Total Word Count: 4,127 (shortest scene is 166 words, longest scene is 330 words)
Genre: Fluff, angst, smut
AU: Non idol AU
Tropes: Strangers to FWB, lovers to strangers, first dates, brother's best friend, friends to FWB
Rating: Explicit, MINORS DNI!
Warnings: Swearing, alcohol use, sexual content (unprotected sex, mentioned oral), self destructive behavior, body image issues in Taeyong’s scene, reader feels pretty inadequate throughout the fic, objectification in Jaehyun’s drabble if you squint, Chenle gets a little misogynistic, Jeno is a dick that’s obsessed with working out, no happy ending
Summary: Snippets of a life spent craving connection while also running from it.
A/N: After multiple failed attempts at coming off of hiatus, I'm finally back! I'm really excited for you guys to read this one, because I haven't really tried anything like it before. I'd love to hear feedback!
This one was heavily inspired by the song "Unloved" by Lisa Cimorelli and my own self destructive tendencies in relationships.
And, last but certainly not least, I wanna thank @xomakara, @effervescentorbs, @raysramblings, @themoonlightfae, @spacequokka, and @nothoughtsjustfic for helping me brainstorm and listening to me talk about this story while I got ready to come back. I love you guys!
Taglist: @chugging-antiseptic-dye, @notyourjaem, @shadowkoo, @1-800-jewon
Send me an ask or dm to be added or removed!
Fic is under the cut.
Nakamoto Yuta
The Friend that You Call when You Just Wanna Have a Good Time
It all started when your phone vibrated, your phone flashing with a notification for a text from Yuta.
Yuta: You awake?
You: Yeah. Why?
Yuta: I found a new bar a few towns over. You wanna go?
You: I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Remember what happened last time?
Yuta: Nope. That’s precisely why I’m asking. I’m bored and want somebody to get in trouble with.
You: Fuck it. Let’s go.
Just like every other time you went out, Yuta picked you up after your roommates went to sleep for the night and drove you to the site of your latest adventure. The bar that your friend dragged you to this time was smaller than the ones you typically went to, but you didn’t necessarily mind that. After all, you weren’t there to socialize. You were there to drink until you could barely remember your own name in an attempt to numb the pain. Sure, you would barely remember what happened the next day, if you remembered anything at all, but maybe that was for the best, considering the things you liked to do when you were drunk and hurting.
Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul
The Fuck Buddy that Says He Loves You because You Let Him Do Whatever He Wants
“I fucking love you,” Ten said with a loud groan as he pounded into you. You were certain that he didn’t mean it when he said it, despite how many times he insisted he did, but you honestly couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Not when he fucked you hard enough that every ounce of pain that filled your heart was replaced by pure desire with every thrust. Sure, you knew that it was a temporary relief, a band-aid over the bullet holes that destroyed your sense of self and left you relying on empty distractions to get by, but you’d always thought that temporary relief was better than none at all.
Soft whimpers and moans fell from your lips as Ten continued to fuck you, and you held onto him for dear life. After all, you knew he wouldn’t stay after he was done. He did sometimes, mumbling soft promises that he wanted more than sex, but more often than not, he was gone as soon as the aftercare was done. You really didn’t know what was going to happen, so you were determined to keep him close for as long as you possibly could. Anything to feel something other than pain for once.
Lee Donghyuck
The Player that Thinks You'll be the One to Fix Him
Of course, you knew when you went home with Donghyuck that he only wanted sex from you. Did you care, though? No, you didn't. At least, not at first. You were just like him, looking for a good time and a little bit of attention with no real commitment. And for a while, that was exactly what you got.
Then, about a month after you started sleeping together, he started trying harder to keep a conversation going before he left for the night. As he helped you clean up, he asked you about your day, your dreams, and the things that made you happy. You really tried to dodge the questions, not wanting anything beyond a surface level connection, but he kept pushing.
"Seriously, what do you want more than anything?" he asked, looking at you differently than usual.
"I don't know," you answered once again. "Why do you even care anyway? I thought we were just fuck buddies."
"Well, I changed my mind about some things."
There was a moment of silence before you cautiously asked, "What things?"
"You," he answered, staring at you like you were the center of his world. You were silent in response, just shifting nervously in your spot, so he continued, "I wanna be more than just your fuck buddy. I don't know what it is about you, but you make me feel like I could be something better, and I like it."
"Yeah, sorry, but this isn't gonna work."
"What do you mean?" he asked, genuinely surprised by your reaction.
"You're not gonna use me to be a better person. That's not what this is."
"I'm not-"
"Get out."
Donghyuck stormed out of your apartment after that, and you collapsed into your bed and sobbed, asking yourself why you couldn't find someone that actually listened and respected you.
Lee Taeyong
The Pretty Boy that Makes You Wish You Were Beautiful
The first thing that people said about Taeyong when they saw him was that he was gorgeous. His eyes seemed to sparkle when he laughed. His voice was sweeter than even your favorite love song, the one that hadn’t been soured by years of feeling like love was too far out of your reach. His smile was like a personal ray of sunshine, always making the world around him a better place.
That was why it baffled you that Taeyong was willing to even be seen with you. You felt like you were everything that he wasn’t, and every day you wondered what made you so special. The fact that someone like him, the man that looked like Aphrodite herself crafted his smile, wanted someone like you, the person that couldn’t look in the mirror too long for fear of being driven insane by self-hatred, made no sense in your mind.
Maybe the differences that you saw between the two of you were why you walked away after a measly three dates. Why you told Taeyong that you didn’t want to see him anymore. As you told him that you didn’t think that the two of you were a good match, you considered telling him that it was nothing personal. That you just couldn’t ever see yourself measuring up to what he deserved.
Did you, though? Of course not. Instead, you gave a half-hearted explanation about incompatibility, which he could tell was a lie. He didn’t exactly try to stop you though, and you appreciated that. After all, if he did, you knew you’d break and tell him everything. And you couldn’t stand the idea of him seeing that you were just as weak as you were ugly.
Wong Kunhang
The Lovable Idiot You Only See Once
You could hardly believe how truly happy you felt when you met Kunhang at a party. He was funny, telling jokes that sounded ridiculous but never failed to make you laugh, and he was attentive, his focus never leaving you the entire time you were on the dance floor. In all honesty, it was strange. Was this the connection that you were so desperate for? Did you finally meet someone that could make you feel just a little bit less alone?
You never got to find out the answer to your question, since you heard someone call Kunhang’s name as you walked to the bar together. You tried to ask him for his number before he left, but before you could get the words out, he was lost in the crowd.
You wanted to be upset that you’d had another failed date, but in the end, you just couldn’t find it in you. Even though you were alone yet again, you still had fun with Kunhang, and you still had a silent hope in the back of your mind that one day you’d run into him again.
Kim Dongyoung
The Lover that You Want but Won't Allow Yourself to Have
Dongyoung was the one person that you hooked up with that you actually wanted a deeper connection with. The problem with that was that something felt off in a way that you couldn’t quite explain. You had no idea whether something really was off about him or if it was just your brain convincing you that you were unlovable again, though. Regardless, you still chose to keep your distance, refusing to let him get any closer than what was required for him to fuck you.
You knew that it was counterproductive to push Dongyoung away when he clearly liked you and wanted to get to know you better, but you couldn’t seem to stop yourself. That didn’t mean that you stopped yourself from hooking up with him, though. After all, he was pretty fucking good in bed, and whenever you were with him, you felt loved in a way that you just didn’t most of the time. And that made the uncertainty and confusion over what you wanted worth it.
Huang Renjun
The One-Time Lover that Sees Right Through You
After you and Renjun were dressed again, he gave you a knowing look and asked, “So, does this mean that you’re gonna leave now?”
You were surprised by his straightforwardness, but you still managed to say, “I mean, yeah. If that’s ok with you?”
“Oh, yeah, it’s fine. I figured you would, honestly.”
Surprised and offended by his completely correct assumption, you asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’ve hooked up with girls like you before,” he answered matter-of-factly.
“Girls like me?”
“I could tell exactly what you were doing from the second you walked into that bar and started looking at every man that gave you the slightest bit of attention like they hung the moon.”
“Oh really? What exactly was I doing?” you asked, frustrated by the almost-stranger that acted like he knew you better than you did.
“You go out to bars and hook up with people you barely know because you’re alone and can’t handle it. But every time somebody starts to get close, you push them away because you think you’re not worth loving, no matter how much you crave that feeling of loving someone and being loved back. Sound about right?”
“I-”
“Look, I’m not trying to judge. Just wanted you to know that I understand.”
His ability to read you like a children’s book stunned you into silence. With a defeated sigh, you sat back down on his bed and started to cry, suddenly overwhelmed by the complicated feelings floating around your head.
Renjun softened immediately when you started to cry, pulling you close and mumbling soft reassurances and apologies while you tried desperately to regain your composure. Eventually, you did, but even after you’d stopped crying, he begged you to stay the night, too worried about your wellbeing to feel comfortable with you leaving. You agreed, but you also swore to yourself you’d never sleep with Renjun again, no matter how much you loved the feeling of finally being understood.
Jeong Yunoh
The Friend that Thinks He Wants to be More
Every time you saw Jaehyun, he made a point to tell you just how beautiful you were and how happy he was to see you. Normally, you’d appreciate the compliment from your friend, since he was known in your friend group as the “king of cheering people up.” However, the almost seductive tone in his voice and the way he fidgeted whenever the two of you made eye contact made it clear to you that his intentions weren’t exactly platonic.
The problem with that was that you only saw Jaehyun as a friend, and you were certain that if he actually took the time to try and get to know you instead of just staring at you whenever you wore a skimpy outfit, he’d feel the same. But you knew that if you tried to tell him that, he wouldn’t listen, so you decided to just accept the compliments. After all, it was nice to feel wanted sometimes, even if you knew that it wasn't real.
Zhong Chenle
The Coworker that Thinks He Knows Better than You Do
You really tried to tune out your coworkers arguing, especially because you felt the argument was completely inappropriate for the office, but it was difficult with their loud volume and condescending tones.
“I’m telling you,” Chenle said from his cubicle. “Women like that don’t care about anything or anyone.”
“What do you mean by ‘women like that?’” you asked, butting into the conversation because you were sick of the bickering.
“The ones that go out to a different club every night to hook up with whatever poor sap is too distracted by how they look to think properly,” Chenle answered, uncharacteristically venomous.
“Don’t you think that’s a bit much?” Minhyung chimed in.
“No, I don’t,” Chenle said before turning back to his desk, signaling that he was done discussing it, even though he was the one that started the conversation by ranting about “women of today.”
You knew that you weren’t the only one tired of listening to Chenle’s rants at work, so you decided to take the logical next step and reported him to HR. Once you left for the day, though, you felt unbelievably drained. Sure, you knew that what he said wasn’t about you specifically, but it still bothered you. You wondered if it was because you knew that you were doing exactly what he was describing, but there was more to it than that. After all, it just showed how little he knew about the world and the people in it.
Na Jaemin
The Boy Next Door that Only Cares on the Surface
When you got back to your apartment building after work, you literally bumped into your neighbor, Jaemin. You tripped on one of the stairs and fell into him, and when he caught you, he asked, “Woah, you ok?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, collecting yourself. “How are you doing, Jaem?”
“Great, actually,” he answered, completely oblivious to the fact that you were trying to get around him to get to your apartment. As he talked about his work and relationships, you tried to pay attention, but your mind frequently wandered to the cleaning that would need to be done once you actually got into your apartment.
After Jaemin finished talking, he moved around you and walked down the stairs, not even bothering to say goodbye. Part of you was relieved, just wanting to get home, but the other part of you was a little hurt that he couldn’t be bothered. In the end, though, you tried to tell yourself that you didn’t actually care about how alone you felt when no one even had the time for small talk.
Park Jisung
The Brother's Best Friend that Promises Not to Tell
When Taehyun told you that Jisung would be picking you up from the bar at the end of the night instead of him, you were far from thrilled. You loved your brother dearly, but you’d always hated his friends, particularly Jisung. He had the kind of arrogance that got under your skin like very little else could, he constantly spoke down to you and treated you like a dumb little kid, despite your closeness in age, and he was insanely gorgeous. Of course, the fact that he was one of the most attractive men you’d ever seen wasn’t why you hated him, but it did make being around him more frustrating than it had any right to be.
Still, even though you hadn't had anything to drink that night, you hated driving, so you were grateful that Jisung agreed to pick you up. So grateful, in fact, that you decided to set aside your frustrations for the night. You even repaid his kindness by taking him home and giving him “the best blowjob he’d ever had,” as he described it once you were done. After helping him clean up, you smiled and said, “Thanks again.”
“No problem. I’m always happy to help a friend out.”
There was a moment of silence before you asked, “You’re not gonna tell Taehyun about this, right?”
“Of course, not. I’m not that kind of person.”
You breathed a sigh of relief and said, “Ok, thanks,” before leaning in to kiss him again.
Xiao Dejun
The Lover that Should Be Perfect for You
Every moment with Dejun should have been magical. He treated you like a princess every time the two of you went out together, never leaving your side unless you needed something or explicitly asked him for space. Not that you ever asked for space much, though. He also made a conscious effort to listen when you spoke to him, taking in the details of every story you told like they were the only thing keeping him alive. He loved you, and that was plain for anyone with eyes to see.
So why did you feel so empty when you were with him? Why did every moment feel more like checking boxes and maintaining a routine than spending time with someone that you cared about? You had no idea, but you did know that there had to be something wrong with you, since everything about Dejun radiated love and warmth. The exact opposite of your heart that had frozen over because of years of pain and heartbreak.
Maybe that was why you ran, to avoid freezing his heart too.
Lee Jeno
The Gym Rat that Makes You Feel Like You'll Never Be Enough
Unlike your other potential lovers, you didn’t meet Jeno at a club or bar. Instead, you met him at the gym during yet another failed attempt at getting your life together. He’d been using the treadmill next to yours, and when you both finished up, you exchanged numbers. You tried not to think about it, but a small part of you was hopeful as you walked away with promises of a date.
When you finally went out with him, though, it was a disaster. You tried to suggest dinner at a restaurant, but he declined. When you asked him why, he said that none of the places in town that weren’t “mass produced garbage,” in his words, had any healthy options that were actually good. You wanted to tell him that you thought he was wrong, but you held your tongue while the feeling of inadequacy threatened to follow you whole.
Instead, Jeno suggested going back to the gym to “work off the day.” You were exhausted from work, though, so you tried to suggest something that required less energy so that the two of you could just chill and get to know each other. His response to that was, “I’m not gonna sit on my ass just because you can’t keep up.”
Needless to say, you never went on that date, and the hope that you’d felt when you first met him was squashed like a bug that didn’t make it across the sidewalk in time.
Dong Sicheng
The One-Time Lover that Thinks He Understands
“I know why you’re doing this,” Sicheng had said as you gathered your things to go home after your first night together.
“Oh really?” you asked, trying to sound playful instead of worried. “Why am I doing this, then?”
“You think I don’t wanna see you again.”
There was a beat of silence before you asked, “What?”
“Oh come on, it’s obvious,” he said. “I saw the way you looked at me before you grabbed your bag.”
“That’s not-”
“It’s ok. I’m not offended. But, for the record, I would totally be down to see you again.”
“Thanks, but I think I’m good,” you said as you finally walked toward the door.
Once you left Sicheng’s apartment, you breathed a sigh of relief. When he’d told you that he knew why you behaved the way you did, you expected him to analyze you the way Renjun had, leaving you stripped bare in a way that felt vulnerable instead of exciting. But in the end, it was nothing more than an assumption that you wanted something from him that you hadn’t allowed yourself to want from anyone in a long time.
Maybe he was right in thinking that deep down, you did want more of a connection with him, but you never let yourself see him again to find out. After all, even misplaced attempts at vulnerability could be painful.
Kim Jungwoo
The Friend-of-a-Friend that Just Wants to be Close to You
Technically, you’d known Jungwoo for about three years through mutual friends. but you weren’t sure that you considered him a friend, too. After all, he’d barely spoken to you beyond basic greetings at group events, and you knew next to nothing about him.
Maybe that was why it was such a surprise when he walked up to you at Shotaro’s birthday party, threw his arms around you, and said, “Hey! I missed you. How have you been?”
You stiffened at the contact but still said, “Fine. How are you?”
“I’m good! Just wanted to catch up a bit because it’s been a while.”
“Jungwoo, we saw each other three days ago.”
“So? I can’t ask how you’re doing?”
“I mean you can, but it feels a little weird. We’re not friends, so I don’t understand why you’re pretending we are.”
Jungwoo deflated at your comment and walked away. He was immediately replaced by Shotaro, who asked, “What the hell?”
“I’m sorry! I was caught off guard!”
“You didn’t have to be such an asshole about it! He just wanted to get closer to you.”
“Well closeness is a gradual process. You don’t act like someone’s your best friend right out of the gate.”
Shotaro sighed and said, “Look, just be patient. Please. And try to talk to him. He wants to be friends, but doesn’t know how to reach out.”
As Shotaro walked away, you considered what he said. He was right, now that you were really thinking about it, and you started to feel guilty. Jungwoo had never done anything with malicious intent, so you decided to find him and ask for his number. After all, the process of getting closer had to start somewhere.
Liu Yangyang
The Party Boy that Pretends He's Never Felt Your Pain
You walked into Yangyang’s living room with Seulgi and Joohyun trailing behind you, and it didn’t take long for the prolific party host to catch your eye. After all, he had the kind of confidence that looked like it came easily, weaving through the crowd of guests like he was walking around puddles on the sidewalk. As you watched him, you found yourself envying his easygoing nature.
When Yangyang finally made his way to where you stood chatting with your friends, however, all it took was one look in his eyes for you to know that he was in the same boat as you. Sure, he did a good job of hiding his hurt from a distance, but actually seeing him face to face meant that you could see the hint of pain in his eyes and the small nervous habits that you’d caught yourself in hundreds of times.
When he actually introduced himself to you after speaking with Seulgi and Joohyun, though, it was like a switch flipped. He was all smiles as he pulled you into a hug and said, “Hi! Seulgi told me that she was bringing some friends. What’s your name again?”
You introduced yourself with a hesitant smile of your own and replied, “It’s nice to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you too,” he said.
The two of you continued to talk much longer than you expected, but you didn’t mind. It was nice to distract yourself from the pain for a night. And if you were right about the way Yangyang acted, he probably needed the distraction too, no matter how badly he wanted to pretend that he didn’t.
Qian Kun
The Well-Meaning Friend Whose Methods are All Wrong
“You can’t honestly tell me that you think this is healthy,” Kun spat.
“I never said it was healthy,” you countered. “I said it’s effective. There’s a difference, you prick.”
“There doesn’t have to be, you fucking dumbass.”
“In my experience, there does.”
“You’re never gonna listen to me, are you?” he asked, quickly losing patience with your insistence on self-destruction.
“Why should I? We both know you do the same shit that I do. At least I have the balls to admit it.”
“Do you really think that?” he asked. You were silent in response, so he added, “Whatever. I’m leaving. Good luck.”
With that, Kun walked out of your apartment, leaving you alone with your thoughts once again. You knew that he was just looking out for you, but you hated his condescending attitude. Especially considering the fact that he had his own less-than-healthy coping mechanisms that he leaned on a bit too much when the weight of his past felt like it was going to crush him. Still, you knew that he was right, so you decided to call him in the morning and apologize. But until morning came, you’d curl up in a ball on your bed and sob as you thought about what your life had become.
Johnny Suh
The Potential Lover that You Know You Could Never Have
Sometimes, running into Johnny at the bar made you want to cry. Not because he’d ever done anything to hurt you, or because you missed some prior connection, but because you knew that he could never want you the same way that you wanted him. After all, he looked like he was sculpted by the gods themselves, his voice sounded sweeter than even your favorite song, and the way that he carried himself made it clear that he knew just how attractive he really was. What reason could he possibly have to want anything more than a quick fuck from someone like you?
You couldn’t think of one, really. So, you kept your distance, at least emotionally. Sure, you still hooked up with him from time to time, but that was where your relationship with him stopped, no matter how badly you wanted more. Of course, sometimes he’d ask you why you never stayed the night after the two of you had sex, but you were a master of excuses by the time that started. You had to be to keep him from figuring out that you were slowly falling in love with him.
Thank you everyone for reading! I'm so unbelievably happy to finally be back. If you liked this one, please make sure to like and reblog!
If you wanna check out my other works, my masterlist can be found here. If you wanna see what I'm working on, my upcoming works list is here. If you'd like to be tagged whenever I upload a new fic, my taglist form is here! You can also send me an ask or dm at any time to be added or removed.
Thank you again for reading, and have a wonderful day!
🎶Who: Min Yoongi (BTS) x female reader.
🎶What: Tiny bit of angst. Some humour. Some fluff. Slow burn. Suggestive (18+). Strangers to Friends to Lovers. Single parent Yoongi. Music teacher Yoongi. Child Taehyung. Child Jihoon. Ex husband Mingyu. Best friend Mingyu.
🎶Word count: 14.6k
🎶Warnings: Autistic/ ADHD child Taehyung. Autistic child Jihoon. Suggestive themes (conversations/ thoughts/ memories). Jungkook is eternally horny for reader tbh (and so is Mingyu during part of this). Profanity.
🎶Summary:
Even before you meet him, Min Yoongi owns a piece of your heart.
Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio. I also block blank blogs.
My general masterlist
🎶Mr. Min Masterlist. Previous Chapter. Next Chapter.
The very first Monday of November, just when you get comfortable and fully relaxed submerged up to your neck in warm, bubbly water in the bathtub, your phone starts to ring. Although you would rather your peace not be disturbed right now, you are never one to ignore your ringing phone without good reason, just in case it’s an emergency.
When you manage to gingerly shuffle up to not splash the water over the edge of the tub onto the tiles, you dry your hands off on the towel waiting for you, then grab your phone. You just about manage to get a glance at the caller ID — John Bun 🐰 — before the calls times out.
Slightly alarmed, you quickly unlock the device with the intention of immediately calling back— because it’s really so rare that he ever rings you—, but then it starts to ring with a new incoming call with the same ID, and you don’t hesitate to press answer.
“Hey, Mama!” Jungkook greets brightly the second the call connects.
“You…sound okay,” you realise, eyebrows furrowing as you lean back into the water after putting the call on speakerphone and leaving the device on the little ledge to your right, where your bath products are lined up ready for use.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” he sounds utterly bewildered.
“Jungkook, the last time you called me, you thought aliens had abducted you,” you remind flatly.
“In my defence, I was really drunk and forgot where I was.”
“I still don’t know why you rang me of all people.”
“Gyu told me to. He would’ve done it, but he was too busy crying about not wanting to be probed by anyone but you. Did you ever peg him, by the way?”
“Pretty sure you didn’t call me at 11am on a Monday to ask that,” you muse, adjusting so that you can reach a lump of bubbles floating just out of arms’ length, to hold them in your hands and watch the rainbows dance on their shiny, curved surface.
“You’re right. We’ll circle back,” he decides, and you huff a laugh out. “Have you got a sitter for Tae for Wonwoo’s wedding yet?”
“Wonwoo’s wedding?” you repeat, lifting your head as you think about it. “Oh, no, we decided that I’m not going, just Gyu. We don’t want to leave Tae all those hours when we’re out of the city. It wouldn’t be so bad if it was closer, but it’s too far for us to be comfortable with that.”
“Oh, in that case, do you think you’d be able to watch Jihoon?”
“Jihoon? Why would I watch Jihoon?” you mumble confused.
“Babe, Wonwoo’s my cousin, remember? He and Yoongi may not be related by blood, but they still consider each other cousins.”
“Oh yeah, right. Forgot you’re related for a sec.”
Jungkook snorts an amused laugh before talking. “Mm, so, what do you think? I was going to ask if you think your sitter would watch Jihoon too, but if it’s you, it’s even better because he knows you! Wonwoo’s asking about Yoongi’s RSVP for the sake of seating and catering; he needs it before the end of the week really.”
You hum in understanding, remembering how stressful getting responses for your own wedding invitations was, and you and Mingyu had kept it small. You’re not very close with Wonwoo, but he has enthused a few times about the wedding plans when you’ve crossed paths, clearly very excited to create the big, beautiful wedding of his dreams. Luckily, his wife-to-be is just as enthusiastic, and the pair have extended the invitation to pretty much all of their friends and family to join them in celebrating the union. You know it’s going to be huge, and you don’t envy them for all the work they have to do, but you do sympathise. A lot.
“Well, I’m more than happy to watch Jihoon, yeah; he’s a sweet kid,” you answer.
“He is, he’s great,” Jungkook agrees quickly, cutting you off, but you don’t mind and just giggle instead. He sounds so genuinely fond of his nephew that you’ll never be anything but endeared by the man butting in to praise the little boy.
“But obviously, it all depends on if he would be okay with staying the night here with me and Tae. I know they’re booking a whole bunch of hotels for their guests, so Yoongi will stay there, and even if not, it’ll be too late by the time he gets back for Jihoon to still realistically be awake and endure the drive home. Plus, it’d be nice for Yoongi have some time off the dad clock.”
“It would. I don’t think he’s had any time for himself since the bitch left, other than when Ji’s in bed.” You can’t help but linger on the fact Jungkook refers to who you can only assume is Jihoon’s mother as “the bitch”— which coming from a man who doesn’t like to call people such names, says a lot—, plus, the venom in which he hisses the insult. You’re beyond curious about Jihoon’s mother, Yoongi’s ex-wife, but it’s not your place to ask. Yoongi obviously doesn’t want to even be your friend, so there’s no way he’d be happy to know his brother told you about the woman he was supposed to have a family with.
“Mm, so, as I said, I’m fine with it as long as Jihoon is. And obviously, Yoongi and I would need to discuss it properly to figure out logistics and such.”
“Mm, yeah, yeah, I’ll call him after school today to let him know you’re available….and convince him to actually agree to go to the wedding that is.”
For a second, you’re quiet as you let his words settle. “Jungkook.”
“Yes, beautiful?” he coos, extra sweet, knowing that you’re using your stern tone— something you’ve used on him many times over the years when he’s done something you don’t approve of, or he’s just being plain stupid.
“Why does that sound like Yoongi doesn’t even know you’re asking me any of this.”
“I have no idea, you gorgeous, stunning, jaw-dropping–” he cuts off with a giggle when you sigh heavily. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t mentioned anything to him yet. I’m at Wonwoo’s right now and he asked me; said Yoongi’s been saying he can’t because of Ji, and everyone who he trusts to look after him will be there.”
“Jin’s going?” you ask, trying to recall if Wonwoo was at Seokjin’s wedding, if the pair even know each other that well, but there were so many people at the wedding that you didn’t get a chance to even take in half of them; and with Wonwoo being a photographer known for his specific brand of angsty shots, he’s likely worked with Seokjin for more artsy fashion shoots. You just haven’t ever seen the pair interact before, and Wonwoo can be particular with the brands and models he works with, so you know there are a lot of people who have never worked with him despite how well-known he is.
“They’re on their second honeymoon then,” Jungkook says and you hum, recalling Seokjin vaguely mentioning booking a trip in February the last time you spoke to him a couple weeks back.
“Won’t that be their third?” you wonder, thinking about the recent bundle of photos Seokjin uploaded to his private social media— just for close friends and family— of him and Celeste off in a forest somewhere on a honeymoon, even though they had been on one immediately after their wedding.
“Oooh, right. To be honest, I think he’s just really going to milk this whole married thing and call any holiday they go on a honeymoon.”
You can help but laugh softly in agreement. “He will, but it’s sweet, how in love they are.”
“Mm, suppose. Anyway, Yoon says he’s got no-one and doesn’t know any sitters who can handle autistic kids, so I thought ‘hey, I know a foxy mama who—'”
“Don’t ever call me a foxy mama again,” you interrupt in a tone so unimpressed that Jungkook cracks up, cackling away down the phone, making you glad it’s not pressed to your ear right now. You’ve been attacked by that very laugh through the phone before, and it’s not something you want to ever experience again.
It takes Jungkook a minute to calm, during which time you just enjoy the warm water relaxing your muscles, dancing your fingers through the water, and idly humming softly to yourself as you wait.
“Hey, is that water I hear?” he asks when you abruptly lift your arm to combat the very sudden itch of your nose that you just can’t ignore.
You hum in confirmation. “I’m in the bath.” Jungkook gasps sharply, then hangs up, making you look at your phone utterly bewildered and a little concerned that something has happened to him. At least until seconds later, when a request for a video call comes through and you snort amusedly. After drying your hand, you reach over to accept, though leave your phone where it is, angled up to the ceiling. “Pervert.”
“Let me seeee,” he whines, not even trying to argue your accusation.
“No.”
“Fine, I’ll come over and join you!” You know he’s serious by the fact you can hear him moving.
“Fucking hell,” you huff and pick up your phone to angle it so that your shoulders and above are in view. “Happy?”
“Did you get prettier, huh?” he coos, grinning dumbly at the camera and failing to wink at you, making you laugh. At least he’s now stopped trying to rush over to your house and he’s sitting back down— you can only hope he’s found a room in Wonwoo’s house out of everyone’s ear shot to have this call. “Where’s Gyu? I actually did call him first because I know he’s not at work and you two talk about literally everything, especially about Tae, so I knew he’ll know about the sitter thing too, even if you’re the one who usually arranges it–”
“You’re rambling, bunny boy.”
“Right. I just suddenly have a lot of energy I need to get out.” He fails to wink again, and you just laugh. “I can’t believe my seduction attempts have one again been thwarted by my inability to wink.”
“You can wink,” you point out, having seen him do so before. “It just…comes and goes.”
“And I would like to go to your place and come–” He cuts himself off with a snigger when he sees you exaggeratedly rolling your eyes. “Okay, but seriously, what’s Gyu doing? Can I come over?”
“He’s grocery shopping.”
“Oh, he’s in the zone,” he realises. “No wonder he didn’t answer my calls. It’s so fucking weird how obsessive he gets grocery shopping.”
“It’s cute…as long as we’re not in a rush. He’s just particular about ingredients and wants to find a good bargain!” you defend your best friend, even if Mingyu’s particulars when grocery shopping have frustrated you on more than one occasion.
These days, you only go grocery shopping together if there isn’t a single plan for at least the following three hours, and if Taehyung isn’t with the pair of you. The poor boy gets so bored and more frustrated than you do when the two of you have to watch Mingyu stare between the same two punnets of grapes for ten straight minutes before he decides which one to buy. Which is extra frustrating when you know the man will eat pretty much anything put in front of him, so he has no reason to be so fussy when he buys groceries. He doesn’t even care if you bring home the most battered items in the store, he just cares what he buys. You’ll never understand, and you’re not even sure Mingyu does himself, but you leave him to it, and he’s usually happy shopping alone anyway.
“Mm, sure, sure,” Jungkook replies, not at all agreeing, just placating you, and you roll your eyes again. “You know, I could give you an even better reason to roll your eyes,” he says, extra sleazy, and finally manages to wink through the camera at you this time. “I did it! That’s worth at least a boob shot.”
“I can’t tell if you mean you mean that as a sex act, or for me to angle the camera down,” you admit amusedly.
“Uhh, honestly, if you show me your tits right now, I will be running to my car and heading straight over. So consider that carefully. If I see the tiddies, I’m gonna come over and put them in my mouth,” he warns, making you laugh. “I’m serious.” He looks it too, completely straight faced and eyes a little dark where they’re focused on the bottom of his screen, as if he can use the power of sheer want to get your bare chest in camera range.
“I know. You’re so cute, Kookie,” you coo. Seconds before the bathroom door opens, you hear familiar footsteps, so you just look over unworried as Mingyu enters your bathroom without even knocking the door. “Done shopping already?” you question bewildered, he only left half an hour ago.
“I got all the way there and realised I forgot the bags,” Mingyu admits, crossing the room to squat down beside the tub with his arms crossed on the edge. “And I knew you’d kill me if I bought more when we have so many.”
“I would,” you confirm simply, thinking of the frankly far too expansive collection of reusable shopping bags— even the fancy insulated ones— that the pair of you have collected over the years living together, yet still often forget to take shopping with you. You tend to keep a stash in the boot of your car ready, but Mingyu always forgets to restock the ones you try to get him to keep in his own car. More often than not, he does drive yours though— simply because it’s bigger and more comfortable—, but sometimes he does actually drive his own car when it’s just him, though you never know until you find your car missing from the driveway when you peer out of the window. At least you have full access to his car too, and there’s a spare car seat for Taehyung in the garage if you ever need it when you have Taehyung with you.
“Who’re you talking to?” he wonders, suddenly realising that the view on your phone screen isn’t a video, but a video call, making him frown confusedly about the fact you’re video calling someone while naked. Though when you turn the phone and his best friend waves at him, Mingyu huffs a laugh. “Hi, Koo. This is why my call didn’t go through then; you’re trying to fuck my baby mama again.”
“Trying being the keyword,” Jungkook answers shamelessly with a nod to match, making Mingyu snicker. “She won’t even let me see the tiddies.”
“You literally just said you’d come straight over and put them in your mouth if I did!” you defend. “I am trying to have a relaxing bath here.”
“Does that mean you don’t want to come shopping with me?” Mingyu asks, pouting at you in an adorably sad kind of kicked puppy-dog way. “I was bored on my own.”
“Seriously?” you mutter while giving him an unimpressed look, though he knows he’s got you, he’s already grinning victoriously and bouncing up to reach over and pull the plug from the bath to begin draining the water.
“This is exactly why people think you’re still together,” Jungkook sniggers, watching you give in to your ex-husband so easily after him doing nothing more than pouting for your company. Admittedly, it’s not the first time you’ve given in so easily to Mingyu wanting your attention— actually, it’s pretty damn regular—, and you’re very certain it’ll likely continue for as long as you remain such good friends.
“We’re soulmates, that’s why,” Mingyu announces, taking your phone and talking to Jungkook himself as you get out of the tub and dry yourself off with a towel diligently. Suddenly, when you’re bending over to dry your feet, you realise that Mingyu is weirdly silent, and so you look over at him curiously, only to find his gaze glued to you. You raise a pointed eyebrow at him, making him sigh defeatedly. “Why did we agree no sex when we divorced? I still think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met and seeing you literally naked and bent over in front of me is cruel, baby.”
“Naked and bent over?” Jungkook repeats, sounding a little pained. “Quick, switch camera view, Gyu!”
“No. My eyes only,” Mingyu argues extra childishly, still watching you as you finish drying off, then hang the towel on the heated rail for it to dry off. You walk over to Mingyu and carefully tuck up at his side, so although Jungkook can see you again now, your nude body is out of his view. Mingyu is still staring down at you with a darkness growing in his gaze that, admittedly, still makes your body begin to grow warm, remembering how well he always worshipped your body when you were together.
Honestly, sometimes it’s hard to remember that you both were very adamant on being nothing but friends once you divorced; cutting off sexual intimacy between you for the sake of not blurring any lines.
It’s even harder to remember when Mingyu looks at you like this, like he wants to drop to his knees right now and bury his face between your thighs until he can’t breathe; and then keep going until you have to force his head out and hold him back by a fistful of hair until he’s returned oxygen to his lungs. That particular circumstance was a very regular occurrence ever since the first time the two of you had sex all those years back. You honestly think Mingyu prefers giving oral than actually fucking with how he would beg for it sometimes, then not even try to do anything else when his chest was heavy, face messy, and eyes so dark and crazed you’re pretty sure he wasn’t even mentally present in the real world anymore.
Thinking of that, of how good Mingyu always was, how desperate to please you, it does make you almost forget why you can’t push him down onto the nearest surface— floor included— and climb onto his face. It’s even harder when you’re pretty sure he’d let you and be so enthusiastically grateful about it too. But you can’t risk things getting confused between the two of you, not when it could ruin everything and you have a son to consider.
“Don’t forget to call Yoongi about Jihoon staying here,” you say to Jungkook, who nods, letting out a soft, slightly disappointed breath knowing this is you ending the conversation and he won’t be getting a view of your naked body or the chance to drive over and see it up close.
“What?” Mingyu murmurs confused, frowning at you slightly in bewilderment, yet turns to say goodbye to Jungkook when you do, then hangs up and locks your phone while toddling after you into your room, no longer staring at your body but the back of your head in curiosity. “What’s that about Jihoon staying here?”
“So Yoongi can go to Wonwoo’s wedding. Koo asked if we have a sitter for Tae for it because he was going to see if they would also be able to look after Jihoon, as we would’ve already found someone suitable to watch a child with autism, and Yoongi doesn’t know any sitters, especially ones like that.”
“Ah, you told him you’re not going,” he understands, and reaches past you to shuffle through the clothes hanging in front of you now that you’re in your walk-in wardrobe. You leave him to pick out your outfit while you pull on your underwear and apply your skin care.
When you’re done and head over to your bed where Mingyu is comfortably reclined in wait, you’re not at all surprised to find that the outfit laid out at his side ready for you matches the one he’s wearing. Taehyung gets his love of matching from his dad, after all.
It’s not until Wednesday that you hear anything back about potentially looking after Jihoon in February so that Yoongi can attend his cousin’s wedding.
When Mingyu returns home from picking Taehyung up from school— the little boy happily bouncing along at his side and already animatedly telling you everything he did at school today—, Mingyu holds out a little folded piece of paper to you with a sly, suggestive grin. You give him a questioning look, but he just winks at you then walks off, so you turn back to your son and leave the paper alone until he’s done talking.
As soon as Taehyung darts off to take his water bottle to the kitchen ready to be cleaned and refilled for tomorrow, you focus on the paper in your hand. Unfolding it, you’re met with neat handwriting of a note with your name at the top, and to your surprise, Yoongi’s name and phone number at the bottom.
The note doesn’t say much, just that Jungkook talked to him, and although Yoongi isn’t certain Jihoon will be okay with it, he at least appreciates the offer and would like to meet to discuss it; he’d really like to attend Wonwoo’s wedding and play the piano for his cousin’s first dance, like Wonwoo has asked him to do since they were kids. You can’t help but think how sweet it is, both of Wonwoo to want his cousin to play the piano at his wedding for his first dance with his new wife, but for Yoongi to want to do it so much that he’s willing to leave Jihoon with someone he doesn’t consider family.
Although you know Yoongi will still be at the school now and won’t finish work for a little bit as he finishes up whatever he needs to after class, you grab your phone, save his number, and send him a text to suggest he and Jihoon come over this Saturday after lunch to discuss it and gauge Jihoon’s comfort at your house.
Then, you put down your phone and forget about it for the following few hours as you focus on your family, until you find a response from Yoongi agreeing, and something in your chest flutters at the thought of seeing him in your family home this weekend.
By the time the doorbell rings on Saturday afternoon, Taehyung is all but vibrating out of his skin. Ever since you told him last night that Yoongi and Jihoon will be visiting for a few hours today, Taehyung has not stopped talking about everything he wants to show them, everything he wants to do with Jihoon.
You and Mingyu have both had to remind your son a few times that Jihoon likes much calmer things, not running around and lots of stimulation like Taehyung does. He always nods at the reminder and calms down, thinks of calmer things until he inevitably forgets in his excitement.
As you head to the front door, you can hear Mingyu gently reminding Taehyung one final time to be gentle with Jihoon and not overwhelm him with toys, games, and options.
“Hi, welcome!” you greet once you open the door to the father-son duo standing on your little porch. You’re not surprised to find them in matching coats, beanies, and boots, though it does make you smile a little brighter, utterly endeared. “Come on in,” you offer, stepping aside and motioning into the house.
Yoongi softly nudges Jihoon encouragingly on the back, so the boy tentatively enters first with his dad right behind him, the man giving you a little smile in grateful greeting before you shut the door and motion to where they can put their shoes, and the slippers that Taehyung had diligently set up— and straightened a dozen times— as soon as he rushed excitedly downstairs this morning barely awake.
“Thank you for inviting us over,” Yoongi says when you’re hanging up their coats in the coat closet, door open on your right and the pair in view as Jihoon carefully peers around what he can see of the house from the entrance hall.
“Of course, Taehyung has been really excited to hang out with you more, Jihoon,” you inform, careful not to give away the real reason they’re here, just in case after discussing it with Yoongi thoroughly, the pair of you decide that Jihoon staying with you for the night won’t work out. You don’t want to risk upsetting the boys by prematurely telling them about a sleepover that can’t even happen. Not that you’re even sure if Jihoon would be excited to have a sleepover with Taehyung, but you’d rather not risk it.
“Oh,” Jihoon mutters softly, looking down at the slippers on his feet. You can see him wiggling his toes, pressing them up against the material, and you hope he finds them comfortable. They’re technically Taehyung’s, extra soft and very expensive— more than you’d ever pay for slippers if it wasn’t for his sensory struggles—, but your son is adamantly against wearing shoes when he doesn’t have to; something he actually gets from you. You never wear slippers at home, only Mingyu does, and he still gives the pair of you judging looks when you both remove your socks too and pad around barefoot.
Figuring Jihoon isn’t feeling particularly verbal right now, you lead the pair into the living room, where Mingyu is physically holding Taehyung down to stop the boy running off to greet the Min family with probably too much excitement to not overwhelm poor Jihoon the second he walks into the house.
“Hey,” Mingyu grins at the pair. “Welcome to our home!”
“I call can you Yoongi ‘gain?” Taehyung immediately asks his teacher, who chuckles and nods in consent. “Yoongi!” he cheers, wriggling out of his dad’s arms to dart over and hug Yoongi, who doesn’t fail to return the affection, just like always. “Ji, Ji, wanna watch anime?” Taehyung asks, bouncing over to Jihoon as soon as the hug breaks, though he respectfully doesn’t get to close, and is careful to not raise his voice or bounce too much as the older boy glances at him. “We can watch in my playroom! I have many lots pillows, and beanbaggies, and blankets, and soft, soft, soft teddies!”
“Baby, how about we let Jihoon and Yoongi get comfortable and used to the house first?” Mingyu suggests, noticing that Jihoon is shrinking in on himself a little.
“Oh, okay!” Taehyung bounces off to clamber back onto his dad’s lap. “Want watch nice music?” he suggests, already picking up the TV remote from the couch beside Mingyu to switch to YouTube and find the very same video you played for Jihoon in the hotel that day. Jihoon must recognise the music because as soon as it starts to play, he lifts his head enough to peer up at the large screen, then gingerly moves over to sit on the other end of the sofa to the pair and watch.
“I should really find this video and save it,” Yoongi muses quietly on your right, suddenly a lot closer having walked further in once his son had bravely moved first.
“I’ll send you the link to the playlist,” you offer, looking at him, and he looks away from the TV to give you a little, grateful grin. “Go sit, I’ll grab drinks, what do you two like? Coffee, tea, hot chocolate, water, juice…” you trail off, trying to remember exactly what beverages you have, knowing that all three members of your family have the bad habit of finding new drinks interesting in the store, yet by the time you get home, you no longer want to try them, so they get added to the collection for a later date. At least there are always a lot of drink options for guests to choose from.
“Is it alright if I come look what you’ve got? Hoon can be particular about like juice brands and stuff,” Yoongi responds, looking a little awkward about asking.
“Yoongi,” you start in an amused little tone as you rest a hand on his upper arm. “If anyone understands, it’s me, you don’t need to be embarrassed about asking.”
“Right, yeah, sorry.” He smiles at you, slightly sheepish, yet also grateful, before he follows you through to the kitchen. “Oh wow,” he mutters when you open the side of the double fridge reserved mostly for drinks, with some healthy snacks set on the bottom shelf for Taehyung to reach whenever he wants them. “That’s a lot of options.”
“Yeah, we’re a family of compulsive drink buyers it seems,” you muse with a little giggle as you step aside to give Yoongi the space to explore the options at his own pace.
“Buyers and not drinkers, it seems,” he jokes and you giggle again. Yoongi shoots you a quick look, lips curled up in a smile, before he turns his full attention to the bottles, cans, and cartons neatly arranged on the shelves.
“How about daddy, then?” you ask once you’ve topped up the water in the coffee machine ready for use. You hear items hitting one another and turn to find Yoongi fumbling to straighten the drinks he had knocked over. “You okay?”
“Y–yeah–yep!” he replies while quickly glancing at you, giving you a short view of the soft pink suddenly painting the high points of his cheeks.
“Alright,” your tone is a little suspicious because the man is too flustered to not be lying, but you decide to let him have his secrets. “So, what would you like to drink?”
“Oh uhm, a coffee would be great, thanks.”
“On it!”
Once Yoongi has grabbed a drink for Jihoon— and commented that it’s Jihoon’s favourite, so you make a mental note to buy more— he takes it through to the living room while you finish making the hot drinks, including a hot chocolate for Taehyung because the boy always wants one when you and Mingyu both have hot drinks. You’re pretty sure he likes it because it makes him feel involved, and maybe even like a mini adult, as the three of you sit with your matching mugs together.
As soon as you place the tray of steaming mugs onto the coffee table, Taehyung gasps excitedly and scoots over to sit on the floor up to the low table, pulling his favourite coaster— shaped like a daisy— forward for you to place his adorable little mug on with a little spoon beside it.
“Thank you!” he chirps, big eyes glued to the marshmallows bobbing in his mug and already picking up the spoon to scoop up one of the sweet treats.
“Here, you can help yourself, Jihoon,” you offer the boy as you place a few packets of sweet snacks down after removing them from the tray. Taehyung doesn’t hesitate to grab a packet of mini cookies, and thankfully, it encourages Jihoon to join the younger boy at the coffee table and pick a snack for himself.
“Babe, pass the marshmallows,” Mingyu calls, extending one arm towards the table and making a grabby hand.
“Manners, daddy,” Taehyung reminds.
“Please, babe, pass the marshmallows,” Mingyu corrects himself, making you grin to yourself amusedly while tossing over the tub of mini marshmallows.
“Yoongi, fancy something?” you check, motioning to the options.
“No, thanks,” he replies from where he’s settled comfortably on the sofa in one corner; Mingyu is in the other, so you plop down in the space in the middle. The sofa is large enough that there’s still room on either side of you for another adult, and you take advantage of that room to bring your legs up to cross under you comfortably.
Surprisingly, it feels like this is something the five of you often do; it feels natural to sit there with your drinks and snacks, the only sound the videos playing on the TV.
When you glance at Yoongi on your right, he looks pretty comfortable, eyes mostly on the TV as he sips at his coffee— making a pleased little expression every time the flavour coats his tongue, causing you to preen secretly, proud to have made him something he likes so much— but intermittently glancing down at his son to check in on the boy.
