, and not seeing them enough brought his mood down considerably.

After the phone call ended, Minho made his way to your shared bedroom. The bedroom tv softly played reruns of your comfort show, filling the otherwise dark room with soft blue tones. You were sitting with your back against the headboard, comforter bunched at your waist, breast pump humming softly. Minho shut the bedroom door quietly, causing your attention to shift from the tv to him.

You gave your husband a gentle smile, the same smile that made him fall in love with you all over again, and made grabby hands at him. Minho quickly dove into the bed, pushing his lower body under the duvet and resting his head in your empty lap.

Your right hand found his hair, threading your fingers through it slowly. Minho’s body visibly relaxed. 

“Everything alright? You were on the phone for a while.”

Minho sighed sadly. “Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine. I just miss my parents.”

“Me too, my love.” You said with a pout. “Did you invite them over for dinner this week?”

“I did, but dad has a work thing he can’t get out of.” Minho’s legs intertwined with yours as he tried to bring you closer to his body. 

You two sat in silence for a bit. Minho felt his eyes grow heavy as you continued to play with his hair. Nobody had ever played with his hair before you. The first time you did it was at the beginning of your relationship, when he had had a really shitty day. You had held his head to your shoulder as he cried into it, one hand running up and down his spine while the other found his head. Ever since then, Minho sought your hands for comfort any time he was upset. He could always feel the tension leaving his body once your nails raked against his head. He felt safe and loved in your hands. You protected him.

“Min.” You whispered, removing your hand from his hair. “Can you move for just a second? I need to take the pump off.” 

Minho rolled off your lap and onto his pillow, watching you as you carefully removed the full bags. His eyes drifted from your breast to the bassinet right next to the bed.

“When did she fall asleep?”

“About 45 minutes into your phone call.” You placed the sealed bags on your bedside table. “She was not very happy with me, though.”

“She’s never very happy with you.”

You chuckled softly, causing the corner of Minho’s lips to twitch up slightly. “She never is, is she? She definitely prefers you.”

“Ah, don’t say that-“

“I never said I was upset about it.” Pump off, you pulled yourself out of the bed in search of Minho’s shirt you slept in. “I love how much she loves you, because I love you just as much.”

Minho smiled, eyes never leaving the bassinet. He never thought he was capable of love until he met you, and then he didn’t think could love any deeper until she came along. She had smiled at him first. She had laughed at him first. He had always wished he had a sibling, but now he finally understood why some parents choose not to have more children; one was enough.

She was enough.

You finally found your shirt, quickly putting it on and grabbing the bags of milk. “I’m going to put these in the garage freezer, then we can go to bed. Sound good?”

You had slipped out of the room before Minho could respond, but it was okay. His thoughts were too focused on his daughter, what it felt like to be a parent, to be her parent.

God, he missed his parents.

By the time you made it back to the bedroom, Minho was running you through his idea. He had two weeks of unused vacation time, and you hadn’t left the city since the baby was born three months ago. You both needed a vacation, and Minho needed more family time. He would call his mom in the morning and run the dates by her, making sure they were okay with a two week visit.

And of course they were.

Every morning, on his way out the door, Minho would kiss your forehead, smother the baby with kisses, and shout how many days were left until your mini vacation. 

“20 days!”

“13 days!”

“One week!”

“One more sleep!”

Before Minho knew it, you were making the short drive to his parents. Less than an hour without traffic, he planned to make it there before breakfast.

You sat in the passenger seat, knees up to your chest and leaning towards Minho. His hand rested firmly on your knee, rubbing his thumb in smoothing circles as he drove with one hand. The car was quiet; baby snoozing in her car seat, your playlist quietly filling the car, the morning summer sun warming the car slightly. In Minho’s opinion, it was the perfect day.

“My mom talked about taking Bubs to the zoo sometime this week.” Minho said, voice barely louder than the music.

“Hmm, that sounds like fun. I don’t think I packed her a hat, though.”

“Mom might have one. If not, we can always go out today and look for one. Dad said there’s this cute baby shop close by- FUCK.” Minho shouted, slamming on the brakes. His arm flew out in front of you, keeping you back against the seat.

If he hadn't been paying attention, he would have rear ended the car in front of him who hit the brakes just as hard as he did. The once quiet car was now filled with heavy panting, and loud cries of your daughter who woken from the sudden stop and Minho’s cursing.

“Bubs.” You panted, unbuckling your seatbelt and throwing yourself into the backseat. Quickly buckling her, scooping her into your chest and shushing her as you rocked her back and forth.

Minho was frozen. His arm that braced you still slung over the center console, his other hand gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white. His body, once warm from the summer sun, was now ice cold with fear. 

Nothing had happened; it looked like it was just an early morning traffic jam. Someone in front of him hadn’t been paying attention and slammed on their brakes too late, causing a domino effect. Causing him to slam on his brakes so he didn’t hit a car.

It could have been so much worse.

Minho shifted the car into park and quickly unbuckled his seatbelt. Fuck, it felt so constricting. Turning around, he reached behind him to grab your hand.

“Is she okay?” He asked, wide eyes staring at his daughter’s head.

You nodded your head. “I think she just got scared.” He heard your voice crack. His eyes shot up to your face, watching hot tears stream quickly down your face. “Fuck, Minho, that could’ve been so bad.”

“Oh, no.” Fuck traffic laws. Minho crawled over the console into the backseat with you, his mind anywhere but the cars surrounding him. “Hey, no.” His thumbs wiped your face clean. “It’s just a traffic jam. We’re okay.” He pulled both of you into his arms, your face buried into his shoulder as you sobbed.

Minho brought a shaky hand up to your head and slowly began combing your hair with his fingers. He planted a kiss on your forehead, keeping up with the flow of his hands. Your fingers always made him feel safe, and now he needed to do the same for you.

“I'm here. I’m right here, love.”

///

You refused to leave the backseat for the rest of the trip. You leaned over your daughter’s car seat, hands going from her little feet, to touching her little head, to grabbing her chubby hands. This was where you needed to be - right by her side. Even if it was just a little scare, the fear that threatened to drown you wouldn’t leave. You knew eventually it would, but now? For now, you weren’t leaving.

Minho didn’t want to drive. He didn’t want to be separated from either of you. He needed to be next to you, to feel your heartbeat against his chest, to feel your hands in his hair. He needed to feel his daughter’s hand gripping his finger, needed to hear her giggle as he kissed her belly over and over.

The traffic jam didn’t cut much time off the trip - Minho was back on his route in a matter of minutes. He drove quickly, wanting to be out of the car and in your arms.

The moment he parked the car, he was out, running to the back of the car to open your door. Once he flung it open, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in close.

In his head, Minho knew he was overreacting. It was a small traffic jam that was over quickly. If he had been by himself, he would’ve been pissed, but would’ve gotten over it before traffic even started moving again. But, he wasn’t by himself. You were in the car. She was in the car. And there was no way in hell he was going to let anything happen to either of you.

