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An Experiment | Idol Min Yoongi x OC Fic | Epilogue

Synopsis: Please read the fic here, it's a wonderful romantic story of two complicated adults falling into love. this epilogue is purely indulgent, fluffy husband yoongi, fluffy whipped father yoongi, soft father yoongi and a major romantic looser yoongi

Genre: Idol Yoongi AU, FLUFF, a lot of FLUFF, boyfriend Yoongi, some smut, two people trying to figure out their feelings for each other. Art curator OC, it's just a lot of fluff with some smut because I am terribly single.

Word Count: 21K+ (good lord so i have a long fic writing problem)

AOC Link: here

The room is softly lit by the morning sunlight, Yoongi squints his eyes as he reaches to silence his phone before he turns back, circling his arms around ___ as he pulls her even closer. He exhales softly, taking in the warmth of her body which softly lulls him back to sleep. Yoongi’s just a second away from sleep when ___’s alarm goes off.

___ groans immediately and buries her face deeper into Yoongi’s chest. The alarm continues but neither of them moves. "Make it stop," Yoongi mutters, his voice rough with sleep.

"You make it stop." "It's your alarm."

"You found yours first." He opens one eye. "That isn't how responsibility works."

"It is seven in the morning." The alarm continues its relentless assault. With a deep sigh that suggests he has personally suffered a great injustice, Yoongi reaches across her, stretching awkwardly toward her nightstand. His fingertips miss the phone entirely.

___ watches with obvious amusement as he blindly searches for it.

"You're not even looking." "I'm trying to keep my eyes closed."

"You've become spoiled." "By who?" She turns slightly in his arms and looks up at him. The answer is obvious, Yoongi stares back for a moment before finally finding the phone and silencing it.

The room falls quiet once more, neither of them says anything. Then, very carefully, he places her phone back on the nightstand, wraps both arms around her again, and pulls her against him with unmistakable determination.

"Yoongi." “No” Yoongi mutters as he shuts his eyes, going back to the very cozy and comfortable position they were in. It’s like this most morning, neither of them is a morning person but are responsible adults that wake up at 7 am. “Honey we have to start getting ready” ___ mumbles against his chest but Yoongi just snuggles closer.

“We have a trip to leave for, and with my dad involved you don’t want to be late” ___ talks as she lifts her head to take a good look at him, “I don’t even know how we agreed to this” Yoongi’s voice is thick, still a bit hazy from a good night’s sleep.

“I know how, our mother’s divided and conquered, making each of us agree to it individually so that our combined brain couldn’t say no to this” ___ speaks as Yoongi loosens his grip around her. "Our combined brain isn't a thing," Yoongi says.

"It absolutely is a thing.""It's not."

"You have the common sense and I have the social skills." ___ comments like it’s the most sane thing in the world and Yoongi chuckles, his face dropping back into her shoulder. "Should we just say that some work came up for me?" he mumbles, his voice muffled against her skin as he presses a series of absent-minded kisses along her shoulder blade. "Something unavoidable. A last-minute meeting. A studio emergency. A national crisis."

"A national crisis?" "I don't know. I'll figure something out."

"And abandon me with the parents, your brother and sister-in-law and their new baby and Sunhee all alone in a cabin?" ___ asks as she pushes him back enough to properly look at him, immediate outrage colouring her expression. "You'd abandon your gorgeous, beautiful, kind, smart and hot girlfriend like that?"

Yoongi studies her seriously for a moment. "You forgot humble." ___ chuckles as she pulls back completely this time, standing up as she dramatically ties a robe around her. "Hey," Yoongi protests immediately, pushing himself up onto one elbow. "You can't just leave me in the bed like this."

"Watch me." "We have an unspoken mutual understanding about extra five minutes of cuddling every morning." ___ picks up her toothbrush without a shred of sympathy. "That sounds like something you made up."

“It absolutely isn’t yesterday morning you made me late for a meeting because you wanted to cuddle” Yoongi says once he takes a long sip of his water. “You were late because you got distracted by me in a pencil skirt and we just had to have sex” ___ talks to him through the mirror as she watches Yoongi walk towards her, his hands snaking around her.

Years of dating have done nothing to reduce the frequency with which he finds reasons to touch her. ___ catches his reflection in the mirror as he rests his chin on her head. His hair is still messy from sleep, his eyes half closed, his expression carrying the distinct look of someone who has not yet accepted that the day has officially begun.

"You're supposed to be getting ready." ___ comments with a mouth full of toothpaste, “I am getting ready, I need the morning cuddling to recharge myself for the day” Yoongi whines and ___ can’t help but smile. She had feared this once, early on. That the freshness of it would fade for him. That someone who lived as large and publicly and exhaustingly as he did would eventually find ordinary mornings with her ordinary. But he just seems to have settled deeper into it somehow, like he's been growing roots she can't fully see.

"Baby, come on." She spits, rinses, turns in the circle of his arms to face him properly. His eyes open slightly more, tracking her. "I want us to be on time." ___ asks as her hands reach up to fix his hair, almost as long as her bob from years ago.

“We can save time and shower together” Yoongi suggests with a smirk which earns him a soft smack on his chest, “None of this around our parents, last time you kissed me good bye and my parents tried to give me the sex talk at the ripe age of 32” He presses his lips together. His eyes are doing the thing where he's trying very hard not to find something funny and failing at a foundational level.

"How about this," she says, her hands settling against his chest, "I get in the shower while you make us amazing coffee, and then you get ready because you're quick, and we leave on time." She punctuates it with a soft kiss, which is her first mistake, because his arms tighten around her immediately, pulling her closer with the certainty.

Their lips stay touching, barely, the kiss not quite ending. "I'm not always quick," he murmurs against her mouth. Her fingers find their way into his hair, combing through it slowly, and he makes the quiet sound he makes when something feels good, low and unhurried, his forehead tilting down toward hers.

The bathroom is warm, the coffee isn't made, they are going to be late. She lets herself melt for exactly one more moment, her fingers curling at the nape of his neck, his arms solid around her, the morning quiet and warm and entirely unconcerned with their schedule.

Then she pulls back, firmly with genuine resolve. "Coffee," she says. "Now. Go." He exhales slowly through his nose, the long suffering exhale of a man being asked to do something deeply unreasonable. His arms drop as he steps back.

"Fine," he says. "I love you" He turns toward the door with great reluctance, pausing at the frame to look back at her over his shoulder, hair still a disaster, eyes still half asleep, wearing the expression of someone filing a formal complaint with the universe.

She points at the kitchen. He goes, he can’t believe how whipped he is, how he’s planned this entire trip just to propose.

“Sunhee, you got the dress? You have to make sure that she wears that only” Yoongi whispers in the car as ___ steps out to get them some more water, or rather forced to get water. "I have the dress," Sunhee confirms from the back seat, with the calm of someone who has been briefed extensively and takes her responsibilities seriously. "I have the dress, the earrings, the shoes. I also have backups of the earrings because I know her."

"Good." Yoongi nods rapidly. "Good, good, good-" "Yoongi-ya." His mother's voice booms suddenly from the car speaker, loud enough that both he and Sunhee flinch. She is apparently coordinating from the other vehicle. "We've confirmed with the decorator. The florals will be set up by four. Everyone on the guest list has confirmed."

“And you stuck to the guest list? I don’t want any random relatives there” “We stuck to the guest list, only 20 people other than us have been invited” Mrs Lee speaks and Yoongi can hear how she’s been crying, hopefully out of joy.

"Aunty," he says carefully. "Are you okay?" A brief pause, a soft sound that she tries to disguise as clearing her throat. "I'm perfectly fine," she says, with great composure. "I'm just very happy."

"I'm not crying," Mrs. Lee says firmly, to someone in the car with her. "You cried at breakfast," Mr. Lee says and there’s some laughter on their end. Yoongi roped in everyone in their family to help with the proposal, he wanted it to be just right for ___. Was it the wisest decision, definitely not, the mother showed up crying happy tears today, but they’re all also very excited.

“Guys I just need you to keep this going till tomorrow evening, ___ can’t know-” “Dad, do you guys need more water?” ___ interrupts Yoongi as she knocks on the other car, all he hears is his mother yelp before he hastily disconnects the call.

“Why are you guys so, mom are you okay?” ___ asks her mother out of genuine concern who’s currently trying to even out her breath. “I am fine, it’s just the altitude” Mrs Lee dismisses her daughter, “We’re still in Seoul”

She gets in, pulls the door shut, and sits for a second. "Baby." She turns to Yoongi. "I don't think my dad should be driving. They're all acting so weird, should I go over there and drive them?"

"What-" Yoongi starts. "Your mother was also acting strange this morning, are they all sick? Did something happen that nobody is telling me?" Her brow furrows with genuine concern now, the kind that means she's started running through possibilities. "Is everyone okay? Is this an intervention? Am I being intervened?"

"Nobody is being intervened," Yoongi says. "You've been weird all morning too." ___ adds turning to Sunhee in the backseat. "I'm a surgeon, ___. I'm always a little weird." "That's fair," ___ concedes, which buys approximately four seconds before she turns back to Yoongi. "Yoongi."

"Mm." "Look at me." He looks at her. Fully, directly, with the particular stillness he reserves for moments that require absolute composure. She searches his face the way she always does, that quiet careful reading she's gotten very good at over the years.

He holds very still and thinks about nothing. He thinks about the weather. He thinks about the coffee he made this morning. He thinks about absolutely anything except the ring sitting in his jacket pocket approximately thirty centimeters from her hand.

"You're sure everyone is fine," she says. "Everyone is fine," he says. She looks at him for one more long moment. "Everyone is just excited for the trip," Sunhee offers from the back, which is both true and the most dangerous thing she could have said.

___ goes very still. "Excited how," she says slowly. "It's just a weekend trip, why would anyone be-" "I meant relaxed," Sunhee says immediately. "Everyone is just relaxed. Looking forward to a relaxing weekend. Very normal amount of relaxation."

"Right," ___ says. Yoongi pulls out of the car park before she can follow that thread any further. In the back seat Sunhee opens her phone and stares at it with the focused intensity of someone who almost just blew the entire operation and knows it.

He drives, he breathes, he does not touch his jacket pocket. One more day, he thinks. Just one more day.

“If their engagement party is this small, I can’t even imagine what size the wedding is going to be” the proposal and wedding discussions are in full swing, that’s all they can talk about.

“It’s a proposal today, a wedding in six months and grandchildren in a year” Mr Lee adds with a big smile, ___ is his pride and joy, and the only child, he can’t wait for this next chapter of her life. “Yoongi says that they’ve discussed it all, when they’re going to have kids, how many,” Mr Min adds and the mothers exchange a look.

It is the kind of look that contains an entire conversation. The kind that has been building since an afternoon over barley tea and good plates and twenty photographs, since a sweater recognized across a kitchen, since two women who missed their calling as matchmakers watched something they quietly arranged become something neither of them could have fully imagined.

The car goes quiet for a moment, the comfortable kind, the kind that has too much warmth in it to need filling. "Six months for the wedding might be ambitious," Mrs. Min says eventually. "I was thinking spring," Mrs. Lee says immediately.

"Spring is perfect." "The venue near Hannam-" "I was thinking the same venue" "It's beautiful in April" "We should call them Monday"

"She hasn't said yes yet," Mr. Lee points out, mildly, from the driver's seat. Both mothers turn to look at him. "She's going to say yes," they say, in unison, with the absolute certainty of two women who have never once doubted this outcome.

Mr. Lee faces the road again. "Just noting the order of events," he says peacefully, and says nothing further.

The cottage is just as ___ remembered, the November chill just right for the place, there’s already an outdoor bonfire going. She looks at the hills going soft in the fading light. At Sunhee, who has gotten very busy with her bag, and Wonik, who is studying the treeline with suspicious intensity, and both sets of parents who’ve gotten very busy with getting dinner together.