As far as you can tell, Jihoon looks content too as he ever so gradually makes his way through the snack he picked, and sips at his drink. It makes your lips curl up a little when you spot Jihoon making the same pleased face with his drink as his dad does his own. It’s endlessly endearing how much the boy takes after his father; how much he obviously looks up to the man to copy him, even subconsciously, as much as he does.
Although Taehyung usually jumps up after he finishes his hot chocolate— either to cuddle up to you, Mingyu, or a plushie; or to find something to do to get his fresh energy out—, he sits there today, eyes flickering to Jihoon on his right routinely. You can see that Taehyung has some energy to get out; he keeps fidgeting and adjusting his seated position frequently enough that Jihoon glances at him with a little furrow of his eyebrows.
“Tae, why don’t we go get your energy out, huh?” Mingyu suggests, already getting up. “Then after, maybe Jihoon will like to join us in the playroom, and we can watch that show you said you think he’ll like?”
“Yeah!” Taehyung enthuses, turning wide eyes on Jihoon. “We watch anime after I do my zoomies?” he requests. “It has many lots good songs! They are very pretty songs.”
“Oh, okay,” Jihoon agrees after taking a couple of seconds to consider it.
“Yay!” Taehyung cheers, getting to his feet to immediately run at his dad. Mingyu turns and darts off with a cheeky grin, and Taehyung laughs before happily following, determined to catch his dad. “I will get you!”
“Never!” Mingyu calls back, then the pair are out of the room, and you can hear them running through the kitchen, so you know Mingyu is taking Taehyung out to the back garden where they can screech and yell as they play as much as they like without disturbing the calm of the house. You’re not at all surprised when you hear Mingyu collide with the new stools at the breakfast bar, toppling them over while Taehyung cackles at his dad.
“I told him he’ll run into bigger stools,” you muse, glancing at Yoongi. “The old stools were smaller and tucked under the breakfast bar easily; these ones stick out a bit, but Gyu’s a giant, so we need giant stools, apparently.”
“The cons of being tall,” Yoongi replies with a little grin that makes you giggle.
After a few more minutes, Jihoon is done eating and glances at the sofa, so you shuffle over into the now empty corner, giving him space to join if he wants to. It makes you feel like you’ve done something right when he doesn’t hesitate to get up and clamber into your previous seat, leaving an equal distance on either side of him. You thought he’d sit nearer his dad— his source of comfort and safe space—, but he seems happy where he is. You smile to yourself as you turn your head away from him to focus back on the TV and let the calm envelop you.
By the time Taehyung and Mingyu return, pink cheeked and bringing a chill from the autumn air, you’ve managed to have a conversation with Jihoon. A very successful conversation about his favourite snacks and drinks if you do say so yourself. Yoongi barely even participated either, just at the start to help prompt Jihoon along to respond to your attempt at conversation, but then the boy seemed to relax and answered you easily enough. Admittedly, he’s still pretty withdrawn, but you still feel like it’s a big step and good sign; and judging by the tender-proud look on Yoongi’s face, he feels the same way.
“I got my zoomies out!” Taehyung announces once he toddles into the living room. He grabs his water bottle from the coffee table and sucks down a fair amount before looking expectantly at Jihoon, chest heaving as he catches his breath from drinking so much at once.
“I think Tae is trying to ask if you want to go watch anime now,” you state to Jihoon amusedly. Taehyung nods enthusiastically, then beams when Jihoon slides off the sofa.
“I’ll be right here,” Yoongi assures gently when Jihoon looks at him for support. For a second, it looks like Jihoon might return to his dad’s side, but he gathers his nerve and nods in understanding before turning to follow Taehyung out of the living room and upstairs to the playroom. You assume Mingyu is already there, based on the thud of something being dropped upstairs; you’re not even surprised by that at this point and don’t react to the soft thud.
“Let me clean up all this, then we can talk about February while they’re occupied,” you suggest, already getting up to gather all the mugs and empty wrappers onto the tray to take to the kitchen.
“I can help,” Yoongi offers, shuffling to the edge of his seat but you make a noise and wave him off.
“You’re our guest, you just sit. Plus, it’s easy enough for me to handle alone,” you assure, and prove your point by lifting the tray. “You can put something else on if you want,” you offer, motioning vaguely to the TV with a tilt of your head before leaving the living room.
Only a couple of minutes later, you’re back with fresh drinks for you both, and Yoongi is curiously flicking through the videos on the playlist still playing.
“This is a good playlist,” he comments once you’re sitting comfortably back in your corner, though now curled up with your shoulder against the back rest so you’re facing him instead of the TV. “I recognise some of the songs in the titles, but a lot I’ve never heard of. They’re all calming?”
“Yeah. They have a bunch more on their channel, but these ones work for Tae the best,” you answer, propping your head on your fist as you rest your elbow on the back of the sofa. “They also have some really upbeat ones too, and Tae listens to them when he wants to bounce around, but it’s mostly the calm playlist. I’ll share this playlist with you, but obviously you can make your own version, though Jihoon seems to like this one.”
“He really does. I tried to find the videos after that day in the hotel, but I didn’t really know what to search or anything, so I was just aimlessly scrolling for, like, an hour,” he admits with a chuckle before placing the remote back on the table to instead pick up his mug of steaming coffee to cup in his hands. He adjusts his position so that he’s angled more towards you and tucks his left foot under his right thigh to make it and easier position to be in. Weirdly, it makes you smile to yourself; he looks so comfortable and almost at home in your house despite it being the first time he’s visited. Something about it feels right to you, and your chest flutters with soft warmth.
You take a moment to silently appreciate the ease between you— and the man before you—, and only once he’s settled in his seat do you decide to start talking. “He seems okay so far, I think it’s a good sign, right?”
“Mm, definitely,” Yoongi confirms with a nod. “I think that by the time February comes around, and after spending more time together, he’ll be okay to stay for a night.”
“We can definitely do a trial or two beforehand; so that he can try it out while you’re still in town if he can’t handle it and needs to go home.”
“I’d really appreciate that. I mean, I appreciate all this anyway; you being so open and willing to try this out and look after him for me. I don’t exactly have anyone who I can rely on this much, only Kook and Jin, and they’re always busy, so it really means a lot to me that you’re giving us this chance.”
“You deserve to have someone to rely on like this, Yoongi. And the opportunity for a break and time to yourself while knowing your son is safe and in capable hands, somewhere he’s understood. Well, as best as we can understand him, of course. I’m not assuming I’ll know everything and be able to handle every eventuality by then, but that’s not even something we can say after a lifetime with a child. We’re still learning more about Tae all the time and I literally birthed him,” you joke.
Yoongi chuckles, nodding understandingly. “Yeah, I get it. Even kids without these extra needs will constantly be changing, learning, and growing, so it’s impossible to ever know everything about how to handle anything they or life may throw at us.”
“Exactly! The best we can do is prepare with what we know and do our best.” He hums in agreement. “With that in mind, what do I need to know about the cutie?”
“Well…” He lets out a breath then pulls his phone out. “I actually did write up a document with everything I could think of, just so I didn’t forget anything, though I still probably have. Is it okay if I send it to you? I didn’t want to just shove that on you without permission.”
“Of course, send away!” you assure, already grabbing your phone ready to read the document as soon as you receive it. “The more I know, the better. And with it written down, I can refer back to it when I need to.”
“Great, thanks. Some people can be funny about like, written instructions like this,” he says, more of a mumble as he focuses on sending the correct document to you on his phone.
“Mm, like you’re implying they’re incompetent and can’t do it without step-by-step guidance.”
“Yes!” Yoongi lifts his head to look at you with slightly widened eyes. “That’s exactly what I mean. Why do some people insist on making everything about them?” he huffs, almost pouting; it takes everything in you to not react to how cute he looks.
“One of life’s great mysteries,” you respond in a dramatically solemn tone that makes Yoongi’s almost sulky expression break as he laughs. “Does Jihoon know about the wedding?” you wonder as you open the document on your phone now that it’s come through successfully.
“He knows Wonwoo is getting married, but not that I might go. I don’t want to say anything to him until I know for certain.”
“Understandable. Tae obviously knows that Gyu is going but not about this.” You motion vaguely between the two of you before crawling across the cushions closer to him— unaware of the slightly alarmed expression that crosses his face at your unexpected move—, so that you can sit close enough to show him your screen. “Can you clarify on this?” you request and look at the man in time to see his posture relax, confusing you a little, but you aren’t given the chance to ponder on it as Yoongi peers at your screen then begins to explain in better detail what information on the document means.
By the time Yoongi and Jihoon leave that evening, you know Jihoon far better than you ever expected to— at least on paper—, and you feel far more confident that you can properly watch over the boy for a day while his dad is out of town.
Jihoon seems to relax a lot more too. You even hear him laughing cutely when Taehyung needs another round of garden zoomies with his dad, and Jihoon accompanies them outside— though doesn’t run around with them, but he does at least perch on the swing and watch the pair with a big smile.
Still, as much as the day seems to have been a great help, you and Yoongi both know that Jihoon is nowhere near ready for a sleepover without his dad— or even to spend a few hours at your house without the man—, so you make plans to meet every Saturday for the foreseeable future. You both hope that spending more time together will help ease Jihoon into feeling comfortable and safe with you and Taehyung, while also making sure that you can handle potential issues that may crop up while Yoongi is right there to teach you what his son needs to regulate and relax.
Even though you’ve agreed to not tell the boys about the potential sleepover— in worry of Taehyung getting upset if it doesn’t happen, and Jihoon feeling uneasy and therefore, unable to give you the chance to prove yourself to him—, you, of course, can’t hide the new plans from them, and let them know that the four of you are going to be spending time together regularly from now on. To no-one’s surprise, Taehyung is beyond excited about it, whereas Jihoon seems a little uncertain, but his smile doesn’t completely fade away with the news, and that really feels like a good sign.
As agreed, the next Saturday, you and Taehyung meet Yoongi at Jihoon’s favourite playpark.
When you arrive, you understand why Jihoon prefers this one out of all of the parks in the city. It’s nestled away almost secretly amongst a patch of trees in the middle of a neighbourhood that you’ve never even driven through before. There doesn’t seem to really be anything but residential buildings in the neighbourhood as far as you can see, not even a little family run restaurant or convenience store, so you can easily imagine that it’s always as quiet as it is now. Honestly, if you didn’t love your house so much, you would even consider having a curious look for house listings in this neighbourhood, it really is so calm.
“Hey, glad you found it,” Yoongi greets you when you get close enough to where he’s sitting on a bench just outside of the gated play park, with his arms already full of Taehyung— who hadn’t hesitated to run off ahead of you the second he saw his favourite teacher.
“It really is a hidden treasure, huh,” you muse, taking a seat on the bench and picking up your son’s backpack from where he’s carelessly dropped it onto the damp grass, now running off into the park. As you sit, you can easily spot Jihoon perched on the climbing frame, contently watching the world go by. You’re a little worried that Taehyung is going to ruin the older boy’s calm, yet Jihoon notices Taehyung approaching— hard to miss with the calls of “Ji! Ji!”—, and smiles a little before moving aside, silently inviting Taehyung up to join him.
“Mm, a previous student’s grandmother actually told me about it a couple years back,” Yoongi informs as you both watch your sons greet one another once Taehyung has clambered up the holds to the platform Jihoon is on. “She brought all her grandkids here, and said the locals look after the park well.”
“Oh, that’s really nice that they do that.” He hums in agreement. “I’m surprised we’re the only ones here if the locals love it so much.”
“Sometimes others come along, but I think there aren’t many kids who live locally. I think this neighbourhood has become a kind of retirement village,” he says with a chuckle. “There are a couple retirement homes; the block opposite the entrance is one, actually. I’m always getting comments from old folk about how cute Hoonie is, so, heads up, if any come along, they will coo over Tae.”
“It’s exactly what he deserves, he’s adorable and deserves all the cheek pinches,” you declare with a tinge of theatrics that make Yoongi laugh.
“Okay, I can’t even deny that; he really is such a sweet kid.”
“So’s Jihoon.”
“Yeah.” He lets out a little breath that sounds like it’s full of nothing but love for his son. “We did pretty good, huh?”
“We did indeed.”
The two of you sit and watch your sons play together for a while in content silence, just enjoying that the weather is still just nice enough to do this without worry of any of you getting cold.
“It’s Jihoon’s birthday soon; it’s on a Friday, but I thought seeing as we’re meeting on Saturdays anyway, would you two like to come over for lunch and cake? Jin and Cel will be there.”
“Oh, yeah, we’d love to,” you agree without hesitation, smiling at him. “Anything on the no way in hell list where gifts are concerned?”
“Mm, not that I can think of. You have that document with his triggers and such on, so I trust you won’t get anything that will set him off. And thankfully, he doesn’t like anything that annoys me really, so that’s not a concern,” he chuckles.
“Lucky, Taehyung loves glitter,” you comment, giving him a pained look that makes him laugh.
“I’ll buy him a whole set for his birthday,” he jokes, and laughs a little louder when you gently hit his arm in silent complaint. “I’m kidding, I’d never buy glitter as a gift, that’s just a giant fuck you to a parent.”
“And slime.”
“Yes!” he agrees. “And playdough. My parents bought Hoon so much playdough when he was little, and he was obsessed with it. I found it all over the place for days after he played with it.”
“So that’s a no to a giant playdough set?” you tease.
“Ugh, don’t give me flashbacks,” he retorts, making you snicker a laugh. “You know, I’m not even sure how he’d feel about it anymore.”
“Tae is either really into it, or doesn’t care at all, and it usually changes part way, so even he’s learned to just avoid it because he doesn’t want to tidy it up once he loses interest and the texture starts to get to him.”
“Least he learned.” You hum in agreement. “I actually meant to say that he doesn’t really want a party or anything, for his birthday.”
“Oh?” you turn your head to look at Yoongi curiously, though he’s watching the boys compete who can swing highest on the baby swings, despite the fact the swings more suited for their age group are perfectly available. You just hope that they don’t get stuck in them where their butts have dipped into the centres, legs flopping over the edge unable to fit.
“He’s been really into Japan since Tae gave him that snow globe and got him into anime, so I suggested we go in the winter break for a late birthday slash Christmas gift. Hoon’s really into the thought, even if he’s anxious about it too, but he actually mentioned Taehyung going too, as he’s the one that introduced him to anime. So, I was wondering if you guys would be interested in that? Going to Japan with us at the end of December?” he asks, now turning his head to look at your surprised expression. “Not like a full holiday together or anything, we can do our own things and just have a day to celebrate Hoon’s birthday, or an afternoon or something, depending.”
“Tae really wants to see the snowy mountains for his birthday,” you inform, earning a questioning look. “His birthday is at the end of December, so we were already planning to go to Japan,” you explain, lips turning up into an amused grin.
“Mm, especially as Tae said he wants Jihoon there.”
“Oh, really?” The man’s expression softens, looking so touched by your son’s wish to include his son in the boy’s birthday plans. “I’m not sure how Hoon will handle the snow, but celebrating their birthdays together sounds great.”
“We could travel there and back together, rent places near each other so that Gyu and I can support you with Jihoon, if you want?”
“That would actually be really good; I’m not great at travelling honestly, so knowing I have another pair of adults there to help will lessen a lot of my anxiety.”
“Then it’s a plan!” you declare, offering a hand for him to shake.
“Will Mingyu be okay with it?” he checks, looking amused, and hand hovering as if he’s waiting for the final confirmation before sealing the deal.
“I don’t see why not. But I can call him now to make sure,” you reason, already reaching into your coat pocket to grab your phone and dial Mingyu’s number.
“Hi, baby!” Mingyu chirps brightly as soon as the call connects, and as it’s on speakerphone, Yoongi hears and is visibly amused by it.
“You’re on speaker, Yoongi’s sitting with me,” you warn before your ex-husband can say something weirdly suggestive about your time with Yoongi— like he already did this morning, and last night, and multiple times since last weekend.
“Hi, Yoongi!” Mingyu greets.
“Hi, Yoongi!” Jungkook’s familiar voice yells, then all you hear is the pair squabbling; Mingyu complaining about Jungkook yelling in his ear, and Jungkook declaring that it’s Mingyu’s fault for not already having the call on speakerphone.
“Still so weird that your ex-husband is my baby brother’s best friend,” Yoongi mutters to you as the two continue to argue childishly. You only hum in agreement.
Honestly, you’re a little distracted by how Yoongi doesn’t seem to be reacting negatively in any way in regard to your connection to his brother. Jungkook must’ve told him by now about the two of you hooking up at Seokjin’s wedding, so the fact that Yoongi knows and isn’t reacting to that information at all can only mean that he really doesn’t think of you in that way at all. Yoongi has no interest in you past very platonic, and that makes a sour drop form in your chest.
It’s not like you’ve been deluding yourself into thinking the man has any romantic or sexual interest in you whatsoever. But there was a part of you that hoped that one day, he might. Having the confirmation that it won’t happen hurts more than you thought it would. Maybe, just maybe, you like Min Yoongi more than you realised.
“Guys,” you interrupt the bickering duo before you can get too deep into your self-pity; you can save that for later.
“Yeah, babe?” Mingyu asks, and Jungkook mimics him before cackling at the audible slap Mingyu must land on Jungkook in retaliation.
“Yoongi and I have been talking about the boys’ birthdays.”
“Oh?”
“Mm, Jihoon wants to visit Japan, and Yoongi was thinking of going at the end of December too. Considering both boys want the other there to celebrate and experience the home of anime together, we thought combining the trips would be a good idea. What do you think?”
“Hell yeah!” Mingyu cheers, sounding genuinely excited. “Man, we’re going to have so much fun. Has Jihoon been skiing before? Doesn’t matter, we’re going to go and I’m going to take a million videos of them waddling around like penguins in their snowsuits.”
“I think he’s in,” you muse to Yoongi over Mingyu’s excited rambling.
“Me too!” Jungkook exclaims. “I’m coming with you. I want a family Japan trip!”
“Yeah!” Mingyu enthuses. “Kookie can come along, right, babe? We can take the boys out and you two can chill at the accommodation!” he suggests.
“I mean, that does sound pretty good,” you say, looking at Yoongi in wait for his reaction.
“You can come, if you promise not to bring strangers back to the accommodation for sex, Kook,” Yoongi replies reasonably, landing a stern look on the phone in your hand as if his brother will see it.
“I won’t!” Jungkook promises. “It’s family time.”
“Alright, then I have no problem with it,” Yoongi says, and the two best friends on the other end of the call cheer happily, making you both laugh.
“Are you coming home for dinner tonight, Gyu?” you ask.
“Mm, no, we’re meeting the guys.”
“Okay, have fun both of you, and tell the guys I said hi.”
“Will do, baby. Have fun with the boys and Yoongi. Bye, Yoongi!” After the four of you have said goodbye properly, you end the call so that you can lock your phone and tuck it back away in your pocket safely.
“Have you looked into accommodation or anything yet?” Yoongi asks as the two of you resettle with eyes on the boys, where they’re now laid on the table of a picnic bench just outside of the fenced park to cloud gaze, pointing out different shapes to one another. You’re not close enough to hear what they’re saying, but you just know that Taehyung is likely coming up with imaginative stories based on the characters he finds in the fluff.
“Sort of, but only briefly. I think Gyu bookmarked some things on the family computer though. If you have no plans, do you want to come back for dinner, and we can discuss it more while the boys play? You can also teach me how to cook in a way Jihoon likes.”
“Oh, yeah, actually, that sounds really good, thanks.”
“This one looks good,” Yoongi says where he’s sitting at the breakfast bar with your laptop to research different accommodations and options while you cook dinner. At first, Yoongi had helped, just so that you know how to cut and prepare the foods so that Jihoon will eat it all, but then you shooed him off to your laptop where it’s been sitting on the dining table since last night. Though he moved it to the breakfast bar so that you can easier talk to one another without raising your voices and risking he boys overhearing.
Upon returning to the house earlier, the two of you had intended to check out the options Mingyu has bookmarked on the family computer since the idea of going to visit snowy mountains in December first cropped up back in summer. But as the boys are in the living room making use of the almost absurdly large TV to watch the same anime show they started last weekend, it’s not exactly possible to use the PC as it’s in the living room too, and neither of you want to risk the boys seeing what you’re doing until it’s set in stone.
“Mh?” you question, peering over and leaning onto the counter as he turns the laptop so that you can see the screen. “Oh, that’s pretty.”
“Yeah. The resort itself is pretty small and very private. It’s pretty expensive, I won’t lie but I figure it’s not really an issue for any of us?” his tone lifts at the end into a last-second question, as if he has suddenly realised that maybe you and Mingyu aren’t as financially comfortable as he previously assumed; or at the very least, you may not be comfortable with him making comments about the number in your bank account.
“I mean, I assume it’ll be fine unless it’s ridiculously extortionate pricing,” you reason amusedly. “And you have producer money still, I take it?”
“Oh, yeah. Royalties and all that,” he answers simply and nods, leaning awkwardly around so that he can also see the screen without turning it away from your view, and clicks through to find a particular accommodation and show you the price. He’s right, it is expensive, but he’s also right in that it’s not an issue. “There are multiple cabins but they’re all only two bed, so I don’t know if your family are okay with you sharing two rooms? Hoon and I can share one in our cabin and Kook can have the other; I’m fine with sharing a bed with Jihoon and he doesn’t mind either.”
“Oh yeah, that’s fine with us. Gyu and I usually room when we go on family trips.” That earns a surprised, and tentatively questioning look from Yoongi. It’s clear he wants to question why you still share a bed with your ex-husband, but he doesn’t know if he can. “I know, everyone finds it weird, but we don’t. We still consider each other our most precious friend, and nothing is ever uncomfortable. Other than when he insists on cuddling in hot weather, forgetting he sweats like fuck during his sleep. It’s pretty gross, I won’t lie,” you admit, earning a little snort of a laugh from the man.
“Sounds it.”
“Mm, but he’s cute, so he gets away with it.” You shrug and turn your attention back to the pans on the hob to check on the progress of dinner, so Yoongi settles back onto his stool and turns the laptop to face him again.
It’s quiet for a few minutes as you both work on your separate tasks, just the clicking of the laptop keys and clink of utensils filling the air. It feels weirdly domestic, and you have to force that thought out of your head before your mind clings to the image. The last thing you need is to get delusional about the future in store for you and Yoongi. Going on a family trip together doesn’t help either, but at least you’ll be in different cabins, so you won’t have to see him first thing in the morning and share sleepy breakfasts together; that really would fuck with your mind too much.
“Oh, these two cabins are pretty much next to each other,” he comments. “One has two double rooms, and the other a king-sized room and a bunk room. I think seeing as you’re going to be sharing with a sweaty giant, it would make sense for you guys to have the cabin with the king-sized room.”
“I’m going to tell Gyu you called him a sweaty giant,” you tease.
“Please don’t; he could break me so easily, he’s huge,” he mutters, eyes a little wide as he no doubt thinks about how buff your best friend is.
“I’m sure Kookie would come to the rescue of his big brother.”
“Nah, he’d say I deserve if for shit talking his bestie.”
“Okay, probably true; he’s always the first to defend Mingyu for anything,” you muse. “You have nothing to worry about anyway, Gyu would never hit you, not on purpose anyway. He’s clumsy as anything. But he wouldn’t hit you for that, just probably pout at you.”
“That might even be worse,” Yoongi mumbles almost dumbly. “Tae’s pout is lethal, and he has to have learned it from somewhere.”
“Oh yeah, he takes after his dad in most ways, the puppy eyes and pout especially,” you confirm, nodding.
“I’d rather Mingyu just punch me in the face than that,” Yoongi decides, making you giggle amusedly. “So, king-size and bunk room sound good to you?” he checks as he turns his gaze back to the laptop screen. You hum in confirmation. “They also have an option to have a vehicle rented and waiting at the cabin; and they seem to do one big enough for us to all fit, what do you think of that? I know we’ll be doing our own things a lot, but I figure we don’t really need two cars when there’s trains and buses and stuff.”
“Yeah, makes sense to me. We’ll put all our names down so any of us can drive it, yeah?”
“Mm, yeah, can do,” he agrees before falling quiet once again.
Although it took him a while, Jihoon ate everything on his plate happily, and you’re still riding that high of approval even once you and Yoongi are done cleaning up from dinner and are sitting in the living room looking at your laptop together while the boys get some air in the back garden while it’s still early enough to allow it.
“I think it’s perfect,” you decide once you’re both done thoroughly reading over the website of the resort, checking its location in relation to activities and necessities— such as the closest grocery store and public transport stations—, and that the cabins that suit your families are available for the time you want.
“Mm, do you need to check with Mingyu before booking?” Yoongi wonders, glancing at you briefly then back to where the curser hovers over the “book” option.
“No, he’ll go along with anything; he knows I’d look into it properly first,” you assure, and reach out to press his finger down onto the button with a giggle. He huffs a soft laugh then the two of you get started filling out the booking form as a bundle with both cabins and the car rental. “Oh, let me get my purse,” you mutter when it comes to the payment screen, and jump up to go find your purse so that you can grab your bank card. Though by the time you’ve returned, there’s a payment confirmation screen up, and Yoongi is tucking his wallet back into his jeans.
“You can send me the money later or whatever,” he decides, waving a dismissive hand. You just hum, knowing that one of you would have to send the other your family’s half of the money anyway, so it doesn’t really matter whose card details are put in for the resort info. “Let’s look at flights, yeah?”
The two of you spend a little while comparing flight deals and travel plans, including how to get to the accommodation from the airport, before deciding on the best method and overall deal, which you book on your card. You make sure to purchase the best seats, with room for the boys to wriggle and move as much as they need to, while potentially disturbing as few people as possible if either of them are overloaded and have a meltdown. You both think it shouldn’t happen, because the boys have been okay on the last flights, but you’d also rather prepare for the worst-case scenario.
Not long after you’re done finalising everything and dealing with the financial situation between you two, the boys come inside, cheeks chill-pinkened and hair a little wild from playing in the gentle breeze. And they both look so genuinely happy. It makes your chest warm to see how content they are together; how they truly seem to enjoy one another’s company so much and can find ways to play together that suits them both enough to have these precious smiles glued to their faces.
“C’mere,” you prompt, moving along the sofa to sit in the opposite corner as Yoongi, and pat the space between you. The pair both clamber up onto the sofa, and Taehyung immediately cuddles up to you. Although he doesn’t cuddle into his dad, Jihoon does sit close to Yoongi’s side, and ever so slightly leans into him. You watch Yoongi’s expression soften out; you can easily imagine that it always feels so special for Jihoon to initiate affection as it’s so rare, even if it’s something as small as this.
“Boys, are you able to listen for a bit?” Yoongi questions; you can’t help but immediately press your lips together, trying to hide your amused smile due to Yoongi using what you have to assume is his teacher voice. It works though, and both boys turn to look at him with attentive eyes. “So, we were thinking, as it’s something you both want to do for your birthday treats at the end of the year, we will all go to Japan together.”
Instantly, Taehyung gasps loud and sits upright, scrambling up onto his knees. You have to pull him back and onto your thighs to hold him tight, press his soul back into his body to prevent him from exploding out and landing on the father-son duo. You think that Yoongi wouldn’t really mind, and would likely just find it amusing, but you’re very positive that Jihoon would not be impressed.
“We go together?!” your son screeches. Jihoon flinches but doesn’t react to Taehyung otherwise. He’s still staring up at his dad with big eyes, but now his mouth is open in shock; you can’t tell if that’s a bad reaction or not.
“Yeah. We’ll have separate cabins, but we’ll travel together and spend some time together. Definitely to celebrate your birthdays, but we’ll also do our own things too.”
“I am excited Japan to go with you and Ji!”
“I’m excited too,” Yoongi replies, looking like he means it entirely, though there is a little concern in his eyes when they flicker to Jihoon, but he doesn’t linger on his son, no doubt knowing that Jihoon needs some time to work through the idea on his own.
“Oh,” Taehyung says, suddenly deflating as he turns his head to frown at you. “Daddy will be sad.”
“Oh, baby, daddy is coming too, silly,” you assure and kiss his forehead, smiling yourself when he’s smiling again in the few seconds it takes for you to press your lips to his skin and lean back. “And Uncle Kookie is coming along.”
You have no choice but to let go of your son when he starts to wriggle so much that his bony butt digs into your thigh, making you silently wince. Taehyung is more than happy to be set free to allow him to bounce and jump around the living room, clapping and making excited sounds, unable to keep his joy locked up inside. If it wasn’t for Jihoon, you wouldn’t want to even attempt to get Taehyung to try and calm down quite yet— you know he needs to get this out—, but Jihoon has curled his shoulders up to his ears and put his hands over them as he stares intently down at his legs, legs bouncing agitatedly.
Though before you can do more than adjust your position with the intention of reaching out to grab Taehyung and pull him back onto your lap to squeeze again— knowing it genuinely does help him sometimes—, Yoongi is sliding off of the sofa and approaching Taehyung. You watch intrigued as Yoongi kneels down in front of the boy and starts to quietly sing some notes. Slowly, Taehyung stops bouncing so much, his eyes and head stop rapidly moving— unable to focus on one thing— and instead, lock onto Yoongi’s mouth. Then, Taehyung’s sounds and hands stop their noise so that he can mimic his teacher, matching the notes with his own voice, though his hands continue to flap and flick at his sides for a few more moments.
“Good job,” Yoongi praises gently when Taehyung has calmed a lot and they’ve run through the scales multiple times together. “Would you like to show me the rhythm game you mentioned earlier?”
Taehyung nods and grabs Yoongi’s hand to excitedly lead him over to the cosy corner; the corner of the living room with an extra fluffy rug, cushions in all shapes and sizes, and a huge beanbag chair that Taehyung always sinks into and gets partially covered in, but he loves it. The pair sit on that beanbag together— Yoongi lets out a little yelp with how he immediately sinks into it quicker than expected, and Taehyung giggles— with the boy’s tablet to play the new, colourful rhythm game while sharing earphones so that you and Jihoon don’t hear the music playing.
Seeing that Jihoon still looks kind of tense, you stick to the trusty and tried method of relaxing him and turn on the soothing playlist— which you know the boy watches every day after school now since you sent his dad the link to it last weekend. As soon as the first video plays, Jihoon’s head lifts so that his eyes can find the screen, and immediately, as if just seeing the opening of the video is enough, his shoulders sink, loosening until his hands lower to his lap to let the soothing music reach his ears uninterrupted.
After a few minutes of sitting and watching the screen with the boy, you get up and go to the kitchen to prepare drinks; coffee for you and Yoongi, hot chocolate for Taehyung, and his favourite juice carton for Jihoon. Plus, a few snacks for everyone to help themselves to because Taehyung is so used to having mini cookies with his hot chocolate that he gets entirely thrown off and antsy if you don’t give him any these days.
While you’re waiting for the coffee machine to finish, you hear little socked feet enter the room and just know it’s Jihoon without looking; you know your son’s footsteps too well to confuse him for anyone else. Curiously, you look over and find Jihoon shuffling shyly closer to you, fingers fiddling with the hem of his jumper.
“Everything okay?” you check, keeping your tone soft. He nods, but hovers like he has something he wants to say, so you wait quietly, giving him the time he needs.
“I…I’m excited to go to Japan with you guys,” he announces in a shy little tone after a few more moments, when you’re setting the drinks on the tray now that the last drink is ready.
“We’re excited too,” you reply, smiling at him when he flickers his gaze up to you, before looking away again.
“Can Tae come over after school so we can watch videos about Japan together? I…I don’t know what Japan is like, so I want to learn before we go.”
“Oh, that sounds lovely, Jihoon; I’m sure Tae would love that. We’ll have to check with your daddy first though.” Jihoon nods in understanding, seeming not surprised that you’ve said that his dad’s permission is needed. Though he does look like he has both relaxed and lit up a little at your permission, as if he is truly excited about doing research with Taehyung ready for the trip.
“I will ask later,” he declares, then glances at the tray quickly, face twisting slightly.
“Oh, do you not want the juice today?” you ask, reaching out for it.
“Can…can I have a hot chocolate too, please?”
“Of course,” you assure. “I’ll put the juice back in the fridge and you can get it whenever you want, okay?”
“Okay.” He smiles, looking relieved, before he turns and toddles back to the living room leaving you to make him a hot chocolate with extra marshmallows. The boy is just too sweet to not spoil when you can.
Soon enough, it’s the day after Jihoon’s birthday, and you and Taehyung are going to the Min home to celebrate the little boy.
Though as Jihoon’s birthday was yesterday, Taehyung insisted that he needed a gift to take to school for the boy that isn’t the Studio Ghibli boxset that Taehyung is very excited to give to Jihoon today. Which resulted in you and Taehyung spending all of Thursday after school making a whole bunch of bracelets, keyrings, and other tiny little crafts for Taehyung to pick the very best of to give to Jihoon during their lunchbreak yesterday. Honestly, you’re pretty sure Jihoon won’t wear the bracelets because they will likely annoy him, but you think he’ll appreciate the sentiment anyway; he’s a good kid like that.
“Yoongi!” Taehyung calls as soon as the man opens the front door moments after Taehyung has knocked a little tune onto the door. You and Yoongi both laugh softly at Taehyung’s never-ending enthusiasm for calling his teacher by his first name at every possible chance.
“Hi, Tae,” Yoongi replies, easily accepting the big hug the boy gives him as if he didn’t see the man at school yesterday.
Due to the afterschool visits Taehyung has on Wednesdays for the boys to continue their self-imposed Japan research project, he doesn’t hesitate to put his shoes and coat in the correct places, and skip off further into the apartment, making himself at home easily while you work on removing your coat and boots.
“He’s really made himself at home already, huh?” you muse, and Yoongi chuckles, hanging up your coat for you as you work on wrestling your boots off your feet. You knew they’d be a pain in the ass to remove, but Taehyung insisted you wear them because he’s wearing his own tiny version. Fortunately, his boots have zips on the side so they’re easy to get on and off; yours, however, only have laces holding them together.
“Yeah, it’s cute.”
“He hasn’t gotten too comfortable, has he?” you worry, wincing a little at the thought of Taehyung unknowingly overstepping boundaries in his excitement.
“No, not at all. He’s as polite as always, you don’t have to worry,” Yoongi assures. “I honestly can’t even imagine him overstepping.”
While you’re still fighting with your boots— and Yoongi watches amusedly as you swear under your breath at the laces, and yourself for being weak to your son wanting to match—, the apartment door opens and in steps Seokjin and Celeste.
“Take this before I drop it,” Seokjin says, skipping over any greeting to thrust the large cakebox in his arms over to Yoongi. For his part, Yoongi takes it without issue, just an eyeroll, as if he’s used to this very scene playing out.
“Hey,” Celeste greets as she perches by your side on the bench to remove her own boots, her far easier to remove boots. “Those don’t look like fun to put on, or take off,” she muses when you’ve finally shoved your boot off with a victorious sound.
“They’re really not, but I am a mother easily manipulated by a cute face,” you reply with a theatrical sigh, making her laugh.
“She really understands that,” Seokjin says, already sans coat and shoes, and taking the cakebox back from his best friend. You and Yoongi exchange a surprised look before looking between the couple.
“Are you pregnant?” you ask Celeste quietly, not wanting to risk the boys overhearing.
“No,” she answers with a laugh.
“I meant my cute face,” Seokjin informs. You and Yoongi exchange another matching look, this one world-weary, and Seokjin immediately squawks in offense. “Hey!”
“I’m going to ban you from my apartment if you say shit like that here,” Yoongi warns, though judging by Seokjin’s eye roll, it’s not the first time Yoongi’s made that very same empty threat towards the broad-shouldered male.
The four of you make your way together through the apartment, with Yoongi by your side to point out where the different rooms are as it’s your first time in his home. You have to admit, something about it feels exactly like Yoongi; homely, comforting, with enough quirks and knickknacks to give little pops of parts of him that you’ve not had the chance to see much of yet. Of course, there’s also a lot of Jihoon in the apartment, and in some parts it seems more Jihoon than Yoongi, so you have to assume that those areas— like the armchair in the living room with a soft, anime printed blanket, and plushie draped on the seat— are the boy’s preferred spots.
The living room is empty of life, so you all walk down the hallway to pop your heads into Jihoon’s bedroom, where he’s sitting on the floor with Taehyung, and showing him what must be new figurines he got for his birthday yesterday, based on how Taehyung is looking at them with such awe as if he’s never seen them before. You know your son well enough to know that he definitely would’ve familiarised himself with them on previous visits if they were already in Jihoon’s possession.
“Hi, birthday boy! Seokjin crows, though he’s regulating his volume to keep it at a level he knows Jihoon can handle, without losing any of the playful enthusiasm from his tone.
“Hi, Uncle Jin,” Jihoon replies, then smiles at you and Celeste— greeting you both by name—, before he looks aside, shy under all the attention.
“Did daddy spoil you yesterday?” Seokjin coos, walking over to squat down with the boys and look at the figurines without touching. You recall a note on the document that Yoongi wrote for you about his son, stating that Jihoon can be very particular about his precious items, and doesn’t even let Yoongi touch them sometimes, so it’s always best to tread carefully with Jihoon’s personal possessions. Seokjin must know that information from knowing the boy since he was a baby.
“No,” Jihoon replies. “This is from Uncle Kookie,” he informs, motioning to the collection of figurines.
“Oh? Daddy didn’t spoil you? The audacity!” The theatrics makes both boys giggle, and Seokjin smiles, pleased at himself for making the pair laugh— and so cutely too. “Well, Cel and I will have to make up for that, won’t we?” he winks, then motions Celeste over, so the woman approaches and places the gift bag in her hands down.
It’s only now that Jihoon tentatively reaches for it and his jumper sleeve pulls back, that you notice two of the bracelets Taehyung made for him tied securely around the little boy’s wrist. Your lips turn up and you watch in content silence as Jihoon and Taehyung coo over the gifts the couple bought the boy.
When you glance at Yoongi a little on your left, he’s wearing the same soft expression and little smile as you can feel on your own face.
The six of you enjoy a lunch consisting of all of Jihoon’s favourite foods and drinks, followed by the cake Seokjin supplied. The birthday song isn’t sung, and you’re honestly glad about that because you always feel awkward singing it, let alone being the centre of attention; you can imagine that Jihoon would hate being sung to like that.
As soon as they’ve washed their hands and faces when they’re done eating, Jihoon and Taehyung excitedly settle on the sofa to watch one of the movies in the box set Jihoon had been genuinely thrilled with upon opening— he had lit up so brightly and beamed at you, and said his thanks multiple times as he read the list of movies included. You’re not sure which movie they pick to play, but the pair are both grinning as they sit tucked up under Jihoon’s anime blanket side by side, Jihoon holding his plushie from his chair, and Taehyung holding one from the boy’s bedroom— which Yoongi tells you Taehyung always holds when here, so Yoongi is planning to get Taehyung one of the weighted plushies for his birthday.
“Goddammit, they’re so cute,” Seokjin mumbles a little while later when he returns to join adult time at the kitchen table, once he’s back from the bathroom and stopping to hover in the living room doorway to watch the boys for a few moments.
“Yep,” you confirm simply. “Speaking of kids, I thought you were going to get started on your own on your first honeymoon?” you wonder, knowing that it’s not a sensitive topic; both Seokjin and Celeste have been open with you about it, about both doing fertility tests last year ready to expand their family. You know that medically, they should be more than able to conceive, and they’ve certainly had the time to try. Plus, neither had looked downtrodden or upset earlier when you questioned if Celeste is pregnant, so you are confident that they haven’t been having issues in that regard.
“We decided to wait a little longer,” Celeste answers. “But next year, we’ll be parents.” She sounds nothing but confident and certain that you nod, accepting her words easily. You’re already mentally planning an adorable, but absurd, gift you can buy for the baby that will outdo the absurdly large elephant plushie Seokjin bought for Taehyung when he was born. It still lives in Taehyung’s bedroom, and the boy sometimes drags it around the house to join him in his activities.
“And speaking of our wedding,” Seokjin says, grinning at you mischievously in a way you really don’t trust. It makes you want to shut him up before he can say whatever is on his mind, assuming it’s going to be something stupid, but you’re also very curious about what exactly is going on in that freaky head of his. “You finally gave in to Jungkookie, huh?”
“What?” Yoongi blurts out in a mutter that sounds mostly confused, but like he’s made an assumption he doesn’t really want to be true.
“Your baby brother has been trying to get her into bed with him ever since the divorce, and I saw them head hand in hand to his room at the hotel,” Seokjin answers, waving at you vaguely with the hand he’s been using to pick at the contents of the tray of cut fruit and veggies still left on the table for everyone to help themselves too, even if everything else has been cleaned up already.
It’s now that you see Yoongi’s expression rapidly change through multiple emotions before turning eerily blank, that you learn that despite Jungkook having assured you he’d tell his brother about the two of you, he hasn’t. “He didn’t tell you,” you realise, voice a quiet mumble.
“Why would he? Not my business,” Yoongi replies, tone a little harsh as he fiddles with his mug between his hands.
“I’m sorry, I thought you knew,” Seokjin apologises, looking nothing but guilty as he frowns at his best friend.
“It’s not my fucking business,” Yoongi repeats and gets to his feet. “Bathroom break,” he announces as he leaves.
“Shit, I really thought he knew,” Seokjin says, turning his attention to you.
“Me too. Kook said he’ll talk to him, but I guess he forgot.” You sigh. “He’ll…get over it right? Being left out?” you question worriedly.
Seokjin’s expression does something you don’t quite understand, but it makes your stomach twist a little, uneasy, like you’re missing something big. You don’t like it, so you look away from him and distract yourself by getting up to clean up the empty mugs, washing them by hand as the dishwasher is already turned on, and you don’t want to face the couple right now.
When Yoongi returns, he’s off; like he’s withdrawn into himself a little, and it makes you unsure how to react, what you’re supposed to do. It continues all afternoon and gets worse when Seokjin and Celeste leave do to their weekly grocery shop.
Although Yoongi is interacting with the boys to respond to their comments and questions about the movie you’re all watching— another from the boxset—, he barely even glances your way. It feels like the physical space between you turns into more than that, like he’s putting his walls back up, and it hurts. Hurts so much that as soon as the movie is over, you tell Taehyung that it’s time to go home. He tries to convince you to stay for “just one more movie”, but you’re firm, and he doesn’t push, knowing that it won’t get him what he wants.
While Taehyung sings along to the radio in his seat behind you on the drive home, your thoughts keep turning back to Yoongi’s blank expression; the wall building; the pain in your chest. All you can do is hope with everything in you that the friendship that has only just started to build, isn’t about to fall to pieces at your feet.
Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖
🐑Who: Lee Chan (Seventeen) x female reader
🐑What: Fluff. Humour. Strangers to Friends to Lovers. Vet reader. Simp Chan.
🐑Word count: 9.1k
🐑Warnings: Chan is such a precious little, shameless, obviously obsessed, dumbass. Profanity. A couple brief, vaguely suggestive comments/ thoughts/ themes. Sorta vague allusions/ assumptions of Hansol & Seungkwan dating but never explicitly confirmed. I don’t know anything about animals/ being a vet so it’s all glossed over— don’t take anything that is mentioned as pure fact. Kissing. Some alcohol consumption.
🐑Summary:
The day Chan first lays eyes on you, his life changes. The day after that, he suddenly becomes very interested in animals, with absolutely no relation to you being the new vet in town. Not that anyone believes him about that.
After all, subtlety has never been Chan’s strong suit.
I block any blank blog that interacts.
Masterlist
A/N- This was written as part of @dorereef’s spring event, The Reef In Bloom! This event has been such a joy to participate in, the other members have been so lovely and enthusiastic that I really hope to join up with them for another event soon 🥺💗
Honestly, in all the years Chan has known Hansol, he’s had zero interest in the farm Hansol’s family has owned and run for decades now. Especially not in the middle of winter when Chan could be doing better things, like being far away from the sheep trying to nibble the oversized coat he’s wearing that makes him look like a child wearing his dad’s coat.
Which, well, is kind of accurate, because it’s Hansol’s dad’s coat. Chan had fallen in a mud patch last night when the pair stumbled back after a night out drinking with their friends, and Hansol’s parents have always treated Chan like a second son and happily dote on him, so lending him a clean, cosy coat wasn’t even debated.
But the point is, it’s the middle of winter, Chan is fucking freezing, and Hansol has made him join him in the field to meet the new vet, who will apparently be overseeing the ewes through lambing season— not that Chan knows what that means. And Chan has no interest in this, but Hansol is persuasive in the way he stares without blinking until his opponent relents, and it freaks the fuck out of Chan, so he always relents.
“Are you sure I can’t curl up in the middle of them? They look so warm,” Chan bemoans, looking longingly at the huddle of sheep a little bit away from them, practically able to see steam rising from their fluffy bodies in the chilly air.
“Very positive that you cannot curl up amongst pregnant ewes, Chan,” Hansol confirms flatly, eyes on the near distance where a car is driving along the dirt tracks of the Choi farm towards the field they’re standing at the edge of.
“Ewe means lady sheep, right?” Chan checks, and Hansol gives him a flat look in response, before snorting a laugh, then looks away. “What?”
“Would I say they’re pregnant if they were gentlemen sheep?”
“I…I think I’m too hungover.”
“Nah, you’re always a dumbass,” Hansol retorts teasingly, then pushes off of the fence to approach one of the farm dogs who has something in his mouth that Hansol needs to chase him for the next few minutes to get out— turns out, it was a lump of mud; at least, Chan hopes it was mud.
“Hey, you’re new,” the voice behind Chan makes him turn, and instantly, his expression slides into something awed, because standing a little on the other side of the fence is the most beautiful being he’s ever laid eyes on. In response, Chan lets out something that sounds vaguely like something died painfully in his throat.
“Hey, doc!” Hansol calls out, and Chan watches entranced as this ethereal entity before him waves back with a smile that makes Chan suddenly love the farm.
“I think your new farm boy isn’t awake yet,” you muse as you approach to lean on the fence a little to Chan’s left, and he turns towards you like a flower to the sun. Or a suddenly-in-love man towards the woman of his dreams.
“No farm boy, he hates the farm, but he’s my best friend so he doesn’t have a choice,” Hansol informs with a grin.
“I love farm. Love sheep. Lady sheep. Ewes,” Chan babbles, wide eyes glued to you. You give him a look, a little concerned, but mostly amused, then slide your eyes to Hansol, and give the farmer a questioning look.