From her car seat, your daughter started to fuss. You turned around to grab her when Minho grabbed your arm.

“Let me.” He said, eyes brimming with tears. “Please.”

You nodded, sliding out of the car so he could climb in and grab her.

Her eyes were still shut, small baby fists up by her face as she tried to stretch the sleepy out. Minho smiled to himself, tears finally falling, as he pulled her out of her car seat.

“Oh, hi my girl.” He whispered. Your daughter, hearing her father’s voice, slowly cracked her eyes open. “I missed you.”

The baby yawned in response, nuzzling herself deeper into her father’s chest. Minho chuckled, leaning down and kissing all over her small face. The baby wiggled, and he swore she was trying to push him away with her tiny little hands. But, Minho didn’t stop. He kissed all over her face, blowing raspberries on her cheeks until she released a shriek like baby laugh.

Minho felt your chin rest on his shoulder, looking down at her. He blew one last raspberry on her belly this time, just to get her to laugh again.

You laughed with your baby. “Oh Bubs, is daddy so silly?”

She giggled in response, nuzzling back into his chest.

Minho was so caught up in his daughter that he didn’t even hear his mother approach the car.

“I thought I heard a car door!”

You turned around, running up to your mother-in-law. “Oh, hi, mom.”

Minho looked up to see you two hug, exchanging “I missed you”s and comments on new haircuts. The baby in his arms squirmed, ready for more attention from her father.

“Do I hear a baby?”

Minho smiled at his mom, then looked back down at his daughter, who was staring at him like he hung the stars.

She didn’t even know he felt the same about her.

As his mom’s voice grew closer, Minho felt safe. Minho felt loved. Minho felt comforted.

It was how he always felt with you and Bubs around, and his mom just added more warmth to those feelings. You two  were his safety.

You two were his home. 

Seo Changbin

Sundays.

A day for sleeping in.

A day for getting those last minute chores done before the new work week begins.

A day for easy dinners and family tv show nights.

Most families would say Sundays are their favorite day of the week. Sundays are easy, Sundays are quiet, Sundays are peaceful.

For Changbin, he would say it depends on the season. Because spring Sundays were anything but easy, quiet, and peaceful.

If he slept past 6:30 on a spring Sunday, he could go ahead and count the day as a loss, because there was no way he was coming back from that. All three kids were typically awake by 7:15, the twins grouchy and hungry as Bin tries to get them dressed for the day. You typically took baby duty; he preferred you to your husband and was struggling with dependency issues. Besides, Changbin would much rather tackle the two snappy seven year olds than let you navigate the absolute chaos that was the oldest boys.

The night before, Changbin set multiple alarms to make sure he woke up before you. Sundays were his busiest days, and he wanted to sneak a workout in before the chaos erupted in his household.

The problem with alarms is, no matter how many he sets, he will always sleep through them.

However, he was proud of himself today. He woke up on the third alarm instead of the sixth like usual. For a brief second, he thought this Sunday would be easier than all the other Sundays of this month.

Rolling over in the bed, he reached out for you only to be greeted by cold bed sheets. Changbin quickly sat up, thoroughly confused. He was sure he would be the first to wake up. After all, why would you be awake before him, at 5:45 on a Sunday? He cursed at himself under his breath as he hoisted himself out of bed and threw on the first pair of sweatpants he could find. This shouldn’t have happened. You shouldn’t have been awake before him, and he wanted to know why you were.

The moment Changbin stepped outside of your shared bedroom, he felt his foot press against something strong and sharp. He leaned against the door, hissing in pain as he picked up his foot to investigate what the hell he had just blindly stepped on. 

“Goddamn cleats.” He cussed, kicking the shoe out of his way. How many times did he have to remind the boys to leave their shoes at the front door?

“Seo Changbin, shut UP.” He heard you hiss from the kitchen.

The kitchen?

At 5:45?

Limping slightly, he made his way to the kitchen. On the short walk there, Changbin found himself running into more things: his left big toe stubbed against a bat, he felt a pacifier squish under his foot, one of the twins’ many reusable water bottles almost made him slip and fall on the hardwood.

Changbin used to think he was envious of the people who got to clean on Sundays. Now he realized, as he stepped on the cleat matching the one in front of your bedroom door, he really fucking hated those people.

He was ready to curse everyone who had an easy Sunday until he saw you, and finally realized why you were the first one up.

Your hair was tied messily back, strands falling in front of your face as you supported the youngest of your three sons with one hand and used the other to peel oranges. The youngest had his eyes closed, nestled into your chest as he softly ate. Your shirt (that you had stolen from Changbin within your first year together and refused to return) was wet with a mixture of orange juice and baby spit up. You were frazzled, overworked, and exhausted.

And now, Changbin was upset he overslept for a different reason.

“Baby, why are you awake?” Changbin asked, rushing over to your side to grab the orange you were about to drop.

Once he grabbed it, you leaned against the fridge to support your weight. The baby weighed more than the twins and you were exhausted from supporting him with one arm for so long. “Bean was fussing, so I got up to go check on him and feed him. As I was doing that, I checked my phone and saw a reminder text that it’s our turn to bring snacks to the t-ball game this afternoon. I totally fucking forgot, Changbin. I tried to put him back to sleep, but with his dependency issues and cluster feeding, he wouldn’t let me put him down, so I brought him out here with me.” Your head hit the fridge door with a thud. “I only got three oranges peeled before I heard you yelling.”

Changbin felt his heart sink. He had spent so much time this morning grumbling about being behind schedule when you had been doing all this work by yourself. To say he felt like an asshole would be an understatement. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

You waved your hand as if to dismiss him. “You were sleeping so peacefully, and I knew we’d have a busy day today. I just wanted you to sleep.”

“First,” Changbin placed the orange on the kitchen island and closed the space in between you two, “always wake me up. You are far more important than any amount of sleep. Second, while I feel like such a fucking dick for letting you do this alone, I wanted to let you know how grateful I am for you. You are an amazing wife and an even better mother, and I couldn’t do this without you.” Changbin’s eyes drifted from your face to the baby attached to your chest. He had let go of your nipple, breathing heavily as he slept against your chest. “Third, you suck at peeling oranges. Let me take over. Go put Bean to bed and then yourself.”

“But, Changbin-“

“Nah, I don’t want to hear it. No kid is going to want to eat these oranges with a shitty peel job.” He playfully scoffed. “Who taught you how to do this? No wonder the twins never eat them when you pack them for lunch.”

Using your free hand, you playfully punched his shoulder. Changbin cried out in fake pain and dramatically grasped his shoulder, whining about how you injured his orange peeling arm.

“You’re obnoxious.” You whispered with a grin on your face.

“It’s been 10 years, you’re just noticing that?”

Laughing softly, you grabbed him by the forearm and pulled him in for a kiss. “I love and adore you.”

Changbin pecked your lips once, twice, and then a third time. “I love and adore you, too.”