Something moves through her chest, quiet and enormous and not entirely nameable. "This is really beautiful," she says softly. His hand presses gently at her back. "Come on," he says. "You're cold."

She is, she hadn't noticed until he said it. She lets him walk her toward the warmth of the bonfire, his hand steady at her back, the voices of their family carrying across the cold air behind them, and she thinks distantly that she has been trying to prepare herself for this feeling for months now.

The food and drinks are flowing in no time, the kind of dinner that stops being about eating and becomes about something else entirely, the warmth of it, the noise, the particular happiness of people who love each other and don't get enough evenings like this.

Everyone is beyond full and nobody stops eating. The drinks are refilled before glasses are empty. Wonik is in the middle of a story that keeps getting interrupted by his own laughter. Both mothers have migrated to the same end of the table and are deep in a conversation that Yoongi is choosing not to investigate. Mr. Lee is attempting to explain something to Mr. Min using a napkin as a diagram.

"She is so precious," he says softly, his hand moving in a slow careful arc across her back, the size of it covering most of her. "I can't believe she's six months already." He shakes his head slightly, careful not to disturb her. "She was so tiny when Sejin-hyung first sent the pictures."

"She still is tiny," ___ says from beside him, watching Hana's face in the firelight. "She's grown," he insists, quietly, with the authority of someone who has been tracking this very seriously. "She's a baby, Yoongi."

"A bigger baby." He adjusts his arm slightly, cradling her closer on instinct, and Hana sighs, a small sound, entirely content. Something in his expression does something ___ doesn't have a word for yet, soft and unguarded and slightly undone, the look of a person being trusted completely by something very small and finding it more than they were prepared for.

___ watches him for a moment. The firelight on his face. The careful way he holds her. The fact that he has barely moved from this spot for forty minutes and doesn't appear to have any intention of changing that.

"You're good with her," she says softly. He glances at her sideways. "She's easy." "She's not easy, she screamed for twenty minutes in the car."

"She was tired." He looks back down at Hana, adjusting the blanket over her with two fingers, gently, so gently. "She just needed to be held."

"Yoongi," she says quietly. "Mm." “Should we have one too? Get started today?” ___ speaks lightheartedly, and Yoongi freezes not expecting this. “I thought it wasn’t a conversation for another two years?”

"I'm just saying." She gestures at Hana, at his enormous careful hands, at the general situation. "Look at you, you’re ready to be a dad” she reaches over to take a long sip of her drink, while Yoongi looks down, the small baby in his arms, if he could freeze time, he would because he’s not ready for Hana to grow even a centimeter.

“I’ve always been nurturing,” “Yes and you know how to fix everything in our house, and you make cheesy dad jokes, you take such good care of me” ___ speaks softly, resting her head against his arm. “I don’t make dad jokes, I am funny and we’re not ready to be parents, we’re still very stupid people sometimes” Yoongi notes as he looks across the table, watching as now the mothers have also been introduced to the tissue diagram.

“Very stupid people who buy expensive vases, where does all my art go when we have children?” ___ asks with genuine curiosity. “I mean I’ll love my children, but my collection will be older than they are” she continues and Yoongi laughs, they always go into these hypothetically, thinking and over thinking about them.

“We’ll probably need a bigger place, you’ll have to continue going on tour, mister, make us more money” ___ jokes not so lightly, there is an impending tour that starts next year, she’s not ready yet, emotionally at least.

“For the tour, I had this idea, why don’t you come with, travel with me, collect pieces from the places we visit,” Yoongi suggests, well he’s been thinking about it long and hard, going away for so long after being engaged is going to be difficult.

“It’s a lot to ask, but you could come at least for Europe and South America, you've been wanting to do more studio visits abroad. It doesn't have to be the tour following me around." He glances at her. "It could just be you, doing your work, in the same cities I happen to be in."

The fire crackles beside them. Hana sighs in her sleep. "Yoongi," she says softly. "It's a lot to ask," he says immediately, before she can be gentle about it. "I know it's a lot to ask. You'd be working around my schedule and I know how much you hate working around anyone's schedule-"

“Yoongi” ___ stops him, a firm hand on his thigh, “I’ll come, of course I’ll come” she adds softly. He knows that if their positions were reversed, if she were the one leaving for six months to chase a dream she'd spent her entire life building, he wouldn't even let her finish asking before agreeing.

That is simply how this works now. Somewhere along the way, compromise stopped feeling like sacrifice and started feeling like love. "Really?" The question is so genuine that it makes her chest ache a little. "Really," she says, smiling. She knows how much Yoongi loves music.

She knows what happens to him when he performs, the way entire arenas disappear and somehow become intimate, the way he comes alive under stage lights despite spending years insisting he prefers quiet rooms and small circles of people. She knows what creating means to him, what performing means to him, what the fans mean to him.

The lake beyond the cabin reflects fragments of firelight and moonlight together. And despite the ring hidden away and the proposal waiting patiently for tomorrow evening, despite the months of planning and secrets and coordination that brought everyone here, Yoongi finds himself thinking that this might be his favourite part.

Sitting beside her while she casually rearranges her future to make room for him as though it isn't even a difficult decision. As though there was never any question about choosing each other.

The day started as usual, slow breakfast, watching a movie while endlessly bickering about the plot, driving into the city for a big family lunch and now this. Impromptu family portraits that Wonik offered to take. Everyone had changed into nicer clothes after lunch, partly because photographs had been mentioned and partly because both mothers possessed an almost supernatural ability to make adults obey dress codes without ever directly issuing instructions.

___ in a soft silk dress that goes up to her ankles, the heels Yoongi insisted on, the solid solitaire studs he gifted her for their first anniversary, smelling faintly like Yoongi because they couldn’t help but kiss when he first saw her.

__ wore a soft silk dress that brushed her ankles whenever she moved, elegant without being overly formal. The heels had been entirely Yoongi's idea. She was also wearing the small solitaire studs he'd gifted her on their first anniversary.

The first truly serious gift, the kind that had left her speechless for nearly an entire minute. They caught the afternoon sunlight now whenever she turned her head. “Hey handsome” ___ mutters to Yoongi as the Min parents pose away.

Yoongi was conflicted about a three piece suit with a tie, but he only plans on getting engaged once, the pearlish stripes on his suit completely match her dress, his arm around her waist, glancing sideways every other second, making himself believe that she is real, very real.

All the family adds to the pictures one by one, standing together for a group picture, a family picture. Hana is smiling brightly, freshly awake from her nap, everyone smiling so widely, happily.. Truly happy, the specific kind that doesn't need anything added to it.

Yoongi feels her lean into his side slightly, her hand finding the one he has at her waist, fingers threading through his. “Let’s take a few for the couple in the garden” Wonik suggests pointing to the other side of the veranda.

Yoongi laces his fingers through hers without much asking, already moving, already pulling her gently away from the group before she's fully processed the suggestion. She follows, because she always follows when he takes her hand like that, certain and unhurried, like he knows exactly where they're going. "Where are we-" "Just here," he says.

She's confused, mildly, in the pleasant way of someone being led somewhere by someone they trust completely. The noise of the group fades behind them as they round the side of the veranda, the November air cooler here, quieter, the last of the evening light sitting low and golden over the hills.

And then she sees it, not bouquets, not cut flowers arranged in vases the way she might have expected, the way anyone might have expected. Potted plants. Dozens of them, arranged with the careful consideration of someone who listened, really listened, over years of conversation. Trailing vines and small flowering things and the particular kind of greenery that belongs in a home rather than a ceremony, that looks like it has a future rather than just an occasion.

She stops walking, her hand goes still in his. "Yoongi," she says softly. Not a question, just his name, the way she says it when something has caught her somewhere too deep for a complete sentence.

"You always say cut flowers make you sad," he says, from beside her, his voice quiet and even, the voice he uses when he's saying something he's thought about for a long time. "That they're already dying when you get them."

___ did say that. Once, early on, offhandedly, the way you say things you don't expect anyone to file away. She turns to look at him. He's already looking at her. Not sideways, not adjacent, not the careful almost-eye-contact she spent the early months learning to read. Directly, fully, the way he looks at her now when he has decided there is nothing left to be careful about.

His free hand moves to his jacket pocket and her breath catches. "I've been trying to figure out how to do this for months," he says, and his voice is steady but she can hear the underneath of it, the particular quality of a man who is not nervous about the answer but is nonetheless undone by the size of the moment. "I had a whole speech. I wrote it down." A small breath. "I lost it somewhere around the third draft."

She lets out a sound that is almost a laugh and almost something else entirely. He looks down briefly, then back up at her, and there it is, the ring, catching the last of the evening light in his hand, and she was right, she knew she was right, it is not too flashy, it is exactly her, it is so exactly her that her eyes fill immediately and she does nothing to stop them.

“I love you, more than I ever imagined, more than I’d ever allow myself to believe, you bring so much joy to me, my life, my family” Yoongi stops for a brief moment, trying to even his breath after he looks across to see his parents who’re already crying.

"You're funny," he says, and his voice has found its footing again, warm and certain. "Kind. Smart. So charming." His thumb moves slowly over her knuckles. "You can talk your way into any room and flirt your way out of almost anything and somehow make both look completely effortless."

She laughs, wet and unguarded. "You bring skills I've always lacked," he continues, quieter now. "The kind I didn't even know I was missing until you just, had them. All of them. Naturally." A small breath. "And you have me so whipped."

"Honey-" "I'm not even ashamed of it," he says, with complete sincerity. "I'm just. Alarmed, sometimes, by the depths of it." His brow furrows slightly, like he's still genuinely processing this information about himself. "It's an unreasonable amount to feel about one person."

She presses her lips together hard, the tears coming faster now. "If you asked me," he says, softly, "I would make time stop. I would go back to the exact moment we met in that elevator."

He pauses, and something in his expression shifts, opens, becomes the most unguarded she has ever seen him in all the years of learning his face. "I would do every single part of it again. All of it. The tour, the distance, the fights, the falling in love." His voice drops. "All of it, if it ends here. With you."

Yoongi reaches over, wiping a few tears, gently cradling her head, "You forgot hot," she says, mid tears, her voice completely steady, like she's been waiting to say it.

He breaks, the laugh that comes out of him is the biggest she has ever heard from him, sudden and completely helpless, his forehead dropping forward against hers, his shoulders shaking, and she's laughing too now, properly, through the tears, the two of them undone in the middle of what was supposed to be a serious moment and somehow is more perfect for it.

He lifts his head. His eyes are wet at the corners, she notices, and she doesn't say anything about it because she loves him and also because she knows he'll deny it. Yoongi doesn’t waste any time getting on his knee, looking at her for a second too long like he’s trying to imprint this memory into his brain.

"___," he says finally, just her name, in that particular way, the way that has meant something specific since an elevator and twenty photographs and a jacket that was never really about a jacket. "Will you marry me?"

The garden goes completely quiet. The man who has been, from the very first sideways glance in a basement parking lot, so much more than she was prepared for.

Her yes comes out on a breath, soft and immediate and completely certain. "Yes." She shakes her head slightly, laughing again, the tears coming fresh. "Yes, of course yes, was there ever any doubt-"

He's already standing, already reaching for her, the ring on her finger before she's finished the sentence, and then his arms are around her and his warm lips on hers before he can even remember to breathe.

She kisses him back with everything she has. Her hands find his face, his jaw, her fingers curling against him like she needs something to hold onto, and he obliges, his arms tightening around her waist, pulling her closer in the way he does when he's finished being sensible about things.