“Yeah, we don’t know what’s wrong with him either.”
“Sheep,” Chan whispers, and you give him a look, giggle— and he maybe lets out a little almost pained whimper in response—, before you effortlessly clamber over the fence to join Hansol in approaching the sheep.
Chan, of course, waddles around in a circle as you pass him so that he can keep his attention on you. He has no idea what you’re doing as you kneel beside the first pregnant lady sheep— ewe— with your bag of equipment to do…stuff, but he thinks it’s probably the most important and skilful thing ever, and nobody can ever do it better than you.
Suddenly, Chan doesn’t feel the cold, not when your smile and soft tone as you speak to the sheep warms him up from his very soul. Chan’s pretty convinced he could be standing there butt naked and feel warm under your smile. Then, he thinks that you’d probably not be smiling if a stranger was standing in front of you naked in a field of sheep in the middle of winter. He also thinks he wouldn’t be smiling as he imagines the sheep trying to nibble on something else instead of the coat protecting him from the cold, and he shudders at the thought, winces, and subconsciously puts his hands over his crotch.
“Dude, you better not be getting hard because a pretty lady smiled at you,” Hansol’s voice suddenly warns in a hiss in Chan’s ear, making him jump and look at his best friend in shock, having not noticed him approach.
“Do sheep bite genitals?” Chan whispers, horrified at the thought. Hansol gives him an incredulous look, before walking confidently back over to you in a way that Chan wishes he could, but he knows the damn coat makes him waddle like a particularly plump penguin. He doesn’t want you to think of him as a particularly plump penguin, he doesn’t want you to think of him as a penguin at all, plump or buff. He wants you to think of him as a handsome, suave young man who you would happily take home to introduce to your parents as your handsome, suave husband. Okay, boyfriend first, husband later.
Far too soon— at least in Chan’s mind—, you get up, shoulder your bag, and walk side by side with Hansol towards the gate a little further down the fence. Before he knows it, you’re getting into your Jeep— at least, Chan assumes it’s a Jeep, he doesn’t know anything about cars, nor is he paying enough attention to anything but you to notice the brand name—, sharing another laugh and quick verbal exchange with Hansol, giving Chan a polite wave, and then driving off. Chan lifts his arm so fast that he smacks himself in the face, but you’re already gone because he was too stunned by your sudden attention on him to even register it until it was over. He’s kind of glad of that because it means you didn’t see his embarrassing action.
Unfortunately, Hansol saw, and he’s leaning over with his hands on his knees as he wheezes with laughter. “Dude!” he cackles. “What the fuck is wrong with you today?” he asks, barely able to straighten up to look at his best friend as he continue to laugh so hard Chan thinks he might start choking any second.
“Nothing. I’m normal. Totally normal about everything and everyone I’ve seen today,” Chan replies before abruptly crossing the grass between them to grab Hansol’s face and lock his wide, unsettling gaze on the suddenly no longer laughing man. “How do I become a vet assistant? Specifically hers?”
Hansol pulls a face, then laughs again and nudges Chan away. “You’re hopeless, man.”
“I’d be a good vet’s assistant to her! I’d do anything she asks!”
“Pretty sure that’s called being a simp.”
“Well…if it works.”
“I can’t believe you’re obsessed with someone you didn’t say a coherent sentence to,” Hansol deadpans as he heads out of the field, and Chan scrambles to follow— making sure to shut the gate securely behind them and the dogs, he’s not entirely useless with farm stuff, you know.
“Shit, you’re right,” Chan mutters. Hansol looks at him as if he expects Chan to chill out and be normal about you, at least he does until the shorter man opens his mouth again. “Do you think if I hide for a couple months and you pretend I don’t exist and she imagined me today, that she’ll forget about me and I can come back and start fresh?”
“Dude, no!” He even shoves his friend into a bush for added effect; it works, Chan gets the point.
“Okay, no gaslighting, you’re right,” Chan concedes as he pulls himself out of the bush as if nothing happened. “I could never keep away from my future wife from that long anyway, and I definitely don’t want her to forget about me.”
“You don’t even know her name.”
That gives Chan pause, quite literally. He stops on the grass and Hansol continues on obliviously towards the house. Or more likely, Hansol knows that his best friend is no longer actively following him and is enjoying the moment of calm while he has it.
It’s a few minutes before Chan has caught up with Hansol where he’s waiting on the back porch, dogs all shuffling around his feet and the door as they wait to be let back inside. But Hansol knows his mother hates the winter air and feels it so much easier than most people, so he doesn’t want the door to open more than necessary so that there’s less cold being let in to attack his mother.
“What’s her name?” Chan asks as soon as he’s clambered up the few wooden steps. Hansol just rolls his eyes, and now finally opens the door to let the dogs dart in first, then follows with Chan at the back. Automatically, once the door is shut, Chan nudges the draft excluder back into place along the bottom of it, also aware of Hansol’s mother’s weakness for the chill, and not wanting to make his pseudo-mother face it without reason.
The pair are removing their shoes when the woman herself shuffles into the entrance hall. “How’re the ewes?” she checks. Hansol just gives a thumbs up, but that’s all she needs anyway. “Oh, Channie, what happened to you?” She frowns as she frets over the leaves and tiny twigs in his hair and dotted over the long coat.
“Sol pushed me into a bush,” Chan answers, then grins smugly when Hansol’s mother turns to scold her son, who glares harmlessly at his best friend before toddling off to the kitchen, drawn in by the scent of fresh, spicy food sure to warm him up. “Hey, you know the new vet?” Chan checks as the woman helps him out of the coat, picking off the bush debris as she goes.
“Mm, she’s lovely, isn’t she?”
“The loveliest,” Chan enthuses, head bobbing with his thorough agreement, and the woman smiles at him in an amused, knowing way that Chan doesn’t even notice. “I didn’t catch her name.”
“Oh, no?” She grins, hanging up the coat before turning and following her son’s path into the kitchen. Chan follows her little a lost little duckling. “You didn’t catch the good doctor’s name, love?”
“No,” Chan complains, dropping into his usual space at the breakfast table with a pout. “Will you tell it to me? Sol’s being a butthead.”
“You’re 25 years old and you just said butthead,” Hansol’s father comments from his own place. “Call him an asshole, Chan, go on.” Which earns the man a light slap to the back of his head from his wife, but he’s grinning, and Hansol is grinning, and Chan can’t help but join in.
“Don’t encourage bad habits, mister!” the woman exclaims.
“Ah, but you used to love my bad habits, my beautiful wife,” he coos, hooking one arm around her waist as she passes, to pull her in while giving her a sleazy look.
“Seriously, dad?” Hansol complains. “I’m trying to eat, don’t bring up your youth together, it’s gross.”
“Excuse you! We were hot shit in our youth, even hotter together!”
“Disgusting,” Hansol comments, not even pretending that he’s not grinning amusedly, before he puts a spoonful of warming, spicy soup into his mouth, makes a pleased sound, then tuckers in, closing out the rest of the world around him.
Having known Hansol for his entire life, the three know he will be a useless conversationalist until he’s finished his bowlful— and probably a second, maybe even third— and naturally turn away from him to continue talking without him.
“I’ve seen photos of you both when you were young,” Chan comments, nodding along. “I think you were both hot shit for sure.”
“Thank you, Chan,” Hansol’s father replies, and reaches over to approvingly pat Chan’s arm. “Knew we kept you around for a reason.”
“You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.” Chan grins, then abruptly turns serious. “But seeing as you both love me so much and consider me your baby boy—”
“We do?”
“Yes, dad,” Chan confirms, and the couple just smile, amused and fond of their pseudo-son and his weird, shameless personality.
“Okay, son, what of it?”
“You’ll tell me the name of the new vet, right?”
The couple share a look before Hansol’s dad nods and tells Chan your full name. Immediately, Chan lets out a dreamy sigh and props his head on his palm, elbow already braced on the table. He thinks it’s the most perfect name to have ever existed, and he can’t wait to spend the rest of his life saying it.
It’s a week before Chan sees you again, purely because every time he’s tried to oh so casually enter the vets and cross paths with you, he quickly realises that you’re out at another farm being competent and beautiful where he can’t admire you; a great shame, really.
Still, he’s persistent and has far too much time on his hands outside of his own working hours, so he keeps trying until he peers in through the glass wall at the front of the building, and spots you standing on the other side of the reception desk, looking at a file.
Without hesitation, Chan quickly scuttles to the door and enters the building, doing his best to be cool and confident. And it works, he genuinely looks very suave and put together, at least until you lift your head upon hearing someone approach, and he almost trips on his own foot the moment your eyes meet his.
He’s too busy flailing his arms out to catch himself on the desk and straighten up to notice the way you smile in amusement and something that looks an awful lot like you think he’s cute in his foolishness.
“Good evening, how can I help you?” you greet, leaning onto the high desk on your elbows only a few feet from Chan.
He squeaks when he realises how close you are, and jumps back, hands rapidly straightening out his coat— his own this time, and actually suited to his body, not drowning him. “Hi–hi.”
“Hi.” You grin.
“I uhm, I’m Chan!”
“Mm, I know; we met at the Choi farm last week. Hansol introduced us, but you were mumbling about lady sheep.”
“Ewes! Lady sheep are called ewes! I know animal stuff!” he insists, sounding like a child trying to convince an adult that they have knowledge they don’t really have.
“They are, well done, Chan,” you approve, and Chan positively beams, straightening up proudly. “Did you come in to introduce yourself?”
“No, no, I would like to volunteer.”
“Here?” you check, leaning up to stand straight, his eyes following you as if he can’t bear to miss a single moment. It’s all very obvious, and honestly, you think it’s adorable.
“Yes, here. With you.”
“With me? I specialise in farm animals, so I’m not here a lot,” you inform.
“I love farms.”
“Right.” You snigger and move over to the filing cabinet to grab a form, then return to hand it to him. “Here, fill this out.”
Chan nods and moves forward to take a pen from the pot a little to his left, and diligently fill out the volunteer registration form, while you return to looking at your files. Or, at least, you try to look at your files, but you’re honestly very intrigued by the man; and yes, he’s very attractive and you’re not blind to that, or his clear interest in you.
Admittedly, you wouldn’t be against going on a date with Chan to get to know him, there’s something so endearing about him— and once again, he’s very visibly pleasing, so that’s always a happy bonus. However, he flusters so easily that you think it’d be so entertaining to watch him flounder around you for a while until he gains the courage to ask you on a date himself.
Plus, you could do with a helper, and you know he’s only pretending to care about animals to be near you, so you think it’s only fair you take advantage of that and put him to good use while you can.
“There, all done,” he announces a few minutes later, lifting his head and shyly offering you the completed form, which you immediately look over just to make sure that he’s suitable for the role, at least on paper. He doesn’t seem to have any medical issues that could cause a problem, and he’s stated he has a lot of hours to put towards volunteering, so he definitely seems to be a good fit.
“What are you willing to do exactly? There are a lot of misconceptions that people come in with when they want to volunteer; they think they’ll essentially get to just play with cute puppies and kittens that come in for treatment, and they fail to consider all the shit they’ll have to handle. Often, literal shit. Especially if you’re with me and the farm animals; I don’t think I need to tell you that you will step in shit on a farm, even if you try to avoid it.”
“I know. I grew up with Hansol; his parents are my second parents, so I was sort of raised on the farm too,” he assures, nodding. Which is the truth, technically. Chan did spend a lot of time at the Choi farm growing up, and still does, but mostly in the house or orchard around back, not with the animals so much. And he certainly doesn’t know how to look after them in any way, but he doesn’t think you’d be reckless enough to leave him to look after animals, so he’s not worried about that.
“Have you tended to the animals there?”
“No,” he admits a little sheepishly. “But I’m willing to learn and do whatever you want me to.”
“Whatever I want you too, huh?” you repeat, lips turning up a little.
Chan blinks at you, lips parted slightly due to the sudden, seductive expression that makes him feel a little like he’s been dipped in a pool of warm, melted wax. Fuck, he hopes you’re into wax play because he suddenly is really into it, even if he’s never participated or been interested before. He thinks he’d probably try everything at least once if you asked.
It’s only a second that the smirk lives on your lips before it melts away as if it was never there, and Chan briefly wonders if he imagined it and the insinuation, before he gathers his brain back up and nods.
“Good to know. When can you start?”
“Now. Right now. I have nothing to do.”
“Nobody waiting for you at home?” you wonder, moving to grab your coat from where you earlier put it on the back of a chair, knowing you’d need it again soon.
“I’m single!” he blurts. “Very, very single.” You just giggle amusedly and tuck the files and his form into the cabinet before locking it up, grabbing your bag, and circling the desk to hold it out to him. Chan takes it without question, big, round eyes locked on you from only a few feet away.
“Come on, I’ve got a patient to visit,” you inform and head out of the building.
Chan lets out an excited gasp as he realises that you’ve agreed to spend time with him— he pointedly doesn’t focus on the fact that it’s for work, not personal reasons— and scrambles after you with a grin, determined to be the best assistant ever so that you’ll fall hopelessly in love with him and let him remain by your side until the world stops spinning.
As it turns out, Chan is a very competent helper, as long as you don’t watch him for too long because then he gets flustered and forgets how to function like a normal human being. Other than his mishaps, he’s actually pretty proud of himself for doing such a good job. Sometimes, he’s even so focused on the work that he forgets that he stepped into the vets that day with the sole purpose of being near you.
Though, even with his original plan often being forgotten, it still works in his favour, and the two of you spend so much time together that friendship soon blooms.
When Chan’s not flustering or just staring at you dumbly as if he can’t believe you’re real, he’s actually very naturally charming and friendly, and very skilled at making you laugh. The first time he made you properly laugh, he mentally declared your laughter to be one of the great wonders of the world, and that he’ll do what he can to earn it at every chance. Which is something he achieves almost effortlessly. He thinks that when the two of you aren’t focused on work, you’re both laughing away together and chatting happily as if you’ve known one another for years, not just a month.
It gets to the point that, although he is still utterly enamoured with you and would love to hold your hand and kiss your pretty face, he is more than happy to just spend time with you, making you laugh, and seeing you smile as you tend to patients with nothing but love and care in your touch and eyes.
Even when the two of you start to hang out outside of working hours, it’s nothing but platonic, nothing he wouldn’t do with Hansol because Chan truly doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, or risk losing your friendship. He’d rather be at your side like this than not at all, and he has no intention of even trying to change anything, despite what his friends say.
“So, how’s the woman of your dreams doing?” Seungkwan asks, fiddling with Hansol’s hair where it pokes out from his beanie, and Hansol just lets him, long ago used to Seungkwan’s fussing.
“Dreamy,” Chan replies, sighing happily as he slumps forward over the table at their usual bar, leaning his chin on one palm as his other hand mindlessly traces patterns into the condensation on his glass of coke. Usually, he’d be drinking some kind of alcoholic beverage, but he knows that you’ve gone out with some friends tonight, and he told you that you can call him if you need a ride, no matter how late, so he’s refraining from drinking tonight all for you.
“Right,” Seungkwan replies with a snigger, then turns, done fussing with Hansol, yet doesn’t move away and Chan isn’t so caught up in his own pining to not notice that the pair are even closer than normal. Which says something, because Chan thinks the two are almost attached at the hip when the three of them hang out.
“What’s going on?” Chan asks as he straightens up, giving the pair a suspicious look. Hansol, for his part, doesn’t really react, just continues looking over at Chan as he sips at his beer.
Seungkwan, however, has never had a good poker face, and gives Chan a too innocent smile as his ears redden. “I don’t know what you mean, Channie.”
“You two–” Chan starts to point out their position— and the fact he’s pretty damn sure Hansol’s hand is on Seungkwan’s thigh under the table— but he hears a familiar, heart fluttering, angelic sound, and he sits upright, head swivelling to search the bar for the one person he would happily ditch his best friends for.
“Oh, you’ve turned into a meerkat,” Seungkwan muses, relaxing in his place and giving Hansol a relieved look while Chan is distracted. Hansol just smiles at him, then they both focus on their best friend, who is practically climbing up onto his chair on his knees to get a higher vantage point. “Okay, too far,” Seungkwan declares when Chan’s leg lifts as if he’s going to plant a knee on the table to climb up. Or piss like a dog with his leg cocked, though Seungkwan is pretty sure that Chan needs to be much drunker to try that…again. That was a dark day for Chan’s new trainers.
“Noo, let me find her,” Chan whines, batting at Seungkwan’s hands, head still trying to peer around the fairly busy room.
“How about you go get us a fresh round, and you can scope the place like that?” Hansol suggests after draining the last dregs of his beer, before pushing the empty glass across the table.
“Good idea!” Chan quickly snatches the empty glass and gets up, whining at Seungkwan wordlessly as the man tries to down the last of his own beer without spilling it. “Finally!” Chan exclaims exasperatedly as he takes the freshly empty glass and darts off, while Seungkwan’s chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, and Hansol rubs his back, soothing and amused at the same time.
As Chan crosses the room to get to the bar on the opposite side as the tables, skirting around the dance floor as he goes, he makes sure to keep his eyes open for you— and only walks into three people, which he thinks is a very low number for how busy it is mixed with not paying attention. Yet, no matter how hard he looks, he can’t find you, or hear your familiar laugh again, so he slumps against the bar and waits to be served.
He’s only there a minute and the bartender is working on refilling the glasses when someone approaches and leans on their elbows on the bar to his right. Naturally, Chan looks over and immediately lights up upon spotting you already grinning at him.
“I knew I heard your laugh!” he declares, and although it would probably be creepy from anyone else, you just find it cute from Chan and let out one of those laughs he loves so much. “Yeah, like that.” He sighs dreamily and leans one elbow on the bar so that he can fully face you.
“What happened to keeping yourself available for me tonight?” you muse.
“I’m always available for you,” he says, looking so serious and almost offended that you’d suggest otherwise. The audacity to think that he wouldn’t do literally anything to spend more time with you. It’s crazy talk.
“Oh yeah?” you question, and he nods, then looks to his left at the bar top when you motion to it. He spots the beers and understands.
“Those aren’t mine. They’re for my friends. You remember Hansol, right?”
“Yeah,” you laugh. “We were at his farm yesterday.”
“Well, yeah, him and our other best friend, Seungkwan. I think they’re dating or something now,” he announces, leaning in closer conspiratorially. You mirror his action with a grin, more than happy to go along with it. “They’ve always sat close, but tonight, they’re even closer, and I’m pretty sure Sol’s touching up Kwan under the table.”
“That doesn’t sound very public friendly,” you muse.
“Oh! Not in that way; I just meant has his hand on Kwan’s thigh. But now you’ve said that… I really hope it’s not in that way.” Chan isn’t sure what exactly his expression does, but it makes you laugh, so he doesn’t care, and just grins at you. “So, where are your friends?” he wonders, peering around curiously yet finds nobody looking in your direction as if they’re waiting for you to return.
“They were touching each other up under the table, so I ditched them,” you joke, and Chan laughs.
“Well, you can join us, if you want?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“Will there be under the table touching?” You smirk, and Chan’s mind blanks as he stares at you dumbly, making you giggle. “Sure, I’d love to join you, if your friends won’t mind, that is.”
“They won’t. Kwan wants to meet you, and Sol already likes you.”
“Ah, that’s cool, I like him.”
Chan suddenly pouts at you, but you don’t notice, you’re too busy leaning forward onto the bar to flag down the bartender and order yourself a drink. Even when he hands his card to the bartender— without looking— Chan is still pouting at you. You look at him as you spot his bank card appear, and raise a questioning eyebrow at him, both for the paying for your drink, and the expression.
“What?” you ask, deciding to just accept the drink and face the pouting instead. You can always buy him a drink later anyway.
“You like me better, right?” he questions without losing his pout. You huff a soft laugh. “No?”
“Yes, idiot,” you assure, and Chan breams, despite you just calling him an idiot. “And if you must know, I think you’re very likely my favourite person in his town,” you declare, tone a little quieter, lower, as if it’s just the two of you, before you pick up your drink and turn away. Though Chan doesn’t follow, so you stop after a few steps and look back at his stunned, gawping figure. “Well, come on then, introduce me to the man Hansol’s touching up under the table.”
“Right!” Chan darts forward, intending to take you to the table as requested, yet you put a gentle hand on his chest to stop him, giggling amusedly. “Huh?”
“Didn’t you forget something?” you remind him and motion behind him at the bar, so Chan looks over and notices the two glasses of beer sitting there with his bank card left on the surface beside them.
“Oh, shit.” He rushes over to pocket his card, then grabs the drinks and turns to face you with an embarrassed little grin. “This way.”
At the table, Seungkwan lights up when Chan introduces you and says you’re joining them, and you grin back before joining them and easily get into conversation with Seungkwan as if you already know each other. As if you’ve always been around. As if you’re supposed to be here with them, right by Chan’s side.
Since the day in the bar where you spent hours with Chan, Hansol, and Seungkwan, Seungkwan has bugged Chan to ask you out at every available opportunity.
Because he’s a meddling little shit, Seungkwan has arranged many hang outs for the four of you. Which, to Chan, are increasingly feeling like double dates, despite the fact that Hansol and Seungkwan are still evasive about whatever is going on between them, and you never bat an eyelid about the growing romantic vibes to the hang outs.
You don’t even question it or back off when you arrive to Seungkwan’s apartment set up with slow, romantic music and candles. Or when Seungkwan insists you and Chan slow dance together after dinner. Okay, maybe that’s Chan’s fault. After he offhandedly mentions how he hasn’t danced with someone in a while, you say the same, and then Seungkwan goads the two of you on until you relent, pull Chan to his feet, and put his hand on your waist— Chan’s pretty sure he astrally projects for a second when that happens— in the middle of Seungkwan’s kitchen while the man himself watches on with a shit-eating grin.
Still, Chan doesn’t give in and is happy to continue as you are. Admittedly, he could be even happier if he got the chance to romance you, but he’s more than content being such good friends with you.
He really doesn’t expect you to feel otherwise, though.
It comes to a head completely out of the blue one morning, when Chan is using his day off to help you organise your so-rarely-used office at the vets. The fact it’s so rarely used is why it’s such a mess. Well, mess in the way there’s no obvious system and things are just placed everywhere, yet you always manage to find what you need quickly enough that you hadn’t wanted to block off any of your appointment times to tackle the task earlier. But it’s spring, and the local ewes have all started to pop out lambs left, right, and centre, so you haven’t been accepting appointments other than emergencies, just in case you get the call about a sheep in labour.
Chan isn’t aware of it, he’s too busy frowning in concentration down at the pile of books on the floor in front of him where he’s sitting as he tries to decide which ones you should display on your shelves and which should go in the closed cupboard, but you’ve been staring at him contemplatively for a good few minutes already.
When you speak, Chan jolts in surprise, first at the sudden noise, but then at the words that come out of your mouth. “Okay, are you going to ask me on a date, or am I going to have to do it?” You wait for a response for only a few seconds before taking his dumb expression and wide eyes as answer. “Alright, tonight at 6:30, pick me up and we’ll go to that Italian place Seungkwan keeps telling us to try. Okay?” It takes a few moments, but Chan manages to shut his mouth and nod in confirmation, slowly at first still in disbelief, but then the enthusiasm catches up and his head bobbles cutely, making you smile. “Good. Dress pretty for me, yeah?”
“Y–yeah,” he almost wheezes out, voice so pinched and quiet. But you just giggle and return to your work, so Chan takes a few moments to admire your smile and wait for his thundering heart to calm before he turns back to those books and then sighs forlornly. He wishes it was 6:30 already. Only eight hours left to go. Fuck.
Chan would like to say that he’s been cool and calm for the past hours. He’d like to say that he easily picked his outfit for the date with minimal deliberation, that he didn’t have three almost breakdowns, and that Seungkwan didn’t almost shake Chan’s brain out of his ears when he did nothing but stand in his shower for half an hour without even turning the water on— yes, Seungkwan did barge in on him, and no, Seungkwan doesn’t understand what privacy is.
Truthfully, Chan thinks he’s never been so nervous for anything in his life. He doesn’t think he’s ever looked at himself in the mirror and picked out every little thing someone could find as a fault, as a reason to leave him in the middle of a restaurant with only breadsticks and ice water to soothe his broken heart.
Realistically, Chan knows you’d never be so cruel, but he’s not Realistic Chan anymore, he’s Scared-That-The-Woman-Of-His-Dreams-Will-Realise-He’s-Not-Good-Enough-For-Her Chan. And Chan hates being Scared-That-The-Woman-Of-His-Dreams-Will-Realise-He’s-Not-Good-Enough-For-Her Chan, it’s too much of a mouthful.
So, Chan does what Chan does best, and deludes himself into thinking he’s a normal, functioning young man entirely capable of going on this date and not acting like a love-sick freak.
Well, he deludes himself until the moment you step out of your house and steal his breath away. You’re wearing a pretty dress that stops just above your knees— as if that’s not reason enough for Chan to lose his mind like a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles for the first time—, with a neckline that hints at cleavage without dipping low enough that Chan will be completely distracted all night having a staring contest with your boobs. You’ve even done your hair and put on some makeup that makes you look like a literal goddess. Chan isn’t going to be normal about this at all.
“Oh my god, you’re an angel,” he blurts as he scrambles forward to meet you a few metres from his car. His freshly washed and waxed car that he had previously been leaning against like the stud of a male lead in a cheesy rom com while feeling very much like one, and like he might have the upper hand and make you swoon for once. He was evidently, very fucking wrong about that.
“Oh,” you respond, surprised by how intense and genuine his reaction is. You had expected him to react pretty strongly, but this is so honest that it makes your heart flutter— more than he already makes it anyway, you just haven’t let him know that. You look down at your feet as you giggle shyly, and Chan positively melts. “Thank you. You look very handsome,” you compliment as you look at the man donned in a black shirt with maybe one button undone too low on his chest to not be on purpose— though you really aren’t opposed to the teasing glimpse of strong chest—, neat, dark trousers, and a nice jacket perfect for the weather, which he only brings out for special occasions. A date with you is the most special occasion as far as Chan is concerned. Honestly, you’d have to agree.
“Oh, really?” Chan asks, genuinely surprised, having not expected the compliment, and quickly looks at himself. “Seungkwan picked it; I…was too nervous to be useful.”
“Chan,” you start to say, and move forward to gently tilt his head back up so that he’ll see the truth in your eyes. “I always think you’re handsome.”
“Oh,” he exhales, eyes big and round, and cheeks warming softly.
“Come on, let’s go, I’m starving,” you encourage as you let go of him and step around his almost frozen figure to approach his car.
Before you can even reach out for the passenger door, Chan is suddenly there, scrambling to open it for you, then offer his hand to help you into your seat like a true gentleman. The best part is that you know he isn’t putting it on to impress you, Chan is just like that. It makes your heart flutter, and you giggle softly as you swing your legs into the footwell once seated to allow him to shut the door.
Chan all but falls into his seat moments later in his rush to join you. He gives you an adorably embarrassed smile as you laugh, endeared by his clumsy actions, and then he settles himself and pulls his door shut. “Okay, let’s go!” he cheers once he’s plugged his seatbelt in— and double checked yours is also securely in place—, then starts the drive to the restaurant.
Despite how nervous he was— and remains—, Chan has to admit that the date goes well. Like, really well.
Although it could be awkward, especially with his stammering, and gawping, and blurting out compliments at the most random times, it isn’t. It takes him a little while, but he realises that your smile doesn’t change even when he does those embarrassing things, not in a bad way at least. Every time he does something stupid or obviously smitten, your smile softens and your gaze on him turns so gentle that Chan can’t mistake it for anything but the truth; you’re fond of him, and find him endearing, not a giant fool. Okay, maybe you do also think that, but Chan suddenly realises that it’s pretty damn likely that you like that about him.
After a truly delicious dinner that you insist on paying for as the one who asked Chan on the date— which has Chan trying to not to giggle dopily into his hands like a swooning maiden at the reminder, and your no-nonsense, doting words and actions—, the two of you head outside to his car, only to divert before even reaching it as you motion to the nearby park. Chan’s more than happy to toddle after you, and all but squeaks when you gently grab his hand at the road to tug him across quickly so that you don’t have to wait until after the incoming stream of cars to cross.
Unfortunately, you let go of him once you’re both safely across the road with both feet on the path. Chan thinks he does a very convincing job of pretending to not pout about no longer having your hand in his. He doesn’t. It’s incredibly obvious, and you’re further endeared, though decide to wait and let him reach out to reconnect your hands.
But as it so happens, Chan is a coward and doesn’t make any sort of move to hold your hand, leaving it up to you. After almost twenty minutes of waiting as the two of you leisurely stroll through the mostly empty park, talking and giggling away like you’ve been doing all evening, you realise that you’ll be waiting for the rest of your life for Chan to make a move, so you reach out and take his hand into yours.
“Oh,” Chan says, dumbly looking down at your hands, making you grin to yourself, which only grows when you adjust your hold to slip your fingers between his own to secure the affection and Chan inhales so suddenly that he almost chokes on air. “Hands,” he wheezes out.
“Mm, do you mind?”
“No! Always hands!” he insists, looking up at you with wide, imploring eyes, and emphatically nods.
“Okay, always hands,” you agree with a giggle and tug him that bit closer so that you can all but hug his arm to you, right hand still connected with his, and your left hand holding his upper arm. Of course, you take a chance to cop a feel of his strong bicep, and, of course, Chan doesn’t miss the chance to flex the muscle, making you giggle. He smiles, pleased of himself— and proud of his body for gaining your interest—, and finally curls his fingers to hold your hand in return as the two of you let the conversation naturally ebb out for a calm, content quiet to replace it.
Although it’s only spring and the moon is high in the sky, it’s not as cold as it could be outside, so when you spot a bench just a little off the path, you lead Chan over to it so that you can sit by his side and lean into his side, resting your head on his shoulder, and happy to spend the rest of the night by his side like this if he’ll let you. You’re pretty confident he has no arguments about it. Especially as he holds your hand that bit tighter as he rests it on his thigh, thumb rubbing over your skin absently, and tilts his head against yours with a content sigh.
“Thank you,” Chan’s gentle tone breaks the quiet a little while after sitting down, making you hum questioningly in response. “I know I act like an idiot around you, but it’s just because I like you so much that I just…get stupid. Well, stupider than normal, if you ask everyone else.”
“It’s cute.”
“I’m glad you think so. And that you asked me out. I didn’t think you were interested in me, would ever be interested in me; you’re just so…” he lets out a dreamy sigh that makes you turn your face to hide your dopey grin in his shoulder.
When you turn your head back around after a few seconds to gather yourself and stop smiling so stupidly cheesy, Chan is quiet again, and happily softly smiling ahead at nothing in particular, just letting his feelings show unabashedly on his features. You can’t help but straighten up so that you can lean in and kiss his cheek.
“Thank you for liking me so much,” you say, gently grateful. “I’m lucky to have your interest, and I don’t plan to let you move on to anyone else.”
“I won’t,” he promises, so seriously as he nods to back up his words, making you smile a little wider, so endeared. “You’re everything I never knew I wanted, and I know I’ll never find anyone better than you.”
“Good.” Your grin is cheeky, and Chan can’t help but chuckle softly, fond.
For a few long moments, the two of you do nothing but hold adoring eye contact, little smiles on your face, and neither shying away from this, from what this could turn into if you give it the chance. Chan wants to, with everything in him; he’s had a taste of what it’s like to be blessed with your entire romantic attention, and he wants to keep that privilege for the rest of his life. He’d also really like to get a taste of you, and his eyes drop down to your lips as that thought settles in his mind.
A soft, surprised inhale slips from your lips when you notice that Chan is leaning in. The man who didn’t have the balls to even hold your hand despite very obviously wanting to, is tilting towards you, aiming to kiss you. You want him to; fuck do you want him to. You’re tempted to lean in just so it’ll happen quicker, but you also want Chan to make a real move entirely on his own so that it’s not always you doing it, and he realises that he can do it without you guiding him.
And then, just as he’s mere inches away, your phone starts to ring, and you both freeze. If it was your personal phone, you wouldn’t even hear it right now, you put it on do not disturb before leaving your house for the date. But you can hear it and that can only mean one thing; it’s your work phone, and it’s important.
“Shit,” you whisper before turning to your bag to find out your work phone while Chan leans back into his own space, a little upset about being interrupted, but mostly understanding and also a little worried it’s a serious animal emergency. “It’s Hansol,” you inform after looking at the caller ID, then swipe to answer while lifting the device to your ear. “Hey, what’s going on?” you ask, already getting up, knowing that regardless of the reason Hansol is calling, you need to get to his family farm sooner rather than later; he’s far too experienced and level-headed to call you for anything minor.
“Sheila’s gone into labour,” he announces.
“Alright, I’ll be there soon, you know what to do until then.”
“Got it, see you soon, doc.”
You place your phone back away and turn, expecting Chan to still be sitting on the bench, but he’s already standing close by with his car keys in his hand.
“Let’s go,” he says, taking your hand into his free one to quickly lead you back through the park, both of you rushing to get to his car sooner.
Without you saying a word, Chan drives straight to the vets, and though you don’t tell him to, he follows you inside to help you grab everything you need— the man now well versed in what exactly you need to help bring a lamb or two into the world—, then leads you back to his car.
“You missed the turning,” you comment a few minutes later, pointing dumbly to the road that leads towards your house.
“No I didn’t.” He briefly gives you a look as if you’re stupid, before focusing on the road out of town. “Sol’s place is this way.”
“Oh…I thought you were taking me home and then going home yourself,” you admit.
“I’m your assistant, aren’t I?” He grins cheekily. You let out a soft little laugh, so relieved and beyond glad to have this lovely man by your side and reach out to hold his hand into your own. He smiles a little brighter without looking away from the road.
After hours of waiting, when the sun has chased the moon away and started to rise up and smile down on the two new lives blessing the Choi farm, your job is done.
“I’ll never get over it,” Chan comments as the two of you head back towards his car, both of your outfits completely ruined from the birthing fluids, dust, and hay of the barn, and your hair in a messy, barely still together bun Chan had tied it into hours ago while you pulled on your long gloves.
“Hm?” you wonder, glancing at him quickly, then looking at his car as he unlocks it, allowing you to open the boot so that he can put your bags inside— which he insisted on carrying with the excuse that you carried the weight of bringing two new lambs into the world, so it’s his turn to carry; luckily, he’s cute enough to get away with such bullshit.
“You just helped that mama bring her babies into this world, and you let me assist you. No matter how many times I help you do this, I’ll never get over how incredible it is.”
“It’s a good feeling, huh?” you muse.
“Beyond good. I might just quit my job to do this full time,” he declares, making you laugh. “What? I’m serious!”
“Channie, lambing season is spring, you’d be out of a job most of the year if you quit just for this,” you reason.
“I meant work with you in general, really. And there are other animals to help through labour, too! I wanna help bring a baby cow into the world.”
“Alright, next time I get that call, I’ll let you know.” Chan beams at you, looking so genuinely happy at the offer that you can’t help but be further endeared by the man.
“I should probably call off work today,” he muses after checking the time on his watch— that has been tucked safely in his jacket pocket out of the way for the past few hours to not risk ruining it, and the jacket hung up on a post in the barn far from the splash zone at your insistence; he had practically sprinted to do as you told him to when you said you really liked how it looked on him and hope to see him wear it again. “I’m due at work in like two hours.”
“Mm, yeah, call off,” you agree a little distractedly as you watch him meander around the car after shutting the boot, his eyes on his phone as he types a message to his boss one handed, and the other blindly reaching for the passenger side door long before he’s close enough to grasp the handle.
“You’ll at least take the morning off, right?” he checks as he slides his phone into his pocket and looks at you.
“Yeah, I won’t go in until the afternoon. Unless there’s an emergency, of course,” you answer, soothing him of his worries.
“And you’ll call me if you need me, right? For anything.”
“Anything?” you tease, and he nods so seriously that you can’t help but chuckle as the euphemism goes right over his adorable head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good.” He motions to the seat, then offers his hand to you like he’s been doing all night to help you in and out of the car— like he’s always wanted to but felt it would be overstepping as a friend to do so, but he’s your…date-man now; he has no idea what he is to you at this point, but whatever it is, he wears the label with pride.
You take his hand and start to move towards the seat, only to back up and turn to face him so suddenly that he jerks back in shock, only to lean back in, eyes round in curious wonder. “So, I know this isn’t the most attractive look or anything.” You motion to yourself vaguely; Chan’s gaze follows to take you in head to toe, and when his gaze returns to you, he’s got a little smile on his face that makes you blush softly. “But I don’t want to wait until an undetermined later point.” Unsurprisingly, Chan’s expression turns puzzled. “I would very much like it if you did the thing you were going to do before Hansol called.”
Somehow, Chan just look even more confused, features scrunching cutely, and head tilting to the side— maybe it’s the animal loving vet you in you that absolutely loves it when he gains this dumb, puppy-dog look. After rolling your eyes at his reaction, figuring you’ll have to spell it out and you’d rather just get to it, you lean in to press a kiss to Chan’s lips. It’s only a quick thing, nothing but a sweet barely-longer-than-a-peck kiss, before you pull back. Chan’s making some strange, strangled, shocked noise as he stares at you with wide eyes, making you snicker out a laugh.
To your genuine surprise, Chan suddenly snaps out of his daze and lifts both hands to cup your face, secure yet still gentle, so that he can connect his lips with yours in a kiss so perfect that you never want it to end. You all but melt against him, hands lifting to hold onto his wrists so that he’ll not let you go before you’re ready; he just kisses you more thoroughly. For someone that’s been so awkward and cowardly about making a move until now, the man can kiss. Holy fuck can the man kiss.
Only when both of your chests are heaving to try and suck in some oxygen do you naturally pull apart to dopily stare at one another under the rising sun with lamb birth dried on your nicest clothes. It’s probably pretty gross for a first kiss— ignoring your peck—, but you still think it’s perfect, and you’d never change it for the world.
“For the record,” Chan starts after a minute; once you’re both breathing almost normally again and his thumbs are consistently brushing soothing arcs over your cheekbones as his palms refuse to leave your skin. Not that you’ve tried to make him stop and would happily let him touch you so tenderly until the sun sets again. “You’re always attractive to me.”
You smile and tilt your chin up to press a short kiss to his lips. “You say that now but wait until you see me first thing in the morning, hungover, with only two hours sleep.”
Chan grins and cutely taps his nose against yours. “Just sounds to me like you’re already planning to share the bed with me,” he points out cheekily, making you giggle. “I already look forward to it.”
“Yeah,” you agree softly. “Me too.”
Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖
🎶Who: Min Yoongi (BTS) x female reader.
🎶What: Some humour. Some fluffy parts. Slow burn. Strangers to Friends to Lovers. Child Taehyung. Ex husband Mingyu. Best friend Mingyu. 18+
🎶Word count: 6.4k
🎶Warnings: Disabled characters— both mental and physical in various ways. Taehyung has a few emotional moments. Other children portrayed by idols. Namjoon is Jimin’s dad, and even I didn’t know that was going to happen until it did 🤡. Yoongi isn’t in this chapter, so he’s not mentioned in the “what” section, but it’s still a Yoongi story! The 18+ warning is because the series overall is 18+, so I’m applying it to every chapter regardless of content.
🎶Summary:
Even before you meet him, Min Yoongi owns a piece of your heart.
Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio. I also block blank blogs.
My general masterlist
🎶Mr. Min Masterlist. Previous Chapter. Next Chapter.
A/N - Honestly, this story seems to be turning into just reader loving tiny Taehyung, and I don’t blame her, he’s so precious 🥺 Forget Yoongi and the romance aspect, let’s just focus on Tae 😌 (That is a joke, I’m not changing the plot, don’t worry)
On the very first day of October, Taehyung comes home even more excited than usual, and you soon understand why. Well, once you’ve gotten him to calm down enough that you can make sense of his rushed words and also stop his arm from waving something around in your face in an excited attempt to show it to you.
“I go, mama?” he asks when you’ve accepted what he’s been waving around and realise it’s two small envelopes, one plain white with Taehyung’s name written on the front in neat— though still child-like— handwriting, and the other you think was once white, but it’s been entirely scribbled over by a whole selection of coloured pencil as far as you can see while it’s behind the other.
“Give me a minute to see what they are first,” you muse with a chuckle as you open the top envelope— the white one— and pull out the little card within. “Oh, a party invitation,” you realise, smiling at the thought of Taehyung being invited to his first birthday party at this school. Or, at least, the first birthday party he’s aware beforehand that he’s been invited to. Though spotting that the date on the invitation is only two days away, and noticing that it’s from Jeonghan, your smile lowers a little in worry that the little boy has purposely left it so late to give Taehyung his invite. “Baby, this is on Friday after school,” you point out, looking up at Taehyung.
“Hannie gave ‘em us all lunch today,” he says, unintentionally soothing your worry that Jeonghan had singled out your little boy again, but it seems as if that’s not the case at all, and you relax a little. “I can go?”
“Mm,” you hum thoughtfully as you look at the invitation again. “It’s for pizza and movies at Jeonghan’s house, you’d like to do that?”
“Yes!” Taehyung cheers enthusiastically, so you glance around in search of Mingyu and find him leaning in the living room doorway, clearly waiting knowing that Taehyung had something to show you, that the pair of— as Taehyung’s parents— would need to discuss. Not that you discuss it now, Mingyu just nods with a little smile on his face, silently giving his consent to your son attending the party.
“Okay, baby, you can go,” you confirm, making Taehyung let out an excited noise before bouncing happily around for a moment. You take the chance to grab your phone from the side table to send a text to the number listed on the invitation to confirm Taehyung’s presence and specify any requirements— as requested on the little card.
Once you’re done sending the text and saving the number as “Jeonghan’s mother”, you turn your attention to the rainbow scrawled envelope, noticing that this time, Taehyung’s name was obviously written by an adult, no five-year-old has handwriting that neat. Your son bounces back over when he notices that you’re pulling the folded paper out. This one is printed in a farmyard theme and is also covered in shiny animal stickers on the back, making you smile a little.
“Who’s Jimin?” you wonder once you’re read the invitation fully and realise that you don’t recall Taehyung mentioning anyone called Jimin before, and you’ve also never seen the name printed on the cubbies in the few times you’ve been in their classroom. Perhaps it’s a new student.
“He’s with the little kids but we are same age! He’s all smiley like Soo, but he is like a little kid like Cheolie’s little brother, he’s three,” he explains simply, and you hum in understanding. It makes sense that you’ve not heard of Jimin before, not if he has a much younger mental age than his same-aged peers, so he’s with the younger children who are at the same mental age as him.
You assume he and your son have only recently met, likely on the playground as you don’t think the students mix during any other point in the day. “And you’ve played with him at breaktime?”
“Yeah!” Taehyung nods. “He call me Tete, and we play aliens, and pirates, and run lots! Cheolie can’t run lots, so Hannie say we can’t play run games, so I play with Chim!” he explains, not seeming at all bothered that he can’t run around with his best friends, and instead happy to have another friend to play with. “Jimin says Chim, not Jimin. I think he can’t not say Jimin, but Chim is cute!”
“It is,” you agree, smiling at your son and his clear adoration for Jimin, for his lack of issue about the same-aged boy’s younger mentality and skills. You’re glad Taehyung doesn’t linger on what others struggle with, just accepts them and focuses on their strengths, and how they can be happy together. “Jimin’s party is at a farm, is that something you’d like to do?”
Taehyung’s smile lowers and he slumps as nerves appear on his adorable little face. “Just me?”
“No, baby, I’ll go with you,” you assure, glad that the invitation requests that a parent or adult guardian attends as well— free of charge— to watch over their own child while the children play together. You think it’s pretty safe to assume that Jimin himself needs a fair amount of attention and care, and the chances are that he’s invited other children from their school too, who all have their own needs. It would be an awful lot for Jimin’s guardians to watch over multiple young children with varying needs alongside trying to keep the party going smoothly, while somewhere that could easily be overstimulating with all the scents and sounds.
“And daddy?” Taehyung asks, looking over to where you assume Mingyu must still be, based on the fact Taehyung stares in that direction questioningly.
“When is it?” Mingyu wonders as he approaches to lean over the back of the sofa and peer at the paper in your hands, which you lift higher so that he can easier read the information. “Ah, no, sorry, baby, I’m in New York then,” he apologises, sounding genuinely upset to have to let down his son for the sake of work.
“Oh, can we farm some time? You, me, and mama?”
“Of course,” Mingyu easily agrees, and you hum, nodding your own agreement when Taehyung looks at you, making the boy light back up.
“For my birthday?”
“I think it’ll be too cold on your birthday for the farm to be open for visitors,” Mingyu responds, and you both watch as Taehyung deflates all over again with a disappointed little “oh.”
“I thought you want to go see the snowy mountains for your birthday?” you remind him of the idea he had in Japan once he saw photos of the snow-tipped mountains and immediately became enamoured.
Taehyung nods enthusiastically. “With Chim, and Cheol, and Hannie, and Soo, and Ji?” he requests.
“Jihoon?” you question, a little surprised that he wants his newest friend present for the trip when you can’t imagine they’ll see each other much between now and December when Taehyung’s birthday is. Honestly, with Jihoon not going out onto the playground during breaktime and Yoongi’s refusal to swap numbers with you so the boys can hang out, you think the only time the two will get to see each other will be thanks to Jin. Though as it’s been all these years already and you’ve only just met the father-son due through your mutual friend, you don’t imagine Jin will invite your two families to any gatherings at the same time unless it’s something big and important again.
“Yeah! I want fun see Ji times like huhwhywee.”
“Hawaii.”
“Yeah!”
“I don’t think seeing Jihoon outside of school is possible, baby,” you inform gently, knowing it will upset your son to hear.
“Why not?” He frowns sadly, making your heart break a little. If Yoongi wasn’t so good to Taehyung at school and a genuinely wonderful teacher and support system for the boy, you’d mentally curse him out right now for being the reason your precious boy looks so defeated.
“Because his daddy is your teacher, so it makes things difficult. He can’t really do things like that,” you answer, hoping that Taehyung will understand and not ask for further clarification; you really don’t know how you’d explain it to Taehyung when you honestly don’t understand Yoongi’s aversion yourself.
“Oh… Then not Ji and just Chim, and Cheol, and Hannie, and Soo?” he requests.