He watched you walk out of the kitchen, heart swelling in adoration. You were like a superhero in his eyes - someone navigating the world with three loud, clingy boys and their equally clingy father with an abundance of grace. Changbin didn’t know how you did it, but he wanted to, because he never wanted you to have to go through this alone. The baby’s bedroom door shut, allowing Changbin to direct his attention to the half peeled orange in his hand.

He picked up one and glanced at the clock on the oven. 6:00 am. He had maybe an hour to get most of these oranges peeled before he had to start breakfast. There was no way he was going to let the twins go to their t-ball tournament without eating breakfast. Just like he wouldn’t let them go without sunscreen-

Sunscreen.

Shit.

That’s what he forgot to pick up at the store last night.

He aggressively picked at the orange, trying to peel them faster so he could slip away to the store before anyone else in his household woke up.

“Goddamn sunscreen.” He mumbled to himself.

Sundays in the Seo household were busy, loud, and chaotic. 

But goddamn, did Changbin love Sundays.

Hwang Hyunjin

“Fuck.” Hyunjin mumbles under his breath as he takes a sharp left turn, barely missing the car speeding towards him. “Sorry!” He calls as the driver honked at him, as if they could hear his half ass apology.

The car pulled into a parking spot with a squeak, and Hyunjin barely turned the car off before throwing himself out of it. “Fuck.” He curses, yet again, locking the car before running inside. He was late. Like, late late. Hyunjin was never exactly “on time”, but he also was never this late. In his defense, he had lost track of time. It completely slipped his mind that it was Thursday.

There was a line at the clock out desk. He bit his lip and aggressively untied his ponytail, trying to distract himself before he started cursing in front of all the other parents at his daughter’s daycare. When it was his turn, his code didn’t work. Hands shaking with frustration, he pulled his phone out and quickly called you. 

“Hyunjin-“

“What’s your code?” He slightly snapped.

“What code?”

“The code for Pumpkin’s school. What is it?”

“Our anniversary.”

“Which one?”

“Yah, Hwang Hyunjin-“

“We have like, five. Which one?” He hated when he lost his temper with you, and he knew he would be begging for forgiveness later tonight, but he was already going to have to apologize for how late he was.

“Wedding. 1027.” Your voice was laced with anger.

He quickly punched in the code and was rewarded with the click of the front door unlocking. “Thank you, honey.” 

“Hurry, please.” You said and hung up the phone without saying goodbye.

Fuck.

That was three.

When pregnant with Pumpkin, you were insistent on applying for daycares early. They made you nervous, and you wanted some place that you felt safe leaving your child. Hyunjin had remembered Chan talking about this preschool they looked at for his son - very prestigious, excellent reviews, very low acceptance rate. The website promised small class sizes, lots of one on one engagement, parent/teacher interactions daily. It was the perfect school. Five months pregnant, you two toured the school and immediately sent in your application. Hyunjin got the call offering Pumpkin a spot while he was driving you to the hospital. But, she had gotten in. Four years later, you and Hyunjin were still so in love with the school.

So, that’s why he felt bad for sprinting through it today.

He almost slid past Pumpkin’s classroom, leaning in to catch her attention.

“Yah, Hwang.” He said. Your daughter snapped her head around, braids he had put in this morning loose from a busy day of playing. “Let’s roll.”

Your daughter put the marker she was coloring with down before sprinting to her father. Hyunjin squated to catch her, picking her up and spinning her as he kissed all over the top of her head.

“Hey, Pumpkin. How was your day?”

Before your daughter could answer, her teacher popped up in the doorway. “We have some papers for you to take home and sign,” the teacher said, handing Hyunjin what he considered to be a small packet “if you could turn these into the office by Monday, that would be great.”

He nodded, quickly saying thank you. “Say bye, Pumpkin, we’ve got to go-“

“Oh, quickly, before you run off.”

It took everything Hyunjin had inside him not to sigh.

“We had a bit of trouble keeping our hands to ourselves today. We pulled our friend’s hair quite a few times and-“

Your daughter looked up at Hyunjin, face scrunched in disgust. “THEY started it. They touched me when I said NO.”

Fuck.

Four.

“That wasn’t kind of them not to listen, you’re right. But that doesn’t mean you can-“

“But it’s my body, and I said no. Mommy said I can always be mean if they don’t listen to my no-“

“I mean, you’re right-“

“So I can pull hair.”

“No.”

“Why?”

Hyunjin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. As much as he wanted to deep dive into this topic, the clock was ticking and they had to go. Now.

Hyunjin grabbed his daughter’s backpack, forcing her to apologize to her teacher before running back down the hallway and out the front door. During the first few years of parenthood, Hyunjin struggled with car seats. He couldn’t figure out the buckles, had a hard time taking them out of the car, and, much to your horror, often forgot to take coats off before buckling in. That mistake he fixed quickly, but the others? It took him years to get it right and get it done in less than two minutes.

Today, however, he broke his record, buckling Pumpkin up and adjusting the chest clip in 30 seconds even. He would brag about that later. It was time to go.

///

The class had already started by the time Hyunjin and Pumpkin came barreling through the door. His daughter, spotting her brother, dropped the doll and made a beeline to him.

Hyunjin sighed, as he scanned the room for you. You were sitting against the back wall with the rest of the parents, still dressed in work clothes, hair bumpy from the bun it had sat in all day. Hyunjin stepped over the other parents, sliding down the open spot next to you. He leaned in to give you a kiss on the forehead, but you moved your head before his lips could connect.

“Hey.” He whispered.

You shook your head. “You’re so late, Hyunjin.”

He sighed, bringing his pointer and middle finger up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I know, I’m sorry. Meetings ran long, and then I got caught up in the studio and completely lost track of time-“

“And then you snapped at me.”

“I did. I’m sorry. I was frustrated with myself for running late and lost my temper. I’m so sorry.” Hyunjin felt like shit. He should know by now; dance practice was every Thursday after school for both kids. You always picked up Bear, he always picked up Pumpkin. It was your family routine since they started dance class. Hyunjin had no excuse.

He stared at his kids who were smiling at each other, whispering about their days. They were best friends, and if Hyunjin thought about their relationship for longer than a few seconds, he would cry. He didn’t have siblings, so watching them love each other filled his heart with a joy he has never known.

“Bear had his timed math quiz today. Answered them all correctly.” You said, head leaning slightly towards your husband.

Hyunjin smiled. You did this often - you hated focusing on conflict for too long, and after apologies were given, you would switch the topic. You never held a grudge, especially against Hyunjin, and he was always grateful for your conflict management.

“Couldn’t have been me.” Hyunjin rested his head on yours, wanting to be closer to you. Typically, you both kept PDA to a minimum, especially at your children’s activities. Hyunjin, however, didn’t give a shit today. He needed to be closer to you. “I was awful at math.”

You chuckled softly, leaning into him more. “Same. I don’t know where he got that from.”

“Pumpkin pulled some kid’s hair today because they wouldn’t stop poking her. She said she told them no, and they wouldn’t stop, so she took matters into her own hands.”

“Good for her.”