Yoongi pulls back just enough to breathe and then doesn't go far, his forehead against hers, his eyes still closed, both of them just breathing for a moment in the quiet of the garden. ___ kisses him again, softer this time, her thumb brushing along his jaw, and he sighs into it, his hands spreading warm at her back, unhurried now, like they have all the time in the world.

They eventually turn around, ___ still in Yoongi’s arms as she waves her hand, excitedly showing off her ring as they walk closer. More people are around now, friends, the members, aunts and uncles, the excited mothers who can’t stop crying, everyone they love is here.

"Fiancé," ___ practices, quietly, to the room, to herself, turning the word over like she's checking the weight of it.

Yoongi cheeses so hard it's almost alarming. The full smile, unstoppable, the kind he usually reserves for moments when nobody is watching. He pulls her closer into his lap without any pretense, his arms coming around her from behind.

"Fiancé," he repeats, and the way he says it makes her melt back against his chest immediately, all her bones making a collective decision to stop working.

"It sounds different out loud," she says softly. "Good different?" "Very good different." She turns the ring slowly on her finger. "How do you feel?" he asks quietly. Not insecurely, just wanting to know, the way he asks things he actually wants answered.

She looks down at the ring. At his arms around her. At the room that smells like the cottage and the bonfire and faintly like his jacket.

"I'm so happy," she says, simply, because it's true and he deserves the uncomplicated version of it. "I'm so, unreasonably, embarrassingly happy." He makes the quiet sound against her hair that means he is too. The one that isn't quite a word but doesn't need to be.

"Fiancé," she says again, softer this time. His arms tighten once. "Keep going," he murmurs, "I like it."

She smiles at the ceiling. "Fiancé." "Mm." "My fiancé." He buries his face in her hair and says nothing, which is the loudest answer in the room.

They return to the party after a few too many minutes. The mothers have stabilized, relatively. Hana is being passed around like the smallest, most beloved parcel.

"You know," Wonik says, settling into the chair beside the fire with the tone of someone about to say something that will not leave the group alone, "technically speaking, you're already married."

___ looks at him. "We're engaged, Wonik, we just did the thing-" "You own property together," he says, counting on his fingers. "You have a pet."

"Tangie is Yoongi's-" "Tannie prefers you and you buy his food," Sunhee says pleasantly. "That's joint custody at minimum" she continues and ___ smiles flatly at her friend making a very good point.

"You have a joint investment portfolio," Namjoon adds with a big wide grin. "He made me do that-" ___ exclaims slightly, hitting her fiance on the chest.

"You argued for forty minutes about a vacuum," Jimin adds from across, with the delight of someone who has been waiting to contribute. "A specific vacuum. With strong feelings."

"The suction capacity was relevant-" "You have a shared calendar," Namjoon cuts off Yoongi, the smug smile still there. The fire crackles, someone snickers. Yoongi, beside her, says absolutely nothing, which means he agrees completely and has the self preservation not to say so.

The friends continue with the teasing, what’s even more fun for ___ is hearing every small detail that went into planning this engagement. They just sit and talk over shared drinks, days like these are for that.

“Now I know Yoongi was very strict about no gifts, but I had to get something,” Mrs Lee says as she hands the newly engaged couple a red velvet box. ___ takes it, glancing at Yoongi once before opening it.

Inside, nestled against the velvet, are two rings. Simple, warm, exactly right. She lifts one carefully and turns it toward the firelight, and there it is, engraved on the inside band in small careful letters, today's date.

"Just an early wedding gift," Mrs. Lee says softly, and ___ laughs, barely choking back the tears, her thumb running over the engraving like she needs to confirm it's real.

"In the olden times," Mrs. Lee begins, her voice steady and warm, "the engagement was closely followed by a wedding. There weren't engagement rings, not the way there are now." She pauses briefly, her hands engulfing ___’s hand with an engagement ring. "So my great grandmother gave my grandmother engraved wedding bands as a gift of approval."

"Now," Mrs. Lee continues, softer now, looking between ___ and Yoongi with the expression of a woman delivering something she has been carrying carefully for a long time, "you both might take your sweet time planning your wedding. There will be some discussion in finding the right date." The faintest smile. "Knowing our families, there will be considerable discussion." Mrs. Min makes a sound that is not quite a denial.

"But I wanted to give you this as an early gift," Mrs. Lee says, "so you remember today." She pauses, and when she continues her voice carries something quieter underneath it, something that has clearly been thought about long before tonight. "People often forget that there's a marriage waiting for them after the wedding."

"The wedding is one day," she says simply. "Marriage is everything after it. And I wanted you to have something that reminds you of that. That the two of you chose each other before the venue and the flowers and the dress." Her eyes find ___'s. "That it started here. Like this."

It’s all too overwhelming, and before ___ can overthink this a bit more, Yoongi is softly pulling her in a corner.

“Are these signs, should we just get married today?” ___ spits it out, whispering it like saying it out loud would break the illusion or something. “We’re spiraling, but it makes total sense doesn’t it?” Yoongi adds with agreement that doesn’t help ___ at all.

“We can’t, we don’t have an officiant or anything. Also because it would be an insane thing to do” Yoongi mutters as he wipes some sweat, feeling hot on a November night. “We can’t, it would be totally insane but also make complete sense, Namjoon could officiate, he just did officiate another wedding weeks ago” he continues and ___ rapidly shakes her head.

“Babe it would be totally insane” ___ repeats not so convinced. She looks at him. Properly, fully, the way she looked at him in the elevator the first time the pieces assembled themselves, the way she looked at him outside her building when she suggested an experiment, the way she has been looking at him ever since, like he is the most specific and unrepeatable thing she has ever encountered.

He looks back at her with the exact same expression. She is trying to find the rational argument. It is somewhere in there. She can almost locate it. "Everyone we love is here," she says softly, thinking out loud now, the whisper dropping even lower. "Right now. All of them."

"All of them," he confirms quietly. "That never happens."

"It really doesn't." "And we have the rings." She looks down at the velvet box still in her hand. "Two sets of rings. We have an ordained Namjoon-"

"Who is right there," Yoongi points out, unnecessarily, because Namjoon is indeed right there, approximately four meters away, laughing at something Jimin said, entirely unaware that his evening is about to change significantly.

___ looks at Yoongi for a few seconds longer. Not thinking anymore, not really. Just looking at him, reading the face she has spent years learning, checking for the thing she needs to find.

It's there, it's been there the whole time. "Are you sure?" she asks, very quietly. He doesn't hesitate, doesn't look away, doesn't do any of the careful deliberating she fell in love with watching him do. "I've been sure for a long time," he says. "The date was always going to be whenever you were ready."

She exhales, something in her chest settles with a finality that feels less like a decision and more like an arrival. “Okay, then turn around, you can’t see me on our wedding day” ___ speaks as she pushes Yoongi away, who can only laugh at all this.

"Darling, I proposed to you approximately two hours ago," Yoongi fights back, stumbling slightly from the push, which had genuine force behind it. The pilates she started as a joke is apparently not a joke anymore.

"Turn around," she repeats. He turns around, still laughing. "I cannot believe," he tells the cottage wall, "that this is how this evening is going."

"Okay." Her voice shifts into something more focused, the tone she uses when her brain has made a decision and is already three steps ahead. "I'm going to find Sunhee. You go find Namjoon and Jimin because we need Jimin's brain on this." A pause. "Then come find me at the aisle."

"We don't have an aisle-" "We'll make one," she says simply. "Go." He hears her heels on the stone, moving away, already gone.

Things move quickly once they've decided. Faster than either of them expected, which perhaps shouldn't be surprising given that the people they love have been coordinating a proposal for months and apparently the skill transfers seamlessly to an impromptu wedding.

Jimin takes point immediately, which is exactly why she asked for his brain. Within ten minutes he has quietly briefed the group, managed the mothers before they could reach a volume that would alert anyone not yet in the know, and somehow produced a playlist from his phone that he insists is perfect and nobody has the time to argue with.

___’s parents find her in their bedroom and close the door behind her without being asked. They don't say anything for a moment. Just looks at their daughter standing in the soft lamplight in her silk dress, rings on her fingers, eyes still slightly bright from the proposal, and something moves across her face that is too large for words.

Her mother's hand comes up to her mouth. Her father stands very still, the way he goes still when something is too large to move through quickly, and just looks at her with the expression he has worn at every significant moment of her life. Her first gallery show. Her first time leaving for a trip alone. Every arrival and every departure.

He has always looked at her like she is his greatest achievement and his greatest pride and the thing he is most afraid of losing all at once. "Hi," ___ says softly, because someone has to start.

Her mother laughs, wet and immediate, crossing the room in three steps and folding her into her arms the way she has since ___ was small. ___ goes into it completely, her chin on her mother's shoulder, eyes closing. "My baby," her mother murmurs, into her hair.

Her father waits, he opens his arms, and ___ walks into them the way she has her entire life, without thinking, without hesitating. "Dad," she says, muffled against his shoulder. “I know you two have always wanted a big wedding for me-” ___ is cut off almost immediately by her father.

“___ all we’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy” She opens her mouth. He continues, quietly, "Not a specific kind of happy. Not a happy that looks a particular way or happens in a particular venue in April with flowers your mother and Mrs. Min have been arguing about for six months." The corner of his mouth moves.

Her mother makes a sound behind them that confirms the April venue discussion has been very real and very ongoing. "You are so happy, ___. Every time I see you with him." He exhales slowly. "That's all it was ever about." She nods, not trusting her voice.

"Now." He straightens slightly, composing himself , "A big wedding would have been lovely, but this?" He glances toward the window, toward the bonfire light and the sound of their people settling into place, Jimin's soft playlist drifting through the walls. "This is more you."

She laughs, wet and sudden. "It's completely insane." "It's completely you," he corrects, warmly. "Which has never been the same as insane." He considers this. "Usually."

Her father offers his arm, unhurried and steady. "Shall we?" he says.

"Don't let me cry through the whole thing," she says as she holds her father tightly. "No promises," her father says, and his voice wavers just slightly on the last word, which tells her everything about how he's actually doing. She squeezes his arm once.

"Okay, Yoongi, snap out of it before you spiral more!" Jin's hands land on his shoulders, firm and immediate, the grip of a man who has managed this particular human through a significant number of life events and knows exactly how much force is required.

Yoongi is pacing. He has been pacing for approximately four minutes, which for him is the equivalent of a full breakdown. "Hyung, we're being totally stupid aren't we," he says, to Jin, to the garden, to the general concept of his own decision making. "This is not going to-"

"Snap out of it." Jimin materializes on his other side, "You love her. She loves you. This is happening."

"We decided this forty minutes ago-" "Great decisions are made quickly," Jin says, with great authority.

"That is not true-" "Yoongi." Jin speaks as he looks Yoongi square in the eyes, the way he has since they were young, direct and without ceremony. "Look at me."

"Do you want to marry her?" "Yes, obviously, that's not-" "Do you want to marry her tonight?" A pause, shorter than it should be. "Yes." "Then what," Jin says, releasing him, straightening his suit jacket with two efficient tugs, "is the problem."

"Nothing, and you better not ruin this for us or for you." Mrs. Min's voice comes softly from one of the chairs, and every man in the vicinity goes slightly still.

She is sitting with the particular composure of a woman who has been through a great deal of emotion this evening and has arrived, finally, at something quieter on the other side of it. She looks at her son with the expression she has worn at every significant moment of his life, every stage, every milestone, every time he has done something that reminded her of exactly who he is.

"Mom-" Yoongi starts. "Let me finish," she says, gently but firmly. He closes his mouth. "Is this the shotgun wedding I imagined for you?" she says. "No.", The corner of her mouth moves. "Mrs. Lee and I had very strong feelings about the decor"

"But." She stands, slowly, and crosses to him, and takes his face in her hands the way she has since he was small, her thumbs against his jaw, tilting his face down toward hers. "You are marrying the love of your life. Tonight. Surrounded by every single person who loves you both." Her voice holds, just barely. "And that trumps everything else. It trumps all of it."