“As lovely as that would be, it’s not possible to take your friends to Japan for the Christmas break, baby. Their parent’s wouldn’t agree, and even if they did, daddy and I can’t look after you all on our own; you all needs lots of special care and deserve more attention than the two of us can give you in another country like that. We’d have to invite their parents and siblings, and that would cost a lot of money, baby.”
“We not have a lot of money?” he asks curiously. “You and daddy are be famous.”
“Ah, I’m not really, not now,” you correct, knowing that these days, although your name is still fairly known in your world, you don’t really do the jobs anymore to keep that recognition going. Though, you still have enough respect in the fashion circuit to earn more than a pretty penny when you do accept a job that strikes your fancy. “Daddy is the famous one,” you point out.
Mingyu can’t deny it, his photos are pretty much part of the furniture in the majority of magazines in the country, and many internationally too. It’s more surprising to go to a shopping centre and not see a blown-up photo of your ex-husband showing off some product or another; it’s another reason you’re so glad you’re still friends. It’d drive you insane to not be able to go buy a new pair of underwear without your ex-husband’s giant, handsome face leering at you from a display in the men’s section.
“But have little money?” Taehyung asks confused.
“We have enough money,” Mingyu answers. “But to spend all that would be like showing off how much we have, and your mama and I never want to do that. Most people don’t have as much money, and so we don’t want to rub it in their faces, okay? So don’t tell anyone that we have lots of money please, Tae.”
“It is secret?”
“They can probably guess we have money because of my job, and your mama insists on driving a big, fancy car–” he cuts off with a laugh when you hit his arm. “Ow! It’s true!”
“I drive a big, fancy car to fit your giant ass in it!” you point out.
“I fit in smaller cars,” he defends.
“And complain that your legs are squished. And this car will last me for years, long enough that Tae will be grown at least, and I’m betting he’s going to be tall like you, so he’ll need space for his long legs too!”
“I be very tall!” Taehyung decides, lifting up onto his tiptoes with one hand held as high as he can get it. “Like this!”
“Wow, you’re going to be super tall,” Mingyu enthuses.
“Like you, daddy!”
“And super handsome too, huh?!” Mingyu teases then darts around the sofa to pick up Taehyung and playfully nuzzle and bite the boy while Taehyung giggles and wiggles away, more than happy to be playfully eaten— a very common occurrence in your house, by both you and Mingyu, Taehyung is just too cute to resist.
While the pair play, you copy the number for Jimin’s dad from his invitation into your phone and send a text confirming Taehyung’s presence at the farm for the party. The two are still playing when you’re done, so you decide to get up and go to the kitchen to make a start on dinner even though it’s Mingyu’s turn to cook tonight; but you know he’s unlikely to remove his focus from your son for a while yet and you’re already getting hungry so would rather eat sooner than later.
It’s almost twenty minutes later that Mingyu darts into the kitchen and dramatically tells you off for taking his job from him. Before you can argue, he picks you up and carries you into the living room to deposit you on the sofa beside Taehyung, then strolls back to the kitchen to pick up where you left off.
As soon as you’re settled on the cushions, Taehyung wiggles into your side to curl up with you to watch his current favourite anime.
“Mama, if we no go see snowy mountains, can I have birthday party?” he requests after a few minutes, tilting his head back against your arm to peer up at you cutely.
“You want a party enough to cancel the trip? You were really looking forward to that,” you comment, brushing his hair out of his eyes. You mentally make a plan to convince Mingyu to get a haircut so that Taehyung will also get his cut and stop the strands from hanging in his eyes, making him strain to see and giving him headaches.
Although the two don’t have matching haircuts and never have, as Taehyung likes his hair longer and Mingyu has his in a range of lengths and styles, Taehyung always refuses to let the hairdresser near him until Mingyu has gone first. Even though you’ve taken to Taehyung to the same shop to see the same hairdresser his whole life— the same man Mingyu has been seeing the whole time you’ve known him—, Taehyung always looks at the man as if he doesn’t know him and refuses to come out of hiding behind you until Mingyu has taken his turn in the chair first. Thankfully, Minghao is nothing but understanding and so unbelievably patient, even when he has to be extra careful due to Taehyung’s struggle with sitting still, so the boy still shuffles regularly in his seat. Mingyu does too, but he’s been friends with Minghao for so long that the man flicks his ear in scold; though only when Taehyung isn’t looking, not wanting to scare the boy into thinking he’ll be flicked if he gets the wriggles.
“I want party with my friends,” he answers.
“Mm, well, how about once we’re back from the trip, we’ll have your friends over here for a late birthday party?” you suggest, and all you need is to see the way Taehyung’s whole being lights up to know that he’s more than happy to agree.
Admittedly, you’re worried when Friday after school comes around because you still have that fear in your mind that Jeonghan will leave Taehyung out despite there having not been another issue since the first.
You’ve met Jeonghan before a few times and he’s always seemed like such a sweet little boy, even if he always looks halfway to asleep and like he probably has no idea what’s going on due to his constant fatigue— though he’s got a clever glint to his eyes, so you’re pretty sure he’s more alert mentally than his body physically is. Looking at the boy, you wouldn’t be able to guess he has a jealous streak where his lifelong best friend is concerned, you wouldn’t be able to guess he’s capable of being mean. But then again, you thought the same about most of the children at Taehyung’s old school, and they turned on him pretty easily.
Although you don’t want to worry so much about your son’s heart around his best friends, you can’t help it. Not after how hurt Taehyung was those weeks back, and how sensitive you know he can be, especially with those he loves so much. He puts his whole heart into everything that he leaves himself unprotected, so you can’t help but be worried and internally cautious in his place. You’ll never hold him back, but you will always keep an extra close eye on him when you can’t be certain he’ll come out unscathed.
To your genuine joy and relief though, you don’t receive a call to pick up Taehyung before time stated on the invitation for the end of the party, and he comes bouncing over to you with a bright grin, his school bag bouncing on his back, a party bag in one hand, and a balloon in the other.
You’re standing in the driveway talking with Seungcheol’s and Jisoo’s parents as you all arrived a good ten minutes before the pickup time, so decided to let the boys have those final minutes together. Though someone must’ve spotted you all outside as now the boys are all rushing out to excitedly blabber away about the party and their gift bags.
“Wow!” you hear Jisoo’s mother enthuse where she’s squatting down in front of her constantly smiling son. You’ve not had much chance to meet the woman before, especially not to talk to her for more than a quick greeting at pick ups and drop offs, but now that you’ve had the chance, you can say she is probably the sweetest person you’ve ever met. Looking at her with her son, you can so easily see the clear resemblance in the purity of their smiles.
“Look, a little Ponyo!” Seungcheol exclaims to his parents and little brother, taking a small dog plushie from his giftbag to show.
“Ponyo!” Hansol cheers and bounces towards his brother, grinning when Seungcheol lets him hold the toy that looks like their new puppy, before the toddler attaches to his big brother with a bright, gummy smile.
“Mama, can we buy many lots balloons?” Taehyung asks you after enthusiastically showing you his red balloon printed with golden stars, which he seems more interested in than his bulging party bag.
“You want more balloons?” you muse and then laugh softly when he nods with nothing but a serious expression on his face. “They make loud noises when they pop, remember?”
“Oh,” he murmurs, frowning as he recalls his last memories of a balloon popping and how much it scared him, prompting him to declare he hated balloons after. In fact, that last incident was almost a year ago and he hasn’t been near a single balloon since; at first, it was on purpose because he avoided them, but then he just didn’t have the chance to be near them, and you can assume he forgot about his newly unlocked fear. “We get quiet balloons?”
“I don’t think they exist.”
“Oh.” He deflates into a deeper frown and looks at his balloon as if it’s betrayed him. “This one loud pop too?”
“Not if you’re careful with it.”
Taehyung perks up again and nods determinedly. “I will be extra careful!”
“Okay, just don’t let your dad near it, you know how clumsy he is.”
“Clumsy, clumsy daddy,” he agrees, nodding, making you laugh quietly.
“Alright, let’s get going, grandma and grandpa are waiting at home for their favourite boy!” you enthuse and Taehyung’s whole being lights up, smiling big and bright and he bounces.
“Grandma and grandpa!” he cheers then turns to his friends still standing nearby to talk to their parents, with Jeonghan and his own also amongst the group now talking. “I–I can see my grandma and grandpa now!” he announces excitedly. Adorably, Taehyung’s friends all cheer as if they’re just as excited as him about the news. “Bye! See you Monday! Thank you for fun party Hannie, and Hannie’s mama and daddy!”
“You’re very welcome, Taehyung,” Jeonghan’s mother replies, smiling at him in the way most adults do honestly, in a way that means they think he’s utterly sweet and a joy to have around. It always makes you privately puff with pride. “It was lovely to have you here, thank you for coming.”
“Thank you for coming to my party, Tae,” Jeonghan agrees with a little smile then moves forward to hug Taehyung. Taehyung, of course, hugs back, then breaks into giggles when Seungcheol and Jisoo bounce over to join the hug. Then Hansol decides to join too, and wiggles himself right into the centre, making you all laugh.
“They’re so cute I might get cavities,” Jeonghan’s dad jokes, then looks at the baby monitor in his hand when a soft noise comes through. “I got the little princess,” he announces to his wife, then waves in farewell to you all before jogging into the house to care for the just-woken baby.
Somehow, you manage to get Taehyung in the car and strapped in despite the fact he refuses to let go of his balloon, scared it’ll float off up into space and an alien will get scared by it— you have no idea where he got that idea, but you decide to just awkwardly and very cautiously work around the balloon until he’s strapped in securely.
After a final farewell to the group still standing in the drive chatting, and a final thanks to the Yoon family, you get in your car and head home, listening to Taehyung retelling every second of the party happily from the backseat. Words you know you’ll have to hear at least twice more tonight as he repeats them to Mingyu’s parents, then the man himself once he’s home, but you really don’t mind.
On the day of Jimin’s birthday party, Taehyung is clearly very nervous about it. He’s never been to a farm before, so he doesn’t know what exactly to expect, even though he’s watched nothing but farm related programs and videos for the past two days to try and prepare himself and also asks you endless questions about farms and farmyard animals. You’re not ashamed to admit that you’ve had to defer to the internet many times, but you’ve learned a lot too. You’ve also ordered a couple of books that look interesting even to you. You have no idea if Taehyung will stop caring about how a farm works after today, but you think the books will be good to have anyway to give the boy a little more knowledge about something different than his current books do.
Even with a head full of fresh knowledge, and a printout of the farm’s map that you found on their website, Taehyung is anxious enough that he almost has a meltdown when every piece of clothing he owns are suddenly all wrong. Though when you literally offer him the t-shirt off your back— upon noticing how much he’s fiddling with the worn soft material and inhaling your scent off it to self soothe— Taehyung perks back up a little. Your t-shirt falls around his thighs and swallows him up, but he looks more at ease than he has all morning, so you don’t mind. It’ll be hidden under his coat, jumper, and dungarees anyway, so nobody will be able to tell that your five-year-old is literally wearing an adult’s t-shirt out all day.
Taehyung calms a lot after that, wrapped up cosy in your scent and the soft material, so getting ready goes smoothly, even if he keeps repeating the same questions about non-farm related things. You’re pretty sure he asks how old he was when you and Mingyu got your matching “T” tattoos, at least five times ever since first catching sight of it on your chest over your heart when you removed your t-shirt to give to him. Of course, it’s covered again now with another t-shirt, jumper, and coat as you head out the house to leave for the farm, but Taehyung still asks again.
“We got them on your first birthday,” you repeat, strapping him into his seat— after strapping the gift bag with Jimin’s present into the space at Taehyung’s side, at his concern he’ll drop it or it’ll fall to the floor.
“For me?” he asks.
“Of course, baby. You are the most important thing in the entire world to your daddy and I, so we got your initial tattooed over our hearts so you’re always close.”
“I get tattoo for both you when I am big,” he declares, making you smile.
“That’s sweet, baby. Maybe the three of us can get matching family tattoos,” you suggest, then giggle at the excited gasp Taehyung lets out.
“Yeah! Matchy match!” He starts to chatter away about the potential future family tattoo design. Even when you close his door and move to get into the front, he still talks away, and you just leave him to it with a little smile on your face as you drive.
It isn’t until you’ve parked at the farm and are crossing the lot to head to where you can see a group gathering that you really understand Taehyung’s concern for today.
“Mama,” Taehyung says, tugging on your hand so that you’ll stop and turn to look at where he’s standing and nervously staring off at the group— mostly smaller children, but you can spot a couple of older ones, though only one that looks to be around Taehyung’s age, and he’s wearing a birthday badge, so you safely assume that’s Jimin.
“What’s the matter, baby?” you ask, crouching down to be at his height, and hold both of his hands, even if one is already holding the handle of the gift bag.
“I am bigger,” he says, still staring at them. “What if they like not me because I am bigger? Or I hurt them playing?”
“You’re such a sweet boy, Tae, everyone loves you. And you’re always so careful. You played with Hansol at Seungcheol’s house, didn’t you? And Ponyo.”
Slowly, Taehyung turns his head to look at you as your words settle in his mind. You can already see the fear melting from his eyes as his tense expression softens out. “Yeah. I was super careful.”
“See? You know how to behave with smaller beings. You’re even so gentle with spiders when you move them for daddy.”
“Daddy is really scared of spiders,” he says, then giggles at the memories of all the times Mingyu has called for you or Taehyung, a literal child, to save him from a spider. Admittedly, you usually leave it to Taehyung to deal with as you’re not very keen on spiders yourself, but you at least don’t lose all ability to function like a human being like Mingyu does when faced with one.
“He is,” you confirm with your own little giggle, glad Taehyung is more like himself again. “Shall we go join the others? You can introduce me to Jimin,” you suggest.
“Okay, mama,” he agrees, so you get up and let go of his gift holding hand, before the two of you finish walking down the slight slope to get to the group. “Chim!”
“Tete!” the birthday badge wearing boy cheers, then darts over to almost tackle Taehyung in a hug. “I six!” he declares proudly to his friend, beaming a bright smile, eyes crinkling. Then he turns to you. “Hi! I Chim! I six!” he holds up one hand with all of his tiny fingers extended.
“Silly Chim,” Taehyung giggles and hands you the gift bag to help Jimin hold up his thumb on his other hand too. “This is six.”
“Oh.” Jimin stares at his hands then shows them to you while beaming again. “I six!”
“Wow, you’re getting so big, huh?” you enthuse, and he nods, grinning proudly and dropping his arms to his sides. “I’m Taehyung’s mama, thank you for letting us celebrate your birthday with you, Chim, it’s very kind of you.”
“You’re welcome!” he chirps, then gasps as Taehyung hands him the gift bag. “Present for Chim?”
“Yeah!” Taehyung replies, then giggles as Jimin plops on the gravel right then and there to start looking through the bag. Taehyung squats down next to him and happily watches his friend excitedly look at his gifts— which you had asked Jimin’s dad for advice about via text, just so that you didn’t get Jimin anything inappropriate for his abilities and interests, or something he already has.
“Hey, I’m Jimin’s dad, Namjoon,” the man that approaches you greets, offering his hand. “Well, stepdad technically, but I’ve been around since he was a baby, so we don’t generally specify that, but people can get weird about it if we don’t clarify upon first meeting,” he’s rambling a little, looking embarrassed by it too, but he can’t seem to stop himself.
“I get it, some people can be weird about the oddest stuff,” you muse, hoping your smile assures him that you don’t mind the awkward clarification or slight rambling. “It’s nice to meet you, officially, I mean,” you add your name in response, only now realising that while texting Namjoon, neither of you had actually told the other your first name.
“You too.” He smiles, dimples popping out. “We’re just waiting for one more person, then we can go in. But if he’s any longer, we’ll leave him behind,” he informs while looking down at his watch. He backtracks quickly upon noticing your alarmed expression when he lifts his head again and looks at you. “Oh! It’s not a child; it’s my best friend, he’s Jimin and Hyejin’s godfather. Hyejin’s my daughter, by the way, she’s nine,” he motions over to the oldest of the children, standing with who must be Jimin’s mother, the woman and little girl wearing matching coats. It’s only now that you realise that Jimin and Namjoon are also wearing matching coats and beanies. It’s precious.
“Ah, that makes sense, him being your friend and not a child, I mean,” you giggle amusedly, then look over when you hear a car pulling into the lot a little behind you.
“There he is, just on time. Usually, he’s late,” Namjoon muses.
“He must really want to see some cows,” you joke, and Namjoon laughs.
“He’s a big scaredy cat; he’ll likely refuse to go near the pens.”
“I’m here, I’m here!” the man that exits the now safely parked car exclaims as he rushes over, though upon spotting you, he lights up and calls your name. It takes you a second to recognise him bundled up in his layers, even if it’s not quite cold enough for that many.
“Oh, Hoseok,” you realise, and wave in greeting.
“What’re you doing here? Wait, Tae knows Chim?” Hoseok gasps, already ignoring both you and Namjoon to squat down with the two boys and hug them both at once, which the boys both happily and enthusiastically return with calls of “Hopie!”.
“Well, I guess introductions are not needed here,” Namjoon chuckles, looking bewilderedly between you and Hoseok questioningly.
“I’m a photographer, and Hoseok seems to like booking me for all his album shoots,” you muse.
“Oh, wait,” Namjoon gasps, eyes wide. “You did those? They’re incredible, I don’t blame him for booking you as j-hope’s exclusive photographer.”
“Ah, thank you.” You blush a little at the unexpected and very genuine praise; the man truly seems awed as he gawps at you.
“Honey!” The call makes Namjoon look over at his wife. “Time to go in.”
“Oh! Right!” Namjoon gives her a thumbs up then crouches down to help Jimin pack his gifts back into the bag before he stands up. “Come on, boys, let’s go meet some sheep!” he enthuses brightly, and the two boys cheer before marching after the tall man, their little hands happily clasped together and swinging wildly between them.
“So, Tae goes to the special school?” Hoseok wonders as the two of you follow behind the three a few steps, watching them with fond smiles on your faces for the cute boys. You hum in confirmation. “He’s five too, right?”
“Yeah.”
“What class is he in?” You give him a questioning look. “I know one of the teachers. Joon and I used to work with him, and he still produces my albums with me; doesn’t come out the woodwork for much else, honestly.” He chuckles.
“Would that happen to be Min Yoongi?”
“Yeah,” he confirms with a soft laugh. “He teaches Tae? I know he’s partly subbing a class around that age right now, but I wasn’t certain.”
You nod in confirmation with a soft hum to match. “He’s Tae’s favourite teacher, absolutely adores the man, and Jihoon.”
“Oh, you met Jihoonie too? That’s surprising.”
“Not at school, at a wedding, Jin’s. You know Jin, right?”
“Oh, yeah, yeah, I was in the middle of Europe on tour though, so I couldn’t make the wedding. He sent me a bunch of photos to rub it in that I missed it though,” he tuts, though he’s still smiling, not at all bothered by the older man’s childish actions. “Oh, wait!” He gasps, hands lifting to flap for a second in excitement before lowering. “Does that mean Tae was the ring bearer? Jin said a close friend’s son had the job, but not Jihoon because he would hate it. I don’t think he’s got any other friends with kids though.”
“Yeah, it was Tae.”
“You have to send me photos later; Jin didn’t send me any with Tae in, but I have to see him in his little suit. I bet he outshone the groom.”
“Of course he did,” you reply with a playful scoff that makes Hoseok laugh. The conversation ebbs off naturally there, and you both tune fully into the farm and the purpose of the afternoon.
As it turns out, Taehyung loves the farm. Of course, he’s not too fond of the smells really, but he is far too invested in the animals to really pay much attention to it.
Unfortunately, Taehyung loves the animals a bit too much, and when it’s time to leave, he doesn’t want to.
The last stop on the tour— which included a stop for a lovely picnic beside the play park the children had a blast in— is the petting barn, where all the youngest animals are kept for visitors to meet. And Taehyung has fallen completely in love with a lamb that seems more than happy to be wrapped in his arms where he sits on the dusty ground with the animal between his spread legs.
It takes a few minutes for you to convince Taehyung to let go of the lamb as tears roll down his cheeks. Even then, he only lets go when Jimin toddles over, looking like he wants to cry because his friend is, and hugs Taehyung tight.
Thankfully, Taehyung gets up and holds Jimin’s hand all the way back to the parking lot at the front, sadly peering at the gift shop as you pass. The store has been cordoned off due to a bad leak in the roof that is being fixed in off hours to not disturb visitors with the noise, making it impossible to go inside like Taehyung— and admittedly, you too— love to. His gaze is forlornly stuck to a sweet little lamb plushie on display, barely visible at the back of the store, but as Taehyung’s longing, tear wet gaze finds it, a fresh sob leaves his mouth, and your heart aches.
Many may call you utterly insane for it, may call you a push over of a parent spoiling your child, but you don’t care. So what if you spent three hours driving around in search of a lamb plushie for Taehyung, so what if it’s half the size of him. You’d buy him all the lamb plushies in the world if mends his broken heart even a little.
The entire three hours in the car, Taehyung had cried and asked to go back to the farm to “my baby”. You truly never expected your son to fall in love with a lamb of all animals and want to adopt it as his child, but a part of you isn’t entirely surprised and can’t blame him. The lamb was genuinely so sweet, so cute, friendly, and full of affection for your son in particular. Even before Taehyung had sat down, the lamb had trotted around after him as he did his best to give every animal in the petting pen attention and affection. It seemed the bond went both ways, and you did worry for a second that the lamb would also be distressed, but then you figured it probably does that with someone out of every group that visits the petting barn, and it won’t remember Taehyung by the time the next group arrived.
Even around the toy stores that you had carried him into to search the soft toy sections, Taehyung cried into your shoulder. You did find a few little lamb plushies in stores, but you knew before showing Taehyung that they wouldn’t be accurate representations of the current love of his life— eyes too beady, fur too scratchy, legs too short.
Though as soon as you saw the big, fluffy, and slightly weighted soft toy, you knew it was perfect. Taehyung had wailed when you put him down on his feet on the floor, but you had to in order to reach the toy off the shelf and present it to him. His tears didn’t immediately stop when he opened his eyes to look at the toy, but he did calm a lot, and by the time he was strapped back into the car with the lamb clutched in his arms and entirely covering him from your view, he was making content little sounds.
And now, he’s curled up on the sofa, half laid on his lamb with his leg wrapped around it as they both watch TV, and you know you’d drive three hours just for a soft toy without hesitation all over again when it clearly means this much to your son.
“Mama?” he calls, voice hoarse from all the crying, as you get up from the other end of the sofa to answer the door for your late-dinner pizza delivery.
“Yeah, baby?”
“I love you,” he says, tilting his head to make eye contact with you, and melting your heart into a gooey mess in your chest with the clear adoration in his gaze on you.
“I love you too, Tae, with everything in me,” you assure, and walk over to kiss his head before going to the door with your chest full of warm, gooey love.
Without a doubt, you’ll always do whatever you need to make your son happy, even if others would call you crazy for it. Nothing matters more than Taehyung’s happiness to you, and nothing will ever mean more. He’s your everything, even if he does make you an early grandmother to a lamb, apparently.
Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖
🌷Who: Xu Minghao (Seventeen) x female reader
🌷What: Fantasy. Fluff. Some humour. Strangers to Friends to Lovers. Neighbours au. Witch Minghao.
🌷Word count: 7.6k
🌷Warnings: Reader is somewhat recently divorced at the start, but she’s more than okay with that! Mentions of past cheating (reader’s asshole ex). Mentions of pre-story death of previous tenant. Some profanity. Minghao is a bit of a dick at the start ngl. Reader is kind of a mess at times, and I think it’s highly relatable of her. A couple very innocent kisses.
🌷Summary:
After divorcing your cheating asshole of an ex-husband, you use the very generous money you gain from the ordeal to buy a house on the complete opposite side of the country to make a fresh start.
The online photos of the house are beautiful, and the gardens even more so, though the reality is a little different by the time you arrive. Still, you love it and are determined to turn this house into a home.
It’s just a matter of doing your best to ignore the man who seems to have serious issue with you moving into the house, and makes his feelings known with glares that are the furthest thing from neighbourly as a person can get. It’d be a whole lot easier to ignore him if he wasn’t so damn attractive.
I block any blank blog that interacts.
Masterlist
A/N- This was written as part of @dorereef’s spring event, The Reef In Bloom! This event has been such a joy to participate in, the other members have been so lovely and enthusiastic that I really hope to join up with them for another event soon 🥺💗
Almost two months ago, you moved to a sweet little town— barely bigger than a village really—, into a house that had been left empty and untouched for over a year. Although it was a little run down, you fell in love with the images of the homely-looking building on the estate agent’s website and bought it without even visiting.
Of course, your urge to get as far away from your ex-husband and everyone you once knew probably drove you to snatch up the house so quickly; you probably would’ve at least asked the agent in charge of the sale some questions about why the house was still unpurchased after a whole year when it truly is beautiful. But you were desperate to leave and start a new life, your own life, that you didn’t even try to ask.
It doesn’t take you long to realise that you really should’ve asked.
Finally, after over seven weeks of cleaning from top to bottom, redecorating every room, and buying and assembling furniture, your home feels complete. At least, on the inside because the garden is another matter entirely.
Part of what first drew you to the house wasn’t the building itself, but the beautiful garden that wraps around the entirety of it, full of lush, green grass, and so many flowers and plants that you couldn’t hope to even try to name them all. You had seen the carefully curated gardens in the photos and fell in love.
What you failed to consider though, was that the photos were taken over a year ago, when the house first went up for sale, and now it’s been neglected for at least that long.
The once tidy and obviously adored garden has turned into a veritable jungle that you have no idea what to do with, but you need to try if you want even a semblance of a chance of returning it to its former glory.
Which is all well said and done; you’re sure even a half decent home gardener would be able to tackle the tangle of leaves and stems, however, you are not a half decent home gardener. In fact, you’ve never handled a single flower that wasn’t already cut and tied up in paper, topped with a bow and a little card full of false promises and love declarations from your ex-husband.
Having been born and raised in the middle of the city, always living in blocks of pristine apartments, you never had the chance to own even a single little potted cactus. When you were younger, you were never particularly interested in plants anyway, so you really didn’t mind growing up without any in your home. Then, you got a job and didn’t even think about plants. Even the ones you walked past to work, you never considered them really, more that you were just used to them being dotted around, just part of the scenery.
Unfortunately, by the time you developed an interest in growing plants, you were married to a man that point blank refused to bring anything dirty into the spotless apartment. All you wanted was a single potted plant to keep you company during the day at home until he returned, unable to even socialise with the staff he hired to keep your shared home exactly as he liked it. You had been so lonely even as the staff bustled around day in day out; all you wanted was something alive to tend to and bond with, but you weren’t allowed, and you were left with a heart aching for something you believed you’d never have.
Yet now, you have more plants and garden than you know what to do with. Still, you’re determined to give it your best. After a few days of research and buying all the supplies you may potentially need, you step out of your front door ready to do your best to return the gardens to their former glory.
Only to immediately freeze upon noticing your neighbour walking past your house, his head already swivelled to glare in disdain at you, at your mess of a garden.
“G–good morning,” you greet, waving a little awkwardly.
As expected from the sour man, he only grunts in response— it’s such a vague sound, but you can feel the contempt rolling off of him towards you—, and then he sharply turns his head away and walks to his own home, all but slamming the door behind him.
From the very first day you moved in, as soon as you stepped your foot out of your car and onto your driveway for the first time, you just knew with everything in you that the man had scared off every potential buyer when they had visited the house for a viewing. He had been standing on his front doorstep, arms crossed and dark eyes staring you down. Which honestly, scared the shit out of you, it was such an evil look; but you had already bought the house, so you didn’t turn and run away despite the urge rearing up within you.
You had hoped that your neighbour would get used to your presence, would soften up, and at least stop glaring at you like he’s trying to curse your entire bloodline with a look, but he hasn’t. You even tried going old school and baked some cupcakes to take over to gift him while introducing yourself the next day. Yet he had sharply refused the gift, claiming to not eat sweets; only for you to spot him returning home the next day, chewing on a chocolate chip cookie the size of your hand.
The man hadn’t even introduced himself either, so even though it’s been almost two months, you have no idea what the name of your nearest neighbour is. You know the names of at least a dozen people who live in the town already from your shopping trips and walks— all of whom are lovely, to your joy—, yet not his.
Although you should be used to the man’s obvious hatred for you at this point, you’re not. Every time you catch him glaring in your direction, or when he only grunts in response to your greetings, it hurts. You’ve done nothing to warrant such hostility, and you don’t know how to fix it. The last thing you want is to spend the rest of your life living next door to man that despises your entire existence for reasons unknown, but you’ve put too much into making this old house a home that you refuse to leave.
You hope that with a little more time, he’ll at least lose a little of the fire in his sharp gaze when it’s directed towards you, but you’re not going to hold your breath, just the hope cupped close in your chest.
It takes a few days of you wandering around the garden to carefully inspect every inch and do further research on the plants already settled there before you actually start to work on the garden. You hadn’t wanted to go barging in, digging, and pulling only to kill any of the life buried in the soil; you wanted to do your best to find out which plants you need to carefully work around to keep alive, and the ones you need to pull up to stop them from hurting your other plants.
Even when you’re pretty sure that the plant you’re kneeling before is, in fact, a weed that you need to pull up to save the flowers it is winding around, you hesitate; so scared that you’re wrong or will hurt the innocent flowers getting strangled.
You’re entirely unaware of the man peering down at you from his upstairs hallway window, that he’s been watching you meander around the garden the past couple of days, utterly puzzled about what you’re doing.
“Come on, you can do this,” you mutter to yourself before taking a few steadying breaths and leaning in to carefully start unwinding the weed from the stem of the flower closest to you.
Honestly, it’s a lot harder than you thought it’d be, you have to be so careful— or maybe not as careful as you’re being, but you’re inexperienced and scared to do something wrong—, and the strangling weed is a complete asshole. Just when you think you’ve freed a plant from it’s grasps, you notice another tiny, easy to miss vine curled around a stem, and you have to lean even closer, work even slower and cautiously to make sure you only pinch the weed off and not the stem of the flowers you want to save.
It takes hours for you to finish that one small flower bed, but when you get up ready to go indoors for a late lunch, you could swear the flowers look brighter, look like they’re standing tall and happy. Although they’re just plants, and they can’t possibly have such feelings, the thought still makes you smile, and you practically skip into your house with pride in your chest from your hard work.
On the third day of practically crawling around your garden on your hands and knees amongst the overgrown grass and sprawling stems and vines, you find yourself interrupted in the midst of a very one-sided conversation with a particularly happy looking weed. Honestly, you think it’s rather pretty and don’t want to remove it, but it’s greedily sucking all the water from the soil before the surrounding plants can get any, so you don’t really have a choice.
“Are you ready?” you ask the weed, after a very thorough pep talk to you both, letting the plant know that you have every intention of replanting it in the large plant pot you found hiding amongst an overgrown blackberry bush at the bottom of the back garden.
You don’t realise that you’re being watched in utter bewilderment until a truly unexpected voice meets your ears when you’ve got one hand in the already loosened soil, fingers amongst the thick roots of the weed, and the other hand carefully wrapped around the bottom of the main stem to keep it upright as you lift.
“What the fuck?”
Immediately, your head whips around, and your wide, startled gaze finds your neighbour standing on the other side of the low wall separating your side gardens— his much smaller than your own, and barely big enough to get his bicycle down the grassy strip to the shed in the back garden. He’s looking at you with eyes wide and mouth parted in what looks like astonishment.
“Uhm, hello,” you greet, shuffling on your knees a little, awkward, and not sure how you’re supposed to respond to the man. It’s the first time you’ve seen him face on without his gaze piercing down to your very soul.
“Did you just pull that weed out with your bare hands?” he questions, dumbly pointing to it, so you also look at the weed; the thick roots tangled between your fingers further than you realised, and soil covering your skin. Initially, you did wear gloves— and still do with the potentially harmful plants— but it’s easier to feel around the delicate plants without the thick material in the way, so you mostly don’t bother to wear them.
“It’s not poisonous,” you clarify, looking at the man. “I checked.”
“I didn’t mean that. I know it only harms other plants by stealing their water, but it’s stubborn. I’ve never seen anyone pull one without the use of some very strong tools, and even then, they usually need help.
“Oh, really?” you wonder, turning back to the plant, not noticing the roots gently winding around your wrist; the sensation too light and your focus elsewhere to notice. “I guess this one is a gentle soul,” you muse, then shuffle over to do as promised and carefully replant the weed in the waiting pot already full of fresh, damp soil. “There, now you can have all the water you want without hurting the others,” you declare once you’re done after pouring more water onto the soil.
When you get up and stretch, getting ready to relocate the pot a few metres away to a spot you think the weed will like a lot, yet not be a risk to other plants, you’re shocked to find your neighbour still standing there gawping at you. You’re not sure what to do or say. You want to move the pot and return to the flowerbed, but you know that you’ll have to awkwardly shimmy and shove the heavy pot, and you really don’t want the pretty man to watch you look so foolish, especially the first time that he’s shown an interest in you.
Honestly, you kind of hate that even when he’s done nothing but be icy towards you these past two months, you still think he’s so unbelievably beautiful. You don’t think it fair that people can be so mean without reason and still be blessed with such beauty. It’s unfair. Even a few weeks back when you told yourself you’d stop looking over whenever you notice him outside, you couldn’t help but want to catch a glimpse of his features, loveliness unmarred by the scowl etched into his expression whenever he met your gaze. You really did try to stop looking at him, but such a stunning masterpiece deserves to be admired, and you’ve always been a lover of art.
“How did you do that?” he mutters, still staring at the happily replanted weed. You really don’t know what to say, and you think miming the actions would entirely freak the man out, so you just stand there, twisting your soil dusted fingers together awkwardly, and blinking innocently, hoping he’ll move on already. Unfortunately, he doesn’t. “Seriously, what kind of charm did you use?” he enthuses, eyes widening in awed interest as they lift and land on you, as if he’s trying to look into your mind for his answers.
“Uhm…I don’t understand the question,” you admit. “Is…is this flirting?” you ask, pulling an uncertain face. You feel your heart drop a little at the way he rears back as if even the mere idea of him flirting with you is absurd.
“What? No!” He straightens up, levelling you with an expression that’s half boggled and half bewildered, with a little befuddlement thrown in.
“Oh. Sorry, you said charm, and I just…that’s a flirting thing, isn’t it? When someone uses their charm?”
For what feels like minutes, the man just stares at you, as if he needs time to fully register and absorb the words you’ve said. “Oh, you’re not using any magic.” There’s realisation in his tone as his whole posture changes, something a little awkward now, especially when he realises that now you’re staring at him as if you need time to understand what he’s said to you. Though when you do speak, it’s clearly not what he expects, if the way his eyebrows lift in surprise is anything to go on.
“Is that flirting?” you mumble a little dumbly, feeling so lost and out of your depth. A feeling that only grows when the last thing you expect to happen, happens. The man giggles. It’s a light, airy sound, melodic and so pretty, and so truly unexpected from the man who has done nothing but glare at you for two months. It makes your entire being malfunction, brain shutting off, heart racing, stomach flipping, and mouth moving to make some garbled attempt at words before your legs make you dart off inside, slam the door behind you, and then curl up on the floor against it in the strangest display of self-preservation you’ve ever enacted.
For the man’s part, he just stares after you in surprise for a few moments, then lets out another one of those giggles before he turns and heads back into his own house.
It’s almost twenty minutes before you’ve recovered enough to get up and stealthily peer out of the window overlooking the area of the garden that you had dedicated this morning to. You have the perfect view of the low wall splitting your land from the neighbour’s and let out a breath of relief to find him nowhere in sight.
“It’s fine, he’ll go back to glaring and I’ll never have to face him again, it’s fine,” you mutter as you tentatively return to the door to edge outside, convincing yourself to not hide in your house for the rest of your life so that you’ll never have to face your pretty neighbour again after making such a colossal fool out of yourself.
For the first hour of returning to gardening, you feel on edge, like the man will appear at any moment and question what kind of strange place you must be from to act like that. Thankfully, you get lost in your work and forget all about looking over your shoulder, returning to your plants with a content smile on your face.
To your horror, the very next day when you step out in the morning for another day of work, your pretty neighbour is standing on the other side of your closed gate as if he’s waiting for you, a tiny smile tilting his lips, and a cake box in his hands. It’s wrapped with a pretty orange bow the same colour as the little apron you tie around your waist every day to hold your most used gardening tools for easy access, and though you vaguely notice that, you quickly dismiss it as coincidence. There’s no way your neighbour purposely asked them to wrap it in that colour ribbon to match. No way. You also ignore the fact that you’ve bought from that bakery yourself a few times since moving to town, and you’ve only seen them use pale blue ribbons.
“Good morning,” he starts, shuffling the box a little so that one hand can lift, and his slender fingers can wiggle at you in a wave. You wave dumbly back, and his smile lifts. “I think we really got off on the wrong foot, and I’d like to make up for it. May we start over?” You don’t say anything, still too busy staring in shock. “My name is Minghao; I’m your neighbour, and I’d really like to get to know you,” he informs, tone gentle, and tags your name on the end as if you’re not already halfway to a mental breakdown from his mere presence.
The fact that he had actually paid attention when you introduced yourself that day— before shutting the door in your face— and remembers, feels like a much bigger deal than it is. You just genuinely hadn’t expected him to ever call you by your name, to even willingly talk to you, so hearing it fall so effortlessly, so easily from his lips, stuns you a little.
“I’m not a good baker, but I bought cupcakes; you know, sweeten the deal?” he jokes, smiling a little embarrassed by his own words, and cheeks so endearingly pink.
You squeak, then abruptly turn into your house, and hide behind the closed door.
When you recover moments later, you knock your forehead against the door and berate yourself for making a fool of yourself again in front of the man. If this is going to become a regular thing, you think you’re going to have to move away to save yourself endless future embarrassments.
It’s utterly out of character for you too; you’ve never made such a fool of yourself because of a pretty man before. Then again, you’ve never seen such a pretty man before, and you think that means you probably get a pass or two for not being able to react like a functioning human at the sound of his giggle, or your name said in his gentle voice, or a shy blush. Really it’s his fault for attacking you with sweetness after so much sour. You thought that was the man he is: nothing more than a bitter, unsociable asshole, but it seems that he has seriously mislead you.
The more you think about it, the more you want to know why he acted so coldly towards you, only to turn his attitude around all of a sudden. You think that you deserve an explanation, and you certainly won’t get one hiding away in your house.
With a renewed sense of determination flowing through your veins, you straighten your posture and open the door, only to lose a little of that strength and shrink slightly upon spotting Minghao still standing on the other side of the waist height wooden gate, leaning his right elbow on the thick top, chin propped on his palm, and amusement sparkling in his eyes as he watches you.
“Hi,” he greets, smiling as you step out of your home like a newborn lamb taking their first steps; uncertain and about ready to drop on your ass in a mess of weak legs if he keeps looking at you like this.
“Hi,” you reply, a barely audible croak, but he smiles wider and straightens up.
“I wasn’t sure what ones to get, so I went the safe route and bought lemon raspberry,” he informs as he holds the box over the gate in offer.
“That’s the safe option?” you wonder bewildered as you slowly get closer, approaching cautiously as if he’s going to reach out and sucker punch you in the throat. Or giggle; that’s potentially more dangerous, at least for your juddering heart and apparently very weak mental state when faced with gorgeous men. Or this gorgeous man in particular, you should say.
“Well, it’s sweet and sour, best of both worlds if you ask my friend. Though, I think he’d still rather more lemon, but he’s a freak, so we don’t consider his opinion where sour is concerned.”
“You do realise you just contradicted yourself, right?”
Just as you accept the gift into your hands, Minghao giggles, realising you’re right, and you almost drop the cupcakes. He flails his arms out to help, his hands settling over yours on either side of the box, and you can only stare dumbly up at him at the touch, how close you are. Dammit, he’s even prettier up close.
“We saved them,” he grins playfully at you.
And you, in all your brainless state when faced with this man and his smile, say perhaps the dumbest thing you possibly can right now. “My ex-husband cheated on me,” you blurt, and immediately turn wide eyed when Minghao recoils in shock, his hands leaving yours and his eyes widening to match yours.
“Uh—”
“I mean that I’m very single!” you declare, brain still apparently offline as you only make things worse. “I–I mean–” you stammer out a mess of panicked, jumbled words as Minghao’s expression melts, then twists into something that’s half amused, half utterly insanity inducing where it’s tucked into his smirk.
“Is this flirting?” he teases, leaning on his palms on the gate, tilting in towards you as he repeats the words you asked him less than 24 hours ago.
“Fact!” you sputter, shaking your head.
“Ah, I see. Well, if we’re exchanging facts, I’m very single too.”
“Good!” His lips turn up into a toothy grin, a little dark around the edges as his gaze remains utterly entertained and teasing on you. “I–I mean–”
“Do you have tea?” he asks, nodding towards your house, making you peek over your shoulder at it naturally to follow his prompt, then turn your head back to look at him and nod dumbly, head wobbling loosely and mouth still open from being cut off from your nervous, embarrassed rambling. “How about I come inside for tea?”
“Is that a euphemism?” you whisper, and he cracks up, leaning down onto the gate as he laughs bodily.
“Oh, you are precious,” he giggles, peering up at you from his hunched over spot.
“Thank you.”
He giggles some more before gathering himself and straightens up, cheeks bunched with how big he’s grinning. “So, tea?”
“Why did you glare so much?” you blurt, brain kicking back in enough to remember the whole reason you stepped back out of your house. You think that if you don’t take the chance to confront the man while you can, you’ll lose the will and ability and just get swept along with his sweet giggles and teasing gaze.
Minghao’s amusement melts away bit by bit at your words, until he’s looking aside with what appears like guilt on his features while he stares at the garden to your left, right where you left the pot with the pretty weed yesterday. “I’m not sure I can really explain, not in a way you’ll understand,” he admits, tone quieter, uncertain almost. “I can imagine it will be a lot for you to take in, to accept even. You’re not…” He sighs and returns his gaze to you. “I’m sorry for how I acted, it wasn’t kind of me at all. I suppose in simple turns, I was jealous. I’ve wanted this house for the garden since it went up for sale, but I couldn’t afford it, so when you moved in, I assumed you wouldn’t care for the garden at all, that you didn’t deserve such a place as this. But I was wrong; you deserve it more than I ever could, that proves it.” He points to the pot, confusing you.
“How does that prove anything?” He just gives you a little smile that you somehow just know means he has no intention of elaborating at all. “Right.” You frown a little, confused, and not sure what is the correct thing to do here when there’s clearly something Minghao is refusing to explain, but you also don’t think it’s your place to push.
When you reach out, Minghao steps back slightly, eyes widening, though he relaxes when you just unlatch the gate and pull it open in silent offer.
“Thank you,” he says, sounding so genuinely grateful and pleased that you quickly turn to lead the way into the house, and only trip slightly on the step leading into the house. “Oh, careful,” he worries, hands on your upper arms, having reached out to steady you.
You just hum vaguely in response, too scared to open your mouth in case something stupid comes out again, and rush to the kitchen to put the cupcake box on the table and get started putting the kettle on to boil.
“Oh, it’s beautiful in here,” Minghao comments, sounding awed as he looks around where he’s standing just inside the kitchen, seeming genuinely interested in the décor and little knickknacks you’ve placed around to make the place yours.
“Thank you.”
“It’s a huge change from how Elodie had it.”
“Elodie?”
“Oh, right.” He looks at you and smiles softly. “The previous owner. She had lived here for decades, ever since she married her husband. They raised all of their children here, helped raised grandchildren, and then he passed, and she followed not long after, too empty without him in this house to have the strength to go on.”
“Oh, that’s so sad.”
“In a way, but it’s beautiful in others; how much love they shared. They lived a long, happy life together, full of love and joy, and they’ll continue that in their afterlife. I think that’s the best life a person can live; finding love and true happiness like that, do you not agree?”
“I do, but I don’t think it’s possible for everyone, for most of us.”
“Respectfully, I disagree.” He moves over to help you set up the table as the kettle signals it’s boiled.
Although it makes no sense, although it shouldn’t be possible— especially considering the strained and awkward relationship the two of you have shared until now—, you and Minghao move around your kitchen together as if you’ve done this a million times. Of course, he doesn’t know where you keep items, but he asks in a gentle tone you naturally match without thinking when you answer. It’s calm; the two of you gathering everything needed without bumping into each other once and sitting down at the table opposite one another to share the cupcakes.
“So, what do you think?” he queries when you’ve taken a few bites of your cupcake, his own in a similar partially eaten state on the cute little plate before him. Plates you could not walk away from once you saw them in a second-hand store only last week. They’re too small to use for an actual meal, so you had been worried you wouldn’t find a reason to use them, but you just couldn’t leave them in the store; they’re far too cute, and you had immediately fallen in love with them.
It had made your heart flutter in a funny little pleased way when Minghao had also seemed to fall in love with the plates once he spotted them in the cupboard and excitedly grabbed two to set up for the pair of you to eat your cupcakes off. Honestly, you had intended to not bother with plates at all and just sweep the crumbs from the table after, you hadn’t even considered using the plates, but you’re more than happy that Minghao had suggested it.
“Hm?” you hum questioningly, and he points at the cupcake on your plate. “Oh, delicious. Sweet and a little sour, perfectly balanced.”
“Yeah, I think so too,” he agrees, smiling at you in an almost tender kind of way.
For a few moments, the two of you just hold gentle eye contact, share matching smiles, before he looks down, cheeks dusted pink. Neither of you say anything more, falling into a content, calm silence that feels so right that you hope this won’t be the last time that the two of you share tea and cupcakes at your kitchen table as if there’s nothing but this table, this moment, in the whole world.
Somehow, after that day, spending time with Minghao suddenly becomes such an everyday routine that not seeing him feels so wrong that you don’t quite know what to do with yourself when it happens.
“Missed me that much?” Minghao’s voice teases from right behind you where you’re sitting in your garden, aimlessly moving around the freshly sprinkled soil in the flowerbed in front of you, mind stuck on what Minghao has been doing for the past three days he’s not been home.
“Hao,” you gasp, turning to look up at him with rounded eyes. “You’re back. You said you’d be gone a week.”
“Mm missed your tea too much. You make the best tea, you know?” he replies as he sits a little to your side on the grass you cut only a few days ago.