“Right? We know where she got that from.” Hyunjin glanced down at you with a smile.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your voice dripping with sarcasm. “I always keep my hands to myself.”

Hyunjin couldn’t stop the loud laugh he released. The night you two had met, and the moment Hyunjin knew he needed to know you, he had watched you throw a drink in a man’s face. The man had been following your friend around all night, not taking no for an answer, and you had just gotten sick of it. When he approached your table for the fifth time that night, you had taken a sip of your vodka soda, then threw it right in his face. The man began to raise his voice at you and threatened you, while you just laughed at him crying over a little vodka in his eyes. Changbin had walked over to try to get the guy to leave you alone, and you had snapped at him, saying you could defend yourself. Eventually, the creep left. Changbin attempted to apologize to you by buying you a new drink, but you waved him off and gave him a quick apology of your own. It was then that Hyunjin went to retrieve his friend, sensing that you and your friends didn’t need another man hanging around your table. You had made eye contact with Hyunjin right as he grabbed Changbin’s arm.

“You don’t need to buy me a drink.” You had said to Changbin before looking at Hyunjin and smirking. “But if you wanted to, I wouldn’t stop you.”

So he bought you a drink. 

And now you were watching your children stretch for their weekly dance class.

Hyunjin couldn’t be happier.

///

Bed time was the most draining part of Hyunjin’s day. It also happened to be bath night, which made the process longer and more complicated than Hyunjin would have liked it to be. 

Pumpkin changed pajamas five times before she felt satisfied with the pair she had on. Hyunjin didn’t see what the difference was between this pair of polka dot pajamas and the other, but he was picking his battles. Finally climbing into bed, Hyunjin sat next to her, opening the first book she requested.

Midway through the book, Pumpkin looked up at her father. “Can you hold me, daddy?” Her voice was so soft, so gentle. How could he say no?

Collecting his daughter in his arms, he continued with the book. By the end of it, she was snoring - head against his right bicep, legs resting on his left arm, little hands gripping on his shirt as if she was afraid of him letting go. Hyunjin closed the book and let it fall to the floor, grabbing his daughter and holding her closer to his chest.

She wasn’t the snuggly kid. When Pumpkin no longer needed support, she rarely sought out hugs or cuddles. She just didn’t want it, and while he respected it, it had completely shattered his heart. He felt like she didn’t need him, and while he adored her independence, he just wanted to hold his daughter like he used to.

Hyunjin shifted lower in the small bed, trying to get more comfortable. He would sit like this just for a few more minutes. Then, he would lay her down, tuck her in, and crawl into bed with you.

Just a few more minutes of this.

Just a few.

///

Hyunjin’s eyes shot open when he felt someone playing with his hair.

“Hey. Want to come to bed?” You whispered, a soft smile on your face.

Wasn’t he in bed?

Why did the ceiling have stars on it?

Hyunjin turned his head to his left, where Pumpkin laid next to him. She had stretched out, but still had a tight grip on his shirt. The duvet covers were twisted and pushed to the middle of the bed, barely covering her little body. One of his legs hung off the side of the bed, foot brushing against the book he dropped earlier in the evening.

He brought a hand to his face, rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?”

“11:00.” You whispered. Fuck, he had been asleep a while then. “I didn’t want to bother you, but when I heard something fall, I figured it was time to wake you up.”

Something fell?

Hyunjin lifted his head to see his daughter’s alarm clock on the floor, numbers creating a pink hue on the carpet. He was too lanky for this small bed.

“I should probably…” his voice trailed off once he looked at his daughter again. Sleeping soundly. Eyes twitching as she dreamed. What was she dreaming about? He was dying to know what went on in her little head. 

He looked back up at you, eyes hot with tears. “Can I stay here? Just for a bit longer.” His voice a shaky whisper.

You nodded before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I’ll wake you up in the morning.” 

Hyunjin slowly reached down and grabbed the duvet cover, pulling it over both his and Pumpkin’s body. Pumpkin nuzzled into the warmth, head finding her father’s chest against. Carefully, he moved her slightly so he could fit his other leg on the bed.

She’s spunky. She stays ready to fight anyone who even looks at her wrong. She loves her brother more than Hyunjin ever thought someone could love a sibling. She’s funny, and loud, an absolute force. She looks just like him; big brown eyes, long black hair, always mimicking his disgusted face. She’s absolutely everything to him.

He placed a gentle kiss on her head, before allowing his eyes to shut. He was never leaving her side.

Han Jisung

Jisung is convinced he was made to be a father.

Nothing brings him more joy than caring for others or being needed. He loves when his younger friends, and sometimes older ones, rely on him for support or ask him for advice. He feels important, and likes that they see him as someone they can trust, who is always there for him.

So when you told him you were pregnant, he felt like running laps. It was a big show; first his eyes became saucers as he processed your news. Next came the jaw drop, quickly covered by his hands as he let out a soft screech. “Really?” He asked, and when you nodded, there was too much excitement in his body to stay still. Jisung jumped up from the bed, steps bouncy as he ran over to you, hugging you so tightly you had to warn him to be gentle.

“We’re having a baby.” He whispered in your ear.

The next time he said that sentence, it was more of a scream. So much so that Changbin, on the other side of the phone, cursed at him for being so loud and asked him to repeat himself. Jisung spent the next hour or so calling all of his friends, giddy about the fact that it was his turn to have a baby, and the best part about it? He gets to have a baby with you, the most important person in the world. The person who hung the stars, who holds the entire world in the palm of their hands. You. He gets to do this with you, and that’s all he could ask for.

By month three, he has the hospital bag packed (“We need to be prepared!” He said as he stuffed a quokka doll in the overpacked duffel bag). By month five, he had already read every new parent book he could find at the local bookstore. By month eight, you could place him in the middle of a delivery room and he would know exactly what to do. The amount of knowledge he retained in such a short amount of time was so impressive, and it really worked out in the end.

Your doctor commented that she had never had such a smooth delivery with a patient, and you really had Jisung to thank for it. Not only was he ready, but he knew how to keep you calm, how to support you and make sure you felt as prepared as he did. He helped you up from the bed, to the yoga ball, even to the inflatable pool, which is where you stayed until the baby was born not even an hour later. Sitting behind you in his swim trunks, Jisung held your hand, whispering encouraging words and repeated praises. You were magical, you were strong, and he was completely in awe of you. 

His awe transferred over to your daughter. Your perfect, beautiful daughter with the squishiest cheeks anyone has ever seen. She had a full head of dark hair, and even though she was right out of the womb, she looked so much like Jisung it was almost scary. Copy and paste; she was his twin.

The obsession with her began when you told him you were pregnant, and only grew. Jisung practically lived with a baby carrier strapped to his chest, your daughter nuzzled against his chest as he went about his day. Be it the house or the studio, if Jisung was moving about, you could bet the baby was with him.

She was just as attached to him as he was her; the sound of his voice always made her big, brown eyes light up. She slept better when he put her down, did better in public spaces if he held her. They were inseparable, and it made your heart swell. You had front row seats to their love, often getting to be in the middle of their affection. The little family that everyone dreams of was your reality.