Yoongi says nothing. His jaw shifts slightly beneath her hands. "You deserve her," she says quietly. "You deserve the love you feel for her. And you deserve the love she has for you, which is" she stops, collects herself, continues, "considerable. And patient. And exactly what I always hoped someone would feel for you."

She smooths his lapel with the same two efficient tugs Jin used, and then looks at him one final time. The quiet that follows is the warm kind. Yoongi looks at his mother for a long moment. Then he leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead, brief and certain, the way he does things when words aren't enough and he knows it.

She pats his cheek once and turns back to her chair with great composure. "Someone get me a tissue," she says, to no one in particular, and sits back down.

The garden has already started to come together around them. What began as a proposal venue only a few hours earlier has somehow transformed into a wedding venue through a combination of family determination, questionable decision-making, and an overwhelming refusal from everyone present to let practicality interfere with romance.

The flowers intended for the engagement have been rearranged and redistributed across the lawn. Strings of lights weave through the trees overhead, casting everything in a soft golden glow as evening settles over the cabin. Blankets have been draped across chairs against the November chill, and candles appear to be multiplying every time somebody looks away for more than a minute.

“If everyone can please take a seat, we will be starting with the ceremony soon” Jimin announces to the small crowd of family and friends. Namjoon calls out eventually as he makes his way forward. "Everybody sit down before they change their minds"

People begin settling into the mismatched collection of chairs. The evening has grown cooler now, the last traces of daylight disappearing behind the hills as the lights overhead become brighter against the darkening sky. Yoongi stands near the edge of the lawn with his parents beside him.

“Are you nervous son?” his father asks softly, and Yoongi chuckles before he can even answer, “A little, am I supposed to be?” he asks candidly. “Yes, because this matters to you” his father answers briefly as his eyes trail off, watching his wife walk towards them.

For a moment they stand there together, the three of them, while the garden settles around them. Guests continue taking their seats, conversations growing quieter with every passing second, the excitement slowly giving way to anticipation.

The music begins again, soft enough to blend into the sounds of the evening, and almost immediately Jimin appears with the focused determination of a man who has appointed himself wedding coordinator despite nobody technically assigning him the role.

"Okay, everyone is seated. We are doing this properly," he announces, pointing toward the aisle before anyone can object. "Min’s, you're up first." Yoongi laughs incredulously, shaking his head as Jimin begins directing people with alarming confidence.

He catches sight of familiar faces as they pass, friends and family smiling back at him, some openly emotional, others looking entirely too pleased with themselves for helping facilitate what will undoubtedly become a family story for decades.

His mother reaches for his hand briefly, squeezing it once before letting go, while his father rests a hand against his shoulder for a moment, the gesture carrying more affection than either of them would ever comfortably put into words.

The aisle empties as he turns around, standing right by Namjoon who flashes him a quick smile and for the first time all evening, Yoongi finds himself looking toward the cabin door, waiting for the woman who is about to become his wife.

The soft Hawaii wind sways them softly as ___ sighs back into Yoongi’s chest as they stare at the vast ocean. “It’s so beautiful” she murmurs as Yoongi continues to rub circles around her waist. “It is” Yoongi murmurs as he plasters a big kiss on her cheek.

It only took them four months to plan a honeymoon after the quick wedding, and the destination was pre decided, Hawaii. The trip came right as they registered their marriage, let their parents throw them a big reception in the city and Yoongi made an announcement on his Instagram, he kept it simple, a lovesick picture from their wedding day.

"Mr. and Mrs. Min," A concierge appears at their elbow with the quiet efficiency of someone trained never to look like an interruption. "My apologies for the wait. Your Villa is ready." Yoongi just nods, his hand steady at her waist as they follow him inside. The suite is everything the pictures promised and somehow still more than that, all warm wood and white linen and floor to ceiling glass looking straight out at the water.

“It’s gorgeous” ___ comments the second the concierge is done talking their through the Villa’s details. “It is, and as a congratulations for your wedding, we’ve arranged for complimentary couples massages for today, please let me know what time would work for you” the concierge says and ___’s eyes drift to her nametag, not remembering her name.

“And as a congratulations on your wedding, we've arranged complimentary couples massages, just let us know what time works best for you," the concierge adds, and ___ glances at her nametag. "Thank you, Sarah, but I think my husband has already arranged something for us." The word husband comes out easily, which still surprises her sometimes, she almost instinctively intertwines her hands with his.

Sarah smiles, and then her eyes drift to Yoongi for just a second too long, the particular kind of recognition she's trying to be professional about and not quite managing. "Of course, Mr. Min. We're huge fans, by the way. If there's anything at all you need during your stay."

Yoongi thanks her politely, the practiced warmth he has for these moments, and Sarah excuses herself with one last smile that is maybe thirty percent for ___ and seventy percent for him. ___ watches this with great patience.

"She was a fan," ___ observes pleasantly, the moment the door closes. "She was doing her job," Yoongi mumbles, still a bit groggy as he goes back to hugging ___, his hands back on her warm stomach. "She was doing her job for you specifically." ___ talks pointedly as she turns around, her hands at the nape of his neck.

Yooogi lips twitch with a smirk as he looks down at ___, she has the expression of someone making a completely reasonable observation, which makes it worse somehow. He presses his lips together. "Are you jealous?" he frames it as a question knowing he is right because ___ immediately digs her nails into his hair.

"I was just making an observation," she says, turning back to face the ocean, the strap of her tank top slipping off her shoulder in the process. Yoongi smiles and kisses her shoulder, his teeth grazing her skin softly, unhurried, like he has no intention of stopping anytime soon. "I'm madly in love with you," he murmurs against her skin, his voice low and warm. "I don't even notice anyone else."

His hands travel upward slowly, one cupping her breast, the other running along her waist, her ribs, back again. She doesn't answer immediately, just takes a slow breath as his fingers graze her nipple, soft and deliberate, until she melts back deeper into his chest with a quiet moan.

"I only want to love you," he murmurs between kisses pressed along her neck, her jaw, her shoulder. "Only want to touch you. I only want to kiss you." He turns her around gently, her back now to the ocean and her face tipped up toward him, it’s the same smile, the smile that makes almost everything not matter to him.

There isn’t much talking as ___ lunges forward to kiss him very desperately as his hands picking her up almost instantly, he walks toward the bed without breaking the kiss, his hands secure and warm, and she goes willingly, fingers digging into his hair.

They have nowhere to be, no schedules, no flights, no timezones working against them. It takes her a moment to register that fully, the specific luxury of it, and when she does she slows down slightly, her hands stilling against his chest.

He notices immediately, the way he notices everything about her. "You okay?" his eyes are immediately filled with worry when it takes her a second too long to answer.

"We have nowhere to be," ___ mutters like this is only occurring to her, Yoongi can’t help but chuckle as he sits down on the bed, her cradling in his lap

He looks at her for a second, hen he reaches up and moves her hands gently from his shirt, takes his time with the buttons himself. "I know," he says quietly. "So stop rushing." Her hands find his face instead, thumbs brushing along his jaw, and he lets her, eyes on hers, unhurried. Outside the glass the sun is beginning its slow descent toward the water and the light coming through, casting a golden light to the room, warm and golden and entirely unconcerned with them.

"Wanna fuck Mr Min?," she asks softly as he pushes off his, standing against the blinding light as she rids all the clothes off her, The smile that comes over his face is the unguarded one, the full version, “Yes please Mrs Min” He barely finishes the sentence before she captures his lips again, her hands at his jaw, pulling him back down to her.

He walks her backward onto the bed, following her down slowly, his hands running the full length of her like he's in no particular hurry, like he wants to take stock of her in this light specifically, warm and golden and completely his. She arches into his touch, fingers curling into his shoulders.

"You're staring," she murmurs, "You’re gorgeous" he adds, and dips his head to press a kiss just below her collarbone, then lower, his hands spreading warm at her waist. She exhales slowly, her fingers finding their way back into his hair.

Outside the villa the sun keeps sinking toward the water, unhurried, the two of them equally so, the whole long week stretching out ahead of them with nowhere to be and nothing to interrupt it. For the first time in as long as either of them can remember, there is genuinely nothing else.

It's day four of the honeymoon when they both desperately need something familiar. They have a few Korean options nearby but settle on an ox bone soup place without much debate, ___ has been craving it for days and Yoongi knows better than to suggest otherwise.

"This is exactly what I needed," she sighs, taking the last of her rice and mixing it into the broth for the final few bites, the particular satisfaction of someone who has been waiting for this specific thing.

Yoongi chuckles softly, phone wedged between his shoulder and ear, reaching over without looking to wipe a grain of rice from her cheek. "She's great, we went on a hike today so we're both a little exhausted," he continues into the phone, and then simply eats the grain of rice off his thumb like that's a completely normal thing to do.

"The pictures look so beautiful. Are you happy, son?" Mrs. Min asks. Yoongi looks up to find ___ very focused on her bowl, chasing the last of the broth with great dedication. "Very much," he says, and means it simply. "Honey, should I order more rice?"

She mutters a no between bites without looking up. "Can I talk to her?" Mrs. Min asks and he hands the phone across the table without ceremony. ___ takes it, swallowing quickly. "Hi Mrs. Min," she says cheerfully and Yoongi goes back to eating, the hike having taken everything out of both of them.

"Mrs. Min? You're Mrs. Min too now, we've talked about this. It's just mom," Mrs. Min says warmly, and ___ gently bites her lip. They have had this conversation several times now, in varying degrees of seriousness.

"I know, I'm still getting used to it," she says, watching her husband eat quietly across the table, his eyes down, giving absolutely nothing away. “It’s fine, take your time, but not too long” Mrs Min adds with a teasing tone.

"A few packages of yours arrived at the apartment, I left them in the guest room when I came to water the plants," Mrs. Min continues, and Yoongi can feel ___'s eyes drift from the phone call to the rest of his food. He constructs the perfect spoonful without looking up, broth and meat in the right ratio, and holds it out. ___ takes the bite immediately, still listening to his mother, like they have been doing it for years.

"And you were right, your neighbour downstairs is definitely an actor, he was very deliberately not making eye contact with me in the lobby," Mrs. Min continues, delivering this with the gravity of someone who has been sitting on the information and is very pleased to finally release it.

"I knew it," ___ says, pointing at Yoongi across the table. He raises his eyebrows. She's been saying this about the neighbour since they moved in, with the conviction of someone whose instincts are never wrong about these things and knows it. "Yoongi didn't believe me."

"Maybe you should listen to your wife," ___ starts, and stops mid sentence when another spoonful appears in front of her face, Yoongi holding it out with complete nonchalance, eyes elsewhere, like he's barely aware he's doing it.

"I always listen to you," Yoongi says pleasantly. "When have I not?" "That is true," ___ concedes, which costs her nothing because it's accurate. There's a quiet on Mrs. Min's end that has too much warmth in it. "You two," she says finally, softly, the words carrying something that isn't quite a complete sentence and doesn't need to be.

"What?" ___ asks. "Nothing. I'm just very happy." A small pause, and then with the casual precision of a woman who has been waiting for the right moment, "A happy honeymoon is what leads to children, so extend your vacation by all means if you come back with some good news."

"Mom!" ___ stutters, the word slipping out entirely on its own, propelled purely by embarrassment. She's been getting this from her own mother for weeks now and apparently the other one has coordinated.

Yoongi looks up from his bowl, mildly puzzled, trying to read the situation from her face alone.Mrs. Min, to her credit, lets the stutter settle for exactly one second before she says, very softly, "You called me mom."