It’s been weeks of tackling the garden— often with Minghao close by—, removing all the weeds, and pruning away until you could reasonably drag a lawn mower over the grass. Surprisingly, the grass is in great condition for the most part, only a few bare, patchy sections where you’ve had to remove harmful weeds and move decorative rocks to make it easier to mow.
“I do?” you ask, perking up a little at the compliment. You know it’s a huge compliment too, Minghao is something of a tea connoisseur, which you found out the very first time you entered his kitchen and saw his impressive collection of teas. He even has multiple tea sets which he uses depending on the vibe he wants— his own words.
“You do,” he confirms as he smiles at you in that same gentle way he always does these days, ever since the second time you ran away from him when overwhelmed by his pretty face and precious smile. You’d like to say that it hasn’t happened since, but that’d be a lie.
Even after these weeks of being friends with Minghao, he still finds ways to fluster you and make your brain stop functioning. Honestly, you’re pretty sure that he does it on purpose, finding your reactions funny; but you never have it in you to scold him, not when he’s gained the habit of reaching out to hold you in place so you that can’t run away. Sometimes, it’s just his hand holding yours securely that pins you down, but others, if it’s physically possible, Minghao’s arms find their way around you, and he holds you close to his chest with his head tilted to rest against yours. Maybe, sometimes, you pretend that you’re going to run away just so that he’ll pull you close, but you won’t tell him that.
“Though, I didn’t just miss your tea,” he adds as he watches his hand brush over the freshly cut grass.
“No? The garden?” you assume, knowing how much Minghao loves your garden, how he wanted to buy the house purely for the garden, yet couldn’t financially manage it.
Minghao’s house is half the size of yours, only built for two people really, with a much smaller garden to match; and so, even if he sold it, he wouldn’t have had the funds to buy your house when it was available. He had been trying so hard to save up though; hence why he scared potential buyers away, hoping he could keep the house free long enough to gather the funds. But you bought it, and he burned with envy.
He’s let it go now and even admitted to you that he knew he’d never realistically be able to afford it. But hope can be a dangerous thing at times, and it took him until he watched you genuinely love and care for your then neglected garden to let that soured hope free and accept the facts.
Though, only days into your friendship, when you gave him permission to help you tend to the gardens and allotted him an area to grow whatever he wants there— having overrun his own modest garden—, you saw something lift in him, and he’s been nothing but grateful and so lovely since.
Not that Minghao isn’t a genuinely lovely person— when he’s not being a jealous asshole, that is. He’s truly such a wonderful man that you find it impossible to calm the butterflies in your stomach every time you find him looking at you with that soft gaze. But there’s something even sweeter in his smiles now, something that lightens his steps and makes him almost float into your garden every single day when he spots you out there.
Logically, it makes sense that, other than your tea-making skills, Minghao has missed your garden. In fact, you’ve never seen the man happier than when he’s sitting in your garden, smiling contently at you over a cup of tea, and soil staining his fingers around the porcelain.
“No, not the garden either,” he replies, utterly bewildering you. He glances at you from under his lashes, smiles, then lifts his head just enough to lock his gaze with yours, let you see the truth in his eyes. “You, I missed you.”
Your eyes widen in surprise, and your heart skips probably about five too many beats to be healthy, but you don’t care, barely even notice. Especially as your mind shuts down and focuses entirely on the beautiful man before you, his words.
As soon as your body starts to move, tries to run away to hide, Minghao reaches out to grab your arms and pull you in. So naturally that it feels like you were made for this, you curl up against him, tuck up against his chest as he settles you between his spread thighs, your left shoulder pressing to his chest with your arms curled up, fingers loosely grasping his t-shirt. Minghao’s arms settle around you, his head rests against the top of yours, and you never want to be anywhere else. The content little breath he lets out makes you think that maybe, he feels the same way.
After some minutes, when your brain decides to come back online fully instead of floating around on Minghao shaped clouds, you try to sit up. Minghao makes a noise of displeasure and tugs you back, earning a little giggle to fall from your lips. You feel his cheek bunch against your hairline as he smiles.
“Let me go put the kettle on for tea,” you say, smile evident in your light tone.
“Tea can wait.”
You gasp and lean back enough to look at him in shock. “Tea can wait?”
“This is more important,” he assures. One arm breaks your comfortable cocoon as he lifts it so that he can tenderly brush his fingers over your cheek. He says nothing, but he doesn’t need to. You tilt into his hold, prompting his palm to curve against your cheek, and he lets out another one of those content sighs. “You’re so beautiful, you know?”
“Says you,” you return, tone matching his gentle one, only loud enough for the pair of you, nothing mattering past your garden, your little bubble of home. “You’re so pretty it makes me do and say dumb things.”
Minghao giggles, and you whine a little, unable to stop it, or the way your eyes round out, so enamoured by his adorable giggles that you can’t keep it off your face any longer. Not that you’ve ever been good at hiding it, but this close with one of his slender hands still reverently caressing your skin, you couldn’t hide your adoration if you tried.
“Mm, I noticed that,” he muses teasingly and leans a little closer as he grins softly. “But I like it, like how honest you are with your reactions.”
“Even though it makes me look like a fool?”
“Even though,” he agrees with a nod. “Maybe especially because it does. It’s so cute and strokes my ego.”
“I’d love to stroke you,” you mutter dumbly as his thumb brushes the edge of your mouth. Minghao snorts a laugh, leaning back so he doesn’t laugh directly in your face. “I didn’t mean like that…not that I’d say no…if you want to do that.”
Minghao giggles again and leans back in to press a kiss to your forehead that makes you gasp softly and grip his t-shirt tighter, pulse thrumming under your skin from the unexpected affection. “Let me at least take you on a date first,” he teases. You can’t nod fast enough, setting him off into giggling laughter all over again as he curls around you and holds you closer, as if there’s nowhere he’d rather be.
A year and a half ago, you moved to a sweet little town, into a house that had been left empty and untouched for over a year, and you turned it into your home.
And now, after almost a year since that day in the garden when Minghao first asked you on a date, the house next to yours is empty. You can’t help but frown a little as you peer at it from your bedroom window, recalling all the memories you made with the man who once lived there, how much happiness you created together there.
Though, the arms winding around your waist from behind, the lips that press a tender kiss to your temple as you lean back against a familiar chest, makes the frown lift into a sweet little smile. “Stop looking at it like that, or I’ll start to believe you regret asking me to move in,” Minghao teases against your skin, tightening his hold on you a little as he leans closer into you, both of you always moving to be tucked up as close as possible in these moments of affection.
“Ridiculous man,” you scold, scoffing, yet the smile on your face only grows.
“You love this ridiculous man.”
“I do,” you confirm without hesitation, with nothing but truth in your tone. “And he loves me too.” You turn your head so that you can meet his adoring gaze.
“With everything in me,” he agrees, with just as much certainty as you spoke with, then leans in to press a kiss to your lips. “Now, come to bed, it’s our first night in our shared home.” He giggles, sounding a little giddy at his own reminder, then quickly ushers you over to the bed after closing the curtains to block out the night and give you the privacy to be able to sleep comfortably.
The pair of you excitedly clamber under the covers and cuddle up, though you both know neither of you are ready to sleep yet, too full of joyous energy thanks to this big step in your relationship, this start of a new life together; a life you both hope will be as happy and full of love as the life of previous family who lived here once upon a time.
“Hao,” you prompt after a while of content quiet between you, happy to just lay basking in one another’s love and affection. He hums questioningly in response. “I think, considering that we now live together, it’s about time you tell me the truth.”
Minghao’s hand trailing mindlessly over your waist immediately stops. “What? What does that mean?” he asks, sounding confused and a little upset. “I haven’t lied to you.”
“I know, but you haven’t told me the truth either.” You adjust, wriggling around until you’re leaning up on your elbows on his right and peering down at his furrowed features looking at up at you in the dull lamp light. “The very first day we became friends, when you told me your name and invited yourself over for tea–”
“You opened the gate,” he reminds, sounding a little petulant, making you giggle shortly before continuing.
“You told me I wouldn’t understand why you hated me so much for buying this house.”
“Oh.” His expression turns into understanding, and he tugs you back down, making you return to your rightful place at his side with your head on his chest— not that he ever needs to make you cuddle up to him, you’re always more than happy do to that. “I guess it is time I tell you, huh; you’ll learn soon enough anyway, now that we live together and I won’t be able to keep hiding it from you.”
“Wait, hiding—” you try to question him, but he shushes you and holds you tighter, places a kiss on your hairline to placate you into falling still and silent.
“You know how I always say the garden is special? Things grow and thrive there in a way they wouldn’t in my old garden, despite it being only a wall away?” You hum in confirmation, easily recalling the words he’s muttered many times over the past year you’ve been tending the garden together. “There are things that can only grow in this garden, in this soil, and Elodie used to grow them for me, knowing I needed them for my work, and it’s very expensive to get them shipped in from other places.”
“So you were pissed that you had to keep spending all that money to get your fancy flowers for your teas?” you reason, assuming that the plants Elodie used to grow, the plants Minghao now grows in the garden, are ones he dries and makes up into the homemade tea blends he runs a rather successful business selling mostly online, though some locals would turn up at his house— old house— asking for wares.
“Sort of, but not exactly,” he giggles. “They’re not exactly teas, my love.”
“What do you mean? I’ve seen them, we have them filling a cupboard in the kitchen.”
“We do and those are teas, nothing more.”
“Nothing more?” you repeat, wanting to lift up to give him a suspicious look, but he holds you firm, knowing exactly that you intended to do that.
“The ones I sell to the locals and special clients, my real source of income and true job, are potions I make as a witch.”
“A witch?!” you shriek, rearing up so fast that Minghao’s arms fly off you. Then again, the man is too busy laughing away on the mattress to hold on, finding your reaction so hilarious. Especially when he can tell that you believe him entirely, don’t even think he’s joking with you despite how a part of him thought you would accuse him of playing around. But it makes him happy, makes his heart swell, so full of love for the woman who trusts him with her entire heart and soul. He’s eternally grateful for that.
“Yes, I’m a witch, born and raised,” he confirms through his giggles, beaming up at you. “This house was built on magic soil, or the ground became infused with magic over the years, nobody really knows.”
“Is that why you glow here?” you wonder, tilting your head curiously as you sit cross legged by his side.
“Glow?” he repeats, looking utterly bewildered. “Magic doesn’t make a person glow.”
“No?” Your features scrunch a little in confusion. “Then what’s that about? Ever since you started to spend more time here, you look like you glow, not physically, but like…from within.”
Minghao’s expression turns into understanding; he sits up to cup your face and presses a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. “That glow is my love for you, growing stronger each day I spend by your side. You make me glow, sweetheart, not magic.”
“Oh,” you breathe out, cheeks warming, and eyes round and sparkling on him. “I want to make you glow like that for the rest of my life.”
“Good, because I’m never leaving your side,” he promises, and seals it with a kiss that makes you feel so warm and fuzzy, like maybe, he’s not the only one who glows.
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👨🏫Who: Kim Seokjin (BTS) x female reader
👨🏫What: Smut (18+). University au. Teacher Seokjin x student Reader.
👨🏫Word count: 6.5k
👨🏫Warnings: Power imbalance (in that he’s her teacher). Ages aren’t specified exactly, but it’s said that Seokjin is barely a few years older than the majority of the students. Profanity. Kissing. Dom Seokjin. Sub Reader. A single spank. Grinding. Fingering (female receiving). Oral (male receiving). PIV sex. Unprotected sex. Dirty talk. Cum swallowing. Praise. Seokjin calls reader: little one, baby, good girl. Reader calls Seokjin: Sir. I think that’s it!
👨🏫Summary:
The problem with having such an attractive teacher is that it’s hard to focus on anything but your dirty fantasies starring him.
Though, maybe it’s not such a bad thing when he has you stay behind one day after class, and he finds out exactly what’s been keeping you distracted for the past months.
Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio. I also block blank blogs.
Masterlist
A/N- This was originally on my old account @/whipped-for-kpop-fics, but I decided to entirely rewrite it move it over to here.
Usually, you’re a pretty good student; you rarely get in trouble, and even then it’s only for forgetting to complete work at home. Your grades are always passes at the lowest; you’re not the top student, but you’re certainly in the top section of every class you take.
Except for the one taught by Mr. Kim Seokjin.
Now, Seokjin isn’t a bad teacher, not at all; he’s incredibly smart in his subject, and all of his students tend to pass. All except you. It’s nothing against Seokjin, you think he’s a brilliant teacher, and you love attending his classes.
The problem is that he’s too fucking attractive. You spend more time ogling his handsome features and broad shoulders than paying attention to the topic; fantasising about how it’d feel to have your legs hooked over them as he pounds harshly in–
You’re snapped from yet another daydream staring Kim Seokjin, by the man himself as he calls your name firmly. You can’t clear your mind of the aroused fog it’s in fast enough to even attempt to give him a sheepish smile, embarrassed about once again getting caught with your head in the clouds during his class. “Can you at least pretend to pay attention for once?” he scolds, giving you a stern, disapproving look.
“Sorry,” you mumble, tongue flicking out to wet your suddenly dry lips. You could swear that Seokjin’s eyes follow the movement of your tongue as it peeks out. But can your horny mind be trusted to see things correctly right now? Not really.
“Hm, right; you say that every time,” he returns, scoffing in disbelief as he puts his hands on his hips. “Stay after class,” he demands, and you can only nod meekly; his dominant aura making your thighs clench. The sign of agreement satisfies Seokjin enough to allow him to return to his teaching, believing that he has your attention, at least for the remaining twenty minutes of class. Oh, how wrong he is.
The moment that Seokjin’s attention is back on everyone but you, your mind is already slipping back into your fantasies, his demand for you to stay behind only fuelling your dirty thoughts. Seokjin is known throughout the university for letting his students out of class early, he never asks anyone to stay behind. He isn’t much older than the majority of the students, so he remembers how tough university was, and he doesn’t want to give anyone extra stress by being forced to stay after class. So, the fact he’s told you to stay behind, well, you think you can be forgiven for letting your mind run away with that thought.
If only he knew the images of him you hold in your mind, he certainly wouldn’t want to encourage it by keeping you behind. What teacher would?
Only minutes after returning to his lecture, Seokjin’s eyes happen to glance over to you, and he can’t help but sigh as he spots the glassed-over look in your eyes, telling him that you’re already away with the fairies.
He hasn’t the faintest idea why you struggle to pay attention in his class. He worries that he bores you, so he’s tried to move around the room more; has brought in more hands-on activities to keep you, in particular, focused.
You’re the only student failing his class and he doesn’t understand why. He’s paid you so much attention, left you notes with tips on studying and websites for extra information. During class, without fail, he always places a copy of the lessons notes— his personal notes— on your desk in front of you; but you either ignore them entirely or push them into your bag mindlessly at the end of class with your own papers without even looking at them. He always sees masses of paper sticking out of your notebook every class, but they never seem to move.
He can’t help but wonder if you even look at the worksheets he’s spent so long making specifically for you. He even had a friend teach him how to draw the characters he’s seen on your clothing and accessories, so that he can doodle them onto the worksheets in hopes of catching your interest. But the worksheets never move, and your grades are getting worse.
To make matters worse, Seokjin knows that you pay attention in literally every class you take and never fail any assignments for any but his. One day, he had searched up your class schedule on the university system and stood outside various classroom doors to peer through the window and watch you, just to see if you have the same issue of losing focus in other classes. You never do.
Seokjin takes your failing and absent mind personally, as if it’s something he’s done to warrant such a response, and he wants to get to the bottom of it. No way will he allow such a capable student to fail yet another term of his class.
Unlike every other day, you don’t come out of the fantasies when Seokjin dismisses class, making your fellow students get up and scramble to leave. The class is already a late one, finishing at 6pm, so all of the students are eager to get out of the university and go about their personal lives.
Seokjin watches you curiously from where he’s leaning against the edge of his desk. Even as other students leave, bigging him goodbye and wishes of a good evening, his eyes don’t leave you despite his mouth moving to return the well wishes.
For a further five minutes after everyone has left, he continues to silently watch you in curious wonder. Though, realising that you’re too deep in your mind to notice that the room is empty other than the two of you, he pushes his body off the furniture to stalk over and stand in front of your desk. For the first time, your eyes follow his movement, yet they’re still glassy, and he knows your mind isn’t with him, even if your sight is.
As he leans down to grip either side of your desk to be closer to eye level with you, he suddenly realises just how pretty you are.
Of course, Seokjin isn’t blind, he can tell when a student is attractive, but that’s it; his mind registers an attractive student in an abstract, off handed kind of way, and that’s where it stops. Despite student-teacher relationships in the university not being against the rules exactly— therefore, not a fireable offense—, they’re still greatly frowned upon. Seokjin knows this, so he’s never once even considered a student in any way but as a student; someone to teach and guide academically.
But standing over you like this; your eyes wide and glossy as you stare up at him, cheeks flushed, and lips parted; for the first time, Seokjin’s mind wanders. He can’t help but think how pretty you’d look spread out by his hands under his body, utterly fucked out.
Before the thought can progress into a fantasy, he shakes his head softly and clears his throat— it’s suddenly too dry considering he had gulped down the contents of his water bottle at the end of class.
The sudden noise breaks you out of your fantasies with a little jolt. Blinking rapidly, your gaze comes back into focus. “Oh,” you breathe out, finding Seokjin so close to you, causing excitement to crawl through your body. You’ve never been so close to the man, and he only looks even more delectable the closer you get. “Mr. Kim.”
He says your name in response, once again clearing his throat when his voice cracks on the syllables. “Are you finished with your daydreaming now?” You suck your bottom lip between your teeth as you nod shyly, embarrassed as per usual about being called out. Without even having the chance to try to stop it from happening, Seokjin’s gaze drops down to eye your mouth, in a way far too obvious to miss.
You watch his throat bob heavily as he swallows thickly while watching your lip slowly slip out from the light grasp of your teeth. “Sir?” you question softly. Your voice sounds so innocent, barely a whisper, and it sends Seokjin’s mind whirling.
Oh, how he’d love to fucking wreck you; hear his name tumble so sweetly from those pretty lips of yours.
“Go home,” he suddenly says when he realises how his mind is running away with his filthy thoughts. He drops his head down so that he doesn’t have to look at you; he fears he’ll lose all sanity if he looks at you a moment longer.
“Sir?” you repeat, more bewildered this time. After all, he told you to stay behind, and now he’s telling you to leave. What’s his problem?
Seokjin’s mental strength slips a little further out of his grasp. Why do you have to keep calling him that in that innocent voice? You’re pretty much begging him to bend you over that very desk and have his way with you. He can’t handle that and needs you to stop before he truly loses his mind.
If only he knew you’ve imagined that very scenario many times already.
“Why are you calling me that?” he groans, almost whining.
“What? Sir?” He nods, and you tilt your head, confused eyes glaring into the top of his head. “Because…you’re my teacher,” you answer simply.
“And?!” he snaps, lifting his head to stare at you with wild eyes that dance madly over your features. The crazed expression makes you jolt a little in shock; he genuinely looks seconds away from losing his mind. “You shouldn’t call men things like that so easily!” he lectures. “Don’t you understand what it does to a man when a woman like you calls him such a thing?” Seokjin doesn’t know why he’s being so blunt, so open and honest with you, but he simply can’t stop himself.
“A woman like me?” you question, suddenly feeling self-conscious. You look down at your seated form with a little frown. “What’s wrong with me?”
All at once, Seokjin’s body cools down instead of burning up, and he calms dramatically. “What? Nothing is wrong with you. Why would you think anything is wrong with you?” he questions in an utterly bewildered murmur.
“You said a woman like me shouldn’t say those things,” you explain with your eyes glued to your fingers as you fiddle with the hem of your hoodie, thinking about what could be so wrong with you; maybe you could dress better; maybe you could make more of an effort. The thought makes you shrink dejectedly. A guy like Seokjin could never find a woman like you appealing.
“And that made you think something is wrong with you?” You don’t respond, you don’t need to. Your answer is obvious by the way you’ve curled in on yourself; an attempt to make yourself smaller, less visible. Seokjin says your name gently, gingerly reaching out to hold your chin between his thumb and forefinger, though you turn your head away out of his touch to prevent him from tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Look at me,” he demands firmly.
Just like that, you stop pulling away and allow him to direct your line of sight to his face. You submit so easily to him, and it makes his cock twitch in his pants.
“Don’t you ever think that something is wrong with you,” he says, voice so soft and soothing, so honest, full of unspoken meaning, that your heart thrums and your cheeks speckle with a pretty blush. “You’re beautiful.” His gaze dances over your features, taking his time to memorise every little freckle, every little imperfection for when he’s home alone and needs to remember how your face alone has sent heat tingling through his body. “So beautiful.”
How has he gone through so many months already with you in his class without truly noticing your beauty? He doesn’t know, but he knows he’ll never stop noticing now.
“Sir…” you gasp at his words; never could you have expected the living definition of beautiful to utter such words to you. You can tell he means them too.
“I told you not to call me that,” he reminds, eyes turning stern again as they lock with your own.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand why I can’t,” you reason, lips pouting in confusion. He has to fight the urge to pounce forward and suck your bottom lip between his own.
“How can such a beautiful woman be so clueless about the effect you have on men?” He chuckles softly and then backs up in fear that he won’t be able to take his hand from your face if he hovers a minute longer. Your head tilts in confusion, and eyebrows furrow. “I think it’s best you go home now,” he declares, turning on his heel and returning to his desk, where he has a stack of papers from another class that he needs to mark before he can go home.
“Not until you tell me why I can’t call you sir,” you argue, voice surprisingly firm.
As Seokjin sits in his chair, he looks up at you with raised eyebrows, finding you still sitting at your desk, stubbornly refusing to pack up your belongings to leave. “Go.”
“No.”
Seokjin’s lips twitch in amusement. You’re being so unbelievably stubborn for someone who was so quick to obey his words only minutes before.
“I’m not moving, Sir.”
Seokjin’s smile drops, and he sighs heavily. “Fine, but you’re not getting an answer. Sit there all night for all I care; I have papers to grade.” With that, he gets to work, picking up his trusty marking pen, and bending over the first assignment in the stack.
Yet knowing that you’re sitting there, only metres away, he can’t focus.
A groan of frustration leaves his throat, and he rubs his neck as he fights the urge to look up at you. He can feel your gaze locked on him, and it kind of irks him; you’re suddenly paying him so much attention at the one time he wants none of it.
“Stop staring,” he mutters, easily loud enough for you hear in the otherwise silent room, while he tries to reread the student’s answer for the fifth time. He still can’t make sense of it though; his mind is entirely stuck on you.
“I don’t want to, Sir.”
He knows you’re doing it just to wind him up. You want your answer and intend to play up until you get it. You’re being a little brat, and he kind of loves it.
“You don’t want to push me, little one,” he warns, glancing up at you over his glasses, giving you such a dark look that you visibly shiver. Fuck, you like it. The realisation forces him to put his hand under the desk to try to resituate the growing problem in his pants into less of an annoyance. “Are you going to be a good girl and go home?” he tries.
“I’ll leave when you tell me why I can’t call you sir, Sir,” you retort. And it makes him give up with marking, with restraining himself.
Seokjin leans back in his chair while tossing his pen onto the desk carelessly. “Get over here,” he orders. His cock twitches at the enthusiastic speed you scramble out of your chair to rush over and stand on the opposite site of the desk to him. “No, little one, here,” he corrects, motioning to his side.
You’re a little hesitant at first but obediently shuffle around the desk to stand beside his chair. “Yes, Sir?” you ask, wanting another order so desperately.
“Hands on the desk.” You tilt your head questioningly. “Be a good girl.” You nod and turn to place both palms flat on the desk so that you’re facing out over the empty room. “Hmm, lean over.” You do, leaning further over the desk, meaning your ass sticks out, and Seokjin watches closely, appreciating the way your little shorts cling to your backside. “Stay like that until I tell you to move. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir.” Seokjin smiles in approval and pushes his chair back, grinning when you don’t even try to look over your shoulder and see what he’s doing. You listen so well; it makes him so fucking hard.
Seokjin wheels his chair until he’s directly behind you, then adjusts the height until he’s sitting eye level with your ass. “You’ve been bad, you know this, don’t you, little one?” he hums, hands resting on his spread thighs, but fingers twitching with the urge to touch the expanse of your exposed thighs.
“I have?” you question in wonder, truly not aware of what he’s referring to.
“Yes, little one,” he confirms.
“Oh… When, Sir?”
“That is the most recent behaviour; refusing to listen when I told you to stop.” You remain quiet. “Will you admit to that?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“And yet you still say it?”
“You haven’t explained, Sir.”
Seokjin chuckles lowly; you sure are stubborn for a submissive woman. “You never pay attention in my class,” he continues, allowing his fingers some relief by dancing them along the outside of your thighs directly above your knees, but only an inch or so before returning downwards and mindlessly stroking at your outer knees.
“I don’t mean to daydream, Sir.”
“You pay attention in every other class; I’ve checked up on you.”
That surprises you and makes you pause momentarily. “…You have?”
“Mmhmm, I had to see if it’s just your natural behaviour, or if you hate my class that much.”
“I don’t hate your class,” you argue, voice full of such honesty that Seokjin’s hands stop absently moving against your soft skin.
“You don’t?”
“No; I think you’re a brilliant teacher.”
“Then why are you failing?”
You don’t respond, not wanting to tell him the truth, too embarrassed. Though, as soon as his hands leave you with the intention of relocating his chair, you speak up quickly, not wanting him to move away. “I have trouble concentrating in your class. I try hard, but I can’t. I…have too many fantasies, Sir,” you confess, still a bit embarrassed but also feeling paradoxically shameless. At this point, you’ll confess to anything as long as he keeps touching you.
“Fantasies?” he encourages, voice low as his hands return to your legs. Seokjin never expected you to say that you fantasise throughout his class, and his heart pounds with the hope that he stars in them. It’s only logical to assume that you think about him, after all, it’s only his class that you daydream in.
“Yes, Sir.”
“What about?” You whine softly in response, clearly in no rush to answer, though it quickly turns into a yelp when his palm suddenly connects with your inner thigh. “Oh, shit! Sorry, sorry, I–” he tries to apologise, panicking over his own actions. He had reacted instinctively, wanting to put you in your place; a place you don’t even have being his student, but fuck does he wish you did.
“You! I fantasise about you!” you blurt out the confession, the breathless tone telling him that maybe, you like the situation as much as he does, and you’re far from opposed to the little slap on your thigh. “Sir,” you add on almost as an afterthought, though it doesn’t sound bratty anymore, more like you know that he likes hearing it; that you’ve finally figured it out.
“Fuck,” he curses, fingers digging into your flesh slightly as he grips you as if testing you, testing that the situation is real. “Me? You fantasise about me?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Doing what? What am I doing?”
“Me.” If you weren’t already driving him crazy, he would’ve laughed at your simple answer, but it only fuels his arousal. Seokjin groans softly, dropping his head forward to press his face into your lower back. You gasp softly in surprise, but don’t argue or react otherwise.
“You’ve been failing my class because you’ve been fantasising about me fucking you?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Fuck!” he repeats, suddenly getting up, kicking his chair aside out of the way. “This is why you can’t call me sir.” For a split second, you’re confused, that is until his hips are pressed against your ass and you can feel his hard length against you. A shuddering, excited breath shakes your chest as you inhale. “You fantasised about feeling this, huh? My cock in you, little one?”
“Y–yes. Fuck, yes, Sir,” you’re almost slurring, mind spinning as you push your hips back to grind against his erection.
“Oh, shit, don’t,” he warns, but his large hands holding your hips tight say the opposite thing to his words. “S–stop.” You don’t.
“Why, Sir?”
“Because I’m your teacher.”
“Then teach me how to make you cum, Sir.”
The innocent tone you use, matched with the dirty words, sends a shudder through his body. “Oh, fuck.” Seokjin’s hands grip you tighter, pulling you back as he rolls his hips against you. “What’s your biggest fantasy? How do you imagine me fucking you the most?”
“On your desk, Sir.”
“Yeah?” You hum in confirmation, head bobbing along too. “Like this?” Seokjin grinds his hips forward, mimicking how he would fuck you. You suck in a shark breath, thighs shaking with arousal. You’re certain your underwear are soaked through and your shorts growing damp; you’re so fucking wet for him.
“Like this.” You move forward to press your hips against the edge of the desk, widening your stance while leaning down onto your elbows around the papers, making your back curve and thrust your ass further out.
“Oh, fuck, baby,” Seokjin groans at the sight of you; his wide, lust blown eyes raking over your figure greedily. The angle of your hips, and that they’re no longer pressed against him, exposes the growing damp patch between your thighs to his hungry gaze. “Fuck, I can see how wet you are already.” He moves one hand to press his fingers to the patch, making you whine needily and press back against him. “You want me bad, huh, little one?”
“Yes, so fucking bad,” you mumble shamelessly. “Please fuck me, Sir.”
Seokjin freezes: he never expected you to beg for it, yet here you are, proving to be the perfect fuck. “You asked so nicely, how can I say no?”
Your thighs shake with excitement, knowing that you’re finally getting to live out your fantasy; something you truly never thought would happen.
“Strip,” he orders as he steps back away from you and starts to unbuckle his belt. You don’t hesitate to respond, straightening up to remove your hoodie and toss it carelessly to the floor. “Wait,” Seokjin says, and you fall still. Suddenly, his hands are on your waist, lips coming down to trace an invisible line along the side of your neck and across our shoulder. “Do you always wear hoodies without anything underneath?” he asks, hands sliding around over your bare stomach to reach up and cup both of your exposed breasts in his warm hands.
“Yeah.”
“Well, fuck; I’m never going to be able to focus on class now I know that.”
“Sometimes, I don’t wear panties either,” you tease with a smirk on your lips.
Seokjin groans against your skin as he grinds his still covered cock against your ass. “Are you today?”
“Yes.”
“Next time, don’t.”
“Yes, Sir.”
As soon as he steps back, you lift your hands to your hips to hook your fingers under the waistband of both your shorts and underwear and slide them together down your legs to pool by your feet, then kick aside.
“I should’ve told you to stay behind sooner,” Seokjin says with a breathless chuckle as he admires the sight of your fully naked back. “Turn, let me see you.” Of course, you do, and turn to face him, only to realise that he’s still fully dressed, his belt is still securely latched into the buckle. He notices where your attention lays and looks down too. “Oh, right.”
Before he can return to work, you’re directly infront of him and pulling his belt free in seconds. Seokjin can only watch gobsmacked by how easily you remove the item; he always struggles with that particular belt.
“You look so hard, Sir,” you comment as your hands work on his button and zipper.
“Thanks to you.”
“Then maybe I should do something about it, hm?” Seokjin opens his mouth to respond, but you’re already on your knees and tugging down the material to free the object of your desire to your hungry graze. “You’re so big,” you coo, reaching out to wrap one hand around his thick length. Seokjin sucks in a shaky breath at your touch. “You’re going to feel so good pounding into me.”
“Shut up,” he groans. “Don’t talk like that.” His head tips back as you start to work your hand up and down his shaft at a leisurely pace, enjoying touching him for the first— and hopefully not last— time.
“Don’t you like dirty talk, Sir? You’re awfully good at it.”
“I–I can’t. Not right now,” he admits, knowing he’ll reach his end way too fast if he allows you to continue talking dirty to him. You make everything sound so delightfully sinful that he can hardly breathe. “Later?”
That makes your hand stop. “As in… We can do this again?” you question nervously, all confidence gone as you look up at him through your lashes. Seokjin lifts his head to look down at you. “What if… What if you don’t like it?”
“I’m this hard without you touching me, I doubt I won’t like fucking you,” he chuckles.
“Are you sure?”
“Just suck my cock already,” he chuckles again, darker this time as he smirks down at you.
And just like that, you’re back to being his submissive little one, ready to please. “Yes, Sir.” Eagerly, you dive forward, taking as much of his thick length into your mouth as physically possible at once, while using your hand to work the rest.
Seokjin chokes on a moan as his tip hits the back of your throat; you don’t even gag. “F–fuck, don’t you have a gag reflex?” he stutters on his words as you bob your head, taking the tip of his cock into your throat. You shake your head carefully, only slightly, while still sucking and bobbing away as if there’s nothing else you’d rather be doing right now. “So fucking perfect for me, little one.” He threads his fingers into your hair as he stares down at the way you work fucking magic on his cock with your mouth. “More, take more,” he demands after a moment, and you do.
Your eyes water at the stretch your throat is being forced to endure but you don’t complain. You love feeling him hot and heavy on your tongue. You’d happily suck his dick all night long if he asks.
Though, after only a few more minutes, Seokjin pulls you off his length, making you pout up at him and whine in wordless complaint.
“You like my cock in your throat that much?” he teases, and you nod shamelessly as he smirks down at you, pleased. “You’re definitely coming home with me tonight.” Your eyes light up, making you look like an excited little puppy, and he laughs lightly. “Get up, let me fuck you.” In seconds, you’re up on your feet and wincing at the pain in your knees from being pressing to the harsh tile floor. “Good girl.”
For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. He places his hands on your waist and steps closer, pressing his erection into your stomach. Your tongue darts out to lick your lips quickly, mindlessly, and his eyes track the moment. And then he spins you around to roughly bend you over the desk. If you couldn’t already feel his erection prodding at your entrance, you’d be upset that he hadn’t kissed you, but your mind is already focused on other things, mainly his cock.
“You’re so wet, little one. I bet I’d just slide right in, huh?” he taunts, rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your dripping folds with one hand wrapped around the base to direct his movement.
You expect him to push in, but he doesn’t. Instead, you feel the tip rest heavy on your clit, applying a teasing amount of pressure, while two of his fingers from his free hand wriggle their way into you.
“So warm,” he hums approvingly, talking to himself as he watches the way your pussy stretches around his curious fingers. He curls and scissors them to prepare you for his cock, while you gasp and writhe against his hand. His fingers feel pretty fucking good, but you want more. Need more.
“M–more, please, Sir,” you plead needily.
Seokjin complies, slipping in a third finger and immediately taking up a brutal pace of pumping and twisting the digits inside you. Moans spill from your lips, and your fingers try to grip onto the wood of the desk yet only slide across.
“You sound so pretty moaning like this, baby.” He pulls his fingers out, only to turn his hand over so that his palm faces the floor, then returns to thrusting his fingers into your pussy at a rapid pace. Now he can curl his fingers forward to press against that sweet little spot inside you and earn himself louder moans. “Ah, there it is, good girl,” he coos, pressing against the spot a few more times in rapid succession, before removing his fingers entirely.
You don’t have time to catch your breath to complain that he stopped when it felt so good. He wastes no time in pressing his cock into you with both hands gripping onto your hips tight to keep you still.
“Ah, Sir!” you exclaim when his hips snap forward impatiently to sheath his entire length deep within your dripping walls.
“Hm?” he can only offer a vague noise in response; his chest is already heaving from the effort of pushing his cock into you. He knew you could take it, you took his fingers so well, without complaint; but you’re so tight around him that he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to fit his full length at one point. And now he’s inside you, he never wants to leave; your walls hug him so well without leaving any of him untouched. He’s never felt something so perfect.
“So big, so good,” you slur, resting your forehead against the desk. You completely give up caring about the neat stacks of paper and push them out of the way so that you can press your chest against the cool wood of the desk for support. The movement has Seokjin’s cock settling a little deeper in your pussy, and he groans lowly in pleasure, fingers curling tighter into your skin. “Please, Sir, fuck me,” you beg, trying to force your hips back on him, feeling like you could get him just a little deeper if you pressed closer, but his grip is too tight.
Your words and desperate movements prompt him to act, at least. Seokjin’s head drops forward to watch his length reappear as he pulls his hips back slowly, before snapping forward and diving back inside. If your chest hadn’t already been pressed to the desk, his sudden, rapid thrusting would’ve made it that way.
Seokjin fucks like a mad man; hips battering against your ass as if fucking you is the only thing keeping him alive. He fucks like he’s on a mission to destroy you, and you love it.
Not once does it even occur to either of you that you’re in a public place with the door unlocked; in fact, it’s still open ajar. Honestly, even if someone was to walk in, neither of you would notice; you’re both entirely absorbed in the intense pleasure rapidly curling in your lower stomachs.
You’re both utterly shameless with your vocals too, moaning, and groaning, and panting heavily, spurring the other on with sounds as you both lose the ability to form words. Which only gets worse when he starts to pull your hips back to meet his thrusts, impaling you that little bit further on his cock and making you all but scream in pleasure as your legs threaten to give out.
You’re getting so tight around him that he’s finding it harder and harder to keep going; both because he’s hurting towards his climax, and because your walls are physically threatening to prevent him from moving. If you weren’t dripping with arousal already, Seokjin wouldn’t have even been able to keep going only minutes after starting.
He can’t wait to take you home and fuck you all night until you’ve soaked his mattress— and whatever other surface he decides to fuck you against. He’s already debating calling in sick tomorrow, just so that he has more time to play with you.
One particularly powerful thrust makes your knees give out with a yelp. Your body sags for only a second before Seokjin lurches forward to wrap his arms around you and pull you upright. “Shit, sorry,” he apologises while pulling out, then carefully turns you to sit you on the edge of the desk.
“It’s okay,” you reply, smiling breathlessly. Seokjin’s already thumping heart flutters at the sight of you. He’s never seen a sight so beautiful. “Don’t stop,” you encourage, opening your legs wide, and pulling his hips back to yours.
Seokjin makes short work of sliding his length back into you, sighing in pleasure at the feeling of having you wrapped around him again. “You feel so perfect,” he confesses, pressing his forehead against your shoulder to watch as his length slowly slides in and out of you. “So good.” He lifts his head to meet your gaze. “I want to kiss you,” he murmurs, eyes still locked with yours, which confuses you as you’re used to people looking at your lips when they want to kiss you. But you don’t mind at all, nor do you refuse; you want to kiss him too. You feel his lips turn up into a soft smile when you press yours to them.
As you both get lost in the kiss, Seokjin continues the slow, deep rolling of his hips, while your hands curiously explore one another. You almost complain about the fact he’s still fully dressed, wanting to feel his skin pressed against yours, but Seokjin happens to choose that moment to pick up the pace, and you simply moan into his mouth instead.
Very quickly, you both lose the ability to focus on the kiss and pull apart, your hands threaded in his hair, and his holding your thighs open as wide as possible to allow him to fuck you harder and deeper.
“I want you to cum,” he pants out when he feels himself getting dangerously close. “Touch yourself.”
You bite your lip nervously, having never touched yourself in front of someone before. But, you figure that if you were going to start, it’d be for Seokjin. Too desperate to cum to think on it for more than a second, you remove one hand from his hair to reach between your bodies and play with your clit, immediately tightening around his cock due to the extra, pleasurable stimulation.
“Shit, hurry, I’m gonna cum,” he urges, syllables slurring together, proving just how close he is to his climax. “Please, baby,” he begs, and just like that, your orgasm shoots through your body, curling your toes and tightening all of your muscles, almost giving your right calf a cramp, but you manage to straighten your leg just in time to prevent the pain; that would really ruin the mood. Seokjin grows still, watching your euphoric expression in awe for barely a second before he replaces his fingers on your clit with his thumb to work you through the pleasure.
When you whine from sensitivity and push his hand away, Seokjin pulls out and steps back while pointing to the floor with one hand, his other wrapping around his throbbing erection. “Down, mouth open,” he demands.
Despite your whole body feeling weak, and legs like jelly, you slide off the desk and lower yourself to the floor, opening your mouth wide in obedient wait. Seokjin groans low and affected at the sight of you, and pumps his hand up and down his length furiously. It only takes a few seconds before he’s spilling onto your tongue; you wrap your lips around him to suck gently, taking all he has to offer you.
When the pleasure has worked its way through his body, Seokjin pats your head softly in silent signal. “Good girl,” he pants, lips quirking in amusement at the way you haven’t yet removed his softening cock from your mouth, seeming more than happy to cock warm him for the foreseeable future. As much as he loves the sight of your lips stretched around him, he’s sensitive right now and doesn’t want to get overstimulated and risk not being up for fucking you again once he gets you home. “Up,” he says as he pulls out of your mouth, so that he can tuck himself away and pull up his boxers and trousers.
Once his zipper and button are secured back into place, Seokjin looks at you, only to find you still kneeling on the floor, watching him with innocent eyes.
“I said up,” he reminds, though you don’t make a move to obey. Instead, you open your mouth wide, showing him that you haven’t swallowed a drop of his cum. “Oh…” Seokjin chews on his bottom lip briefly, more aroused by the sight of his cum pooling in your mouth than he’d like to admit. “Swallow it.”
Obediently, you press your lips together and tip your head back so that he can see the bob of your throat when you swallow. Once you’ve swallowed every drop down, you lift your head back up to look at him, and once again part your lips wide to show your empty mouth.
“That’s my girl,” he praises, making you beam, and he smiles fondly. “Come on, let’s get you decent enough to get back to my place. You can show me how deep you can really suck my cock.” Immediately, you light up and rush to get up to excitedly do as told.
As promised, Seokjin helps you get dressed, before he takes you back to his apartment to enthusiastically lay you out over every possible surface, and even pin you up against multiple walls.
It’s the first time Seokjin has ever received a noise complaint, but all he needs to do is look over at your mischievous grin to know that it won’t be the last.
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🎶Who: Min Yoongi (BTS) x female reader.
🎶What: Some humour. Suggestive (18+). Slow burn. Strangers to Friends to Lovers. Single parent Yoongi. Music teacher Yoongi. Child Taehyung. Child Jihoon. Ex husband Mingyu. Best friend Mingyu.
🎶Word count: 6.1k
🎶Warnings: Disabled characters— both mental and physical in various ways. A bit of a tough moment for Taehyung where friends are involved. Seungcheol and Hansol are both children and brothers. Mentions of child Jeonghan and Jisoo. Profanity. Suggestive themes.
🎶Summary:
Even before you meet him, Min Yoongi owns a piece of your heart.
Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio. I also block blank blogs.
My general masterlist
🎶Mr. Min Masterlist. Previous Chapter. Next Chapter.
After too short of a visit in Japan, your family is back home, with all three of you wishing you could’ve stayed for more than a few days, while also being glad to be back in your familiar space.
It feels like you only blink and the summer holidays are over, and Taehyung is back at school.
Though, Taehyung’s classroom gains a very angry little winged visitor on Monday morning before school starts, resulting in no school for him and his classmates on Monday. Although there technically is more than enough space in the school to put them in another room while the bird is safely removed and the class fully sanitised again, the teaching staff don’t think it wise to suddenly relocate a classroom of SEN students who need the stability and functions of their usual classroom.
So, you and Mingyu get another day with your son— to all of your joy—, and then, on Tuesday morning, Taehyung skips into school happily; excited to see Mr. Lee and give his bestest friends the friendship bracelets he picked out in Hawaii.
The last thing you expect while you wait on the playground after school for the class to be let out, is to see your son looking so sad as he approaches you hand in hand with a sympathetic looking Mr. Lee.
“What happened?” you worry as Taehyung latches onto your legs and only loosens his hold enough to allow you to pick him up and hold him close, where he tucks his face into your neck to hide away from the world.
“Tae’s had a bit of a bad friendship day,” Mr. Lee answers, looking genuinely a little upset about this as he frowns at Taehyung’s dejected form clinging to you, then returns his gaze to you as he continues to explain. “His usual little group didn’t include him today, because apparently, Tae was mean to Seungcheol by not attending his birthday party in the summer.”
You blink a few times, utterly bewildered. “It was Seungcheol’s birthday party? I didn’t know that, and I’m very positive Tae would’ve been too excited to not tell me if he was invited to one of his best friend’s birthday party.”
Mr. Lee hums in understanding. “I think it might be a good idea to have you and Seungcheol’s parents come in tomorrow before school, with the boys of course, and try to get to the bottom of this. He wasn’t happy today either, so I imagine his parents will want to fix this.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” you agree. “How early should we be here?”
“Is twenty minutes before the bell doable for you? That will give plenty of time to get to the root of the issue, and then the boys will have time to play together before the other students come in; I think that would be good for them both.”
“We’ll be here,” you promise.
“Great. I’ll see you both in the morning then. See you tomorrow, Tae,” Mr. Lee says, gently touching his fingertips to Taehyung’s back for a moment in goodbye, yet not lingering at all, knowing it would overwhelm the boy right now.
As Mr. Lee turns and walks back to his classroom, you lift Taehyung a little higher to make carrying him easier, then head to your car ready to spend the rest of the evening doing everything humanely possible to try and put a smile back on your son’s face.
For the first time in a long time, Taehyung isn’t excited about going to school. He’s grumpy as he gets out of bed and barely touches his breakfast despite Mingyu having cooked the boy’s favourite to try and cheer him up.
He only perks up when the three of you are leaving the house and he spots the gift bag you’re carrying. “It’s Wednesday,” you remind, seeing a little of his usual light flitter back into his eyes. “Mr. Min teaches you this afternoon, so you can give him the gifts you picked for him and Jihoon.” That makes Taehyung give the first smile of the day as he climbs into the car with more energy than he’s had this morning and lets his dad strap him securely into his seat.
“Remember, you can’t call him Yoongi anymore,” Mingyu reminds as he fiddles with the clasps he still insists were designed just to piss him off, despite Taehyung having been using this specific seat for over a year now.
“Mr. Min,” Taehyung replies with a nod, seeming to be implanting the reminder into his still slightly sleepy mind. “Mr. Min,” he repeats as Mingyu backs off, mindlessly giving his dad their usual high-five to celebrate getting the straps securely buckled, too focused on muttering the name under his breath.
“I swear, that’s like a cheat code or something,” Mingyu muses as he climbs into the car. “Tell him he’s going to see his favourite teacher, and he cheers up.” You just hum in agreement while double checking that everyone is strapped in safely and ready to go.
As you start the drive, you just hope that before you leave the meeting, you won’t need to use Taehyung’s favourite teacher as a means to cheer your son up any more today.
Even though you do sometimes drop Taehyung off at school on Wednesday mornings, it’s not that regular as that’s always Mingyu’s or his parents’ day, but still, you’ve been at the school on Wednesday mornings before, yet you’ve never seen Yoongi around.
Evidently, as he steps out of the classroom into the hallway, he’s surprised to see you today too, as his eyes widen a little when he looks at the three of you. Though he wipes the look off of his face as Taehyung shuffles forward to hug his favourite teacher. “Good morning, Tae.”
“Sad mornin’,” Taehyung replies, face partially buried in the man’s leg.