It was one of the rare days Jisung couldn’t take her to work with him; they were shooting all day, and frankly his stylist was over cleaning up baby spit up off his clothes. It broke your heart to see the way his eyes watered as lingered at the bedroom door to find an excuse to stay.

“Are you sure you feel well?” He asks you, trying to blink back his tears. “I can stay and make sure you get enough rest.”

You felt fine, there was no reason to ask that, but you could tell he was trying to find something to get him out of work. To let him stay home with his two favorite people in the world. “Ji.” You whisper, trying not to wake the baby asleep on your chest. “We’re going to be alright. Go to work, we’ll be here when you get back.”

He looks down at his feet, shoving shaky hands into his sweatpants. “I just miss you guys already.” And though you can’t see his face clearly, you know the tears have broken, a little sniffle accompanied by his confession.

A promise to FaceTime him later (more than once) is what finally gets him out the door after you kiss his tears away. Leaving her, leaving you, never gets easier. The older your daughter got, the harder it was to be away from her. Especially in such a heavy developmental stage; he was so scared he would miss big moments.

He had missed the first him she rolled over, and the day she started crawling. When he laid next to her on the ground during tummy time, it shocked him when she proceeded to crawl on top of him instead of staying still. Jisung turned his head to you as you stood by the couch.

“I was about to show you the video, but I guess she beat me to it.” You said with a giggle, dropping to the floor next to him to lay with them. She crawled fully onto Jisung’s chest, chubby baby hands grabbing his cheeks and squishing them between her little fingers. And while he was so proud of her, so excited to feel her death grip on his cheeks, he couldn’t help but feel sad that he missed seeing it first.

All day on set, he looked forward to your calls, praying that he didn’t miss anything exciting. So far the day seemed normal, if not dull. You called as you made breakfast, and he watched her refuse a spoonful of mashed pears.

“She doesn’t like them.” He said, eyes shut as they worked on his makeup. “I told you that, but you never listen-“

“She eats them for you!” You said, and he can hear his daughter fussing as you attempt to try again. 

“Yeah, well she likes me best.” 

When you huffed, he laughed, eyes opening just enough to see a playful pout on your face as you abandoned the pears and tried applesauce instead. You opened your mouth, mimicking the action you wanted the baby to make as you closed in with the spoon. When her lips wrapped around the yellow plastic, you smiled brightly, turning to the camera.

“She never eats applesauce for you.”

He shakes his head, chuckling softly. “Fine, she likes you better.”

“Thanks, I know.”

Both you and Jisung went about your days, him sneakily looking at his phone on set to see if there were any updates. He smiled at the selfies you sent, at the video of her gripping onto your hair and practically ripping it out, and at a clip of her watching one of his music videos, focused on him any time he was on screen. She giggled any time she heard his voice, inching closer to the screen as if she could reach him.

God, he wanted to be home.

Around dinner time, they finally started to wrap up, each member just as antsy to get home to their own families. Jisung was the first one changed and out the door, unable to slow down until he pulled into your neighborhood. The car was barely turned off before he barreled out of it, kicking his shoes off at the garage door and haphazardly throwing his backpack down next to them. Nothing was more important than seeing you two.

He found you in the master bathroom, leaning over the tub that was filled with an abundance of toys, but little water. You were singing to the baby, who was giggling loudly as you gently scrubbed shampoo into her thick hair. 

Good. He hadn’t missed much of bath time.

“Hey.” Jisung said, walking over to the tub and kneeling down beside you. You turned to face your fiancé, smiling happily at his arrival. His lips gently brushed against yours, melting away every ounce of worry and stress the day had brought him. 

“Hi.” You mumbled before giving him another kiss. “Sorry, I would’ve waited for you but somebody-“ you dramatically turned your head, playfully narrowing your eyes at your daughter, who giggled at the quick almost movement. “-decided she wanted to spit dinner up allllllll over herself.”

Jisung gasped loudly, pulling more laughs out of the child, who seemed too proud of herself. “Not my Squish.”

“Oh, your Squish.” Your own laughs were added in this time, unable to keep a straight face any longer. “Can you hang out with her for a minute? I forgot to grab a towel from her bathroom.”

Silly question - of course he was going to say yes.

Rolling up his sleeves, Jisung took over the bath time routine, clicking his tongue as he turned on the tap for fresh water. “Were you a pain today for mama?”

The smile on her face, which was often compared to his own mischievous smile, was telling enough. Covering his daughter’s eyes, Jisung rinsed the shampoo out of her hair, double checking that it was gone before grabbing a rag. Squeezing the soap onto it, he caught her staring at him. Almost a year old, and everyday, he falls in love with her all over again.

God, what did Jisung do to get so lucky?

“Alright, Squish.” Jisung said once the soap was lathered enough. “Ready for dada to-“

“Dada.”

“Huh?”

The rag dropped into the tub, the impact creating a small splash. Blinking, he stared at his daughter, who was ecstatic about the bubbles created by the rag at her feet. He knows he heard her wrong. There was no way she just-

“Say that again?” Jisung asked, completely forgetting that she’s a baby and isn’t capable of speaking on command.

But, she shocked him again. “Dada.” Blinking at him, she reached out for him while babbling his name over and over.

Jisung scrambled to find his phone before he remembered it was in his bag by the garage. Fuck, you need to hear this. He doesn’t want you to miss this-

“Did you wash her body yet?”

“Dada.”

You paused in your tracks, eyes darting from your daughter to Jisung. “Did she just-“

“She did.” He said, wide eyes still staring at the baby, who, much like her father, could not stop talking.

“Dada, dada, dada-“

The towel is abandoned on the ground as you run over to the tub, dropping down to your original position. Side by side, you and Jisung kneeled over the tub, staring at the baby.

“That’s her first word, Ji.” You whisper, reaching out to unfasten her from the bath seat. She didn’t stop talking, even as you pulled her out. Squirming, she reached out for Jisung, calling his name over and over until he took her from your arms.

He took her from you, shirt soaked as the baby settled in his arms. Awestruck, he rubbed her back, listening to her words because more of a babble, but it was impossible for him not to hear it. He was her first word. 

You smiled at him, a hand falling to his cheek and redirecting his attention. When he looked at you, he saw the joyful tears in your eyes, saw the pure adoration you had for the two of them. “I’m so glad you’re home, Ji.”

Lee Felix

People always seemed surprised to find out Felix was a stay at home dad. Before having kids, he was very devoted to his job, often working later hours than necessary and bringing work home with him. He enjoyed his job, but he knew you did as well. So as soon as you surprised him with three sticks and a little stuffed chick, he told his boss that his last day was your due date.

Sure, he loved his job. But he loved you more.

That’s why he was now, very happily, standing in the kitchen making pancakes at 9 am. The five month old slept soundly in the fabric carrier against his chest. Little baby snores filled his ears along with the sound of your three year old’s crayons scraping across her coloring book.