___ closes her eyes briefly. "I noticed." Yoongi mouths what across the table. ___ shakes her head at him, which tells him everything. He reaches over and takes his phone back gently. "Mom, let us breathe, we just got married."

"I'm just saying," Mrs. Min says serenely, "the timing would be lovely." "Goodbye mom," Yoongi says, and hangs up before she can agree with herself any further. He looks at ___ as he sets the phone down. She's already looking at him with the expression of someone who has just survived something and needs a moment.

"Don't take her too seriously, we decided to wait two years," Yoongi reassures her as he flags down the server. He waits for a response but gets only a soft nod, and then the server is back with the bill and the card machine and the moment passes.

They did decide to wait two years. It was a logical, sensible conversation that they had like two logical, sensible adults, enjoy the marriage first, travel, sleep in, be selfish with their time for a little while longer. ___ had agreed completely and meant it.

She still means it, mostly. The emotional tug is a recent development, and she's fairly certain Hawaii is to blame. Four days of Yoongi with nowhere to be and nothing pulling at him, which means four days of him at his most himself, unhurried and attentive in that quiet way of his, remembering exactly how she takes her coffee, reapplying sunscreen on the back of her neck without being asked, looking at her in the golden late afternoon light like she's the most interesting thing in any room he's ever been in.

And then there's the fitted t-shirt situation, which is frankly unreasonable and she feels she should be able to raise it formally somewhere. She watches him tap his card against the machine, easy and unbothered, and thinks that he's going to be a terrifyingly good father and that two years is simultaneously the right call and a very long time.

She doesn't say any of this. She picks up her bag and stands up. "Ready?" "Yeah," he says, and holds the door open for her, reaching for her hand almost immediately once they're outside, the recent clinginess of a man who has apparently decided that being married means he needs to be touching her at all times. She lets him, fingers threading through his.

"What is it? You've been quiet," he says, and then, reading her correctly as he always does, "I'll talk to my mother about all this." "Are you sure we should wait two years?" ___ interrupts as they get back into the car, the question coming out more plainly than she'd intended. "It's not like I'm getting any younger."

"Don't say that," Yoongi says quietly, the lightness leaving his voice. "I'm just being practical." she adds and Yoongi sighs, sinking deeper into the seat. A discussion like this, at this hour, after a full day of hiking, can easily spiral if they're not careful and they both know it.

"You're only thirty three ___, that’s young-” "It is, but I'm also not twenty five. What if I have fertility issues already? What if we can't conceive? We should have really discussed this in more detail before we got married," ___ rambles, and he recognises the particular quality of it, not an argument, just nerves finding the nearest exit.

Yoongi is quiet for a moment. "Have you been worried about this for a while?" She opens her mouth and closes it. "Not actively. It just, it comes up sometimes." He reaches over and takes her hand in the dark of the car, not saying anything immediately, just holding it. The villa lights come into view ahead of them, warm and familiar after four days.

"We can see a doctor when we get back," he says simply. "Both of us. Get everything checked, know exactly where we stand." He glances at her. "Then we decide together, with actual information. Not just fear."

___ looks at him for a second. This is the thing about him that still catches her off guard sometimes, how quickly he moves from emotion to solution without making her feel dismissed. "Just like that?" "Just like that," he says.

"We're not waiting two years because it's a rule. We're waiting because we thought we wanted to. If that's changed, it's changed." The car stops but neither of them moves immediately. "I'm not pressuring you, am I?" ___ asks softly.

Yoongi takes a deep breath. "___, we're married. We're supposed to talk to each other, we're allowed to have a change of heart. But I also don't want us making decisions out of fear, that's not a good place to start something like this."

She nods slowly, looking down at their hands. "You're right." "I usually am," he says, and she laughs despite herself, the tension in the car loosening slightly. He squeezes her hand once. "Let's make a deal. We enjoy the rest of this honeymoon, we go home, we see a doctor together and we know what we're actually working with. Then we have the real conversation."

"And if everything is fine?" "Then we decide what we want, not what we originally planned." He looks at her steadily. "Plans change. That's allowed." She's quiet for a moment, and he lets her be, the way he always does when she needs to sit with something before she can respond to it properly.

"Okay," she says finally, "Okay," he repeats, and brings her hand up briefly, pressing his lips to her knuckles in that quiet way of his that says more than most people manage with full sentences. "Now can we please go to bed, my legs are still dead from that hike"

Hawaii is long forgotten the second they get busy with their lives, the professional ones they'd set aside for a while. It happens quickly the way it always does, ___ with a string of artist trips planned, Yoongi and the members deep in the final stretch of the album. Two months pass and the memory of salt water and nowhere to be becomes something distant and warm, the kind of thing you reach for briefly before the next schedule pulls you forward.

Yoongi sits in the conference room, the album played back so many times now that he hears it in his sleep. They're close, a few decisions away from done, which somehow makes the disagreements harder.

"Love Song should be the title," Hoseok says, with the conviction of someone who has been saying this for three days. "It's the kind of song that pulls people in immediately."

Jimin nods. Namjoon and Yoongi say nothing, which in this room means they're thinking something different and choosing the right moment to say it.

"The intro is too soft for a title track," Namjoon starts carefully. "That's the point-" Hoseok begins. Yoongi's phone lights up on the table. He glances at it, ___. He picks up without excusing himself from the conversation, which the members clock immediately. "Hey, you land?"

Her voice on the other end is wrong. Too quiet, slightly unsteady, the particular quality it gets when she's running on no sleep and something else she hasn't named yet. "I'm outside. I know you're in a session, I just, can I come up for a few minutes? I just need to be there with you."

“Of course, where are you?” Yoongi asks, trying his best to manage his sudden panic, there are knocks on the door before ___ can answer. Mr Shin and her standing on the other side, Yoongi is across the room before anyone says anything. She lets out a long breath the second he reaches her, like she'd been holding it since Hong Kong. He takes the carry on from her without a word, his other hand finding the small of her back, steering her gently inside.

"Sorry," she says quietly, to the room, to no one specifically, her voice still not entirely even. “Can we talk, just us, we’ll only be a few minutes” ___ tells the members who nod rapidly with support. Yoongi just shuts the door behind them as he leads them to their studio.

“Baby what’s wrong? You’re scaring me” he mutters as the door to his studio shuts, finally just them in his dimly lit studio. "I don't think it's wrong, I just," she stops, pressing her hands together, "I needed you to be here when I, oh god." She laughs, slightly hysterical, pacing the small room in a way that tells him her brain has been going like this since somewhere over the Pacific.

"Hey." He steps in front of her, stopping the pacing simply by being in the way. "Whatever it is, just say it." She looks at him, then at her carry on, then back at him. "I might be pregnant." The words come out in a rush. "I picked up tests on the way here because I needed you to be there when I took them and I didn't know where else to go and the flight was fourteen hours and I've been sitting with this the whole time and I just-"

"Okay," he says, very quietly, very steadily, she stares at him. "Okay?" "Okay," he says again, and takes her hand. "Where are the tests?" It's quiet in the small studio bathroom, ___ doing what needs to be done and setting the tests by the sink before burying herself in Yoongi's chest, both of them standing in the dim light waiting.

"I was so nauseous the whole time in Hong Kong," she starts, the rambling returning now that the worst of the telling is over. "And my client made a joke, he said maybe you're pregnant, because I couldn't be in the same room as the chicken they'd ordered, and I laughed it off but then I realised I'm three weeks late and I just." She exhales. "I couldn't think straight after that."

Yoongi runs his fingers slowly through her hair, a weak attempt to calm her down that is equally a weak attempt to calm himself down, and she can feel that in the way his hand isn't quite steady. "Three weeks," he says, more to himself than to her.

They stand like that, not looking at the tests, not yet, her face pressed into his shirt and his chin resting on top of her head, the timer on his phone counting down quietly on the edge of the sink. "We had a plan," she mumbles into his chest. "We had a fertility appointment next week for god's sake."

"___," he starts and the timer goes off. Neither of them moves for a second. Then Yoongi pulls back gently, just enough to reach past her, and picks up the test. She watches his face instead of looking herself, the way she has always read difficult information through him first, and she sees it immediately. The particular stillness that comes over him, the jaw shift, the eyes going soft in a way she has only seen a handful of times.

"Yoongi." He looks at her, and his expression does something completely unguarded, something she doesn't have a word for yet, the look of a man whose entire chest has just quietly rearranged itself. He turns the test toward her.

Three positive tests, ___ stares at it for a long moment. Then her eyes fill, fast and immediate, and she doesn't try to stop them. "Oh," she says softly, which is the only word that comes.

He pulls her back in without saying anything, his arms wrapping around her fully, and she feels him press his lips to the top of her head and stay there, breathing slowly, his whole body exhaling something enormous and quiet into her hair.

"Oh my god, can we get an emergency sonogram, should we call Sunhee-" she starts, pulling back, the shock giving way to the part of her brain that needs to do something immediately.

"Hey." His hands come up to her face, gentle and certain, tilting it up toward his. "Breathe first." "I am breathing-" His thumbs brush along her jaw, and she feels some of the frantic energy in her chest settle slightly under his hands. "We can call Sunhee. We can get a sonogram. We can do all of it." He looks at her steadily. "But first just, be here for a second."

She looks at him, really looks at him, and sees it again, that quiet undone expression from when he turned the test toward her. "Are you happy?" she asks softly, because she needs to hear it plainly.

He lets out a long breath, the kind that carries something too large for a single exhale. "I'm terrified," he says honestly. Then, quieter, "I'm so happy I don't know what to do with it. I love you, every day more somehow."

"Okay," she says, her voice catching, "because I love you too, I just, I can't believe I'm..." she stops, laughs softly at herself for not being able to finish the sentence, the word still too large to say out loud in this small bathroom. "We're going to be parents."

"We are," he says, like he's trying it out, seeing how it sits, "You're going to be a dad." Something shifts in his expression at that, something she files away carefully, the particular look of a man genuinely blindsided by his own feelings. "Yoongi."

"Give me a second," he says quietly, which is the most honest thing he could say as he gets very emotional, the more he think, the more he spirals internally, "We need to get you home. Did you drink coffee today? Can you drink coffee? Oh god, did you eat enough protein on the flight, airline food has no-"

"Yoongi." "The carry on, I'll take the carry on, you shouldn't be-" "I just found out thirty seconds ago, I think I can still carry my own bag-" "You've been carrying it since Hong Kong, that's hours, that's not-" He stops himself, runs a hand through his hair, exhales slowly.

She watches him do it with the expression of someone trying very hard not to find this completely adorable. "Sorry," he says. "I'm spiraling." "A little bit," she agrees kindly.

"I just need to." He gestures vaguely at nothing. "Do something." "I know." She takes his hand, steadying him the way he steadied her few minutes ago, the two of them taking turns at it. "I’ll call Sunhee first. She'll tell us exactly what we need to do and in what order and it'll give your brain something to work with."

He nods, already reaching for her again, it’s been a heavy couple minutes but he can find a second to kiss her, his eyes brimming with tears almost immediately. She reaches up and wipes carefully beneath his eye with her thumb, and he lets her, which is how she knows exactly how undone he actually is. "We're going to be okay," she says quietly.

"I know," he says. "I know we are." He exhales slowly, pressing one careful kiss to her forehead, then straightens, collecting himself with visible effort. "Call Sunhee."

"Twins?" Jimin, Namjoon and Hoseok exclaim in unison as Yoongi finishes rambling, the three of them staring at him from across the studio sofa with varying degrees of shock on their faces.