“Well, we’re here to fix that,” he promises, then looks up at you and Mingyu. “Seungcheol and his parents are already here, come on through.”
The four of you enter the classroom where Mr. Lee is sitting on the desk chair pulled around to be seated with the fold out chairs, two of which are occupied by who you have to assume are Seungcheol’s parents, while the little boy himself is beside his mother in his wheelchair. You’ve only met the boy a few times, but you know he only uses his wheelchair when he’s having a bad mobility or pain day; and based on how his little expression is pinched in pain and he’s got his hands pressed to the crease where his legs connect to his hips, it’s a bad pain day.
Clearly, Taehyung knows as much too because as soon as he notices his friend’s condition, he gasps and lets go of Yoongi’s hand to rush across to the large cupboard at the front of the class beside the whiteboard.
From your guided tour of the school and classroom back in April, you know that cupboard contains a vast array of medical and first aid equipment to help handle whatever needs the children may have that doesn’t require being sent home or to the hospital. Every room in the school has one, and each classroom’s is personalised for the use of the students in that class. Of course, the dangerous and more delicate equipment is up out of reach of the children, but the lower shelves hold items that the children can get themselves; to give them a sense of responsibility and independence, knowing they likely will have to handle these things for the rest of their lives, so it’s better to get them used to it while young.
Taehyung grabs out what you recognise as heat pouches— the type that contain little fabric baggies that can be removed and put in the microwave to be warmed up. Without a word, he rushes to take them to Yoongi, as the teacher is still standing, and holds them up to the man with a pleading expression. Equally as quiet, Yoongi accepts the bags with a proud little smile, pats Taehyung’s head, then heads over to the microwave to remove the little baggies and place them inside.
As the microwave quietly whirs, heating the bags, your family goes over to sit on the chairs; though Taehyung stands in front of you, looking between the microwave and Seungcheol rapidly.
“Thank you for coming in,” Mr. Lee says before going on to politely introduce you and Mingyu to Seungcheol’s parents. “I think–” he starts to say, clearly planning to get to the point of being here, but the microwave dings softly and Taehyung darts over towards it.
You all watch as Taehyung accepts the packs once Yoongi has put them back together and handed them over. The little boy immediately turns and scuttles over to Seungcheol to give him the packs and watch as he puts them in place against his hips, and relaxes a little, giving Taehyung a soft “thanks, Tae”.
Only now that he’s done what he can to help, and Seungcheol doesn’t look so uncomfortable, does Taehyung return to stand in front of you. You don’t hesitate to tug him closer between your thighs to hold his hands and kiss the back of his head where it faces you, so proud of your thoughtful little boy.
“That doesn’t seem like a mean boy, Cheolie,” Seungcheol’s mother speaks up, turning her head from watching Taehyung in surprise, to give her own son a questioning look. Seungcheol just looks down at his hands as they pick at his trousers, offering no response.
Before Mr. Lee can do more than open his mouth to try and mediate the situation, Taehyung speaks up, shuffling nervously on his feet, and fingers randomly pressing into your hands in an effort of self-soothing, “I–I promise I ne–never knewed it was summer party birthday,” he vows, looking between Seungcheol— who is still looking down at his own lap— and the boy’s parents, both looking at Taehyung openly, clearly more than willing to give your son a chance to explain himself.
“Seungcheol didn’t give you the invitation?” Seungcheol’s dad asks. The second Taehyung shakes his head, Seungcheol’s parents both look at their son. “Seungcheol? You told us you handed the invitations out.”
Seungcheol sniffles, then looks at his parents with big eyes that look suddenly sad. “I–I was going to, but my legs hurt, so Hannie said he’d do it!” he defends. “He told me he gave to Tae and Soo!” he insists, looking on the verge of tears that you think aren’t entirely due to the pain he’s in.
“I see,” his mother sighs, then turns to look at your family. “I think I know exactly what happened here. Jeonghan and Seungcheol have been best friends since they were babies, and Jeonghan is very attached to his Cheolie,” she explains. You think you get where this is going but remain quiet to let her finish. “Jeonghan has always had a bit of a jealous streak when it comes to Seungcheol and other children, and it’s caused more than a few issues in the past. It’s not until they met Jisoo that Seungcheol gained a friend other than Jeonghan, so we were admittedly very worried when he came home talking about Taehyung this year.”
Seungcheol’s dad nods in agreement, taking his wife’s hand into his where she has it on her lap politely. “We should’ve known something like this would happen. We’re very sorry that this happened and upset your sweetheart of a son.”
“It’s not your fault,” Mingyu assures. “These kinds of things are bound to happen at some point, we’re just glad it’s more of a misunderstanding than anything.”
“Cheolie,” Seungcheol’s dad says, looking at his son, who looks up at him with a few tears on his cheeks, and lips turned into a sad pout. “I think you owe your friend an apology, don’t you? You really upset him by leaving him out yesterday.”
“I–I’m sorry, Tae,” Seungcheol says immediately, looking at Taehyung so earnestly that it’s clear that he means it and does truly feel guilty about it. “A–are you still my–my friend?”
Taehyung nods and lets go of you to move over and carefully hug Seungcheol, who melts in relief and squeezes Taehyung back. “I have for you gift!” he declares as he backs up, smiling and back to his usual self now as he removes his backpack. You watch as Taehyung takes the little paper bag of bracelets from his bag to show Seungcheol. “For you, and me, and Soo, and Hannie,” he informs. “You pick for you.”
“Oh!” Seungcheol beams and takes his take deciding which bracelet he likes best.
“Your son really is so sweet,” Seungcheol’s mother coos, drawing your attention. You can practically feel Mingyu puff with pride on your right. “How about we do something this weekend, just for the two boys; to make up for this whole ordeal?” she suggests.
“Can Tae come over?” Seungcheol asks, eyes wide in excitement. “To play with me, and he can meet Ponyo!”
“Fish girl?” Taehyung asks confusedly, and Seungcheol giggles, shaking his head.
“Ponyo is our new puppy! He’s so cute!”
“Puppy?!” Taehyung gasps and starts bouncing excitedly. “I can see puppy?!”
“Well, I think they’ve already planned it,” Seungcheol’s dad jokes, looking at you and Mingyu with a smile. “Would that be okay, for Taehyung to come over for the afternoon to play and meet the puppy?”
“I think we’d break his heart if we said no,” Mingyu jokes back, and you nod in agreement, all of you smiling as the two boys cheer happily, understanding that they get to hang out this weekend together— something they haven’t done before.
“Let’s exchange numbers,” Seungcheol’s mother suggests, already taking her phone from her handbag to unlock. “We can discuss it better through text; arrange a time, and you can let me know of any allergies or things we need to keep in mind for Taehyung’s visit.”
“That sounds great,” you agree and get up with your phone to approach the woman, who also gets to her feet so that you can exchange phone numbers.
After you and Seungcheol’s mother agree to text in the day to arrange the play date, she and her husband say goodbye to their son, and the rest of you, before they take their leave.
“Hey, Tae,” Mingyu calls conspiratorially while Mr. Lee helps Seungcheol put his bag and jacket away instead of leaving them hanging on the back of his wheelchair. Taehyung skips over to his dad curiously, then gasps in excitement when Mingyu pointedly shows the boy the giftbag by your feet.
“Mr. Min!” Taehyung exclaims, scrambling to clutch the gift bag close, before rushing over to his favourite teacher, where the man is flicking through papers as he stands beside the desk.
You and Mingyu remain where you are to watch contently as Taehyung excitedly gives Yoongi the gifts he picked out for him and Jihoon in Japan; a little plush Kumamon keyring for the teacher— because Taehyung knows the man apparently loves the mascot—, and a musical snow globe that plays a song for the anime that the character within is from, just because Taehyung thinks Jihoon will love the song even if he doesn’t watch anime. You think he’s right; it really is a beautifully soothing tune.
Yoongi enthuses about the gifts from where he had crouched down in front of the little boy to be at his height. He looks genuinely thrilled with his keychain, grinning big and gummy, and straightens just enough to clip it onto the belt loop of his jeans, making your heart do something funny and flippy seeing him be so good with your son.
You can’t help but wonder if your heart would skip over itself seeing Yoongi acting like this with other children. Something in you tells you it wouldn’t; that it’s the fact it’s your son he’s being so sweet to that makes your heart grow sweeter on him.
In an attempt to not let how soft the scene has made you show on your features, you grab Mingyu’s arm and call out to Taehyung that you’re going now. Once Taehyung has finished squeezing you both, and planting kisses on both of your cheeks— gaining one on each cheek in return at the same time from you both—, he rushes back over to his favourite teacher to tell him about Japan, and you all but drag Mingyu out, ignoring the shit eating grin he’s wearing.
“So, when’re you proposing?” he jokes as you exit the building. You wait until you’re in the car and safely out of view of little eyes and ears before retaliating with a hissed “shut the fuck up”, and a shove to his beefy arm. Mingyu just cackles in response.
To your utter joy, when Taehyung gets home, he’s back to skipping off ahead of his dad to excitedly tell you about his day. He tells you how in the morning, Jeonghan had apologised for not giving him Seungcheol’s party invite and being a meanie. Of course, Taehyung had easily forgiven him and gave Jeonghan and Jisoo their friendship bracelets. And to make his day even better than a promise of a puppy-play date with one of his best friends this weekend, and an apology and make up hug from Jeonghan, the boy even let Taehyung sit next to Seungcheol at lunch, in the seat that Jeonghan usually refuses to let anyone but him sit in.
Although you’re pretty sure it won’t be the last issue Taehyung ever has with his best friends, you’re glad to know that it seems that even though they’re small, they can forgive and be kind to each other in ways that you’ve seen some adults fail to do. You hope that the four will continue to remain such good friends for a long time. Taehyung really does deserve to grow with the boys who understand him and won’t ever judge him for his struggles.
As you listen to Taehyung enthuse about the games they played today between classes— all sit down games to accommodate Seungcheol’s bad pain day— you’re pretty confident that the four will truly be close for many years to come.
On Thursday, Taehyung comes home even more excited than Wednesday, having babbled to you the entire ride home about Jihoon finding him at lunch on the playground, even though Taehyung has never seen Jihoon on the playground before. But apparently, Jihoon had wanted to thank Taehyung for the gift and let him know that he searched the anime intro the snow globe played, then watched the anime and quickly decided he likes anime. He suggested that Taehyung watch it when he’s bigger too, because it’s probably too scary for Taehyung to watch at his age, so he needs to be bigger first. Taehyung hadn’t remembered what the anime is— neither could you— but the two of you made a plan for Taehyung to ask Yoongi at school to write it down for you to research it together.
Which somehow leads to Taehyung finding an anime Thursday evening once you get home from the school run, and watches it entirely enthralled. He does the same on Friday after school, finishing the single season show, then finds another to start, and declares that he loves anime during bedtime.
You’re not at all surprised that Saturday consists of Taehyung partaking in his new favourite hobby, watching anime. Admittedly, you also get into the show too and leave Mingyu to deal with the day’s chores and grocery run on his own. Not that he minds when it’s often down to you to do it all as he’s away for work so much.
Then, on Sunday, Taehyung wakes, and before he’s even fully cognisant, he toddles downstairs all on his own to turn on the TV and finish the episode he had to turn off half-way through for bedtime last night.
You’re entirely unaware of this until Mingyu wakes you up by sprawling over you— fully dressed despite it barely being 8am— and squeezes your cheeks playfully while you glare sleepily at him. “Good morning, cupcake!” he greets, and presses a kiss to your still squished cheeks before sitting up, kneeling over your waist. “I think our son is an anime addict,” he declares, making your eyes open again from closing ready to go back to sleep— or at least rest some more.
“What?” you mumble, shuffling around into a more comfortable position on your back to look up at him.
“I was making breakfast when he came down like an hour ago and didn’t even notice me in the kitchen, just turned on the TV and got back to that anime he was watching last night.”
“Seriously?” He nods, pouting a little, and you snicker. “Are you sulking because he didn’t notice you in the kitchen?”
Mingyu hesitates before answering in a tone that you don’t even have to know him well to know is a blatant lie. “No.”
You laugh and nudge him off of you so that you can toddle to the bathroom, suddenly aware of how full your bladder is. “Did you make him breakfast?”
“Yeah,” he confirms, following you into the bathroom. At this point, you’ve both cared for each other when the other has been ill and barely able leave the toilet— with a bucket clutched on naked thighs—, so you really have no issue with peeing with Mingyu hovering at the sink to ready your toothbrush for you, knowing you’ll want to brush your teeth as you’re up now.
As soon as you’ve flushed the toilet and are at the sink washing your hands, Mingyu attaches himself to your back and buries his face in your neck, still clutching your toothbrush in one hand. Though the second you take it from him and start to brush your teeth, his hand is under your pyjama top— one of his old t-shirts he claims has always looked better on you— to rub at your stomach.
“Let’s have another baby,” he says, making your freeze and look over your shoulder at him as if he’s crazy. Upon spotting his cheeky grin, you realise he’s just messing with you and shove him away before turning back around to return to brushing your teeth while he giggles away, so damn pleased at himself for his joke. “I’m kidding!” he declares when you’re done and turn to leave your ensuite. “I know you’re going to have a baby with Yoongi, if anyone.” He's cackling and running away even before he’s done with his taunt.
For a moment, you regret admitting your interest in Min Yoongi to Mingyu, but then the moment passes and you’re glad that your ex-husband is still your best friend, and the two of you still care and cherish one another to never hesitate to share any secrets with. Even if it leads to the man taking every opportunity to tease you. You know you’d do the same to him if the roles were reversed, so you can’t really be upset about it anyway.
As both you and Taehyung are already up when Mingyu has to leave to catch his flight at a little after 9am, you decide to drive him to the airport— with you and Taehyung still donned in your pyjamas. You and Taehyung sit in the car to watch the man rush off with his security team— who met you at the drop off point— and only drive off when he’s safely in the building after blowing kisses to the car in one last dramatic goodbye.
“Mama, can we get gift for Cheolie for late birthday?” Taehyung requests only minutes after driving away from the airport.
“Oh, yeah, we can do that. I didn’t even think that we didn’t get him a birthday gift,” you admit. “Good catch, baby. Shall we go now, or do you want to go home and change first?”
“Go now so we have plenty lots time,” he decides.
“Okey dokey!” you easily agree, and head to the shopping district. You’re entirely uncaring that you’re about to go shopping on a Sunday morning in your worn old pyjamas, with your hair lazily thrown up out of your face in a bun that Taehyung had insisted on doing himself before you left the house— so that your hair doesn’t get in your face when driving—, complete with mismatched, bright character clips. You probably look a mess, but you’re about five years past caring, not when your sole focus is always Taehyung.
Even though you know that Taehyung is going to carefully scrutinise every single option on the shelves before likely choosing to buy the very first thing he picks up, you really don’t mind at all. Taehyung always wants to do his very best for those he cares about, down to taking his time to make sure any gift he selects will be enjoyable for the receiver. The little boy just has so much love in him, and you’ll never intentionally do a thing to ever ruin that.
As soon as the front door of the Choi house opens, Seungcheol bounces out and happily throws himself at Taehyung in an overjoyed hug. He’s clearly more than excited to see Taehyung today, and thankfully, his body is being kind enough to him that he doesn’t seem to be in any pain. It’s definitely a cause to smile bright enough that his adorable dimples pop out, you think.
“I missed you!” Seungcheol declares as the boys embrace each other tightly, both wearing bright grins paired with sparkling eyes.
“I missed you!” Taehyung replies, entirely honestly because he always misses his loved ones, even after only a few hours apart.
“Come meet Ponyo!” Seungcheol says as soon as they break their hug, grabbing Taehyung’s hand to tug him in past his dad at the door, only stopping to show Taehyung where to put his slides, then the pair run off happily.
“Well, it seems like there shouldn’t be any problems today,” the man muses as he turns to you with a chuckle.
“It seems that way,” you agree and hold up the gift bag in your hands. “This is a late birthday gift for Seungcheol, Taehyung is very excited to give it to him; he’ll circle around to it when he’s over the excitement of puppy and a new place to explore,” you explain, handing over the gift bag.
“Oh, that’s so kind, you didn’t have to get him anything, but I know he will appreciate it. His mother and I do too.”
“It’s really no problem. One of Tae’s love languages is gift giving; it makes him really happy to give others things, so I’ll never say no when he wants to buy one of his best friends a birthday gift,” you assure with a vaguely dismissive wave of your hand, then offer the backpack on your shoulder, which the man takes without hesitation. “There should be everything he needs in there if he gets overwhelmed, plus a change of clothes just in case. He knows it’s there and he’s pretty independent with that stuff usually, so he should be fine to just get what he needs when he needs it so long as he knows where his bag is.”
“I’ll leave it on the dining table, out of reach of our youngest and the puppy, and tell him it’s there right away.”
“Thank you, I really appreciate how much care you and your wife have put into having Tae over. I know it can be a lot of information to take in, all his potential needs and such, but chances are, he’ll be okay. I’d just rather warn you just in case, and to minimise chances of things being uncomfortable for anyone.”
“We understand. Cheolie has a lot of needs himself, as you can imagine, so we really do understand. Sure, their needs are very different, but we still want to do our best to accommodate anyone special to our son.” He smiles at you a moment, then glances downwards, making you look down too and notice a toddler peering around his legs and clutching on. “Ah, this is our youngest, Hansol. Solie, say hi.” Hansol waves but doesn’t look at you.
“Hello, Hansol, it’s lovely to meet you,” you reply softly, leaning down a little to be closer to his level without risking overwhelming him. “I like your t-shirt, Spider-Man is my favourite superhero.” Hansol glances up at you through his thick lashes, and breaks into a quick, bright smile, before he giggles, turns, and runs off. “He’s adorable,” you coo as you straighten back up.
“I’ll admit, we did well with our sons in that way for sure,” the man jokes with a grin. Now you can see where Seungcheol gets his dimples from and can’t help but smile wider at him.
“Definitely, they’re both precious,” you agree with a nod. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Please don’t hesitate to call for any reason at all; I’m not doing anything today, so I can come back if Tae needs me at any point.”
“We will,” he promises, settling you a lot, because he really does look like he’s being genuine. “Have a nice time, relax a little.”
“Oh, I plan to,” you reply with a giggle and back up. You wave slightly in farewell before you return to your car and head off.
Due to the nice weather and great natural lighting, you head to a nearby lake only a ten-minute drive away with every intention of taking some photos. It’s been a while since you’ve worked with nature, not people, so the change of literal scenery is very welcome.
Despite your initial plans, once you’ve found somewhere to park and wander along towards the lake with your camera already out for anything that might catch your eye on the way, you spot something that gains your attention in a different way and makes you detour a little.
Sitting on a bench just outside of the playpark, along the path in the grass towards the lake, is none other than Jungkook. You two had great fun together in Hawaii, and you have a few hours to kill, so you entirely give up on your plan to take any photos and instead redirect your feet to his direction. Though, admittedly, you do stop and snap a few photos of the model while he’s unaware. You know he won’t care, especially if you send them to him later.
“Hey,” you greet once close enough, making Jungkook look over and quickly grin at you.
“Hey, mama. No cub today?”
“He’s having a playdate,” you inform, circling around the bench to plop down at his side comfortably, uncaring that his arm is spread over the back of the bench so is now almost around you. You want him all over you right now anyway and want to take him home sooner rather than later to achieve just that.
Yet, when you face forward, you suddenly realise that won’t happen as you spot Jihoon in the park and realise that Jungkook is seated in the perfect position to watch over him. The boy isn’t playing like the few other kids in the park, he’s just sitting on one of the swings, gently moving back and forth with his eyes on the clouds and headphones over his ears. It’s clear he’s in his own little world and more than content that way.
“Oh, are you babysitting Jihoon?” you question, surprised about the fact, because honestly, you hadn’t seen Jungkook interact with either Yoongi or Jihoon at Seokjin’s wedding, so you hadn’t been aware they even know each other. Especially not well enough for Jungkook to watch over the boy— and for Jihoon so seem so at east about it too.
“Yep.” Jungkook confirms simply with a nod, making you give him a questioning look. “What?”
“I didn’t know you even know him.”
“He’s my nephew.”
For a few seconds, all you can do is stare blankly at Jungkook, not believing the words that just came out of his mouth. “He’s what?” you mutter dumbly.
“My nephew, as in I’m his uncle.”
“Oh my fucking god,” you wheeze out and turn away wide eyed, staring over at Jihoon unseeing. But it’s fine, he doesn’t even know you’re there, so he doesn’t get uncomfortable with your strange expression. “You’re Yoongi’s brother?” you whisper.
“Yeah, well, half, we have different dads. But we don’t really consider that most of the time.” You make a strange, almost strangled kind of sound in response. “What?”
“Nothing,” you lie, pretty blatantly too, but you’re too shocked with your mind whirling to even care or truly register it.
“Bullshit,” he scoffs, and gently hits your shoulder with his hand on the back of the bench. “I know you. What is it?”
For a moment, you just stare silently ahead, before you let out a heavy breath and slouch defeatedly. “Kinda got a thing for your brother,” you admit in a mumble. Instantly, Jungkook gasps in genuine shock, only to crack up into laughter a second later. “How did I not know you have a brother?” you grump, prodding his thick thigh where it’s almost pressed against your own.
It takes a moment for Jungkook to stop cackling away and actually respond. “Guess it never came up.” He snickers. “I’m not sure how he’ll feel about dating someone I’ve fucked, but I’ll put in a good word for you,” he offers as he puts his arm casually around your shoulders. You don’t even need to look at him to know he’s got a dumbass, highly amused grin on his face.
“Don’t bother,” you huff and Jungkook makes a curious noise, turning more serious now due to your own tone. “He wouldn’t even swap numbers with me for the sake of the boys hanging out. School policy, apparently.”
“What?” he mutters confused, only to realise a split second later and make a sharp noise of understanding. “Oh, oh shit, Tae goes to Hoon’s school, I forgot.” He hums, then quickly makes another confused sound. “Wait, that shouldn’t matter though.”
“Yoongi’s Tae’s sub right now,” you inform.
“Ah, yeah, that’ll do it,” he agrees. You’re still watching a contently oblivious Jihoon swaying on the swing, but you can see Jungkook’s head bobbing in your peripheral. “Teachers can’t get into romantic or sexual relationships with the parents or guardians of students under their direct care,” he says in a way that sounds like he knows that particular rule far too well when he is neither a staff member nor parent of a student at the school. For a second, you start to run through the staff you know in your mind to try and figure out who Jungkook may’ve seduced in order to learn that rule so well, but then he continues speaking and you truly register what he’s saying. “If he wasn’t Tae’s teacher, he could do whatever he wants with you.”
The information Jungkook tells you doesn’t entirely make sense to you, not in your situation. You hadn’t given any hints to Yoongi about wanting to fuck or date him, past that moment of weakness when you flirted as he and Jihoon left your hotel suite in Hawaii that day. “What about platonic?” you question, shuffling to sit up straight again and look at Jungkook.
“Platonic?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow at you questioningly.
“Yeah, I asked to exchange numbers, not nudes,” you point out.
“Ah.” Jungkook’s expression turns into a playful smirk, and he wiggles his eyebrows at you comically. “Guess you have a better chance than you realise.”
You sigh, pouting a little. “Not now that I’ve sat on your face.”
“Yeah, probably not,” he agrees with a few more amused cackles, making you sigh again and turn to face forward again while putting your head on his shoulder comfortably. “We should do that again, if it’s already fucked up for you,” he suggests, resting his head on top of yours.
“Mm, sure,” you concede, because it really was a great experience that you’d be a fool to refuse given the chance. “But come February, I’m sitting on his face,” you decide determinedly.
“Okay, whatever you say, mama,” he agrees and pats your shoulder.
Honestly, you really don’t know if Yoongi would be okay with seeing you in any capacity past platonic once he learns that you’ve fucked his half-brother, but Jungkook knows the man better than you and seems to think that there’s at least some chance for you to worm yourself into Yoongi’s heart— and bed—, so you’re going to keep hope in your chest and wait for spring to bloom a new chance for you.
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🌊Who: Kim Mingyu (Seventeen) x female reader
🌊What: Smut (18+). Some humour. Some fluff. Strangers to Lovers. Lifeguard Mingyu.
🌊Word count: 7.1k
🌊Warnings: Profanity. Quick joke about burying a body on the beach. Slight drowning, it’s not graphic and it’s very quick all in all. Passing mention of panic. Semi-public sex. Kissing. Oral (female receiving). Fingering. Big dick Mingyu. PIV sex. Unprotected sex. Multiple orgasms (female receiving). Messy Mingyu. Choking. A single solitary spank. Mentions of bruising. I think that’s it.
🌊Summary:
You don’t like the beach, but you do like the handsome lifeguard who works there. As it turns out, he likes you too and is more than willing to risk his job to have you.
Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio. I also block blank blogs.
Masterlist
A/N- This was originally on my old account @/whipped-for-kpop-fics, but I’ve decided to private a lot of stuff on that account and just move it over to here after some editing, where I can actually track it all properly.
A few weeks ago, your best friend managed to succeed in convincing you to go to the beach— after some very effective emotional manipulation in the form of puppy eyes and pouting at you. She had promised you’d enjoy yourself, and admittedly, you did, but not because of the beach itself.
Still, she used your enjoyment to convince you to return a few days later, and then another few more, and soon enough, the two of you seem to spend more time at the beach than your homes in your free time.
Now, the reason for your interest in attending the sand and seas, despite liking neither of those things, is pretty simple. The eye candy. One particular hunk of a man with a sweet smile, in particular.
You have no idea what his name is, you’ve never spoken to him nor been in close proximity; but that doesn’t deter you from setting up in that same spot under the parasol for a few hours every few days, at roughly the same time, just to watch Mr. Hunky Lifeguard do his rounds, strolling topless up and down the sand, and helping where he can.
It’s sweet; the way he’ll help anyone who asks, even with matters you’re very certain are not a part of his job description. Judging impromptu sandcastle contests between kids. Blowing up beach balls. Helping older folk set up their beach chairs and parasols.
You can’t help but wonder if he’d help you apply sunscreen. His warm hands slipping over your thighs, working up, and up, and–
“Hey!” The voice of your best friend breaks you from your fantasies as she skips over happily, hands cupped together, and before she’s even close enough, you already know what’s in her hands. “Check this out!” She drops onto her knees at your side to proudly show you…a little crab. So not another shell to add to the pile gathering on the sand to your right, as you had assumed.
“A crab.”
“Yes.”
“I thought you were looking for shells to decorate your castle with?” You both look over at the half-finished and, admittedly, rather grand sandcastle a little to the side, safely out of the way from any passerby.
“Every castle needs a King; don’t you think he’ll look crabulous on his throne?” You look back at your best friend to find her grinning at you, proud of her joke.
“Go find shells,” you deadpan, she just giggles and gets up to return to the rockpool where she had found the crab, to return it to its home.
Thoroughly distracted from your fantasy of the hot lifeguard, you have honestly forgotten about it and also happened to have lost track of him. Last you saw him, he was up on the deck of the watch tower, peering over the beach through binoculars, yet now, he’s nowhere to be seen.
With a disappointed sigh, you decide to just relax, leaning back against the bags you’ve piled up to create an impromptu backrest, and go back to reading your book.
It’s not even ten minutes later when a figure blocks your light and casts a shadow over your pages. You immediately assume it’s your friend from the way the figure lingers, and you lift your head with every intention of accepting whatever funky patterned rock or shell she’s found this time, yet it’s not her who you spot, but Mr. Hunky Lifeguard himself.
“Hi,” he greets, hands on his hips, and smiling at you in that bright, friendly way you’ve noticed him smiling at everyone else.
You take the moment with him so close to quickly rake your hidden gaze over his exposed, sun-kissed, toned torso and arms. Praise be to whoever invented dark sunglasses. “Hello.”
“Family day out?” he questions, motioning to the pile of plastic beach toys beside the sandcastle on your right, causing you to look over and only now realise how it must look; that you’re here with your child, not your grown ass adult of a best friend.
“Not exactly,” you huff a laugh and lean aside a little to peer around him. “My best friend,” you declare upon spotting said person, and pointing to her. To your surprise, she’s squatting down with another lifeguard— this one wearing the same red shorts, though he’s got a white sleeveless t-shirt on—, and rummaging through the sand with your friend.
“Oh!” The man in front of you lets out a surprised little laugh when he looks over too. “I’ve never seen Vernon interact like that with a stranger. Unless they know each other?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” You shrug and look back up at the tall man in time to see his body angle back around to give you his full attention.
You briefly wonder who exactly is looking over this section of the beach when both lifeguards are currently distracted on the sand.
“Huh, okay. I’m Mingyu.” He takes a step closer to lean over and offers his hand to you.
Your gaze catches on the chain around his neck and the way it swings as he leans over. You want to reach out and grab it, yank him down and defile the beach together. But that would get you arrested, and you really don’t want that. So, you lean up onto your knees to accept his hand to shake and tell him your name in return.
“Mm, pretty,” he hums, looking at you over the top of his dark sunglasses with a lopsided little smile. It feels flirty as fuck, but you don’t want to make assumptions that this beautiful man is interested in you.
“Oh, thank you.” You smile a little and take your hand back yet remain on your knees with your feet tucked comfortably under you as he straightens up. You can’t help but think about the fact that if he was a few feet closer, you’d be at face height with his dick and within reaching distance.
“You must really like the beach.”
“Huh?” You blink away the fantasy of slobbering all over Mingyu’s cock and seeing how pretty he looks when he cums down your throat, or maybe on your face; that’d be nice too.
“I said you must really like the beach; I’ve seen you here almost every day for almost a month now.”
“You noticed me?” you mutter in shock.
“Uhm.” Mingyu rubs the back of his neck awkwardly; his confident stance melting away as his shoulders curve in and make him appear smaller, embarrassed. Cute. “I–It’s my job. To notice things. People. You know. To ma–make sure people are safe.”
“I see.” You hum and tilt your head a little without even noticing; amused and endeared by him. As if he isn’t already attractive enough just by existing; talking to him and realising he’s got this cute, shy side definitely draws you in further.
“Y–yep!” He laughs awkwardly and straightens to his full height again while putting his hands on his hips. “Well, I should get back to it. Nice to meet you!” And then he rushes off before you can even respond, leaving you watching him scuttle off and almost trip over a stray sandal in the sand, making you snicker. Mingyu flails to right himself, and then immediately looks over at you to see if you noticed. Realising that you had definitely seen him almost faceplant the sand, he gives an awkward, embarrassed little wave before turning and rushing off, quickly putting his face in his palms as he goes.
And just like that, the beach gets that much more interesting.
It’s a handful of days before you return to the beach; you had been busy with work, unfortunately, so you simply hadn’t had the time or energy to take the trip.
“I’m gonna dig a giant fucking hole today,” your best friend declares as you both put down your items in your usual spot and start to set up.
“To bury me? Work killed me, babe,” you retort dramatically.
“Please don’t bury bodies on the beach,” the unexpected male voice makes you jump and look over. To your surprise, a dripping wet Mingyu is standing a little behind you. “Hi.”
“Hi,” you reply dumbly, doing your utmost to not ogle his shimmering chest, or the flex of his bicep as he lifts a hand to run his fingers through his wet hair to stop the salty water dripping over his face.
You’re, once again, very glad for tinted sunglasses.
“You’re wet,” your best friend comments, making you both look at her where she’s standing and looking between you both over the top of her sunglasses— you’re very certain she’s lowered them down her nose just to give you both this very pointed look.
“I was teaching a kid to swim, of course I’m wet.” Mingyu chuckles, motioning over his shoulder with his thumb in the direction of the sea behind him.
“Wasn’t talking to you.” Your best friend gives you a final look before pushing her sunglasses back up into place. “I’ll leave you to set up, I have places to be.” With that, she turns and walks off in the direction of the snack carts and shacks further down the beach, leaving you and Mingyu alone.
You appreciate that; the alone time with the attractive man, but what you don’t appreciate is having to set up on your own. “She could’ve at least opened the parasol first,” you mutter to yourself while looking at the giant umbrella in disdain.
“I can help!” Mingyu offers, bounding forward before you can even answer, to pick up the umbrella from the sand, biceps flexing as he moves. “Where do you want it?”
“Right here,” you reply without thought. He hums in understanding, even if he doesn’t truly understand; because you were definitely thinking about where you want him to rail you when you answered, not where you want the parasol set up. Still, Mingyu sets the parasol up and it is in the right place, so you find no reason to correct yourself, and instead thank him and get to work setting up the mat.
To your pleased surprise, Mingyu sticks around to help you finish setting up everything, making friendly conversation as he goes and smiling brighter every time he makes you laugh.
You wish he would keep you company for longer but his walkie-talkie crackles to life and announces that he’s needed, so he leaves you with a smile, and waves at you when he looks over his shoulder after jogging a little away.
It makes you feel all warm inside; how he seems to be genuinely interested in being near you. You just hope that it doesn’t take another three weeks before he decides to make a move if he plans to. You’re not confident enough yourself to make that move; you’d be utterly mortified if you’ve read this all wrong and he’s just being a genuinely nice guy who goes above and beyond for his job.
So, you just settle down with a new book and hold that hope next to that sun shining in your chest.
“This is perhaps the dumbest idea we’ve had and gone through with,” your best friend comments as the two of you stand ankle-deep in the sea with the rented surfboards ready for your lesson, and one of the two men who run the surf supply shack.
“You signed us up,” you point out, both of you watching the man in question as he removes his t-shirt on the shore to toss at his co-worker, who rolls his eyes.
You know the co-worker personally, but more because he somehow knows your best friend. His name is Joshua, and he, according to your bestie, has purposely set up this lesson with his co-worker, Seungcheol, because Joshua owes her for something or other. Honestly, you long ago stopped trying to keep track of the shenanigans of your bestie. Wisely too.
“Sorry about that, Shua had to tell me something,” Seungcheol apologises as he walks over to join you two, sans surfboard of his own, confusing you, but you don’t point it out.
“Sounds ominous,” you declare.
“No.” He chuckles, and motions to your best friend, who points at herself with wide eyes on view thanks to her sunglasses currently being propped on Joshua’s head so that they don’t get lost to sea, while yours are with your belongings. “Shua said you have really bad balance, so I should probably hold onto you.”
“Terrible balance,” your best friend agrees seriously without missing a beat, even if you know she’s lying at least a little.
It takes everything in you to not burst into laughter. Clearly, Joshua is very aware that your bestie has been thirsting over his co-worker since she first saw him. Admittedly, you have been too, but most of your attention has been on Mr. Hunky Lifeguard, now officially known as Mingyu.
“Okay, so is it alright if I hold onto you to help?” Seungcheol checks, expression giving away that he truly has no idea that this is some kind of a set-up and is genuinely just concerned for his student’s safety.
“Full consent to touch me however you want,” your best friend agrees, making Seungcheol smile, entirely missing the depravity hiding in her words.
You have to look away to take a few breaths to calm yourself before you break, and happen to notice Mingyu up on the watchtower deck looking through his binoculars. You can’t be certain, but it looks like he’s got them pointed in your direction. You don’t want to be delusional, so convince yourself that even if he is, he’s not focused on you specifically.
Spoiler, he definitely is.
“Alright.” Seungcheol claps his hands together, making you jump a little, turn back to him, and catch his adorable gummy smile. “Let’s get this lesson started, shall we ladies?”
Honestly, the lesson with Seungcheol goes a lot better than expected; he takes it very seriously and pays careful attention to you both. You hadn’t expected to get anywhere close to standing on the board in the water, but with his careful guidance— even with his hands hovering around your friend to aid her oh so terrible balance if need be—, you get your feet under you.
After a few more tries, you manage to get almost entirely upright, while Seungcheol and your friend cheer you on supportively. And then, you make a giant fucking mistake.
Before you’re even upright, you lift your head just enough to peer around naturally, and notice Mingyu in all his topless, red short glory jogging along the beach, looking like everything out of a Baywatch themed porno with his pecs bouncing with fucking every step. And as if that’s not bad enough, the man clearly is packing something very special in his shorts, because you notice that bouncing too.
Next thing you know, you’re toppling into the water so suddenly that you inhale in shock a second before you hit the sea’s surface, allowing salty water to pour into your open mouth and trickle into your lungs. It’s barely a second that you’re under the water before a strong arm is around your waist and heaving you up into the air while you sputter, panic starting to seize your body.
“Move!” You hear as you’re laid down on the sand by the strong arms, though the voice is coming from elsewhere.
“I can handle this, Gyu,” this voice is right over you; the owner of the arms, and you vaguely register it as Seungcheol, but you’re too busy coughing up seawater to open your eyes or give him or the other man any attention.
“I’ve got it, Cheol,” Mingyu assures. There’s a heavy sigh, and then those strong hands leave your body, and you feel Seungcheol back away while other hands touch you gently, helping to remain on your side. “That’s it, you’re okay, I’ve got you,” Mingyu’s voice is soft and soothing where he’s hovering over you in concern with one hand rubbing over your arm and the other pushing your hair back.
Luckily, the whole ordeal only lasts a handful of minutes, and then you’re okay, breath stuttered and throat a little sore, but fine otherwise.
When you roll onto your back and open your eyes, you find Mingyu right there, leaning over you and backlit by the sun he’s purposely blocking from shining right in your eyes. Like your own personal guardian angel. Or something more poetic.
You can be given a break from being unable to wax poetic about this beautiful specimen of humanity before you, considering what you’re going through. And no, not the just inhaling seawater thing. But the whole, he’s leaning over you topless with that damn silver chain dangling inches from your face, thing. Just a little closer and you could bite it.
You wonder if he’d find that weird. Probably. You still want to do it though.
“Hey.” He gives you a tender kind of smile when you lift your eyes from his chain to meet his relieved, soft gaze. “You okay?” You just nod, pretty sure you’d say something highly inappropriate if you open your mouth.
“I dunno, I think she might need you to watch over her, Mr. Lifeguard,” Your best friend speaks up. You peer at her from the corner of your eyes and find her standing beside Seungcheol with a little smirk on her face as she looks between you and Mingyu. “Maybe you should take her up to the watchtower and keep a close eye on her, just in case.”
“She doesn’t need that,” Seungcheol points out simply, definitely unaware that your friend is trying to set up a situation for you and the man you’ve been thirsting over for weeks.
“No, no, she’s right,” Mingyu argues quickly as he shakes his head and turns to you to help you sit up and then get to your feet to stand with him. “I should definitely keep a close eye on her, she almost drowned, Cheol–”
“She’s fine,” Seungcheol’s mutter is neither heard nor considered as Mingyu continues to talk over him as if the man said nothing.
“So, I’ll take her to the watch tower for a while until she’s feeling all better, sounds okay?” He looks at you. You just nod.
“Make her feel all better, Mr. Lifeguard,” Your bestie encourages with a nod and thumbs up. Mingyu returns it, though you’re not certain he actually gets what your friend is insinuating, but you don’t really care. Whether he understands or not, you’re getting alone time with Mingyu and that’s all that matters. Bless your bestie for always trying to get you laid.
As you walk up the stairs to the watchtower, Mingyu walks a few steps behind you with a hand on your lower back gently, the same place it has been since the two of you started to walk across the sand. It’s still there when he opens the door and you two enter the building.
“Hey,” Vernon, the lifeguard your bestie apparently befriended the other day, greets upon looking over from where he’s sitting at the control desk facing the large windows that oversee the beach. “Oh,” he mutters, eyes widening a little as he looks between you and Mingyu, clearly taking in the sight of the tall man’s hand on your back. “You know, I think I’m going to go get some air for a bit.”
“Okay,” Mingyu agrees, giving Vernon a grateful look as the shorter man vacates the building without even grabbing his walkie-talkie from the desk.
At Mingyu’s gentle nudge, you move further into the building, allowing him to shut the door.
“I’ll grab you a towel,” he declares, moving over to the cupboards while you decide to check out the view from the window.
From here you can see the entire section of the beach, especially when you pick up the binoculars Vernon left on the desk and peer through them. It’s pretty interesting; being able to watch over everyone like this and see everything while they no doubt don’t even consider the eyes on them from above.
“Can they see us?” you wonder, lowering the binoculars to look at Mingyu as he approaches with a towel in hand.
“I mean, sure, if they try hard enough at other times of day; but the sun is in the right position to just reflect on the glass at the moment. So right now, no, nobody can see us,” he informs, stopping perhaps a little closer than necessary. Paired with the information that nobody would even see if he fucked you right against the window, heat flares in your stomach.
“Have you tested that?”
“Mm, a few times.”
“How?”
Mingyu tilts his head a little at you, and as you haven’t accepted the towel, too focused on the conversation, he puts it down on the desk and gently takes the binoculars from your hands to also put down. “What do you mean, how? By looking up from outside.”
“Right.” You hum and turn your head to look back out of the window.
“What were you expecting?” He chuckles lowly. You feel him move a little closer, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from his bare chest against your left arm. “Hm?” You shrug. “Tell me.”
“Just…you know.” You shrug again, and although you can barely feel it through the wet material of the rash guard on your torso, the gentle press of his fingers on your back makes you shiver a little.
“You should get out of this and dry off,” he suggests while running his right hand up the length of your back and around your neck to the zipper in the middle of your throat.
“I might need some help getting it off,” you reply. “Things being wet makes things harder.”
“Oh, I know.” You’re very certain that you’re both talking in double entendre now and look at him over your shoulder as you turn your back to him a little more to give him better access without having to reach around you so much.
For a weighted moment, nothing happens, just heavy eye contact as if you’re both waiting for the other to take a step backwards and prove your suspicions of the rising tension between you to be false.
Yet, you both stay in place.
You feel a slight tug against your neck, barely noticeable, but it makes your body burn a little hotter as he slowly tugs down the zipper to your clavicle before stopping.
“Face me,” he mutters, adjusting his own stance to fully face you. You immediately comply and turn so that you’re face to face, all without him removing his grip on the pull of your zipper.
Then he’s back to dragging the zip down, over your breasts, where his knuckles brush a little, making your breath catch, before his hand moves on to finish the path to open the zip all the way to where it stops at your belly button.
Mingyu only then breaks eye contact to look down at the glimpse of skin he can see now with the zipper open. “This is a one piece?” he checks, noticing how the material of the rash guard vanishes into your shorts. You hum in confirmation, and then he’s lowering to his knees in front of you to tuck his fingers into the waistband of your shorts.
He glances up at you, checking that this is okay, and when you nod, he gives you a little smile before turning his full attention back down to watch the shorts move down your thighs with the help of his hands.
“Can you–” he starts once you’ve stepped out of the shorts and he’s tossed them aside, but when he looks up at you, you’re already working on pulling the front of your rash guard open, revealing your chest little by little, covered only by the little bikini you bought specifically to wear with the rash guard. “That.” Mingyu swallows thickly, watching more skin get revealed until you start to struggle to get the wet material down your shoulders. Without a word, Mingyu gets up onto his knees as tall as he can without standing up, to reach out and grip the material to ease it over your shoulders and down your arms. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, hands bunching the wet material by your hips as he stops to take in all the exposed skin only a few feet from his face.
“So’re you,” you reply shyly.
He smiles up at you then leans forward to press a featherlight kiss to your stomach. “This okay?” he asks in between kisses on your skin; each growing more daring than the last.
“Y–yeah,” you agree, feeling breathless already and nothing has happened yet. The tension is just so thick between you that it fills your lungs and takes up space usually reserved for oxygen.
For a moment, you worry that if you’re this breathless already with just a couple of kisses to your stomach, you will not survive actually being fucked by this beautiful man. But then his lips are suddenly on the crease of your thigh, right at the edge of the rash guard and moving inwards, and you can no longer worry about the future state of your lungs.
Mingyu quickly tugs the rash guard off of you entirely and tosses it aside carelessly once you’ve stepped out of it, leaving you in just the skimpy little bikini that leaves very little to the imagination. “Fuck,” he breathes out, leaning back to take you in from head to toe, then back again. “So, fucking beautiful, baby.”
“Mingyu,” your voice is a soft little plea as you reach towards him, for what exactly, you’re not sure; you just want something and hope he gets the hint. He does, and tilts forward to lean his cheek against your palm for a second, then plants a kiss there, tender despite the heavy moment.
“Lean back, baby,” he encourages, leading you by your hips to turn and take a step back until the edge of the desk is digging into the meat of your ass.
You grip the desk edge on either side of you as he hitches one of your legs up onto his shoulder, then lean back as his free hand tugs aside the seat of your panties to allow him to get straight to work dragging his tongue up your pussy. The noise Mingyu lets out overpowers your own; he sounds like he’s tasted the nectar of the fucking gods or something equally as divine. Hearing him so immediately into eating your pussy only makes you more aroused and attracted to him in general.
You’ve heard of men eating pussy like a man starved before, but you’ve never experienced it until now. Mingyu truly gives it his all; holds you open and drags his tongue and lips over you with desperation, and an intensity that has your legs shaking; a constant stream of moans spilling from your mouth almost in time with the grunts and needy moans vibrating through his lips against you.
“Gyu,” you breathe out, tangling the fingers of one hand in his hair and encouraging him to stay on your clit. He groans at the slight tug on his scalp and redoubles his efforts, sucking and licking at your clit hungrily.
Your eyes are closed, entirely absorbed in the toe-curling sensations this man is giving you in spades, but when his hand touches yours on his head, you open your eyes to peer at him curiously. He’s looking at you, eyes so blown with arousal that you’re very certain you leak over his chin even more.
Mingyu doesn’t stop suckling your clit between his lips in a steady pattern that has you so fucking close to a beautiful climax. It won’t be long until you fall over the edge into bliss. He removes your hand from his head and directs it between your thighs to make you curl your fingers around the seat of your bikini bottoms and hold them aside out of his way.
Then, those same fingers that had just curled your own are prodding at your entrance. He hesitates though, staring up at you for permission until you rapidly nod, and then he’s plunging two right into you, made easy from how fucking wet you are.
Just like that, an orgasm hits you so suddenly and powerfully that you don’t manage to do anything, no warning, no sound from your mouth as it rushes through your body, making your eyes roll and back arch.
Mingyu feels you clamp down around his fingers and groans deeply as his own eyes threaten to roll back despite not being close to orgasm himself. Just knowing you’re cumming because of him, because of his mouth, on his fingers; it drives him insane and makes his cock throb.