“Bug, what do you want in your pancakes?” Felix softly called.

Your daughter hummed as she thought, then loudly exclaimed: “Chocolate chips!”

Felix laughed and shook his head, grabbing a handful of the semisweet chips and sprinkling them over the pancake.

“Extra, please!”

“Ah, you know you can’t have that much chocolate in the morning.”

She tsked, and for a brief second, Felix wasn’t sure if he was talking to you or your daughter. “But it’s a no school day. Please, daddy?”

Felix was nothing if not whipped.

Laughing softly, he grabbed a small handful and turned to look at your daughter.

“Fine, but don’t tell your mom, okay?”

Your daughter grinned as she nodded in agreement.

Felix swears up and down that she’s a carbon copy of you. From her jaw structure to her hair, all the way to her nose - when he looks at her, he sees you. From the moment he held her, he saw you. If possible, that made him love her even more.

But that smile? That was his. She had his smile, and that was enough for him.

Breakfast went smoothly. Felix decided to save the chocolate chips for your daughter and put blueberries in his. She squealed when she noticed the jar of homemade whipped cream he had placed in the middle of the table (“I helped daddy make this!”) and ended up waking her brother. Somehow, Felix juggled feeding the baby and feeding himself while keeping chocolate (mostly) off your daughter.

Typically, after breakfast, everyone would change out of their jammies into day time clothes. It helped Felix feel more productive, and if they ever needed to leave, he wouldn’t have to wrestle a three year old out of the too-small dinosaur onesie she refuses to take off. Felix decided to switch things up this morning, allowing your daughter to camp out on the living room floor with as many stuffed animals as she wanted and let her watch a movie before they went on their afternoon walk.

Felix enjoyed the simplicity of these kinds of mornings.

Not even halfway through Moana, your daughter was softly snoring at his feet. Felix sat with his back against the couch, on the floor with his children. To his right was the baby, staring up at the dim living room lights from the nursing pillow he was rested on.

“Whatcha looking at, little bug?” He asked in a whisper. The baby’s eyes moved quickly from the lights to his father, staring brightly up at him.

If your daughter had his smile, the smallest child had his eyes. Felix would never grow tired of looking into them.

“Mommy should be home soon.” Felix grabbed the child’s covered foot, shaking it lightly. “She should be here before we go on our walk. Should she come with us?” His fingers danced up the baby belly, softly tickling the sides. “Hm? Do you want mommy to go on a walk with us?”

Your son’s giggles filled the living room, smiling widely as his father tickled him.

That smile? That was yours. And that was Felix’s favorite feature.

Felix was so caught up on making his son laugh that he didn’t hear the front door open. He didn’t hear the way you kicked off your shoes, exhausted from your flight in. He didn’t see you slowly tiptoe into the living room, not wanting to interrupt the giggle party. 

He was laughing with his son, smothering the soft baby face with small kisses. Your son squealed, loving every bit of the attention he was getting from his father.

You would hate to interrupt, but you didn’t want to be left out of the party, either.

“What are you two giggly boys doing?” You asked, leaning over the couch to peek at them.

Your son, seeing your head pop up above him, giggled harder. His stubby hands reached up, wanting to be in your embrace. Quickly, you climbed over the couch and sat next to Felix, scooping the baby up and smothering his face with kisses.

“Oh, I missed you so much baby bug.” You said with a content sigh, squeezing your baby into your chest, determined to never let him go.

Felix pressed a soft kiss against the side of your forehead. “Hey, love.”

You smiled, turning to fully face him. He was so close you could count his freckles. “Hi.”

Felix’s left hand reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Leaning into his touch, you sighed. Your work took you to many places, but no place felt as warm as here did. No place felt as comfortable. As soon as your plane landed at a new destination, you were always ready to leave.

Because any place without Felix, without your babies, wasn’t a place worth being.

Felix kisses you deeply, hand holding your chin steady. He tasted like whipped cream and coffee, smelled like baby soap and his cologne. He brought both hands to your face to kiss you deeper. He wanted you to feel how much he loved you. How much he missed you.

Whenever someone asked Felix why he chose to stay home with his children, the answer was always an easy one.

“I love you.” You whispered against his lips.

He smiled, kissing the tip of your nose.

Because nothing, no job, no person, no place, would ever mean more to him-

“I love you, more.”

Your hand softly touched his cheeks, ready to go in for another kiss, when you heard movement at your feet.

-than the three of you do.

“Mommy?” Your daughter asked, voice groggy with sleep. She crawled up both yours and Felix’s legs, burying her face in your lap.

You smiled, tucking her hair behind her ears as she fell back asleep.

“You know,” you whispered, careful not to disrupt the peace, “she looks like you.”

Kim Seungmin

Seungmin firmly believes you can never be too prepared.

Car won’t start? Don’t worry, Seungmin has jumper cables and his mechanic on speed dial if he can’t get it started for you. Forgot your headphones for a five hour flight? Not sweat; he brought three extra pairs just in case. Stupid hangnail bothering you? Give him a second to find the spare set of clippers he always has. And don’t worry, they’re sanitized after every use.

If anything, you could say that Seungmin is over prepared.

But isn’t it better that way? No more stressing, trying to figure out how to handle a situation that’s just been thrown at you. If Seungmin is there, you have nothing to worry about, because he’s ready. His backup plans have backup plans. You can rest easy knowing he is prepared for the absolute worst at any moment.

Well, every moment, except one.

He knew about your pregnancy before you did. His phone had notified him that your new cycle was due, so he waited for your typical period requests. 

“Can we just order in tonight?” 

“I ate the last of the popcorn, could you go out and grab more?” 

“Minnie, could you pretty please run a hot bath for me?”

As always, he was prepared.

But when days passed with no requests, Seungmin began to think it wasn’t coming.

He came home with two boxes, four tests in total. You were confused - your period was only five days late. It wasn’t that big of a deal. But, knowing how your husband always wants to be prepared, you agreed to take the tests. 

You two sat crisscross on the bathroom floor across from each other, tests face down. When the alarm went off, you grabbed two each, counted down from three, and flipped them at the same time.

Four VERY positive tests.

And thus, the baby prep began.

Seungmin read every book he could get his hands on, from what to expect during birth to early childhood development textbooks. He researched different ways to give birth, took notes, and thoroughly discussed every option with you. He watched so many birthing videos, he could probably deliver a baby himself. Seungmin asked all the right questions at every appointment without overstepping, listened to you about what you felt was best, and made sure he was ready for a baby to come at any moment.

The hospital bag was packed at twelve weeks. The nursery? Up at twenty weeks and finished within a day, with the help of Seungmin’s friends.

“Why do I have to build the crib? It’s not my baby.” Jisung whined from the nursery floor. 

“Shut up and hand me the screwdriver.” Changbin replied.

Kim Seungmin, prepared for anything.

You were late and growing more frustrated by the day. The back pains were almost unbearable, you bend over to tie your shoe, and why, for the love of god, were you dripping in sweat in the middle of January?