They'd had the first sonogram that morning. Sunhee had pulled strings, gotten them in quickly, held ___'s hand through the initial panic and then looked at the screen with the particular stillness of a doctor trying to stay professional about something that is not professionally neutral. "So," she'd said carefully, "there are two heartbeats"

___ had gone completely silent. Yoongi had said what three times before Sunhee showed them both. "Twins," Jimin repeats, slower this time, like the word needs a second pass. "A month along, both healthy, and yes, twins," Yoongi confirms, running a hand through his hair.

"And I couldn't freak out because ___ was already freaking out and someone had to be reasonable and I was reasonable for two hours and now I need to not be reasonable for a few minutes."

"Two children, Namjoon. Two, at once, in Seoul, with our apartment, the studio visits she has planned through spring, our album rollout-" He stops. "I need to call my accountant."

"You don't need an accountant, you need to breathe," Hoseok says. "I need both." Yoongi sits down heavily on the sofa. The members are quiet for a moment, looking at him with the collective expression of people who are extremely happy for someone and are also watching that someone have a mild crisis in real time.

Jimin puts a hand on his shoulder. "Hyung." "What." "Twins," he says, and smiles so widely it takes up most of his face. "You're going to have twins."

Yoongi looks at him for a long second. Something in his expression cracks open slightly, the panic giving way to something underneath it that has been there since the sonogram, since he saw two heartbeats on a screen in a small room with his wife gripping his hand hard enough to lose circulation.

"Where is ___?" Hoseok asks, handing him a bottle of water.

"At the office cancelling her upcoming work trips because apparently she can't fly right now and Sunhee broke that news with very little warning and ___ took it better than I expected which actually worried me more." He uncaps the water, takes a long sip. "Where is Jin hyung? He has children, he's done this, he knows the order of operations. Do I need to set up two separate trusts? Is that something I do now? Are they individual trusts or-"

"Hyung," Namjoon says carefully. "I'm just asking." "You're spiraling and financial planning." "That's not what I'm-" He stops and exhales. "That might be what I'm doing." Jimin takes the water bottle from him gently before he crushes it. "Jin hyung is in Jeju until Thursday," Hoseok offers. "But I can call him."

"Call him," Yoongi says immediately. "You also have google," Namjoon notes. "I've been googling since the sonogram and that was a mistake, do not google twins pregnancy complications, I'm begging you, I made that mistake for the both of us already." this only makes the spiral worse and Jimin softly kicks Namjoon for that.

"Okay," Jimin says, redirecting with the practiced ease of someone who has been managing this particular human for over a decade. "We have the photoshoot tomorrow morning. So how about until then you go home to your wife and actually take care of her instead of sitting here catastrophizing at us?"

Yoongi looks at him. Then at the others. Then at his phone which Jimin still hasn't given back. "She said she was fine," he says, but he's already standing.

"Go home hyung," all three of them say, in varying tones but with identical intention. He goes, pausing only to take his phone back from Jimin, who releases it with the expression of someone making a calculated decision. Yoongi is halfway down the hall when he turns back briefly. "Don't tell anyone."

"Obviously," Jimin says. "Not even Taehyung-" "Go home," Jimin says, pointing toward the exit with great finality, and Yoongi goes.

Yoongi does return home, with groceries that he’s gotten approved by Sunhee, it’s going to be a busy nine months for Sunhee as well. He swipes through his phone, calling her and it rings inside their bedroom.

___ is deep asleep, her breathing evening out as she stays still, Yoongi noticing his shirt she chose right away. He tiptoes around the room, and gets into bed beside her with the careful movements of someone trying not to disturb anything. She stirs anyway, turning toward him automatically the way she always does, her eyes barely open.

"You came home," she murmurs. "Jimin kicked me out," he says, and pulls her in gently, her back to his chest, his arm settling warm around her middle, careful, more deliberate than usual. She notices, of course she notices.

"I went on the internet and with twins I'm going to get so massive honey, like the pictures I saw-" "I think for the sake of this pregnancy we should both abstain from googling anything and just bother Sunhee directly," he says, and she laughs despite herself, the sound still slightly frayed at the edges from the day.

"For now we just need to focus on you being happy and healthy. Now that you're up, should I make you dinner? From today, lots of folic acid, iron rich foods, actual protein, no more freeballing with meals-” but all I want right now is a cheeseburger” ___ mutters and almost immediately the arms around her are gone.

“I’m going to make one, well two, three? As many as you want”

“How do we tell our parents? Our dad’s are going to be chill, but the mom’s” ___ is huddled over a counter with a massive blanket while Yoongi eats, she has no heart to tell him that’s she’s losing her appetite by the second.

“I don’t know, I am scared of what they’d do” Yoongi talks distractedly as he hands her a glass of water. ___ pulls the blanket tighter around her shoulders, looking down at the glass of water, then back up at him. She should tell him about the appetite situation. She will, in a minute. "Should we tell them together? Separately? Do we call or do it in person?"

"In person," Yoongi says immediately. "Definitely in person. My parents would never forgive a phone call for something like this." "So we have them over."

"Together or separately?" he asks, which is a real question because both options carry significant risk.

They look at each other, "Separately," they say at the same time, which means they've both already imagined what the two mothers in the same room simultaneously receiving this information would look like and have made a sensible decision.

"I think we call your parents for lunch, give them the news and then immediately schedule my parents for dinner so there's no gap, because whoever finds out first is not going to sit on it for more than twenty minutes," ___ says, with the certainty of someone who knows exactly which mothers she is dealing with.

"That's smart," Yoongi says, plating the burgers with carrot sticks and celery alongside because fries would be pushing it, day one and all.

She pulls the plate toward her, picks up the burger and takes one bite and then sets it back down, which he notices immediately but says nothing about, just slides the glass of water closer to her hand. "Is this what having twins is like, making sure each feels loved and constantly-" she stops, gesturing vaguely at nothing, trying to locate the end of the sentence.

"Equally attended to?" Yoongi offers, "Yes."

Yoongi goes away for work in the ninth month, a single schedule he'd specifically asked to be kept clear, one that got filled anyway with the particular inevitability of things that happen despite everyone's best intentions. He's in the car from the airport now, Jimin beside him, the message from Sunhee sitting open on his phone.

"Hyung, you're going white," Jimin says. "We're almost there." "I know." Yoongi presses his hand against his forehead, elbow on the window, trying to breathe with some regularity. His leg won't stop moving. "I know, I just, I specifically asked for January to be clear, I said it in every single planning meeting-"

"I know." "I was very clear" "You were," Jimin agrees, with the tone of someone who is going to say whatever keeps this man functional for the next twenty minutes.

The hospital corridor is busy in the contained way hospitals always are, and Yoongi moves through it too quickly, Jimin half jogging to keep up. He follows the directions Sunhee sent, rounds the corner toward the right wing, already bracing himself, already trying to locate some version of calm he can walk in with.

He pushes open the door and to his surprise ___ is watching something on the television mounted to the wall, blanket pulled up, expression entirely unbothered. Both mothers are seated quietly on either side of the room, hands folded, posture suggesting they have been gently but firmly told to stay calm and are doing their best.

“Honey? I thought your water broke, why are you still here?” Yoongi asks as he comes closer, doing his best to detect any signs of discomfort. "Because I'm not dilated enough yet, we still have a few hours-" she says, which is when both fathers walk in behind Yoongi, carrying the collective anxiety he'd brought through the door and then some.

"We got you ice chips, coconut water, a banana and a yoghurt," Mr. Lee announces, setting everything down on the bedside table with great care. "There's also fruit available at the nurses station, oatmeal, applesauce," Mr. Min adds, slightly breathless, "and the nurse mentioned popsicles, she said you can have a popsicle, what flavour would you like, I'll go back-"

"Dads," ___ says, addressing all three of them with the calm authority of someone who has been managing people's emotions through her own discomfort for several hours already. "If I need anything I will ask you. There is no need for any of you to be panicking. I am the one who is going to be pushing two children out of me, so I am going to need some peace and zen in this room, please."

The fathers migrate to the sofa with the quiet compliance of men who have been correctly identified and redirected, and Jimin finally steps forward from where he's been wisely staying out of it near the door.

"You're going to be running that household with an iron grip, aren't you," he says, and Yoongi laughs despite himself, still slightly pink from the reprimand. "Someone has to," ___ says pleasantly.

"Fair enough." Jimin leans down and kisses her cheek. "Good luck with the pushing." He straightens, considering something. "Should I go find Sunhee and flirt with her a little, make sure she's in a good mood for the delivery? I feel like I should contribute something to this situation." He's already moving toward the door. "You know what, I'm going to find her anyway."

"Jimin come back here," ___ says, modulating between wanting to raise her voice and maintaining the zen she just instructed everyone else to have. Jimin comes back, to his credit, with the expression of someone who knows he's walked into something.

"You and Sunhee and your little situation," she continues, keeping her voice low and even, which is somehow more effective than if she'd raised it. "Having your fun, hooking up with my best friend and thinking she's not going to give me every single detail."

"She tells you things?" Jimin asks, with genuine alarm. "She tells me everything, Jimin, we've been friends for twenty years." Yoongi is very glad he is holding her hand and not standing where Jimin is standing. "I'd say it's more than just fun-" Jimin starts carefully.

"Then ask her to be your girlfriend," ___ says, the instruction delivered with the same calm authority she used on the fathers few minutes ago. "You either ask her properly or you leave her alone entirely. No more avoiding your feelings and having-" she lowers her voice another register, acutely aware of the four parents seated six feet away on the sofa, "-crazy sex behind our backs while she pretends she's fine with the arrangement."

Jimin opens his mouth. "I thought we were just, it's not an arrangement exactly, it's more like we have the sex without the dinner part that usually comes before it," he says, and even as the words leave his mouth the realization is visibly arriving, crossing his face in slow stages like a weather system moving in.

"Jimin," ___ says patiently. "That's," he stops, "That's just dating but worse isn't it." "That's just dating but worse," she confirms. Yoongi looks at the ceiling with the expression of a man choosing not to be involved in this at all, which is the correct choice and he knows it.

"Today?" Jimin asks finally, gesturing at the general situation, the hospital room, the monitors, the parents on the sofa. "What better day," ___ says. "I'm literally bringing new life into the world, it's a very good omen." She settles back against her pillow with great finality.

"Jimin, do the right thing," ___ says, with the particular finality of someone closing a topic. "Or I will call your mother and I will have some very strong words to share with her. I do not care that you're a multi millionaire BTS member."

"Yes ma'am," Jimin says immediately, with the energy of someone who believes this threat completely and has no interest in testing it. He's out the door before anyone can say anything further.

Yoongi watches her with the expression he gets when she's done something that he finds both slightly alarming and deeply attractive and doesn't know what to do with that information given the current setting. "Now," she says, taking a sip, "is Jungkook downstairs or not, because his ex called me a week ago and I have things to say to him."

From the sofa, both mothers look up with identical interest. "Absolutely not," Yoongi says, "you are not mediating Jungkook's relationship situation while you are in active labour."

"I'm in early labour, there's a difference, I have hours-" A contraction moves through her then, quiet but visible, her hand tightening around his. She breathes through it steadily. "Okay," she concedes quietly. "Jungkook can wait." "Thank you," Yoongi says, and doesn't let go of her hand.

Their new home is swarming with people, the kind of warm chaos that comes from too many people who love each other in a space that is finally big enough to hold them. Yoongi had been quick about the house, once it became clear that their Seoul apartment was not going to survive twins, he'd found the place in nearby within two weeks, which ___ maintains is the fastest he has ever made any decision in his life including proposing.

"This is Jihan," Yoongi emerges into the living room with the particular confidence of a man who has spent three months learning how to carry two babies simultaneously, "and this is Jihee." One on each arm, both of them blinking at the room with the vague suspicion of people who have just woken up somewhere loud.