Diligently, Mingyu works you through the pleasure pulsing through you, slowing down when your hips start to twitch, and then reluctantly detaches his mouth from your clit when you nudge his head with a slightly shaky hand. Though, he doesn’t go far, and instead, pushes your thigh a little further open to give his head more space to get next to his hand between your thighs, and noisily slurp up every single drop that spills from your pussy. He even goes as far as to lick up the line that dribbled down his hand to his wrist.
“Gyu,” the call of his name makes him lift his head to look at you with wide eyes, looking so innocent despite his mouth and chin being soaked in your juices, all the way down to his throat. The sight and reminder of how hard he just made you cum has you unintentionally squeezing around the fingers still buried to the knuckles within you.
He groans, tilting forward and opening his mouth ready to make you see stars all over again, but you quickly put your hand to his head, palm to his forehead to hold him back. “Lemme eat your pussy, baby, prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. Most delicious pussy ever. Could eat you forever. Let me. Please?” He’s got a slight slur to his words as he speaks, voice pitched higher than normal as he begs in a tone verging on a whine.
“D–don’t you want to fuck me?” you ask, words a slight pant still, too soon from the intense orgasm to have your breath back, but you don’t care. He can steal all the breath from your lungs as long as he makes you cum like that.
“Fuck you?” he repeats dumbly. You nod, and then it’s like a switch has been flipped. All of the innocent pussy-drunk expression and voice vanishes in an instant as his eyes turn heavy-lidded, and his lips turn up into a smirk. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you, sweetheart?” His fingers in you start to move, making you jolt a little in surprise, and reach down to try and remove them. “No, no, no, you gotta take my fingers first, baby. Need to show me you can take them before I give you my cock, okay? This is such a pretty pussy; I don’t want to ruin it by giving you my cock before you’re ready.”
You can’t really say anything in response, both from his words and the way he’s skilfully moving those two fingers in you; slow but pressing in all the right ways to stretch you out and drag all ability to form anything but pathetic moans from your parted lips.
“That’s it, good, just take it. You can take it for me, right, baby?” You nod quickly at his words. “Can you take another finger?” Another nod, so he pulls his fingers out most of the way to work a third in beside them. “That’s my girl, fuck,” he breathes out, watching the way your pussy opens around his fingers as he carefully feeds the digits into you.
It doesn’t take much longer for Mingyu to pull his fingers out of you and get up to his feet. You barely have time to react before he has your hips in his hands and spins you to face the window. The sun is right in your face like this, lessened in power by the window yet still an annoyance, so you lean over all the way down onto your elbows and rest your forehead on your forearms.
“Oh,” Mingyu breathes out, watching you bend over the desk, and stops his task of shoving down his swimming shorts to free his leaking cock. “Fucking perfect,” he approves, and gives you a quick spank to watch your asscheek wobble with the impact. He hadn’t expected the moan that tumbles from your lips and pauses for a moment as he considers spanking you until your ass is raw and there are imprints of his hands left on your skin like a claim.
But then his cock twitches desperately, and he gets back to work shoving his shorts down enough and taking his thick, heavy cock into his hand to run his hand up and down the length, spreading precum over his heated skin while his free hand tugs your bikini bottoms aside.
A breathless curse spills from his lips when he aligns his cock with your dripping hole. He wants to bury himself to the hilt in your warmth right away, but he’s very aware that, frankly put, he has a giant cock, so he needs to take it slow to not hurt you.
As soon as the head pops into you, you’re moaning and trying to push back for more. Mingyu has to take a firm hold of your ass cheek and push you forward against the edge of the desk to stop you moving too fast. If you keep it up, he will fuck into you without hesitation, and he’s already trembling with the effort of holding back.
Little does he know; you want him to fucking ruin you. You want him to fuck you so hard and deep that you can’t take a step for the next few days without thinking of his cock splitting you open. But you don’t have the brain power to make your tongue move to form that specific string of syllables, so you’re forced to just remain pinned to the desk as he feeds you inch by thick inch of his cock at an almost agonisingly slow pace.
By the time his hips are pressed up against your ass, he’s shaking with his eyes squeezed tightly closed, and both hands gripping your hips so tightly you just know there will be bruises in the shape of his fingers afterwards. Bruises you’ll wear proudly.
“Fuck, baby, this fucking pussy,” he groans as you pulsate around his throbbing length.
He needs a moment; needs more than one really, with how fucking close he already is to filling you with his cum, but you press back against him as best as you can considering his grip. It’s barely any movement, but he gets the hint; you really don’t want him to wait anymore and fuck, neither does he.
Mingyu slowly pulls his hips back, sliding half of his length out of you before sliding back in in the same slow, careful manner. He’s testing the waters; the give of your pussy, and his own resolve, really. And all three give so fucking easily that the next time he pulls out, it's all the way until only his tip is tucked up safely inside of you before he thrusts forward harshly, making you cry out and scramble to brace a palm against the window above your head blindly.
“That’s it, hold on, baby,” he encourages with a heavy exhale as he adjusts his footing and hold on you, before he starts to fuck you like a man possessed.
It’s hard, and fast, and so fucking deep that he’s hitting places within you that you didn’t even fucking know existed before his cock found them. Or maybe they’re special places his cock is carving out, and no one will ever be able to access them again. No one will make your mind blank and eyes roll back so far that all you see is the mental image of Mingyu’s giant cock wrecking your pussy in the best of ways.
You’re being loud, both of you; moaning and whining with every drag of his cock through your rapidly tightening walls. But neither of you care, neither of you have the presence of mind to consider anything but the way it feels to fuck and be fucked like this.
At this point, you’re so close to another incredible orgasm that you wouldn’t even care if the door opened; you probably wouldn’t even notice, and honestly, neither would Mingyu.
When Mingyu tilts forward enough to wind a strong arm under your waist to press his palm against the flat of your chest and pull you up until your back is against his bare, sweat-dappled chest, you almost scream in pleasure at the new, somehow deeper, spot he’s grinding into.
There’s a little part of Mingyu that’s still aware that you’re in public and his place of work, even if he’s not consciously aware of it, and that part of him is the reason his hand flies up from your chest to your throat and squeezes in the exact way to cut off your airflow.
It’s the last nudge you need to hurtle into the single most mind-shattering, nirvana-inducing, orgasm of your fucking life. At least so far, because once you’re more coherent, you’ll definitely think about how much you want him to fuck you again in all sorts of ways.
A choked, cut off moan spills from Mingyu’s mouth when you clamp down around his cock so tightly as your pussy absolutely gushes around him, that it sends him over too. His hand on your hip quickly moves, sliding around over your lower stomach to wrap his arm around your waist and hold you tight as he ruts into you and fills you with his cum.
It feels fucking endless; the length of your orgasm and how much it takes out of you, even though it truly doesn’t last that long. It’s just an all-encompassing feeling that feels like utter bliss; a never-ending pulse of pleasure; pure fucking serenity.
“You okay?” Mingyu manages to breathe out once his cock has stopped twitching as your throbbing walls milk him for every drop of cum in his body. His chest is heaving against your back, matching the deep rise and fall of your own chest, even if he had released the pressure on your throat as soon as his cock started to empty in you.
You can’t respond yet; you’re not quite back on planet Earth, making Mingyu chuckle a little, fond of you already, and cocky at his own abilities to fuck you so dumb like this.
Carefully, he draws his hips back to slide out of you with a wince and hears the splatter of cum hitting the wooden boards. But that’s a problem for after he’s looked after you.
Mingyu is so fucking gentle as he grabs the towel from the desk and uses it to clean between your thighs as best as he can without removing his arm from around you to keep you propped up. Then he manoeuvres you onto the wooden chair on your right, before getting to his knees to spread your legs wide once he’s between them with his knees pressed to the floorboards.
For a few seconds, he just stares dumbly at the sight of his cum leaking out of your swollen pussy, and he almost leans in to clean you up with his mouth, but you’re already so out of it that he figures he better not. He’ll save that for next time.
Fuck, he really fucking hopes there’s a next time.
You come back to reality when Mingyu is doing his best to slide your shorts back up your legs.
“Hey, beautiful,” he greets you when he notices you moving slightly and looks up to see you blinking down at him. “How you feeling?”
“Like I had the life fucked out of me,” you reply, giving him a sated, borderline dopey smile that makes him laugh. You reach out to him, and he happily leans up to let you run your hands over his shoulders and to his neck, so that you can tug him in and kiss him.
He sighs in contentment as your lips move together, slowly like you have all the time in the world. Like there’s nothing that either of you would rather be doing than this right here.
“Should’ve kissed you earlier,” he murmurs when you both naturally pull apart for air and he rests his forehead against yours. “Sorry, got carried away.”
“There’s no need to apologise, seriously, that was…” You trail off and just giggle instead, fingers playing with his hair near his nape.
“It was,” he agrees with a chuckle, and leans back to look at you. “Could we maybe do that again?”
“Now?” you baulk.
“No, not now.” He giggles. “I really can’t do that again now; I think I’ll pass out if I try to do anything like that now,” he assures, squeezing your thighs a little where his hands lay. “But another day in the future, when we’ve both recovered.”
“That sounds much more reasonable to me.”
“Reasonable, huh?” he teases, and nips at your cheek playfully, making you giggle. “And what about a date? Does that sound reasonable to you?”
“No.” Mingyu’s face drops so fast as he looks at you. He looks pretty heartbroken, honestly. “I didn’t mean no as in no to the date!” you rush to assure, cupping his cheeks, and brushing your thumbs soothingly over his skin.
He pouts and pushes into your hold. “Then what do you mean?”
“Just that it doesn’t sound reasonable but very nice and something I would definitely love to do.”
“Oh.” He turns into your palm to try and hide the cute, happy, little smile that lifts his mouth and exposes his teeth, but you feel it. He presses a kiss to your palm before facing you again, no longer hiding his smile. “Good, good; I’m glad you’d love to. I’d love to as well. Maybe after my shift ends, we can get lunch? Well, we’d have to take Vernon too, and I guess your friend, but they can entertain each other at another table.”
You giggle and nod in agreement. “Sounds perfect to me.”
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🎶Who: Min Yoongi (BTS) x female reader.
🎶What: Fluff. Slow burn. Strangers to Friends to Lovers. Child Taehyung. Ex husband Mingyu. Best friend Mingyu. Model Mingyu. Photographer reader. 18+.
🎶Word count: 2k
🎶Warnings: Autistic/ ADHD child Taehyung. This one is really just a cute lil family moment, ft. photographer assistant Seokmin! Mentions of past stalking. Yoongi isn’t in this chapter, so he’s not mentioned in the “what” section, but it’s still a Yoongi story! The 18+ warning is because the series overall is 18+, so I’m applying it to every chapter regardless of content.
🎶Summary:
Even before you meet him, Min Yoongi owns a piece of your heart.
Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio. I also block blank blogs.
My general masterlist
🎶Mr. Min Masterlist. Previous Chapter. Next Chapter.
For the first time in at least six years, you and Mingyu have agreed to work together— on a shoot for a Japanese fashion magazine. And for the first time, Taehyung is going to see you both at work.
After leaving Hawaii, the three of you head straight to Japan. You get a day to adjust to the change in time and scenery before you’re due for work.
Taehyung is both excited and nervous as he walks between the two of you, holding both of your hands, ear defenders already on, and his backpack on Mingyu’s shoulder. The little boy has always wanted to see you both work, especially Mingyu; Taehyung has at least seen you take photos for various reasons, though never for work, but he’s never seen Mingyu model. Unless the man playfully posing as Taehyung takes his photo on your phone, or as they make silly faces together for selfies, counts. You’re pretty sure it doesn’t.
Thankfully, you and Mingyu have already warned everyone due on the shoot that Taehyung will be present; you both made a point of informing them that Taehyung will get overwhelmed easily, so everyone needs to give him space and keep the noise to a minimum. So, despite the room being bustling with various people rushing around to get everything ready— and many clearly looking over at the adorable little boy in a matching outfit with his dad— nobody approaches unless absolutely necessary.
Almost as soon as the three of you are at your station— where your assistant is already waiting with all of the equipment that he’s brought over from South Korea for you— the head stylist appears and urges Mingyu away. Of course, Mingyu doesn’t let himself get immediately dragged away and makes a point of kissing Taehyung’s head where the boy is sitting on a chair beside the table you’re standing at, before the man leaves to another part of the room to get ready.
“Hey, Tae,” Seokmin, your assistant says as he crouches in front of your son’s chair, while you look over the plan for the shoot and decide which camera and lens to start with. You glance over and smile softly, noticing Seokmin handing Taehyung a snack.
Seokmin is a relatively new assistant really; your previous one— the same one you had since you started fashion photography— moved on years ago when you gave up the majority of your work for the sake of your family. Seokmin came along a few years ago, when you took up a fashion job for the first time since Taehyung was born. You had needed an assistant for the first time in a while, to arrange your station and hand you whatever you ask for in order to keep the shoot moving smoothly without you having to stop work to change camera or lens whenever you need a different kind of shot.
You hadn’t been convinced Seokmin would be a good fit for you at first, he seemed very nervous, but you quickly found out that it was because he admired your work and still couldn’t believe you picked him out of all applicants to work with. But he very quickly proved himself as he locked in once the shoot started and only let his nerves show again once you declared it over.
Ever since, you’ve always reached out to him when you need an assistant. So, although you don’t work with him that much, you’ve come to know one another well. He’s even been to your house many times for work purposes, that inevitably turn into dinners and him playing with Taehyung, utterly enamoured with your son. You may be incredibly biased, but you can’t blame him at all.
“Minnie,” Taehyung replies, smiling happily at the man, and accepts the snack. “What this?”
“It’s potato sticks,” he informs, and opens the lid of the tub. “I know you like this flavour in other snacks, but it might be different, so if you don’t like it, it’s okay, I’ll finish them, or your dad will,” he jokes with a cheeky grin that makes Taehyung giggle.
As Taehyung carefully takes the first stick from the pot, you watch for his reaction. He sniffs it for a moment then nibbles on one end. He makes a thoughtful sound, then his feet start to bounce at the edge of the chair, and he eats more enthusiastically. Seokmin smiles at the clear approval and pats Taehyung’s leg before he gets up and returns to your side to discuss the plan with you.
Throughout the shoot, everyone unnecessary keeps out of the room at your say so. You know Taehyung won’t be able to sit still for long, so you want him to have the freedom to wander around to prevent him getting restless from being confined to one spot or overwhelmed by all the strangers and bustle. Though most of the time, he hovers by your side and watches in awe as you take photos of his dad, both of you moving with very little verbal direction.
Mingyu knows his best angles and how to show off the clothes and accessories on his body, and you know Mingyu and trust his understanding of his own body and lighting. Of course, Mingyu doesn’t lead the entire shoot, you do move into different positions contrary to how he poses; but he also trusts you and your creative skills and doesn’t try to adjust according to you, just continues to pose as normal and knows you’ll get incredible shots of your own accord.
When Mingyu is in his last outfit change and you’re pretty sure you’ve got everything you really need— and are just taking safety shots just in case more are needed than initially stated—, you call Taehyung over.
“Want to take some photos of daddy?” you ask, noticing Mingyu light up from the corner of your eye, especially as Taehyung nods enthusiastically.
“Clean hands first!” Taehyung declares, knowing he’s not allowed to touch your cameras unless he’s got freshly cleaned hands. Without missing a beat, Seokmin appears with wipes and helps Taehyung clean his hands.
“I’m here to assist you, Mr. Kim!” Seokmin declares, making Taehyung giggle. “Which camera and lens would you like to work with?” he offers, motioning to the table.
“Mm,” Taehyung says and toddles over, tapping his chin with his index finger thoughtfully; you can’t help but take photos of the scene, it’s so cute. “That one,” he decides, pointing to a film camera that you so rarely use, but always have ready in case the moment calls for it.
“Right away, sir,” Seokmin agrees and grabs the camera to set up and adjust the neck strap shorter before putting it around Taehyung’s neck. “There you go, it’s all ready for you.”
“Thank you!” Taehyung chirps, then bounces back to you. “I can do photos now?”
“Of course, baby. Take as many as you want and we’ll get them developed back home,” you assure. “We’ll get a photo album to put them all in too.”
“With stickers?”
“Of course!” you agree, and he grins before turning to face Mingyu, where the man is still standing and smiling dopily.
“I do photos now, daddy!” he declares.
“Yay!” Mingyu cheers, then laughs when Taehyung takes a few photos of him with his arms raised excitedly. “Anything you want me to do?”
“Mm, sit down,” Taehyung decides and Mingyu doesn’t hesitate to lower to the floor cross legged. “Like this,” Taehyung says, sitting down himself and leans his elbow on his knee, side of his head on his fist and looking forward. Mingyu giggles, finding the boy so damn adorable, but follows his directions and grins at the camera as Taehyung gets up. “No smiley, daddy.”
“Oh, sorry, baby,” Mingyu says and does his best to school his expression.
Honestly, as you stay kneeled beside Taehyung, you think he has the right idea here and lift your own camera to also take photos of Mingyu. “Eyebrow,” you direct and Mingyu’s smile melts away as his expression turns a little cocky, eyebrow lifting teasingly, exactly how you want.
“Eyebrow,” Taehyung copies mindlessly in a mumble as he takes photos.
For the following almost twenty minutes, you let Taehyung lead, and you discover that your son really has an eye for this kind of thing. Many of his directions put Mingyu in new and interesting poses that aren’t commonplace in fashion magazines, but they’re quirky in the right kind of way to be perfect for this magazine. And the poses and positions that don’t work, you add your own directions to get them into something less plain weird, and more creative and appropriate for the job.
“And I think we’ve got everything!” you declare after looking at the playback of your own photos, unable to see how Taehyung’s have turned out yet.
“That is wrap!” Taehyung exclaims after taking a final photo of his playfully posing dad. You all laugh at the boy’s words before clapping and cheering a job well done in a more subdued way than usual, for the sake of Taehyung as he’s no longer wearing ear defenders.
“It was an honour to work with you, Mr. Kim,” Seokmin says dramatically as he kneels in front of Taehyung and shakes his hand, making the boy giggle. Seokmin carefully takes the camera, and Taehyung turns and darts over to his dad, where Mingyu is still sprawled on the floor and just watching with a soft smile. “He actually seems to have a really good eye for poses,” Seokmin comments as he gets up and joins you at your station to start packing up everything he can, while you take the memory cards used and put them in the bag with your laptop ready to review the photos later.
“He does, I was surprised by that,” you admit, and glance over at your son and his dad before turning back to your task. “At this rate, I think he’s going to be good at everything he tries.”
“Oh, that reminds me, did you find him a vocal coach?”
“No, the timings don’t suit his routines, or they have no experience with neurodiverse people, especially kids, and he deserves someone who will understand him.”
“Well, I know someone who might be a good fit,” he says, making you look at him curiously. “A friend from when I was in musical theatre; he does private vocal lessons, and he has an autistic niece and nephew.”
“You were in musical theatre?” you mutter dumbly, and he nods. “You’ve never told me that! What the fuck, Seok?”
“I uh…quit,” he says with an awkward expression. “I had a really bad experience, a group of stalkers, and the director told me to just suck it up and accept it as the compliment it is. I always meant to return, but I also love photography and have followed your career since, well…you were the reason I picked up a camera, so when I got the chance to work with you, it was like a dream come true.”
You just stare at him for a moment before putting down the items in your hands and moving over to hug him. He makes a surprised noise but quickly puts down the lens in his hands to return the embrace. “I am so sorry you had to go through that; you really don’t deserve that. Nobody does, but least of all you; you’re such a pure soul, Seokmin, and I’m so honoured that I have the chance to know you and see you grow as a photographer.” Seokmin sniffles and holds you tighter, hiding in your shoulder for a few moments as he breathes carefully, trying to prevent himself from crying.
When he steps back, he wipes away the few tears on his cheeks, tip of his nose already red, and a beautiful smile on his face. “Thank you, that really means a lot to me. I’m glad to know you too, and that you trust me with your family as well. That means so much to me.”
“Mm, of course, we all love you.”
“Ah.” He puts his hands over his pink cheeks and looks away shyly. “I love you guys too.”
“I think it’s about half past food time,” Mingyu declares as he approaches, carrying Taehyung and uncaring that he’s creasing the expensive fabric of his shirt. “Joining us for dinner, Min?”
“I will never say no to spending time with you guys,” Seokmin returns, then the three males cheer while you just laugh fondly at their antics.
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✋Who: Jeon Jungkook (BTS) x female reader
✋What: Smut (18+). Best Friends to Lovers.
✋Word count: 6.5k
✋Warnings: Profanity. Dom reader x sub Jungkook, I guess. But they’re both really switches 😌. Reader wears lingerie. Kissing. Nipple play (male receiving). Marks (mentions of hickies and future bruises). Oral (male receiving). Fingering (female receiving). PIV sex. Unprotected sex. Brief discussion of protection/ birth control. Stuffing panties in mouth. Choking (male receiving). Multiple orgasms (female receiving). Dirty talk (Jungkook is a talker, okay.) Jungkook calls reader: baby, princess. Reader calls Jungkook: baby, babyboy, Kookie and other variations of his name. I think that’s it!
✋Summary:
When you were young, a little boy moved in next door. He was the same age as you, so, of course, your parents immediately decided that you and he needed to be friends. To the immense joy of both of your parents, the two of you got along great from the first moment, and a lifelong friendship with Jeon Jungkook started.
As you grow up, you remain close, despite both of you being too busy with your own things to regularly meet up once you both move to the city.
Still, you know that no matter what happens, Jungkook will always be your best friend. Even if other things change in pretty drastic ways.
Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio. I also block blank blogs.
Masterlist
A/N- This was originally on my old account @/whipped-for-kpop-fics, but I decided to entirely rewrite it move it over to here.
The day before your mother’s birthday, you find yourself in Jungkook’s passenger seat heading to your hometown.
Coincidentally, Jungkook’s father shares his birthday with your mother, so ever since your two families got close when you were little, there has always been a shared celebration. When you were little, your two families would trade out hosting a dinner for the two families, but as you grew, the celebrations turned into dinners out at restaurants, and even a week abroad one year. Though this year, it’s just a simple, low-key dinner at the two families’ mutual favourite restaurant.
When the sign for your hometown comes into view, Jungkook speaks up, muttering almost mindlessly, “I really hope they’re not going to do anything weird this time.”
“Like what?” you wonder, utterly clueless to what he could mean by “weird”.
“Don’t you remember last time we went home together?” You give him a quizzical look, which in turn makes him give you a brief look as if you’re crazy upon glancing at you and noticing your clueless expression. “They spent the whole weekend trying to get me to ask you on a date.”
“They were joking,” you respond immediately, scoffing and even rolling your eyes at the ridiculousness of his words. Yet all he needs to do is give you a very specific look for you to straighten up in slight alarm. “Right? It was just a joke.”
“No, it wasn’t a joke,” he replies with a sound that’s a weird mix between a sigh and a soft laugh. “They’ve been trying to set us up since puberty. Have you seriously never noticed?” Jungkook glances at you once more and just cackles at your dumbstruck expression, before he focuses on driving again, and thankfully, the topic is dropped there.
That doesn’t mean you stop thinking about it though.
Even while Jungkook is next door in his childhood home, tucked up in his childhood bed— like you are in yours—, you can’t stop thinking about it. That, apparently, your parents want the two of you to date.
For years now, you’ve always thought that they’re joking every time they say how well suited you are to one another; how well you look after each other while keeping one another in check; how cute your babies would be. In retrospect, that last one probably should’ve thrown up more flags than it did, but your naivety kept stomping them down.
It’s crazy how all it took was for a single look from Jungkook for you to realise the truth in what you thought were harmless jokes from your parents; you know that Jungkook would never lie to you about this.
In fact, the guy has never lied to you since you met as children. He’s always been entirely honest with you, even when you’ve wished he’d lie to protect your heart a little; it’s caused some fights between you, but in the end, he always makes it up and does everything he can to cheer you back up. Every single fight that’s happened between the two of you over the years has always ended fast, and in the same way; with the two of you curled up together, laughing and apologising profusely with tears running down both of your cheeks.
You think it’s probably impossible for you to stay mad at Jungkook, just like he can’t you. Even when he chose his, at the time, new friend Jimin over you only a few weeks into moving to the city and essentially stood you up for your weekly dinner date. Or the time you made sure he never confessed to the girl he liked in school, despite knowing that she liked him back. Similarly, the time when Jungkook told the guy you liked that you were regularly having wild, kinky sex with a married man, just so the guy would stay away from you.
Jungkook has always been, and will always be, the one person you know you’ll always have by your side. He’s your best friend, and you know that nothing can tear you apart.
And it just so happens that it all hits you during the dinner with both of your families present; how everything your parents have said about the two of you is right. You are well suited to one another, and you do look after one another like nobody else could. That when your mothers had teased you about being jealous of Jungkook’s ex, they were right. That when they suggested he broke up with her and dated you instead, a big part of you hoped he would.
Admittedly, you’ve never been immune to Jungkook’s charms, his looks, his dumbass goofy grin whenever he spots you after a week apart. You’ve always known you have feelings for him, but you’ve pushed them down so deep that you kind of tricked yourself into believing that’s just normal; that everyone gets butterflies when their best friend puts their arm around them; that counting down the hours until you see him again, is what everyone does with their best friend, even if it’s only been a day since you last saw one another.
When Jungkook excuses himself to the bathroom, you can’t help but watch him go, all these new— and not so new— revelations whirling in your mind, and looking at your relationship from a whole new light.
Dating Jungkook wouldn’t be bad at all, in fact, you think it’d be pretty fucking great. You just need to convince him of that. With that thought in your mind, you excuse yourself only a minute after him and rush to the restroom.
Utterly uncaring that you’re entering the man’s bathroom, you step inside confidently, shamelessly, and call out, “Kook.”
At the urinal with his back to you, Jungkook looks over at the call of his name, and immediately rolls his eyes upon spotting you, before turning his attention back to his business. “You really need to stop doing this.”
“Oh, like I haven’t seen you in more compromising positions,” you scoff, leaning against the sinks with your arms crossed over your chest in wait for him to be done. “I’ve literally had to hold you upright on the toilet while you threw up into a bucket and—”
“Whoa, okay, okay; no need to bring up history’s worst case of food poisoning.”
“Just saying.” You shrug, and watch his back as he zips up, flushes, then approaches the sink at your side to begin washing his hands.
“So, gonna tell me why you’re scaring men from coming in here?” he muses, chuckling a little as he glances at you briefly. “Two men have entered and left upon noticing you standing in here.”
You wave a careless, dismissive hand. “They can wait. I want to give my mother a good birthday gift.”
“You bought her that expensive jacket she’s wanted for years,” he reminds in a slight deadpan. “You saved all fucking year for it. What else could she even ask for?” He scoffs as he moves over to the paper towel dispenser to grab some and dry his hands.
“The thing she’s wanted since we hit puberty.” That makes Jungkook slow his movements until his hands are still, then he turns his head to look at you. You can tell he knows exactly what you’re referring to.
Still, it takes him a moment of staring at you in dumb disbelief before he responds. “Are you suggesting we get together?” You nod, and he cracks up laughing.
“I’m serious, Kook!”
“I know.” You pout at him, crossing your arms a little tighter as you sulk. Jungkook’s expression lifts into a cocky grin; he tosses the tissues into the bin without looking— which is admittedly, both impressive and attractive— before sauntering over to you. “Ask me nicely.”
“What?” you mutter dumbly, arms unfolding to drop to your sides.
“I’m not starting a relationship with you if that’s how you ask.”
“So… You’re agreeing?”
He raises an eyebrow while tilting his head slightly. “I don’t know; I can’t give an answer unless you ask.” He giggles when you whine and drop dramatically forward against his sturdy chest, his hands automatically coming up to hold your arms naturally. “Come on, it’s a simple question.”
“You’re a brat.”
“You want to date me,” he retorts without hesitation, too used to the quick paced verbal banter with you to ever falter.
You sigh. “True.” Determinedly, you straighten up and take his hands into yours— something that is completely normal between you, and even now, it feels nothing but natural despite the meaning changing— while he continues to grin at you, nothing but amused. The moment you put on a sweet smile, he snorts, and your face drops into an offended pout. “Hey!”
“I’m sorry!” He giggles. “You know I can’t take that smile seriously.”
“Fine,” you concede, knowing he’ll just keep laughing in your face if you try and pretend to be sweet any longer. Once you’ve relaxed your expression into a more natural one, he calms himself, then nods to show that he’s ready for you to continue. “Jeon Jungkook—” Immediately, he says your full name in response. “Don’t fucking interrupt!” you scold, nudging his stomach with your still connected hands. The muscle ridden fool doesn’t even sway, just sniggers while biting his lip to control his urge to interrupt you again. “You maybe wanna be my boyfriend?”
“I dunno, you wanna maybe ask it more confidently?” he teases.
“Fuck off, you’re mine now,” you declare firmly, and he doesn’t even try to argue.
Jungkook giggles at your words and lets go of your hands so that he can hold your face in his gentle yet secure touch. “You’re so romantic, baby.”
“Mmhmm,” you agree with a grin.
Jungkook’s lips curl up into a fond smile as he takes in your cute expression, before he leans in and kisses you softly. “Huh, so that’s what your lips feel like,” he murmurs, sounding pleased, as his fingers gently run through your hair. “I’ve always wondered.”
“Then why didn’t you ask me out?” you ask, confused, yet a bit offended that it took him this long to kiss you.
“Because you never showed interest in me.”
You give him a flat look. “I sabotaged every date you went on, Kook,” you point out in a deadpan tone.
“I thought that was just because I did it to you first.”
“I mean, that was part of it,” you agree with a nod. “And I tried telling myself that was the only reason but, I like you, I’ve always liked you. I’ve just been too much of a wimp to admit it to myself.”
Your confession makes Jungkook’s expression turn unbelievably soft. “I tried to deny it, but I’ve liked you so fucking much for so long now,” he admits, making your smile mirror his, before you tilt to connect your lips in another short, sweet kiss.
As soon as the two of you return to the table with fingers laced together and happy flushes on your cheeks, your parents instantly call the waiter over to order a bottle of champagne to celebrate your new relationship as if they’ve won the lottery. It’s a bit over the top, but neither of you complain; they’re just happy that you’re finally together, and well, so are you.
For the very first time since befriending Jungkook, your parents come into your room to kick him out of the house when it starts to get late.
“Now that you’re together, I can’t let you stay over anymore, Jungkook. I don’t want you to make my little girl rush into anything,” you dad announces. Jungkook nods along and says he understands, while also doing his best not to laugh because only minutes before your parents knocked your bedroom door, you had your hands up Jungkook’s shirt; one playing with his nipple and the other appreciating his abs as you made out, with his own hands kneading and groping your ass.
Of course, you walk Jungkook out and share a very awkward goodnight kiss on the porch while your mother peers excitedly on from the open front door, before you rush back up to your bedroom.
Without thought, as soon as you’ve shut your door securely, you walk over to the window facing the Jeon house and open it wide, grinning at the sight of the large tree standing proud between your window and Jungkook’s.
Less than ten minutes later, a tall, beautifully broad body climbs through the open window. “That was a lot easier four years ago,” Jungkook comments as he focuses on straightening up now that both of his feet are firmly on the carpet. You don’t respond, just continue to lay in wait, draped seductively over your bed wearing nothing but a lacey little lingerie set. As soon as Jungkook lifts his head and finds you, his eyes widen in surprise, then excitement, before he starts to approach, fingers already working on his shirt buttons. “Damn, why didn’t you greet me like this when we were teenagers?”
“Maybe because I was in denial about wanting you to fuck me then.”
“Well, shit, okay, damn girl,” he replies in a playful tone that makes you laugh. He kicks off his shoes once he’s standing beside your bed, and motions for you to get closer. With a grin, you roll over onto your stomach and lift your hips slowly, giving him a little show as your wiggle your hips in the air enticingly. “Fuck, baby, I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this side from me all these years.”
“This is only for you,” you assure, making him groan, pleased by the words.
Without warning, he reaches out and spanks the soft flesh of your ass, causing you to yelp in surprise. “Stop teasing me and get that pretty little ass over here.” Obligingly, you lift up onto your hands and knees to crawl over to him, stopping directly in front of him and straightening up onto your knees. “Fuck,” he hisses as he takes in your barely covered body from only inches away, so close that your lace covered breasts are almost touching his chest. “You look so fucking good, baby,” he says, voice thick and low as he drops his hands from his shirt buttons to instead grab your ass in both hands and pull your body flush against his. “Can you feel how hard you’ve made me already?”
“Mmhmm,” you hum in confirmation, and grind your hips forward against the bulge growing rapidly in Jungkook’s trousers. He moans lowly, then crashes his lips hungrily to yours. Your fingers knot in his hair, tugging the strands gently, earning another low moan to rumble in Jungkook’s throat.
When your breath runs short, you pull away to lower yourself down. Jungkook’s dark gaze follows your movement, watching intently as you finish unbuttoning his shirt and push it off his body. Your hands rove over his bare torso, appreciating the time and care he takes to keep his body so deliciously defined. Your lips trace the lines of his abs, and he lets out a soft breath, fingers running through your hair.
Slowly, you trail your mouth up his body to find his nipple. Jungkook blinks in anticipation, chewing on his bottom lip anxiously. He’s never had someone play with his nipples before, not until you did earlier, so he hadn’t been aware that he likes it, but now he is and he really hopes you’ll continue to awaken new feelings of pleasure for him.
Noticing his reaction, an amused smirk tilts your lips; Jungkook swallows thickly, getting the feeling that you’re going to take full advantage of the discovery that he enjoys his nipples being toyed with— and he really isn’t against you doing that in any way—, and then your lips suddenly wrap around his right nipple and suck, making his breath catch in his throat.
“Shit,” he finally manages to get out after a few breathless seconds, short nails dragging over your scalp slightly as your hand lifts to play with his neglected nipple. “Shit, no wonder girls like this,” he babbles, making you giggle, before you flick your tongue out suddenly, making him jolt. “Again, baby; again, please.” Really, who could refuse such cute, soft, yet desperate pleading, so you do as request and repeat the action; flick your tongue against his nipple, increasing the pace until he tips his head back and moans roughly, making you pull away.
“Shh, Jungkookie,” you scold gently and flick his wet nipple with your finger, making him let out a choked noise. “You don’t want to be interrupted, do you?” He whines and shakes his head, looking pained at the thought “Be quiet then.”
“Sorry,” he almost whispers, and you nod in approval before returning to your task of worshipping his body, as it deserves. You take your time to roam your mouth over his torso, alternating between kissing, licking, biting, and sucking at his skin until you’ve made a trail of bruised affection all the way to the waistband of his trousers, leaving him breathing heavily above you. “Baby, please,” he pleads when you stop and look up at him.
“Please what?”
“Touch me.”
“Where?” He ruts his hips forward pointedly, almost colliding his crotch with your face, but luckily you move slightly aside, and he stops his half thrust in time. “Use your words, baby,” you encourage, even as you work on flicking open the button on his trousers and slowly pull down the zipper.
“My dick. Fuck, touch my dick.”
“Hm?”
“Please,” he whines needily, and you chuckle, pleased. “Look what you reduce me to; a whiny, needy guy.”
“Hmm, my little bitch,” you confirm; Jungkook whines in complaint at the term yet doesn’t argue. “Are you my little bitch, Jungkookie?”
“Can I cum if I say yes?”
“You think I’ll not allow you pleasure if you refuse to be my bitch?” you muse, and he just gives you a flat look that lets you know that he knows that he knows you well enough by now. “Boy, you right,” you confirm, making him scoff, though it quickly turns into a chuckle.
“If I get to cum by the end of the night, you can call me whatever you want, princess,” he bargains.
“Okay, pumpkin.” He locks a heatless glare on you, and you giggle again. Before he can argue further, you quickly push down his trousers and boxers in one go, freeing his erection; it pops up and hits your jaw. Jungkook’s eyes bulge in alarmed shock, feeling like his own body has betrayed him by attacking you; he wants to apologise, but the blank look on your face keeps him still and quiet. Slowly, you let go of his clothing and leave it around his knees, to glare at his dick staring you in the face. “If you do that again, you and I are going to have a problem,” you warn in a grumble, and Jungkook snorts out a laugh.
“Are you seriously talking to my di–” he chokes on his words when you abruptly lean forward and eagerly take his erection into your mouth.
A loud moan leaves his lips when he feels his tip hit your throat, while your tongue curls and laps around his length.
Immediately, you pull off to look up at him amusedly. “I think I need to gag you,” you tease, shuffling backwards on the bed. Jungkook watches you with a pout, wishing you’re still sucking his throbbing cock and not moving further away from it. “Come on then,” you encourage, patting the bed invitingly. Jungkook wastes no time in throwing off the rest of his clothes to scramble up onto the bed. “On your back, baby.”
For a few seconds, Jungkook hesitates to do as told, purely because he wants to be on top; but then he remembers that you’re in a relationship now, and this isn’t going to be your only sexual encounter. He’ll have plenty of chances to fuck you into the mattress. With that thought in mind, he flops onto his back and gets comfortable with his head on the pillow. Once he’s settled, you crawl between his thighs and bend down to take him back into your mouth, instantly earning a moan. You try to ignore it, but then he starts to talk.
“Fuck, baby, you feel so good. Your mouth is so perfect. Fuck, that’s it, suck my dick,” he croons, half babbling as you skilfully work his length. Though the moment you pull off with a sigh and climb off of the bed, he thrashes slightly in frustration. “No come back, I’m sorry. I won’t say those things anymore if you don’t like it, just come back,” he begs, making grabby hands at you, big pleading eyes locked on your face.
“Shup up, I already told you to be quiet tonight,” you remind firmly. “Clearly, you have no control over your voice box, and I’ll have to make you shut up.”
Jungkook’s body tingles with slight fear; he has no idea what you’re about to do. Admittedly though, there’s also a fair amount of fizzing arousal and he realises he’s kind of into being a little scared and at your mercy during sex.
As you start to slide your underwear down your thighs, his tongue darts out to hungrily lick his lips. “Are you going to sit on my face?” he groans lowly, beyond turned on by the thought; his dick twitches at the thought of having his face buried between your lovely thighs. You shake your head, and he whines. “But I want to taste you.”
“Another day, I don’t have the patience for that much foreplay tonight, baby,” you reply as you climb back onto the bed and straddle his waist.
Jungkook moans low and rough at the feel of your wet pussy pressing against the bare skin of his stomach. “Can I fuck you raw?”
“Do you have anything contagious?”
“You know I don’t; you would’ve been the first to know if I have an STD,” he retorts, rolling his eyes. “And I know you don’t have anything either, and you’re on the pill.”
“Hmm, okay,” you agree, and he lights up with excitement at the news that he doesn’t have to wear a condom.
“Are you going to sit on my dick, huh, baby? You gonna ride me until you cum? Gonna fuck yourself on my cock?”
You have to admit, you’re loving his dirty words; each syllable in his rumbling voice sets another wave of arousal in your stomach, and you’re certain you’re dripping all over his abs by now. However, he’s being far too loud.
“Fuck, I really need to do this, huh?” you realise with a defeated sigh, and Jungkook tilts his head in confusion. “Open your mouth,” you say, a light demand, and he gives you a wary look in response. “Do it, or you can’t fuck me tonight.” Instantly, his mouth opens. “Good boy,” you coo, smiling sweetly at him as you lift your right hand with your underwear balled within. Jungkook’s eyes widen in alarm when you push the lacy material past his parted lips. “Is that okay?” you check, voice turning softer now, more gentle and cautious, just in case he’s not comfortable with this.
Jungkook wiggles his jaw a little, trying to figure out if he’s opposed to having your panties in his mouth. When his tongue finds the damp seat where he can get the faintest taste of your arousal staining the material, he knows he’s definitely okay with it. Though, he’s shy when he nods to admit this to you.
“Good.” You giggle happily before taking his face into your hands to lean down and press a sweet kiss on his bottom lip. “You look so cute with my panties in your mouth, babyboy.” Your lips trail kisses down his jaw and neck, stopping to leave a few marks on his upper chest and collarbones until you shuffle your body further down to sit up on his upper thighs.
Jungkook’s hands move to hold your hips and lift you slightly so that he can wriggle a few inches until his dick is pressing lengthways along your dripping pussy. He loosens his grasp to let you take over, grinding along his erection at your own pace. A grumbled moan breaks from his chest at the wet friction, but it’s muffled due to the material in his mouth.
“That’s better,” you approve, before leaning up onto your knees to give you space to reach between your thighs and slide two fingers past your waiting entrance while Jungkook watches with wide, entranced eyes. “You’re made me so wet,” you whisper, eyes closing as you fuck yourself open on your two fingers.
A gasp leaves your lips when Jungkook’s index finger of his right hand joins your fingers inside you, wiggling inside curiously, then working in opposition to your own movement to open you up. The difference makes a soft whimper leave your lips.
“I could cum like this,” you confess quietly, fluttering your eyes open to look down at your boyfriend and pierce him with your dark gaze. He shakes his head. “No?”
Instead of even trying to respond, he pulls his finger out and instead, you feel a different kind of pressure nudging against your entrance. You look down to see him holding his erection up, ready to enter you. With no reason, nor wish, to wait any longer, you slip your fingers out of you to instead slide down his hard cock. Jungkook grips your hips tight as he fights the urge to fuck up into your slick warmth.
Grinding and rolling your hips, you make your way down his thick length until you’re sitting flush against him. Jungkook’s chest is heaving by the time you’re seated, and his fingers are digging so hard into you that you know bruises will be left— not that you care—; he looks as if he’s trying his damndest to calm himself with his eyes screwed tightly shut.
With an amused, lazy grin, you lean over him to press your hands either side of his shoulders. “Gonna bust already?” you tease. Jungkook’s eyes blink open, and he looks at you with cheeks flushed a deep, embarrassed pink, but he doesn’t deny it or prevent the slight nod that moves his head. You giggle and press a kiss to his parted lips. “Even if you do, I’m going to keep bouncing on your cock until I’m satisfied,” you warn, purposely clenching your walls around him; making his hips jerk at the sudden pleasurable tightening, as he moans brokenly. “Ah, who knew you’d be so much fun to play with.”
Despite your words, you decide to give him time to calm; you keep your hips still and remove your panties from his mouth so that you can kiss him without the obstacle in the way. A breath of relief leaves Jungkook’s chest, understanding that you’re giving him time; he’s really glad you are, because he just knows he’d cum too fast otherwise.
You both get too lost in the kiss, too absorbed in the way your tongues slide together, the way teeth nip teasingly at lips, that you almost entirely forget that his dick is nestled all secure and warm within you. At least until he adjusts slightly under you, and his cock rolls within you, making you both moan into one another’s mouth at the sudden friction.
“Fuck,” you whisper, pulling back to straighten up on his hips and place your palms flat on his chest.
“Take your bra off,” he demands, practically glaring at the piece of clothing still hiding you from his view. Honestly, you had entirely forgotten about it, too caught up in Jungkook, so the reminder prompts you to quickly unclasp it and toss it carelessly to the floor. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes out, awed, running his hands over your body in soft reverence.
“So are you.”
Jungkook’s gaze lifts from admiring your newly exposed breasts, to meet your eyes, and he smiles. “C’mere and kiss me.” Well, you’ll never say no to that, and swiftly lean down to lock your lips back together.
Though, this time, you remember the situation you’re in and start to lift and lower your hips. Jungkook moans lowly and grabs a hold of your ass to help you move, encouraging your motions as his lifts his hips in time. Yet, even though his cock is dragging slowly along your walls, pressing into all the right spots and his tip hits deep enough to make your toes curl, it isn’t quite what you really want right now.
As you push your body up to sight upright on his hips, Jungkook watches with heady, lidded eyes so dark with lust that your stomach turns with arousal. He lets you move however you want, stopping his own movement as you lift, then suddenly drop back down. A deep moan vibrates through Jungkook’s chest and out of his mouth, and you immediately fall still before you can even bounce again.
“Fucking hell,” you groan, a little frustrated, and pick up your underwear to stuff them non-too-gently into his mouth. Jungkook doesn’t fight it, even opens his mouth wide when he sees you pick up the lace. “You like having my panties in your mouth, baby?” you coo tauntingly, placing your hands on his stomach for leverage before you start to bounce in rapid enthusiasm. Jungkook grunts, head tipping back on the pillow as his eyes roll to a shut, yet he still nods. “Can you taste me?” you wonder, already getting breathless with the pleasure assaulting your nerves. He nods again, and you notice his throat bob thickly as he swallows hard before tilting his head back down to watch you.
All it takes it one second of heated eye contact for you to give up teasing him and focus on riding him, adjusting your position and motions until you have the perfect angle to hit that extra sensitive spot within you that has you gasping and seeing stars.
Jungkook is utterly mesmerised as he watches you ride him; he’s positive he’s never seen such a beautiful sight. Your expression is scrunched in a mix of concentration and pleasure as you focus on brining yourself to orgasm. When he realises that, Jungkook quickly moves to help, sliding his right hand off your hip to between your thighs so that he can press his thumb to your clit. Your hips jerk in surprise at the unexpected touch, but you quickly get back into rhythm with a little whimper, hips moving more desperately to reach your climax.
Obligingly, and perhaps even more desperate than you are, Jungkook makes sure to keep pace with you, still letting you lead while moving his hips in tandem to grind up into you as his thumb rolls over your clit.
Strangely enough, it’s a broken little moan, meeting your ears muffled by the fabric he’s still obediently keeping in his mouth, that hits you right in the lower stomach, makes your walls clench quickly, and throws you into an intense orgasm that blindsides you with how abrupt and strong it is.
Somehow, Jungkook fights back his own orgasm as he watches your body shake on top of him with the intense pleasure surging through your body, walls fluttering and pulsating around his throbbing cock. His thumb continues to work your clit until you grip his wrist and tug his hand away before he can overstimulate you.
Bravely, Jungkook removes your panties from his mouth and watches you in slack-jawed awe as your body slowly stills on top of him. He waits for you to calm and catch your breath before he pulls you down into a passionate kiss.
“You look so fucking beautiful cumming on my dick like that, baby,” he whispers, grunting when you unintentionally clench around you. “Fuck, I’m gonna fill you with my cum,” he murmurs mindlessly as his left arm wraps around your waist, his right-hand tangles in your hair, and his feet plant on the bed to give him leverage to begin to fuck up into you, desperate and harsh. A whine-like moan leaves your lips as his cock pummels through your sensitive, fresh-from-a-powerful-orgasm, walls.