Your doctor set a date for induction, even though you fought her on it.

“We’ll schedule it just in case.” She said, helping you off the exam table. “If he comes sooner, great, but we need to be prepared in case he needs some help.”

“I just would rather him come when he’s ready.”

Your doctor smiled sympathetically at you. “I understand. This is just a backup plan. I can give you some tips on how to naturally induce labor so we can try to avoid medically inducing it.”

And of course, Seungmin made sure you tried every single suggestion.

He even worked them into your nightly routine.

Before dinner, you two would take a 20 minute walk. Seungmin made dinner extra spicy every night, making sure you ate an entire jalapeño pepper with every meal. 

And of course, the most effective method: sex.

All the time. Everywhere. Any chance you both got, Seungmin was on you. In the shower, on the couch, in the studio; Seungmin was happy to help you get this baby out.

Even with all his hard work, you were no closer to labor than you were at your last appointment. 

Two days until your induction date, and Seungmin’s fingers were lightly tracing circles on the inside of your thigh.

“We don’t have to.” He whispers, placing a soft kiss on your belly.

“I want to.” You said, lightly grabbing his hand. “I want to try.”

Seungmin smiled gently at you, picking up your hand and pressing a firm kiss against it. “I love you.” He whispers, dropping your hand and returning to your thighs. Picking your leg up, he rested your foot on his shoulder and began to pepper kisses on the inside of your thigh. “You’re incredible.” His other hand slowly worked up your other thigh, drawing closer and closer to where you wanted him. “There’s no one else I rather do this with.” Seungmin places one last kiss on your thigh before lowering it down and bringing his head closer towards the middle of your thighs.

“So pretty.” He whispered, then slowly brought two fingers up to your clit.

Then, you screamed.

Seungmin sat up quickly to look at you. He was used to you screaming when he was in between your legs, but this scream was different. It sounded like you were in pain.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, searching your face to try to figure out what happened.

Then, he saw it.

The way you were holding your belly, head thrown back, teeth grinding against each other.

“Fuck.” Seungmin exclaimed, scrabbling out of bed to find his sweatpants. “Fuck, where are my clothes?”

You had read the books with Seungmin, you had watched the videos. You thought you knew what was coming. But, you were never quite as prepared as your husband.

“Fuck, Seungmin, it hurts.” You cried, looking for something to grasp onto.

He had successfully found his pants, grabbing yours before he rushed back to your side.

Squatting by your head, Seungmin grabbed one of your hands and used his other hand to brush the hair that dropped in front of your face back. “Hey, hey, I’m right here. Breathe with me, okay?”

You shook your head. “I can’t. I can’t, Seungmin. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. I’ll count, okay?”

You squeezed his hand tightly, focusing on the sound of his voice and the way his breath felt against your neck. The contraction slowly faded out once he hit the twentys.

Seungmin kissed the side of your forehead. “I’m so proud of you.” He whispered. “Let me help you get dressed. It’s time to have a baby.”

///

Seungmin expected your labor to last longer. Within an hour of checking in and moving you into a room, your contractions grew in length and the time between shorten. You were pushing before you could even ask for an epidural.

Seungmin never left your side (not that he would even consider it). He held your hand with both hands, encouraging you to squeeze as hard as you needed to. He counted breaths with you, encouraged you, and kept you stable during the entire process.

A few minutes into pushing, in between contractions, you rolled your head to the left to look at him. Hair stuck to your face, tears stained your cheek, your lip was bleeding it from biting it so hard, and Seungmin swore you had never looked more beautiful in your entire life.

Taking a deep breath, you smiled weakly at your husband. “We’re having a baby.” You said, voice raspy from screaming.

Seungmin smiled back, squeezing your hand. “We’re having a baby.”

“I love you so much.” Fresh tears began to roll down your face. “You’re already the best husband, and now-and now-“ your face winced in pain as another contraction hit. Seungmin jumped back in to support mode, helping you ride it out.

A few contractions later, Seungmin heard it. His son.

The baby, bigger than Seungmin thought he would be, was placed on your chest. You let out a cry of both joy and relief, dropping Seungmin’s hand to hold your baby. Sobbing, you held the baby into your chest.

“You’re here. You’re here.” You whispered through your tears, rocking the small child back and forth.

They took your son away before Seungmin had a chance to hold him. It’s okay, he knew that the next steps after birth. He was prepared.

He was always prepared.

An hour and five stitches later, you were soundly sleeping in your hospital bed. You tried to stay awake, wanting to be up when they brought your son back. Seungmin swore he would wake you up and convinced you to nap until then. He spent the hour calling his parents, your parents, his friends - anyone he could get ahold of at two in the morning.

There was a soft knock on the door, and then a nurse let himself in. Seungmin stood up quickly, watching as the nurse rolled the baby’s bed up next to you.

“Congratulations, Mr. Kim.” The nurse whispered, and then excused himself from the room.

Once the nurse was out, Seungmin took off his shirt. He was prepared; he knew skin to skin contact was important for infants. 

He stood over his son and stared at him. He had a head full of thick, black hair and the cutest button nose Seungmin had ever seen. He couldn’t believe that he had a hand in creating something so wonderful, so perfect, so beautiful.

Careful as to not wake the baby, Seungmin picked him up and cradled him to his chest. “Hi, peanut.” He said, then placed a soft kiss right on his forehead. “I’m dad.”

Slowly, his son’s eyes opened and found his own.

Seungmin was always prepared.

But nothing - no books, no videos, no parenting classes - could ever prepare him for the love he felt when looking into his child’s eyes. In that moment, Seungmin was unprepared. He didn’t know what to expect. 

And it was the best feeling in the world.

Yang Jeongin

If Jeongin had to describe his son’s first day of kindergarten in one word, it would be: unfortunate. Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong.

The morning started out fine; everyone woke up on a time and was in a good mood. You and Jeongin even woke up with enough time to slip into the shower together before waking up your son for the day. Typically, fucking you dumb first thing in the morning is the sign of a good day. He really had no idea that it was just downhill from there.

You decided to wake your son up since you had to slip out to work early. Time with him today was precious, and Jeongin knew you would be a ball of tears if you didn’t get one on one time. So he took breakfast duty, determined to make an omelet as good as you do.

He was doing well; the topping fit perfectly, he folded it beautifully. For his first time, he was excelling. Maybe he should take a picture and brag about it in his group chat. There’s no way Hyunjin can make an omelet like this-

“What’s burning?” 

Ah, fuck.

The omelet was too far gone, there was nothing he could do to save it. Scraping it, Jeongin decided to try his luck again, only to ruin it immediately. Whatever, sugary cereal is a great first day of school ever breakfast, right?

Your son certainly thinks so. When Jeongin places the bowl in front of him, the black haired boy smiles widely before shoveling the cinnamon cereal in his mouth.

“Slow down.” You say with a chuckle, placing a sliced apple on a plate next to his bowl. “You’re going to get sick.”