The room does what rooms do when two very small people enter them, every conversation stops. "Oh my god," Jimin says, from the sofa, already standing. "They're so tiny," Hoseok says, which earns him a look from ___, who appears from behind Yoongi looking like someone who has not slept properly in three months but has made her peace with it.

"They were smaller," ___ shares with a soft look in her eyes. "Can I-" Jimin is already crossing the room with his hands out, the question mostly rhetorical. "Wash your hands first," Yoongi and ___ say at the same time, without looking at each other, with the synchronized exhaustion of two people who have been saying this to every person who has come within three feet of their children for months.

Jimin goes to wash his hands. Taehyung is already behind him, then Hoseok, a quiet orderly queue forming with surprising efficiency given the general chaos of the evening.

Jungkook hangs back slightly, watching Jihan in Yoongi's arm with an expression that is doing several things at once. "Hyung," he says quietly. "He looks like you."

Yoongi looks down at his son. "You think?" "Around the eyes," Jungkook says, and something in his voice is soft in a way he's not trying to manage.

"Jihee has his frown," ___ adds from beside him, accepting Jihee back from Yoongi's arm and settling her against her chest with the ease of something practiced. "She's had it since day one. The nurses thought something was wrong. She just looked annoyed."

"She was annoyed," Yoongi says. "She came out second." The twins are eventually passed to the grandfathers, the two people who other than their parents can hold them without either of them immediately deciding the situation is unacceptable.

"How are you two holding up?" Namjoon asks, dropping onto the sofa beside them. "Twins haven't broken you yet?" ___ looks at Yoongi, Yoongi looks at ___. The look lasts approximately one second too long. Namjoon reads this immediately. The couple might have gotten into a big argument about something insignificant right before the guests arrived.

"Well I clearly touched an open wound," Namjoon says, rubbing the back of his neck. "We've been fighting more," ___ says, because she's never seen the point in being anything other than direct with Namjoon. "It's a lot more work than we expected. And not just a lot more, twice as much. Twice everything."

"Twice the feeds, twice the crying, twice the not sleeping" Yoongi adds. "We haven't slept properly in three months," ___ says, and the way she says it is very calm and also contains the entirety of what three months of not sleeping properly actually feels like.

Namjoon is quiet for a moment, which is the right instinct. "I'm not going to offer solutions because I genuinely don't know what this is like," he says, standing. "But talk to Jin hyung at some point tonight. He's done this." He looks between them once more with the expression of someone who loves them and knows when to leave well enough alone. "Now I'm going to go meet my niece and nephew."

"Wash your hands," they both say. "I know," he says, already heading toward the kitchen. ___ watches him go and then lets the sofa hold her for a moment, the party moving around them, voices and laughter and the particular warmth of a house full of people who showed up. Yoongi is still beside her, shoulder against hers, neither of them moving.

"We should talk about this morning," he says quietly as he brings his arm around her shoulder, bring her closer, "We should," she agrees as she folds up her feet and leans against his chest.

Neither of them starts immediately, across the room Mr. Min is now showing Jihee the window with the same enthusiasm Mr. Lee had shown Jihan the ceiling light earlier, and Jihee is tolerating this with the expression she was born with, vaguely unimpressed, entirely her father's daughter.

"I know you said no full time help," Yoongi says quietly, his eyes fighting sleep and losing slightly, "but we need a nanny. I feel like we haven't had a single moment that's just us since they arrived." She doesn't argue, which tells him she's already been thinking the same thing and was waiting for one of them to say it first.

"And," he continues, quieter now, the party noise covering them adequately, "we haven't had sex since they arrived and I know you don't feel like yourself right now, I know that." He pauses, choosing the words carefully the way he does when something matters. "But you grew two human beings and then pushed them both out and I need you to know that is genuinely the most incredible thing I've ever watched anyone do. You have never been less attractive to me than you think you are right now."

She's quiet for a moment. He watches her process it, the particular way she receives a compliment she actually needed, not deflecting it immediately, just sitting with it. "That was a very long way of calling me sexy," she says finally.

"I was being thorough," he says, "because I really, really need to have sex with my wife." He adds the last part quietly enough that it stays between them, his head dropping to rest on top of hers. She laughs, soft and genuine, the first one that's reached her eyes all evening. "We should get a nanny," she says. "We're so fixated on doing everything ourselves that we're not taking care of each other at all."

She pulls the blanket from the back of the sofa over both of them without ceremony. "I thought it meant we were failing at being parents" "We're not failing," he says. "We're just two people who had twins and didn't ask for enough help."

"It feels like failure sometimes." "It's not." His hand finds hers under the blanket. "We're doing the most, ___, don't for a second think we're failing." She's quiet for a moment, looking across the room at her father, who has somehow gotten Jihan to sleep against his chest without moving a muscle, wearing the expression of a man who has discovered a superpower.

"I just thought it would feel more natural by now," she says softly. "Everyone talks about how instinctive it all is and I'm still googling things at 3am and second guessing every decision."

"I googled whether babies can sense tension last week," Yoongi says. She turns to look at him. "What did it say?" "Nothing helpful." She laughs quietly. "My point is," he continues, "we're both doing that. All of it. Together. That's not failing, that's just what this looks like from the inside."

She leans into him a little more, the blanket warm, the party a comfortable noise around them. "I love them so much it's frightening sometimes," she says, almost to herself. "I know," he says. "Me too." His thumb moves slowly over her knuckles. "The frightening part means we care enough. That's not a bad sign."

She doesn't say anything for a moment, just sits with that, letting it settle somewhere it needed to go. Across the room Jihee is being passed carefully from Mrs. Min to Jin, who accepts her with the practiced ease of a man who has done this many times and knows exactly how to hold something this small and this important.

"We're good parents," Yoongi says quietly, like he's deciding it as he says it. "We're good parents," she repeats, trying it out and it doesn't feel like a lie. That's something.

Jihan is about two steps away from a painting when Yoongi swoops in and lifts him with one arm, the motion practiced and swift, the motion of a man who has been doing this for weeks now and has developed genuine reflexes around it. Jihee has his other hand in both of hers, holding on with the particular grip of a child who has decided she is in charge of this situation.

The twins can walk and that is all they want to do. Walk, and touch things, and walk toward things they should not touch. Last week Jihee walked directly across Yoongi's back at seven in the morning because he wouldn't get up, planting each small foot with great deliberateness, entirely unbothered by his protests.

"Okay, listen," Yoongi says, crouching down to Jihan's level while keeping one hand firmly on Jihee's, addressing his ten month old children with complete seriousness. "We need to look put together for mom tonight. This is not our home, so we are not touching anything, we are not walking into anything, and Jihan, specifically, we are not going anywhere near the art."

Jihan looks at him with the expression he was born with, vaguely considering, not yet convinced. "This show is important," Yoongi continues. "Mom worked on this before you two arrived and she's been working on it since and tonight is a big night for her so we are going to be good."

Jihee pats his knee agreeably and Jihan looks back at the painting. "Jihan." Jihan looks at him, the kids do understand what he says, at least to some degree. "No."

It had taken ___ longer to get back to work than she'd planned, longer than she'd wanted, the guilt of it pulling in two directions at once, the wanting to be home and the wanting to be here, in a gallery, doing the thing she spent years building. The show had been pushed twice. She hadn't complained about it once, at least not out loud, though Yoongi had seen it on her face on the difficult days and said nothing, just made sure the coffee was ready and the nanny's schedule was covered.

Tonight the gallery is full and warm and exactly as she'd imagined it, and she is across the room talking to a collector with the particular ease of someone back in their element, and Yoongi watches her from a safe distance with one child on his hip and one attached to his hand and thinks that she looks like herself again, fully, in a way that makes something in his chest loosen with quiet relief.

___ notices the leather jacket right away, the thing that started it all, a flash of memories come back to her as Jihee makes a determined attempt to pull the collar sideways while Yoongi adjusts it back without breaking his conversation with Namjoon.

Something moves through her chest, quiet and enormous. She excuses herself from the collector mid sentence, politely, with the promise of a follow up, and crosses the room. "Hi honey," ___ whispers as she appears at Yoongi's side, Jihan immediately latching onto her leg with both arms, the greeting of a child who has decided this is his preferred anchor point.

"Hi baby," Yoongi's voice is soft as he reaches over and pulls her in for a quick kiss, his lips lingering just above hers, not quite done, until Jihee plants a firm hand on his face and pushes with the casual authority.

___ laughs against his mouth. "Are they all sold?" Yoongi asks, pulling back and removing Jihee's hand from his face gently. "Because I wanted to buy the one Jihan kept reaching for earlier. I think he has good taste." "Yoongi, that's a three million dollar painting."

"And our son likes it." "He also likes putting his hands in Tang's water bowl." "His taste is varied," Yoongi says, entirely unbothered. "It's a sign of a complex palate." She looks at him for a moment with the expression she reserves for when he's being completely serious about something she cannot tell if he's joking about. He looks back at her with complete straightness, “What? Something to remember the kids first gallery showing?”

Yoongi is a sentimental soft father, he walks the line of spoiling and parenting his children very dangerously, but he strikes the balance somehow. He’s saved so much so far, ___ wonders what’s going to happen when they start bringing home hand painted trees.

"I actually asked the artist to commission something for us," she says, and leads him through the gallery to a small rectangular oil painting hung near the back, away from the main collection, slightly apart, like it was always meant to be found rather than displayed.

Yoongi goes still when he sees it. It's his birthday, the artist has captured it exactly, the particular quality of that afternoon light, warm and slightly gold in an oil painting. Jihan on Yoongi's shoulders, both hands gripping his father's hair, Yoongi's hands steady at his ankles. ___ turned up toward Yoongi, Yoongi bent down toward her, mid kiss, neither of them paying attention to anything else. And Jihee in ___’s arms, face completely and without any apparent regret, in the birthday cake.

Yoongi looks at it for a long moment without saying anything. "The artist worked from the photo," ___ says quietly beside him. "I sent it to her in March and it just got ready." He nods once, slowly, still looking. Jihan, from his position attached to ___'s leg, spots the painting and points at it with one finger, recognizing something without having the words for what he's recognizing yet.

"That's you," Yoongi tells him, crouching down. "And that's your sister." He points at Jihee in the cake. "Very accurate." Jihee, as if sensing she is being discussed, looks at the painting and then looks away with something close to a smile.

Yoongi straightens up and looks at ___ and she can see it, the quiet undone expression that he still hasn't learned to hide from her after all this time. "Thank you," he says, and his voice is rough at the edges in a way he's not trying to manage.

"Happy late birthday," she says softly and Yoongi pulls her in with his free arm, careful of Jihan still attached to her leg, and presses a kiss to her temple and stays there for a moment.

The house is quiet and warm, which is new. Not the middle of the night quiet, not the held breath quiet of two sleeping children, but a genuine, sustained, mid-morning quiet that stops Yoongi in the hallway for a moment because he can't immediately locate the source of it.

He's been in the US for three weeks. He's jet lagged in the particular way that makes everything slightly unreal at the edges, and he's been moving on autopilot since the airport, the car, the front door. He picks up a small shoe near the entrance automatically, then a stuffed animal from the hallway, then pauses because there are no other sounds. No small feet. No Jihee's running commentary on everything she encounters. No Jihan's focused, determined silence that always means he's doing something he shouldn't.

He checks the living room. The playroom. The kitchen, where there are dishes drying and a half drunk cup of coffee on the counter that has gone cold.

He finds ___ in their bedroom, firmly, completely, and entirely asleep. Diagonal across the bed in the way she only sleeps when she has it entirely to herself, one arm over her face, dead to the world. He sits on the edge of the bed and puts his hand on her shoulder gently. "Hey."

Nothing, "___." She makes a sound that is not a word and it’s his cue to talk, "Where are the kids?" A long pause settles as ___ tries her best to wake up, barely moving, "My mother picked them up, they’re going to stay with my parents for the weekend," she says finally, into the pillow.

"Why though?" Yoongi asks, crawling into bed beside her. That wakes her up. Not all at once, but enough. She moves the arm from her face and looks at him with the particular stillness of someone confirming they heard correctly. Because it is not like Yoongi to forget things. It is especially not like Yoongi to forget this specific thing.

"Why though," she repeats, very evenly. He looks at her and it clicked almost instantly, he made the entire group move around their schedule just to be back for this weekend, "___-" "No, it's fine," she says, sitting up with great composure, pulling the blanket around herself. "You've been travelling. You're tired. It's completely fine."

"It's our anniversary," he says immediately as he reaches for her, he’s way too tired and jetlagged, he can feel his brain lagging.

"Is it?" she asks innocently, not even looking at him as she throws the blanket aside. "Is it our third wedding anniversary that my husband has already forgotten about? I mean, it serves me right for marrying a musician. You're busy making albums, you're on tour, you're flying around the world. Of course that's all much more exciting than remembering your wife."

She swings her legs over the side of the bed with far more dramatics than necessary, making a show of sighing as she stands. "Baby, I am so sorry, it just completely slipped my mind." "Don't 'baby' me, Min Yoongi."

She turns towards him with the most offended expression she can manage, folding her arms tightly across her chest. "Our anniversary, and here I was going around town looking for the perfect gift for you while you probably don't even have anything for me, do you?"

"Oh?" she narrows her eyes suspiciously. "Well, don't you dare tell me you invested in stocks for me again because I will actually try to kill you."

"It was a diversified portfolio." Yoongi adds matter of factly and ___ stares at him for exactly two seconds before pointing an accusing finger at him. "You see? This is exactly what I'm talking about."

He lets out a tired laugh, rubbing both hands over his face before pushing himself upright, his hair sticking up in every direction, "___, come on," he groans. "I literally moved the entire tour schedule so I could be home this weekend."

He reaches for her again, this time managing to catch the sleeve of her robe before she slips away. "I just forgot for, like, five seconds." Her eyes widen dramatically at that, "Oh," she gasps. "So you do agree that you forgot."

"No, that's not what I..." Yoongi starts, leaning against the bathroom doorframe while she pretends to ignore him, smiling ever so slightly through the mirror as she reaches for her toothbrush.

It takes him another second, "...Holy fucking shit."

"What?" "You were fake mad." "I have no idea what you're talking about." "You were fake mad." He lets out a long breath, pressing a hand against his chest. "I genuinely thought I'd fucked up. I swear to God, for a second I thought you were going to leave me."

She snorts, "It was three minutes." "It felt like a year." He shakes his head dramatically. "The thought of losing you, Jesus Christ, I think I'm having a heart attack." She instinctively takes a step towards him before he ruins it with the smile he can no longer hide.

"Oh my God," she laughs, shoving his shoulder. "You're almost thirty-seven, Yoongi. You can't fake having a heart attack." "Hey, I'm not that old," he mumbles, catching her wrist before she can turn back to the sink. "Besides, I'm in the best shape of my life."

He slips both arms around her waist from behind anyway, pulling her back against him until she relaxes into his chest without thinking twice. His chin finds her shoulder while one hand absentmindedly rubs slow circles against her stomach, the other reaching around her for his toothbrush.

"You really scared me," he admits quietly, his voice softer now, she catches his eyes in the mirror, the teasing disappearing from her face. “I didn’t mean to, you’re usually on top of stuff like this so I just wanted to have some fun” ___ muffles with a mouth full of toothpaste.

“I am, and I do have a gift, and it’s not stock, but I did invest some more” Yoongi adds and ___ rolls her eyes at the last part, He laughs under his breath before the two of them fall into the comfortable silence of finishing brushing their teeth, shoulders bumping every so often in front of the sink that somehow never felt quite big enough for the both of them.

As soon as she sets her toothbrush down, she barely has a second to react before a pair of familiar hands slides beneath her. "Yoongi!" ___ squeals as he effortlessly lifts her off the floor, one arm hooked beneath her knees, the other around her back.

"What happened to thirty-seven?" he asks, unable to hide the grin spreading across his face and she instinctively loops her arms around his neck, laughing as he adjusts her higher against him.

“Honey your shoulder” "Darling it’s fine, I've also been looking forward to doing this for three weeks." The confession slips out so casually that she stops laughing. He'd been counting down the days until he'd be home, until he could wake up beside her instead of in another hotel room, until he could hold her without a screen between them.

She smiles, brushing a hand through the messy hair at the back of his head, "I missed you too." "I know." Yoongi answers confidently as he walks them back to the bed.

She shakes her head fondly before leaning down the last few inches herself, their lips meeting in an unhurried kiss that tasted faintly of mint and home. He holds her a little tighter, reluctant to put her down now that she is finally back in his arms, and when they eventually pull apart, he rests his forehead against hers for a moment longer.

"Happy anniversary, I love you so so much" he whispers against her lips, ___ smiles, her thumb brushing over his cheek. "Happy anniversary, I love you so so so much too"

“Oh this is also a special concert for me because it’s my children’s first BTS concert” Yoongi shares softly and the crowd erupts into cheers immediately. “They're wearing those tiny protective headphones,” Jimin adds from beside him, unable to hide his grin. “The twins are ridiculously cute.”

“They are,” Yoongi agrees immediately. The other members burst out laughing at how quickly he answers. “I think we're all really grateful that we're still doing this,” he continues, looking out across the crowd. “Obviously it's not as extensive as it was when we were younger. We all have different priorities now. Most of us have spouses, some of us have children, and we've built lives outside of this.”

Several members nod, “But being able to come back here, stand on stage together and still see all of you after all these years...” He pauses, glancing at the members beside him. “It's something I don't think any of us take for granted.” The crowd cheers loudly and he takes a deep breath as his eyes look around for his family, they should be up there in the box.

“As Yoongi hyung said, we’re glad to be back, we hope Army loves our new album and we hope you enjoyed the tour, let’s start with the last song!” Namjoon yells the last part as the rest of the group spreads out, singing and greeting the fans.

The final bows take longer than expected. By the time BTS finally disappears backstage, the stadium is still buzzing with energy, thousands of fans slowly making their way home.

"Where are ___ and the kids?" Yoongi asks Mr. Shin as they make their way towards the green room, pulling his in-ears free as his eyes instinctively scan the hallway. Before Mr. Shin has the chance to answer, the dressing room door swings open.

Jungkook walks in first with Jihan sitting proudly on his shoulders, tiny protective headphones hanging around his neck while his small fingers remain tangled in Jungkook's curls. Every few seconds he gives another experimental tug, earning nothing more than an exaggerated groan.

"Buddy," Jungkook laughs. "I need at least some of my hair."

Behind them, Jimin walks in with Jihee happily holding onto his pinky finger, the little girl swinging their joined hands between them as she chatted away about something only the two of them seemed to understand.

The moment they spot Yoongi, both twins light up, "Appa!" Jungkook barely has time to crouch before Jihan is scrambling down, Jihee letting go of Jimin's hand just as quickly as they both run towards their father.

Yoongi kneels instinctively, laughing as they collide with him at full speed, the kids are immediately talking about the concert, about the fireworks, their father on stage and Yoongi can’t help but laugh, kissing the tops of both their heads before looking around the room.

"Where's your mother?" “___, Sunhee and Ara have been gossiping for the last ten minutes and keep telling shut up to each other every two minutes, why is it making me nervous” Jimin shares as his eyes dart outside the room.

Almost as if summoned, the sound of laughter carries down the hallway before ___ appears around the corner beside Sunhee and Ara, the three of them still completely engrossed in their conversation.

"I'm telling you," Sunhee says between laughs, "he absolutely knew." "He did not," Ara argues. "He did." "He didn't." ___ shakes her head, "You two are impossible." Only then do they realize they've reached the dressing room.

"There they are," Taehyung says, throwing his hands into the air. "The gossip club has finally arrived." "We heard that," Sunhee replies as she finally gives Jimin the kiss he’s been looking for, they need to stop fighting before concerts

"I wanted you to." Taehyung replies as he gags to the camera, playing it up for the documentary camera.

Ara laughs, shaking her head as she walks over to Jungkook while ___ makes a beeline for Yoongi and the twins, immediately crouching beside them.

"Did you two behave?" she asks, smoothing Jihan's hair where the headphones had flattened it before straightening Jihee's hoodie. The twins nod at the exact same time, both staring up at their mother with matching wide eyes that almost always meant they were trying to look especially convincing. They might have been four now, talking from sunrise until long after bedtime and insisting they are "big kids," but standing in front of their mother like this, they still looked impossibly small.

"They were perfect," Jimin says proudly, an arm settling comfortably around Sunhee's waist. "Honestly, I think they were better behaved than Jungkook." "I heard that," Jungkook replies, feigning offence.

Before the argument has a chance to grow legs, Namjoon claps his hands together. "Okay, before we find something else to argue about, can we please get dinner?" he asks, already reaching for his jacket. "I am starving."

"You say that after every concert," Jin laughs. "And every concert, I'm right." No one argues with that.

The group slowly begins filtering out of the green room, managers discussing reservations while the members naturally slip back into conversations that had been continuing for years. The documentary crew follows a respectful distance behind, cameras still rolling as they capture the end of another tour.

The second the twins hear the word dinner, they're gone. "Race you!" Jihan yells before taking off down the hallway, Jihee squealing as she immediately chases after him.

"Hey!" ___ calls after them. "No running!" Neither child even pretends to slow down, "They're definitely sugar high," Yoongi says, watching them disappear around the corner. Jungkook raises both hands innocently.

Their eyes stay on the kids till Namjoon is holding each twins hand, “Hey, remember your first BTS concert?” Yoongi asks as his hand comes around her, practically walking out as he hugs his wife, the documentary crew still filming them from a few steps behind.

“2019-” “No ___, the one that I invited you to” he whines and ___ laughs out loud, “My second bts concert, I was tired and had a massive crush on a cute man” She glances up at him, the corners of her mouth lifting.

“The same man you asked out on a date as an experiment, god ___ you really had a massive crush on me didn’t you?” Yoongi teases and ___ chuckles sarcastically, “Oh I was the one that was down bad? You were the one who texted me asking about a jacket, you didn’t even have any moves”

“Oh I had moves, my move was to invite you to a BTS concert," he repeats with charming overconfidence. "Then I sat back and watched you fall hopelessly in love with me." She laughs so hard she has to lean into him, his arm instinctively tightening around her waist to keep her close.

"So..." she says, looking up at him. "Mission successful?" "Oh, very much so." He answers without hesitation, "I won." She shakes her head, still smiling.

"You are unbelievably full of yourself." "And yet..." Yoongi cups ___’s face with one hand, brushing his thumb across her cheek before leaning down to kiss her.

It isn't hurried or dramatic.It's the kind of kiss that comes after years of shared mornings, long tours, quiet nights, anniversaries, children, arguments they never remembered, and choosing each other every single day in between.

When they finally pull apart, he rests his forehead against hers with the same smile he'd worn the first time she'd ever looked at him like that. "I'd still invite you to that concert," he murmurs. "I know."

"I'd still ask about the jacket." She laughs softly. "I know." "And I'd still fall in love with you." For just a second, neither of them says anything.

"Appa," Jihan groans from beside the car, "we are hungry" Jihee nods seriously and ___ bursts into laughter as Yoongi sighs dramatically, finally pulling away.

"See?" he mutters. "No respect." "You've raised honest children." Yoongi smiles, reaching for ___’s hand one last time before opening the car door for her. "I suppose that's another mission accomplished."

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