When he eats, you can tell he’s Jeongin’s son; cheeks puffed and full as he takes large bites. Round eyes look at you, silently pouting at your request. It’s too good to slow down. Besides, his father eats like this, why can’t he?

You look across the table at Jeongin, pointing at your son with your thumb. “This is your fault.”

He looked up from his breakfast, cheeks just as full and eyes just as large. A mirror image of his son, large bites and all. It makes you chuckle, even if you fear that they’re going to choke every time they eat.

Once breakfast is finished and the dishes are put away, it's time for you to go to work, and Jeongin to take your son to school. 

“Mommy, no-“ your son whines, squirming away as you try to fix his uniform. “Don’t wanna take a picture.”

“Please, bubba? Just one, and then you and papa can-“

“No!” He fusses, moving out of your grasp. Sadly, you drop your arms in defeat. You’re not going to force him to do something that makes him uncomfortable, no matter how upset it makes you.

You look at Jeongin, who was watching this unfold from the garage door. He saw the tears in your eyes - both from having to leave and the rejection. 

“It’s fine that you don’t want a picture, but can I at least have a hug?” You ask your son, not knowing if you can handle another no on a big day.

Luckily, your son crashed into your arms and hung tightly onto you. You kissed the top of his head, savoring his sweet hug before he complained about you squeezing him too tight.

Saying goodbye at the car was hard for you, lingering at his window for far too long to get one last look at him before school. Jeongin waited patiently until you stood to your full height. Your husband grabbed you, pulling you into a hug.

“It’s just school.” Jeongin whispered in your ear. “He’ll be back in a few hours.”

You nod your head, sniffling against his shoulder. “It’s just hard, ya know? He’s not a baby anymore.”

The last sentence made his heart sink, your emotions beginning to rub off on him. Quickly, he shoved the feeling to the back of his mind for both your sanity and his. “He’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”

“Will you?”

A fantastic question, one that he wished he could answer, but was cut off by the impatient five year old in the backseat. You said goodbye one more time, fussing over the buttons on your son’s shirt before slipping in your car. Jeongin followed suit, leaving the garage right after you.

The goodbyes had set them back just a bit, but that was okay. The school was only a ten minute drive, and they still had plenty of time to-

“Papa?” His son chimed from the back. “I don’t have my backpack.”

Okay, so maybe they’ll be a little bit later than expected. Jeongin turned the car around, back home in less than a minute. The backpack was sitting by the garage door, making it easy to grab it and throw it in the passenger seat.

“Alright, all-“

“What about my foxy?”

Jeongin sighed, turning around in his seat to look at his son. “Foxy can’t come to school with you, Bubba. We talked about this-“

“But I need him.”

“Foxes don’t go to school. They stay at home where mama and papa can-“

“No! Need him!” His son cried, kicking the backseat. This wasn’t like him; typically the quietest, most mild mannered child, your son rarely threw fits. Jeongin knows it’s because of what today is, but he was determined to stand his ground. The fox was staying home-

-until he felt a shoe hit the back of his head as he tried to pull out of the garage for a second time that morning. Fine. The fucking fox can come.

Third time’s a charm, right? There were no hiccups this time as Jeongin left the house, Bubba happily humming in the backseat along with the music. Foxy was snug against his chest, a happy smile on his face. He might be missing a shoe, but hey, at least he’s happy.

And Jeongin can still make it on time. There shouldn’t be any more interruptions, now that his son is happy and he’s actually on the road. Everything should be smooth sailing from now on.

Of course there’s stand still traffic. Why wouldn’t there be?

Jeongin’s head hits the headrest, a groan leaving his lips as he rubs his face. This was not how today was supposed to go. First the omelet, then the picture, the backpack and the damn fox, and Jeongin’s pretty sure he has a headache from being hit with the shoe.

“Papa?”

“Hm?” He grunts into his hands.

“Why aren’t we moving?”

Sighing, Jeongin drops his hands, moving them back to the steering wheel. “Good question.” He mumbles mostly to himself.

For ten minutes, they stayed completely still, both slowly losing their patience. The Jeongin look-a-like was losing control faster than his father, kicking the back of his seat in protest. Like Jeongin could do anything about the traffic. 

Right as Jeongin was about to say fuck school and turn around, the car in front of him moved. Whatever had been holding them up was over, a steady stream of cars now flowing into the school’s parking lot.

Jeongin finds the first parking spot at the back of the lot, quickly getting out of the car. He picks his son up, sitting him on the roof and putting his shoe back on (much to his son’s protest). Once it was on, he narrowed his eyes at the boy.

“I need you to give me Foxy now.” He said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Fear flushed his face, tiny fist gripping onto the fox’s white fur. “No. He has to go to school too.”

“Bubba-“ But when his son started lifting his foot like he was about to kick, he realized the damn fox wasn’t worth it. Jeongin would much rather get chewed out by the teacher, and you, than take a tiny foot to the face at 8:00 am. “Fine. But you have to take a picture for mama.”

The bribe worked - the innocent smile he gave the camera in front of the school made Jeongin roll his eyes. They walked into the school hand and hand, Bubba hiding behind Jeongin’s leg as they closed in on his classroom. 

They stood in the line of parents, and before they could blink, it was their turn. Jeongin squatted down, eye level with his son, who was nervously holding onto his stuffed animal.

“Hey, Bubba.” Jeongin said softly, a hand reaching out to pat his head. “You okay?”

His son shook his head, burying his face in the fox. “I’m scared, Papa. Wanna go home-“

Jeongin felt his lip tremble as he looked at his son, who had been on his last damn nerve all morning. His sweet, nervous boy, who was acting out because of the newness of it all. His heart softened, and suddenly, his head stopped aching, every nerve easing. 

“I know.” He whispers, smoothing his son’s hair. “I’m scared, too. You’re so much braver than Papa, I couldn’t ever do this.” His eyes began to sting, pride filling his heart. When did his baby get so big? “Do you want me to walk you in?”

His son looked inside the classroom, wide eyes scanning the room. Slowly, he shook his head no before looking back at his father. “No, I do it.”

Jeongin nodded. “Hug?”

The fox lessened the blow of his son’s crash. Jeongin held tightly until his son squirmed free, his wide eyes no longer nervous.

“I love you, Papa.”

That’s when the first tear fell. “I love you, too, Bubba.”

He watched as his son sprinted into the classroom, making a beeline to the musical instruments in the corner of the room. Lingering for just a second, he watched his son turn to the little girl next to him, excitedly giving her his name before asking if she wanted to play with him.

Jeongin’s heart ached in the best way possible as forced himself to walk away, silently crying as he left his son behind. It was silly - he’s going to be back here in a few hours to pick him up. There’s no reason to be so-

His phone pinged, announcing a text from you. When he pulled out his phone, the picture taken just moments ago was still up. 

Everything went wrong today, so many hiccups in a day that should’ve been so easy. Yet, no matter how badly everything went, he wouldn’t trade a second of this day for anything. Even he can’t seem to stop crying.

©: chvnnie 2022

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