“Fuck, Kook,” you moan, letting him lift you slightly so that he can attach his lips to your breasts; your back arches to press your chest closer to his face, unintentionally allowing him a slightly different angle to fuck into you that makes him moan loudly against your skin. Instantly, you push yourself up onto you palms to look down at him disapprovingly.
Jungkook looks back up at you apologetic, yet so desperate and unable to stop himself from thrusting up into you, eyes darting between your bouncing tits and face. He wants to cum so much, in fact, he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to cum so much in his life, but he also knows that he’s being too loud.
Suddenly, an idea pops into your head. “Do–do you trust me?” you pant you, letting your right palm run over his chest. He nods without hesitation, even if he looks puzzled about why you’ve asked such a question while he’s balls deep inside you. “Stop me at any time.”
His hips slow as he watches your expression turn more serious; hesitance dances in your eyes, appearing over the darkness of the lust swimming there. He’s utterly confused, but very intrigued by whatever you’re planning. Slowly, your hand slides up to wrap loosely around his throat, and he understands. He swallows thickly under your palm, and his cock twitches against your walls.
“Is this okay?” you check. He nods hesitantly, uncertain if he’ll be okay with you actually tightening your hold, but he’s willing to at least try it and find out. “Fuck me, Kook,” you encourage, and he doesn’t need to be told twice. Jungkook nods and his hips snap up into you, return to his borderline animalistic fucking.
As soon as Jungkook moans too loud, your grip on this throat tightens slightly to cut him off. He sputters in surprise, so you pull your hand back.
“Sorry.”
“No–no,” he replies, blushing, and glances aside shyly quickly, before locking his gaze on yours. “Again.” Your eyebrows lift in surprise, but you return your hand to his throat.
The next time, you spot the incoming moan before he has a chance to vocalise it and tighten your grip. You’re surprised that in response, he suddenly fucks into you harder, forcing your body to jolt harshly with the strength he’s now using. You clamp around his dick, and then his throat when you see his eyes roll back and mouth drop open wider.
The sound of skin slapping wetly against skin echoes loudly in the room, and you don’t give a single fuck if it’s audible from another room; the knot in your stomach is suddenly back with a tight vengeance, and you want to cum too.
Your grip loosens just long enough to let Jungkook catch his breath, but his movements slow a little, and you don’t like that. The second you decide he has enough air in his lungs, your fingers curl and his hips return to their fast movement, hitting against you hard enough that you know your thighs will be sore tomorrow, if not into the next day too. You’re kind of looking forward to it.
“Fuck, baby,” you whine, balling your left hand into the sheets by his shoulder as you fight to keep your eyes open to watch his blissed expression for the first sign that you need to ease up on his throat. “I…so close,” you mumble. Once again, Jungkook’s hand dives between your thighs to rub his thumb against your clit; the urgency and clumsiness of his movements tells you that he’s so close to his own orgasm but wants you to finish first.
You loosen your grip on this throat for a moment, only allowing him to suck in a few breaths before closing on his throat once again, though with more pressure than you’ve used so far. Jungkook chokes, yet as soon as you try to move your hand away, he pushes his throat back against your palm so that you can choke him again.
You find his desperation to be choked more arousing than you thought you’ve ever find such an action, and it sets the knot to explode in your lower stomach, sending you writhing and trembling over him once again.
The feeling of your walls clamping around his leaking cock for a second time is too much for him to fight, and Jungkook’s orgasm hits him so hard he curls up harder into your palm without meaning to or even noticing. Luckily, you do, even in your blissed out, foggy minded state, and you quickly move your hand away to plant on the mattress as your body sags, only moving thanks to Jungkook’s hips still mindlessly rutting against you to milk out his orgasm.
Slowly, you both come down from your highs, and he pulls you down onto his sweat-slick chest. Usually, you’d complain about him touching you when he’s sweaty, but you’re just as bad right now, so you don’t care and contently curl up against him.
When your body stops shuddering after a handful of minutes, you try to move off of him, but he whines and holds you tighter. “Don’t move,” he whispers against your head. “Let me hold you.”
“I can feel your cum leaking out around your deflating dick,” you grumble, and he snorts a very unattractive laugh at your words. You still think he’s absurdly attractive though.
“That’s a lovely mental image,” he retorts before suddenly flipping you both over, and pulls out of you.
You watch in confusion as he shuffles down your body and settles on his elbows between your spread thighs. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Fuck, that’s my cum,” he murmurs awed, reaching out to scoop up the cum trickling from your entrance, to push it back inside. “Keep that where it belongs.”
“Where it belongs?” you question, raising an eyebrow.
“My cum belongs in you, baby.” He looks up at you with a grin, making you laugh. “So, you’re a lot kinkier than I thought,” he comments with a smirk as he crawls up your body, pressing gentle kisses over every patch of skin he passes until he’s hovering over you with his forearms either side of your head, caging you in. “Stuffing your panties in my mouth?” You shrug. “Choking me?”
“You clearly liked that. A lot.”
“I did,” he confirms, licking his lips, before his gaze travels down to your bare throat with hungry burning dark in his eyes, and making your stomach fizz with anticipation. “But I think that next time, I should choke you, princess.”
Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖
🔪Who: Kwon Soonyoung (Seventeen) x female reader
🔪What: Some angst. Some fluff. Some humour. Some dark themes. Slow burn. Assassin Soonyoung. Exes to Something to Lovers. Some mildly suggestive moments (18+)
🔪Word count: 24.9k
🔪Warnings: Profanity. Some alcohol consumption. Many references to death and violence: but none actually shown, and nobody dies after the beginning section. Soonyoung calls reader babe/ baby throughout the entire fic even though they’re exes. Reader has a “name”, but it’s explained and not her real name, which is never stated. There’s no explicit smut, and it’s not that suggestive, but I still am not comfortable with anyone under 18 reading.
🔪Summary:
A lot can be said about Kwon Soonyoung, but that he’s a normal member of society isn’t one of those things.
Honestly, you’re not sure that Soonyoung’s even seen the bar standard when it comes to being a normal member of society, and yet somehow, he manages to find that bar, violently stomp it into the ground, and turn your life entirely upside down with one monumental fuck up.
Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio. I also block blank blogs.
Masterlist
A/N- This is entirely written for, and dedicated to, Celeste @mylovesstuffs, who has brought this idea up at every available opportunity since she first heard about it. Happy birthday, sweetheart, I hope you like it 💗
And a giant thanks to Bunny @thestraybunny for letting me use her name for Jeonghan’s wife when I was too lazy to come up with an original name, hope you like your part hehehe 💗
Kwon Soonyoung is a lot of things: cheeky, handsome, fun; a lightweight with alcohol, great in bed, terrible with technology; in peak physical condition, quick on his feet, observant; a highly sought after assassin… and well, that last one is the point of this really.
Although Soonyoung has a lot of great points— and some not-so-great ones that are easily overshadowed by the good—, killing people for money sort of ruined his whole thing for you when you found out.
Okay, admittedly, it wasn’t an immediate end to your relationship when you first found a weapon hidden in his apartment in a convenient, quick to grab, but well concealed, location— you doubt he expected you to be so nosey and rummage around as much as you did. Nor the second or third time.
Not even the fourth when you also found a bloodstained shirt that he hadn’t disposed of simply because you bought it for him. Which, admittedly, probably only further encouraged him when you threw the shirt aside and tackled him to the bed to enthusiastically show him how endeared you were by his sentimental action.
It probably took far longer than it should’ve for you to end things with Soonyoung. Honestly, it only happened when he asked to move in together, and you realised that you would regularly see him coming home from jobs; beaten and bruised from fights, and his victim’s blood staining his clothes. That’s if he even made it home.
When you thought about it like that; always unsure if he’d make it back to you; if maybe one day, he would have to pay for his sins in a way that ripped him away from you before you were ready, you knew you couldn’t wait for that day to come.
So, you made the choice to lose him on your own terms and ended all contact with him in hopes that you would be too distanced in every way to ever know the day the worst happens to him.
Of course, Soonyoung wasn’t happy about that and immediately tried to change your mind; tried to promise that no-one can out maneuverer Hoshi; best assassin in the entire country! And then he tripped over the hem of his ridiculously baggy jeans and made you even more certain that the idiot is going to get himself killed and leave you with a space in your chest where he once lived.
You’d like to say that Soonyoung respected your wishes after that and left you alone; that he gave you the space you requested and moved on.
But Kwon Soonyoung is a lot of things, and a quitter isn’t one of them.
Honestly, at this point, you can’t even be surprised. At this point, you should be used to this utterly insane method of winning you back. But you really can’t be blamed for never getting used to your assassin ex-boyfriend killing anyone who causes you even the slightest bit of grief.
The neighbour you complained about once on social media for having an obnoxiously loud party the night before you had to get up ridiculously early for work; found dead in a ditch days later.
The coffee shop employee who always got your order wrong; found floating in the river the day after she gave you cow’s milk despite you making a point of reminding her that you’re lactose intolerant, resulting in hours in the bathroom with horrendous stomach cramps. Okay, maybe she was trying to hurt you, you can’t be sure, but you’re pretty sure that murder wasn’t the answer!
And first thing this morning, you walked into work only to find police all over the place and quickly learned that your boss was found face down at this desk only an hour before, with a poisoned cup of long-cold coffee infront of his unblinking eyes. And well, you think Soonyoung’s taken it too far this time.
Sure, your boss was a sexist pig who liked to degrade your work and compliment his shit head of a son instead— despite the nepo baby being absolutely useless at his job—, but you could grin and bear it. The pay’s really good, and at the end of the day, you do get to pick your clients; because despite how much your boss liked to pick on you, he also knew that you’re the best in the company and he couldn’t risk losing you.
Or well, was the best in the company would be more accurate. Because not long after you get home from work, you find Soonyoung already in your apartment, with bags packed by his feet, and words on his tongue you never wanted to hear.
“Babe, I fucked up,” he admits, already getting up from the armchair to take a tentative step towards you. He looks nervous, and regretful, but also a little panicked and urgent in a way that forces you to push the stream of pissed off scolding to the back of your throat for later.
“How, Soonyoung?” you question, moving further in without even bothering to remove your shoes; you can see he still has his on, and that gives you the worst feeling that this is far more pressing than keeping your apartment clean.
“Like…in the way that you’re now on the most wanted list, so we need to fucking run.”
In all that you could’ve imagined Soonyoung saying to you one day, those words never even remotely crossed your mind; didn’t even get in the far distance of your mental view and tease a glimpse of worry into you. You can’t be blamed for taking a few long moments to just stare in stunned disbelief at the assassin infront of you as you absorb what he’s said.
Thankfully, Soonyoung must understand your shock as he doesn’t rush you to respond. Then again, he never did rush you; he was always good like that. Now, you’re not quite as sure what he is. A fucking idiot, probably.
“Fuck you,” is the response you decide on, glaring at him slightly, and Soonyoung nods like he expected that; deserves that.
“You have time to shower and change into the clothes I left out; they’ll be best to travel in. I’ve packed everything that you can take,” he informs, motioning to the matching luggage sets by his feet. Matching sets he bought the two of you for the holiday you never got the chance to take; he had to go on a sudden job, and you were too busy at work by the time he returned wearing an eye patch and doing a shitty pirate impersonation while trying to hide his limp from you.
Maybe you’re as much as an idiot as him to have stayed with him for almost a year after that, despite being worried he’d never walk without pain again. He still gets twinges of pain now in his leg, and limps after doing strenuous activity, but he says as long as he can move and his vision remains as perfect as it’s always been, he’ll always be Hoshi. Part of you selfishly wished his eye injury was more severe than it was, then maybe he would’ve quit back then, and you could still be together and as in love as you once were.
But here you are, wishing the man had left when you broke up with him and never showed his face again. Yet, he just couldn’t let you go, and now, you’re somehow a wanted woman and need to flee the country with your batshit insane ex-boyfriend.
“You better fucking explain what you did as soon as it’s safe to sit and talk,” you warn, pointing a stern finger at the man as you walk past him.
“I will, I promise. I’m really fucking sorry; I never meant for this to happen.”
And there’s a lot to be said about Kwon Soonyoung, but he’s never lied to you when it matters.
Of course, with all Soonyoung’s done in his life, he knows a lot of people; a lot of people who owe him for something or the other; a lot of people he calls on to get the two of you safely out of the country and halfway across the world with the promise that they never have to see nor hear from him again. You kind of envy them for that, honestly.
Fleeing consists of weeks of careful travel; of hiding out; of being in such close quarters with Soonyoung that you truly debate shoving him over the edge of a boat on multiple occasions for doing this to you. You know it’d be easy enough physically; he wouldn’t see it coming at all.
But realistically, you’re no killer; you don’t even like killing spiders. Then again, neither does Soonyoung, so maybe that’s not the best comparison. The point is, no matter how much anger you have in your veins at the man for making you give up your entire independent life, to instead rely on him to keep you alive and running from the situation that he got you into without you knowing until it was too late, you could never hurt him.
Well, not that severely; you certainly like to whack his arm in punishment at every chance, and he lets you without complaint. He even readily offers up his limb when he sees the ire burning brighter in your eyes when he forces you into yet another tiny, ratty bed for the night while he sleeps on the floor by your side like a loyal guard dog.
It’s when you make that comparison— Soonyoung as your protective guard dog that would bite the face off a threat, then turn around to look at you with big, puppy-dog eyes as his tail wags and he silently asks to be called a good boy—, that you suddenly find it harder to take your anger out on him anymore, and instead turn away when you’re reminded of the shit show that your life now is thanks to him. Honestly, you think turning your back on him hurts more than your hits ever could, and that both pleases you, and makes your own heart ache further.
You go through weeks of it all, and it’s not until you arrive in some foreign country you don’t know the language of— nor know a thing about— and Soonyoung lets you drive for the first time since this started, that he finally tells you how he fucked up.
“Promise not to drive us off the cliff?” he requests out of the blue, a good half an hour into the drive; with him carefully directing you using the map that his final connection handed him, along with the car keys, forty minutes ago. A connection who pretty much wept with joy when the assassin Hoshi finally freed him from his debt. Well, you assume that’s what happened; you couldn’t understand a word the pair said, but it seems to be the general way of conversation every time the two of you part ways with one of the many people who once owed Hoshi a favour.
“No,” you answer simply, without hesitation. He sighs, and you’re very certain he expected you to answer that way yet hoped you wouldn’t. It’s crazy how, although you had a pretty solid grasp on Soonyoung seven months ago when you were still together, you now know him better than ever. But then again, you guess spending 24/7 with someone while on the run tends to do that.
“At least jump out the car before it falls over,” he says, pouting at you a little; something you only see from your peripheral vision, but you can still feel the full force of. Damn that rabid puppy-dog.
You sigh. “Even though I’d love to punish you and you alone for how monumentally you’ve fucked up my life, I wouldn’t be able to survive without you. I don’t even know where we are,” you respond matter-of-factly. “So, it’s both of us, or neither of us.”
“Oh, right,” he murmurs. “Maybe I should drive.” You give him an unimpressed look that makes him shrink slightly. “Or not.”
“Relax, I’m not going to drive off the cliff.” Funnily enough, that’s all you need to say for Soonyoung to relax, as if he really did think you’d drive the pair of you off the cliff just to punish him. Depending on what exactly he says, it’s not entirely off the table, but you think it’s better not to let him know that in case he refuses to tell you quite yet; you’ve waited far too long for this information to risk losing the chance.
“Good. I never want to hurt you or be the reason you’re hurt. I’d do anything to protect you,” he insists firmly, despite the fact you’ve never doubted that. Even if he has some weird ideas of what you need protecting from and the lengths morally acceptable to go to protect you. But, you suppose for being raised in the world he has, Soonyoung could be a lot worse. His heart is in the right place, at least.
“Then explain why you’ve made me leave my life behind to go to somewhere I can’t even speak the language. I doubt I’d know where we are on a map even if you told me the name.”
“Probably not; I only know because of my connection. I’ve never been to the exact place before,” he admits, and you’re a little unsteady about that; that even Soonyoung has no experience wherever he’s been leading you to for the past weeks. But still, you trust him. You’ve yet to decide if that’s a bad idea or not.
After pausing the topic to check the map and give you a heads up that you need to take the next exit away from the cliff’s edge, and to make sure you drink some water, Soonyoung finally answers.
“So, I don’t know if you noticed, but some people have been disappearing from your life the past months,” he starts, and you give him a quick, flat look in response that makes him smile sheepishly. “So, you did notice.”
“Bit hard not to, Soonyoung.”
“Yeah, well, they didn’t deserve a place in your life when they don’t make you happy!”
“Says the man who dragged me across the globe.” Soonyoung doesn’t say anything for long enough that you look over and notice the pained, kicked puppy-dog look on his face. You sigh and look forward again just in time to take the exit he earlier notified you of. “Please just get to the point,” you request, knowing that you’ll give in to something if he keeps looking at you all quiet and heartbroken like this. What that something is, you’re not sure, but you’re not ready to forgive him and don’t want to do something you’d regret.
“The cops noticed that you’re the common factor between the bodies,” he admits in a mumble, still aching from your words, but also reluctant to truly confess his giant fuck up to you. He doesn’t want you to be disappointed in him, and you know that, but you still are, and he knows it. “They didn’t realise there is a common factor between the bodies until they suddenly noticed your name crop up. And since your boss was found dead, they decided they have to act. They think you’re a serial killer and were going to bring you in; you’re pretty much top of their most wanted list now.”
It genuinely takes a handful of minutes for you to fully register and accept the words, before you realise exactly what he’s just told you, and the anger that had fizzled out over the past weeks is back with a vengeance.
Soonyoung yelps when you abruptly swerve the car along the road to cause his head to hit the window at his side; hard enough to hurt him but not damage the glass. “Ow! Fuck!” he exclaims as he clutches the impact spot, and you straighten the car back up to continue along the road as if nothing happened. “I deserve that.”
“More than that.”
“Yeah,” he agrees with a sigh, and slowly drops his hands to his lap as he tilts his head back against the headrest. “I know you won’t forgive me any time soon, if ever, but I really am sorry. If I could go back and be smarter about it, I would; I’d set someone up to take the fall and take any suspicion away from you.”
It’s really not at all what he should say, what a normal person would say, but you know it’s as good as you’re going to get without explaining that he should just not kill people if he had the chance for a do-over, and you just don’t have the mental energy to have that conversation.
You just sigh and keep driving.
It takes an hour of driving before you reach a dock, and Soonyoung swaps the car keys for tickets to the ferry to an island you can’t even see from where you stand.
There’s just enough time to get aboard with your luggage and stow it safely in the compartments beside the seats you pick near the windows before the ferry starts the two-hour long journey across the salty water to the place you have no choice but to accept as your new home.
“I don’t know what name your new ID will have,” is the first thing Soonyoung says to you almost an hour into the journey, voice quiet as he leans in close to you with one arm on the back of your seat; playing couple like you have been in order to avoid questions during your travels. Nobody questions a couple leaning in close and whispering to each other, just assumes it’s sweet nothings or filthy fantasies being passed in the air between them.
As much as you’d rather that Soonyoung doesn’t keep so close when you’re so mad at him, you know it really is the smartest move to remain under the radar and look like any other couple exploring the world together, so you never pull away.
“I still think it’s unfair you get to keep your name and mine has to change all the fucking time,” you grumble, leaning into him just so you can poke your fingers into his thigh a little harshly, reminding him that you’re not happy to be playing along— even if the way his fingers absently trace over your arm furthest from his is, admittedly, rather nice; but you’re not going to tell him that.
“I’m not in any government system, you are. People know Hoshi, not Soonyoung,” he explains with a shrug.
Although you’re not happy about it, you know that he’s right, so you just groan softly and lean your head onto his shoulder to get comfortable for the remainder of your journey across the sea.
Upon meeting land, Soonyoung seems a little lost for the first time as he glances around the sparse dock, the few buildings along the cobble street in front of you, and honestly, not much else.
After a few awkward seconds as he tries to gather his bearings, he motions you over to an old rickety bench— which he tries out before allowing you to sit— and leaves you there with the luggage by your feet, before he darts off to talk to a couple of locals standing and chatting outside of what you assume to be a grocery store of some kind, based on the faded, cartoonish fruit drawn onto the window.
It only takes a few minutes for Soonyoung to seemingly have befriended the two middle aged men, talking and laughing with them like old friends, before he motions to you with one hand, the other pressed to his chest. Based on the expressions the two older men turn to look at you with, you just know that Soonyoung is spinning some tale of his endless love and devotion to you.
You do your best not to linger on the thought; especially not the knowledge that he doesn’t even need to lie to them. Soonyoung still loves you, he doesn’t hide it at all, though you wish he would. You’ve spent seven months trying your best to get over him, and you always think you’ve completely succeeded until he looks at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes and tenderness tilting his lips up, and your heart skips a beat, reminding you how easily it would be to race for him. It takes everything in you to stop it.
Not long later, you’re in the backseat of a little car, luggage piled up next to you due to the lack of a boot, and Soonyoung in the seat in front of you as one of the men kindly drives the pair of you northwards across the island.
Up until the man pulls up to the northernmost dock, in another little village— though this one a little more lively and populated—, you really couldn’t imagine how small the island is. It only took an hour to drive from the southernmost dock where you started, to this one. Even Soonyoung seems surprised when the man parks and must announce that you’re at your destination.
Quickly, Soonyoung thanks the man, and thanks to Soonyoung having taught you a few basic phrases on the ferry ride over, you also manage to get out a stilted thanks— which the kind man beams at— before he helps you and Soonyoung gather all your belongings.
Then, not even a minute later, you’re watching the man drive away, and wondering what kind of a life you’re going to live here.
“So, what now?” you wonder, turning to peer up at Soonyoung while shielding your eyes from the early afternoon sun. He’s busy looking around, clearly searching for something, eyes roaming the dock, the people, the buildings, and streets you can see from where you stand.
“Mm, we find– ah! There!” he exclaims, lighting up when he finds whatever he was looking for. And then to your surprise, he leaves you standing there all alone as he runs off with an excited yell of “Bunny!”
Utterly bewildered, and even more so when you hear his name being yelled back, you look over and find him running into the open arms of a rapidly approaching woman. Soonyoung’s arms are open just as wide, and their smiles are matching beams that only grow when they collide and wrap each other up in a hug so tight you find yourself suddenly questioning your own place at Soonyoung’s side. Though you quickly shake that thought away and remind yourself that you’re not at his side, not like that. Not like you used to be.
Part of you wants to walk over to join the pair, but the other part of you doesn’t want to intrude, and you also don’t want to carry all the luggage on your own, so you just remain in place and wait for Soonyoung to return to your side.
Thankfully, it’s only a couple of minutes later that he rushes back to your side, scoops up most of the luggage in one arm— leaving you with your backpack— and slings his free arm around you to urge you towards the woman.
“Baby, this is Bunny!” he introduces, as if that should mean something to you.
“Uh, hi,” you offer awkwardly, not really sure how to navigate this, but at least it seems that this woman speaks your native tongue, so that makes it a little easier.
“Hi, Myla!” Bunny replies, and it takes you a moment to realise that she thinks that’s your name. You glance at Soonyoung and find his expression looking kind of dopily smitten, yet also shy at the same time, so you reason he obviously knows the story behind the name and decide to ask him later in private. “It’s great to finally meet you, and it’ll be nice to have a same aged friend around. Honestly, other than my husband, everyone is middle aged around here; on most of the island really.”
“Oh, husband?” you question, eyebrows raising slightly in surprise as something in your chest settles at the information.
“Yep!” she confirms, lifting her left hand to show the simple silver band on her ring finger. “Five years this summer.” She looks at her ring with so much reverence that without even meeting her husband, you know he owns her entire heart and soul. It’s utterly precious, and you don’t know the woman yet, but you hope her husband looks at his own ring in the same tender way.
“Wow, congratulations,” you say, smiling at her finally, and she lights up even brighter.
“Thanks! You must be tired after the long journey, I’ll show you to your house!” she enthuses and links her arm with yours to lead you at her side ahead of Soonyoung. When you glance over your shoulder at him, he looks utterly content to toddle along behind you, so you just face forward again to memorise the journey to your new home.
It takes literally minutes to arrive at the front door of the cosy little detached house, just up the hilled street overlooking the dock and main street. There are only a couple other buildings along this street— which seems to lead only to a large expanse of grass and wildflowers—, and they’re all stout little houses with enough space between each for another handful of houses. It’s a vast difference from the cramped apartment building you spent the past years of your life in; from seeing nothing but concrete and towering city blocks no matter where you turned. You won’t say it aloud, but you quite like this.
“This is it!” Bunny informs brightly as she hands you a key ring with a couple keys attached, and motions to the door. Obligingly, you step forward to unlock the door and push it open. “Let me give you the grand tour,” she says once the three of you are inside, with the door shut and shoes toed off onto the matted area before the beige tiles lining the entrance hall.
Despite looking fairly small from the outside, the house is actually rather spacious inside, with plenty of windows to allow natural light in and give a spacious feel.
Immediately to the left upon entering the house, there’s a door that leads to a small storage room— which already contains cleaning supplies, including a mop and broom placed neatly to the side, and Bunny assures you both that she and her husband put them to use only the day before, ready for your arrival. Oddly enough, there’s a door at the back of the closet, and you’re surprised to find a wet room there, but Bunny quickly explains that the weather can get pretty wet here, and that leads to some muddy moments, so all the houses are built with a wet room near the entrance so that mud can be washed off instead of risking it getting smeared along the way to the main bathroom upstairs.
The door coming off the right of the entrance hall leads to the living area; already containing some furniture that Bunny promises is new, but you’re welcome to replace with your own tastes when you want; though you’re pretty happy with what’s already here, and you know Soonyoung just doesn’t care about furniture. The man really had some questionable items in his apartment when you first met and only changed them when you suggested he at least tried to not live like a broke college student taking any free furniture he happened across.
The back of the hall opens directly into the kitchen, which curves around to the left to an empty room that you assume is a separate dining room. Though there’s already a four-seater table in the back right corner of the kitchen with the light from the window on either wall shining down on it, so you really don’t know what will happen with the empty room, honestly.
After going up the stairs in the entrance hall, Bunny quickly shows you the bathroom— with all new fixtures, she proudly informs you—, before glossing over the empty room, and ending in the biggest room, the master bedroom; containing a double wardrobe, large chest of drawers, dressing table, and a large bed already set up for two. The only bed in the house.
“I know you’re not actually together, but I’ve told everyone that you are,” Bunny discloses, that bright tone usually in her voice lessening to something more neutral, even a tinge apologetic you like to think. You look at her and she twists her lips up into a slightly sheepish smile. “They’d kick up a fuss about friends of opposing sexes living together, so this, believe it or not, is the lesser of two evils.”
“Right,” you mumble, understanding her point, but not particularly pleased about it.
“Yeah. Well, happy relationship, I guess!” she claps her hands together then turns and heads back downstairs, so you and Soonyoung follow all the way to the front door to watch as she shoves her feet back into her sturdy shoes. “I’ll leave you two to settle, but come by at around 5-ish, Jeonghan will be awake from his afternoon nap then.”
“Your husband!” Soonyoung crows excitedly before you can ask if Jeonghan is her child and inadvertently saves you from that awkward moment. You mentally thank him for doing something he isn’t even aware of, though keep your mouth shut and let the pair converse.
“Yeah!” Bunny cheers, lighting all the way back up now they’re talking about her husband. “He gets up early to go fishing, so he always naps when he’s back. He’s excited to meet you both and has already planned dinner. You don’t have any allergies or dietary requirements, do you, Myla?” she asks, and it takes you a moment to remember that this Myla is you. The new you.
“No, nothing like that,” you assure, and she nods happily.
“Great, because I don’t want my Hannie to get upset if his careful planning is for nothing. So, see you both at 5, dinner will be at 6,” she says.
“Okay,” Soonyoung agrees easily as Bunny opens the door and steps outside.
“Wait!” you call incredulously when she starts to walk down the path. Bunny and Soonyoung both look at you questioningly. “Where do you live?”
“Oh!” Bunny laughs, and Soonyoung giggles along, both only now realising that she failed to inform you of her place of residence already. “At the top,” she says, pointing up the hill, only one house between you. “I’ll introduce you to our mutual neighbours another time; they’re away this week visiting family on the mainland.”
“Ah, right, okay,” you answer with a nod, Soonyoung nodding along too, before Bunny just waves once more then strolls off back down the hill.
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I need a snack,” Soonyoung says as you shut the front door, then he immediately turns and scuttles off to the kitchen.
By the time you join him after making sure the door is properly shut, and familiarising yourself with the locking mechanism and bolt, he’s already cutting up a selection of fruit he must’ve pulled from the fridge, because you know the fruit bowl was empty not ten minutes ago.
“Soonyoung,” you start as you near to lean on the other side of the island counter as him.
In response, he only hums; eyes focused on the shining knife in his hands as he skilfully chops. Admittedly, Soonyoung’s knife skills have always impressed you; it’s just his cooking skills that are lacking. Though he’s certainly improved a lot since you first met and you declared he needed to learn how to cook meals, not live off takeout and ready meals all the time.
“Myla?” you question; Soonyoung immediately falls still, and you notice his eyes widen where they’re still aimed down at his task. “Well?”
“It…it’s short for ‘my love’,” he admits quietly. You can see a hint of pink starting to stain the tips of his ears. “Be–because that’s what I always call you when I talk about you to her.”
“I didn’t even know she exists until today,” you comment, deciding to move past the admittance of sweet name he’s called you enough for there to be a shortened version that Bunny decided to dub you.
“Ah, yeah, well,” he replies vaguely with a shrug. “Just how it is, really.” You don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, and don’t have the energy to try and guess or pry a better answer out of him, so you just hum and accept the piece of fruit he slides across the chopping board to you silently.
“So, do we have some back story I need to learn? Not that I will be able to speak to the locals unless they speak my language, but I should still know.”
“They only really speak the local language here,” he confirms with a little nod.
“You’ll teach it to me, right?” He lifts his head to look at you. “What? If we’re going to be here for the rest of our lives, I’m going to need to be able to speak to more than just you and Bunny.”
“And Jeonghan; you can talk to him.”
“Which is a genuine relief, but I’d still like to be able to go to the local store and talk to them instead of just awkwardly paying in silence.”
“I can do all the grocery shopping,” he offers, pouting a little. “You don’t have to do anything. Let me take care of you.”
“I will literally go insane if I don’t get to live as normally as possible, Soonyoung. You’re not doing everything, especially if that confines me to the house,” you warn.
Immediately, he puts down the knife and shakes his empty hands in the air, eyes a little wide in slight panic. “I didn’t mean like that! I’m not telling you that you can’t! You can do whatever you want! I’m not in charge of you!”
“Correct.”
“I just meant…I want to take care of you and do everything. I won’t argue about you taking care of yourself too, of course, and doing whatever you want as long as it doesn’t endanger you, just…I want to look after you too. I’ll do anything you want,” he offers, voice turning soft and tender, betraying his still present and endless love for you.
You just sigh, which he mirrors softly as he turns back down to the knife and chopping board, knowing it means that you no longer feel the same as him, and still have no plan of taking him back, of loving him again.
“I’ll teach you the language, and the culture as much as I can, but Bunny and Jeonghan will be better at that part, seeing as they’ve lived here for almost five years now,” he says, voice still a little too soft, a little aching around the edges, but he’s trying to not linger on his broken heart for both of your sakes.
“Okay, thank you. And our story?”
“Mm, not sure, but I’m sure Bunny will fill us in over dinner; she came up with it all and should have our new documents ready.”
“Alright.” You nod and push away from the counter after swallowing down a final piece of fruit. “I’m going to go shower, maybe nap.”
“Okay,” he agrees with a nod as he watches you get further away from him. “Rest well.”
Although Soonyoung assures you that Bunny won’t expect anything, you feel rude turning up to a stranger’s house for dinner without a gift, so he obligingly walks around the village with you until you find the local store, and within, a small section of fresh flowers.
Of course, you don’t understand what the shopkeeper says to the pair of you, nor do you have any money; but Soonyoung handles it all, somehow without exchanging any cash, and then the two of you are on your way.
“What did you say to her?” you wonder as the two of you head back toward the hill, the beautifully wrapped bouquet cradled carefully in your arms to not risk damage to the simple yet elegant blooms.
“Hm?”
“You didn’t pay.”
“I don’t have money yet,” he reminds, making you stop still and look at him with wide, shocked eyes. “What?” he laughs as he stops a few steps ahead of you yet turned to face you. “Where would I have gotten cash from, babe?”
“I don’t know, maybe you had some already, or Bunny left some in the house.”
“Nope…well, I didn’t actually look, but she didn’t say she would,” he reasons with a shrug.
“Then why did you agree to go to the store with no money?!”
“I figured they’d be willing to work on a trade system. I know Bunny fixes a lot of stuff in exchange for goods and other services here, so I thought I could offer to do something for them.”
“And what exactly are you going to do in return for these?” you question, nodding down to the flowers in your arms.
“No idea.”
“Soonyoung!” you scold, reaching out to hit his arm.
“Ow! What?!” he clutches the impact spot, even if you didn’t hit him hard enough to actually hurt him.
“You can’t just offer to do things without knowing what they are! What if you’re asked to do something really fucked up?!”
“I mean…I’m pretty sure I’ve already done more fucked up stuff than what that lady will ask of me.”
“I dunno, she kept staring at your arms,” you comment, letting your own eyes lower to where his biceps are stretching the short sleeves of his obnoxiously floral shirt. You’d like to say it’s something Bunny left at the house amongst the items she procured to allow you and Soonyoung to blend in with the local lifestyle easier. But no, Soonyoung has been wearing that same shirt regularly since you first met over two years ago. For a man trained to blend in, he wears some really bold outfits.
“And?” You can’t help but roll your eyes before turning back the way you came from, with every intention of returning the flowers so that Soonyoung doesn’t owe a mystery— and potentially sexualised— debt to this stranger. “Hey, hey, baby, wait,” he calls, whining a little as he rushes forward to gently grab your arm to make you stop and face him again. “What’re you doing?”
“Returning the flowers, obviously. I’m not going to let you get tricked into doing heavy lifting topless just to be ogled and sexualised, all for some flowers.”
For a moment, Soonyoung just blinks at you, then a dumbass smile lifts his face and curves his eyes with how his cheeks bunch up. “You don’t want other women to check me out?”
“Did you even listen to what I said?” you deadpan, unimpressed.
“Yep. You don’t want other women ogling me!” he declares with a bright, dopey grin, practically singing his words in his joy.
“You know what? Forget it, she can ask you to do the macarena naked for all I care,” you decide with a frustrated sigh before stalking back off towards the hill.
You know that no matter what you say right now, the smooth part of Soonyoung’s brain will rule over logic and reason, and he won’t understand that you just don’t want him to potentially get sexualised for a favour. Even if it’s only that he’s stared at as his arms flex in his shirt while he moves the heavy items the elder woman can’t move around the store on her own, you don’t want it to happen without Soonyoung actually wanting to be checked out. You’ve had similar things happen to you so many times that you know that, even if in the moment it’s easy to ignore, if you let it happen once, people will take advantage; and soon, you become an unwilling sexual symbol always touched by unwanted, leering gazes.
Maybe tomorrow you can try to talk to him about it when he’s not caught on the false thought that you don’t want anyone else to look at him, as if you’ve made some claim over him. Even if he still thinks of himself as your property entirely, you haven’t thought of him as yours in a long time now, and you don’t want him to get incorrect ideas about the current state of your relationship.
But for now, you walk off ahead and ignore his delighted little giggles trailing behind you as he obediently follows along to Bunny’s house.
Though, as you get closer to the top of the hill, you slow down to let Soonyoung join your side, then move closer to him, feeling a little anxious over what you’re about to step into. Sure, Bunny seemed genuinely lovely— and very bright and bubbly— but you don’t know what her husband is like, nor do you really know her in any way that matters; so, entering their home to eat food they cooked, and talk about subjects you’re not currently aware of, is understandably making you nervous.
“What’s he like?” you ask in a quick whisper when you’re only metres away from the edge of the path leading up to the front door.
“No idea,” Soonyoung replies with a shrug. “Never met him. But Bunny’s obsessed with him and always has been, so I think that says a lot about him.”
“Or her.”
“Mm, yeah. But I know her, and she’s got good taste in people to befriend.”
“She’s friends with you, and you murder people for a living,” you point out in a mumble.
Soonyoung barks out a quick laugh. “True! Or, well, was true, I’m retired now, baby. My only purpose now is to dote on you.” You don’t have a chance to respond to that— not that you really know what to say in response, so maybe it’s a blessing that he doesn’t wait for a reply—, as you’re now at the front door and Soonyoung’s leaning over the step to knock the pale blue painted wood.
It doesn’t take long for the door to be answered, and the man who pulls it open genuinely makes your brain lag for a second. He, like Soonyoung, is wearing a shirt with far more print than any normal person should look good in— yet both unfairly look great in the busy patterns—, though his is long sleeved and neatly folded up to his forearms; it looks silky and expensive; it looks like it was made to be worn by him and him alone. Yet in complete contrast to the fancy, perfectly creaseless dress shirt, he’s wearing ratty old sweatpants with knees worn so thin that you can see glimpses of his skin underneath. And still, he looks beautiful.
“Hi! You must be Myla!” he says, greeting you first, and urging you in with a wave of his hand. “I’m Jeonghan,” he announces when you’ve stepped inside as requested, and he can carefully hug you— making sure to not press too close to be uncomfortable for complete strangers, or to squish the bouquet in your arms.
“It’s nice to meet you,” you say, not sure what else you’re supposed to say or do when meeting a complete stranger who you didn’t even know existed until a few hours ago. But at least it’s not a lie. Something about Jeonghan feels so pure, that you have a good feeling about getting to know him; you think he’ll be a great friend given the chance. And you find that you really do want to take that chance.
“You too, Bunny has told me so much about you!”
“Really?” you question surprised, and Jeonghan hums, nodding. “Oh…” You look at Soonyoung and find him very intently removing his shoes, tips of his ears pinkened. You’re not sure what exactly Bunny has heard from the man— and then passed on to her husband— but you’re pretty sure it involves a lot of Soonyoung praising you, if his suddenly bashful posture is anything to go off.
“And of course, Soonyoung,” Jeonghan coos, turning to the man and immediately bringing him in for a hug as soon as Soonyoung is fully upright again instead of leaning over to neaten up his shoes on the mat. “I genuinely didn’t think I’d ever get to meet you, so I’m really happy you’re here,” he says, voice a little softer in a way that makes you look away, feeling like you’re interrupting a special moment here.
“Me too,” Soonyoung replies in a matching tone, holding the man a little tighter. “Thank you for being by her side these years when I couldn’t,” he adds, and now you definitely know it’s a moment you shouldn’t be a part of— even if you’re not quite sure what it all means exactly—, so you decide to shuffle down the entrance hall after putting your own shoes on the mat besides Soonyoung’s.
The house seems to be set up in the exact same way as your own, with the living room to the right of the entrance hall. When you peer inside, you find a comfortable, welcoming room full of personal touches of the pair— including a large photo of the two of them on one wall, both looking so happy and in love as they beam at one another—, yet no Bunny. You venture further down the hall to the back of the house and find her in the kitchen, fiddling with a handheld mixer she seems to be in the process of fixing at the table.
“Hi,” you greet as you approach, making her look up and smile brightly at you.
“Hey,” she replies, lifting one hand to wave, screwdriver within wiggling in the air, before she lowers it again. “Sorry, just give me a minute to finish this, then I’ll be a good host.”
“It’s okay, I don’t mind you just being normal and relaxed; I don’t expect anything,” you assure, and sit with her at the table to watch intrigued as she works. “I honestly didn’t even know hand mixers can be fixed at home.”
“Hannie makes me fix everything for everyone in the village. I think he mostly just likes watching me work more than anything,” she muses with a pleased little smile. “I didn’t know how to fix any appliances until we moved here; I was just a mechanic before, so I had to learn a lot, and still am. But I haven’t found out how to say no to him yet. Not that I want to.”
“You really love him,” you comment, amused, but also already endeared with the pair and the love they don’t try to hide for one another.
“With everything in me. I’d do anything for him,” Bunny says, looking more serious than you’ve seen her so far. There’s something in her eyes that makes you think that maybe, she and Soonyoung are more similar than you previously assumed.
“How’s it coming along?” Jeonghan asks as he and Soonyoung enter the kitchen and head right over to the table. Soonyoung takes the seat at your side, resting his arm casually on the back of your chair, while Jeonghan stands on Bunny’s right and naturally puts a hand on the back of her neck, thumb soothing over her skin thoughtlessly.
“I think I’ve almost got it,” Bunny answers, preening when Jeonghan’s fingers squeeze ever so slightly in an approving gesture, a soft smile on his features.
“Well done, darling. Now,” He looks at you and Soonyoung. “Let me get you both a drink. What would you like? We have beer, wine, juice, water, and probably other things too, I just can’t remember right this second.”
“A beer would be great, thanks, Jeonghan,” Soonyoung replies with a grin.
“Only one,” you warn Soonyoung, making him pout. “You’re a lightweight, Soonie, I’m not carrying you home later.”
“Fine,” he concedes with a sigh. “I’ll improve my tolerance now I have the chance!” he decides. “We’ll have boys’ nights with beer involved, right, Jeonghan?” he asks, looking at the standing male with round, puppy-dog eyes.
Evidently, you’re not the only person weak for them, as Jeonghan visibly melts and nods with a sweet, obliging smile, making Soonyoung let out a happy noise. “And what about you, Myla? What would you like to drink?”
“I’m good with anything, thank you,” you reply.
“Beers all round!” Jeonghan decides, then turns to wander off to one of two fridges standing tall in the kitchen.
“Babe,” Soonyoung murmurs, tapping your shoulder with the hand still behind you, so you look at him questioningly. He nods towards your chest, making you look down and realise that you’re still holding the bouquet.
“Oh!” You shuffle to lift the flowers up. “Uhm, we got these for you both,” you announce, making the couple look at you curiously. The way both of their expressions turn soft at the sight of the flowers, and their lips turn up into matching little smiles, makes you feel shy all of a sudden, unused to such sweet expressions turned on you.
“Oh, that’s so sweet of you,” Bunny says. “Angel, can you find a vase out while you’re up?”
“Of course,” Jeonghan agrees easily, already lowering and vanishing behind the kitchen island— you assume to open the cupboard where they must keep their vases. “Which one, darling; the white or clear one?”
“Mm, I think the clear one,” Bunny replies after thoughtfully eyeing the bouquet you hold, her hands still holding tools and the in-pieces mixer.
“Do we have a vase?” Soonyoung asks, looking at Bunny, who shakes her head. “We’ll have to get one,” he decides as he looks at you. “You used to love when I bought you flowers, and the ones here are so much fresher than the city we lived.”
“They are, it was hard to pick, even if the selection wasn’t as broad as back home… There, back there,” you respond, correcting yourself after remembering that the city is no longer your home, nor will it ever be again.
“If you like flowers, you’ll love the meadow at the top of the hill,” Jeonghan says as he approaches, and accepts the bouquet when you lift it in offer. “More wildflowers than I’ve ever seen, and the locals have looked after it well for decades now, including planting a bunch of stuff. There’s even some fruit growing up there, and we’re all free to pick it.”
“Oh, that sounds lovely,” you reply, lips curling up at the thought. “Do you bake with the fruit?” you question, glancing at the mixer shortly.
“Neither of us know how to bake,” Bunny answers as Jeonghan returns to the island to work on carefully arranging the bouquet in the simple glass vase.
“How did your mixer break if you don’t bake?” you wonder, utterly bewildered.
“Oh, it’s not ours. It’s one of the locals’.” She shrugs, and motions vaguely to Jeonghan, referring back to her earlier words about Jeonghan ‘making’ her fix everything for everyone. You just nod in understanding with a little hum; Soonyoung gives the pair of you a questioning look but doesn’t ask what the silent exchange means.
Not long later, Bunny is finished with the mixer and has tidied up everything, just in time to help Jeonghan cook up a truly delicious smelling dinner. You have no idea what they’re cooking, but you’re excited to try it, and have full intention of asking for the recipe afterwards.
You even offer to help cook, but the couple adamantly refuse on grounds of you being their guest and tell you to stay at the table with Soonyoung. Though, even with the pair across the kitchen, conversation between the four of you doesn’t stop without the need for any of you to raise your voices, even with music softly playing in the background from a source you haven’t yet noticed— not that you’ve tried to.
You’re pleasantly surprised by how easy the pair are to get along with; how natural it feels to be in their home and talk and laugh together. It’s more than you expected to have in your new life; someone other than Soonyoung to be at ease around, and now you have two.
Even once all four seats at the table are full and you’re all enjoying the truly delicious meal, conversation ebbs and flows naturally with no awkward pauses. You’re already looking forward to the next time the four of you hang out and tonight hasn’t even ended yet. Honestly, you don’t think you even felt this way about spending time with your friends back in the city, and it makes you wonder if you were ever as close and content with them as you believed.
“Are there any jobs going around here?” you wonder when plates are empty yet still on the table as the four of you just relax in your seats with your drinks— fresh beers for all but Soonyoung, who keeps pouting into his glass of water— as you let your food go down comfortably.
“You’re not getting a job,” Soonyoung complains, pouting at you. “I said I’m going to look after you. You can do other things, just let me earn the money. I made you lose all of your hard-earned savings, so I need to at least pay that back before you earn a single penny.”
“I’m not used to not working, I’ll go crazy,” you reply, features twisting a little with the thought of having nothing to do all day until Soonyoung returns from work to entertain you. There isn’t even a TV in your house, or computer, and you’re not sure if there’s even any good internet service out here, honestly, so you couldn’t stream any shows or movies even if you did have a device to watch them on.
“Don’t you have any hobbies?” Bunny questions, tilting her head a little.
“She worked all the time,” Soonyoung answers in your place, with a dramatic groan. “I always tried to convince her to work less and take time to look after herself, but she didn’t listen.”
“Considering what your job was, Kwon Soonyoung, you were never in any position to tell anyone to look after themself,” you remind firmly.
“Ha, she’s got you there,” Bunny sniggers. “You were the best and the most fearless; you were always in stupid situations nobody else would brave.”
“That’s because he’s a fucking idiot,” you grumble, and she nods in agreement while Soonyoung whines and pouts at your side. “So, jobs?”
“Hobbies,” Soonyoung immediately corrects, getting over his sulking at being insulted to instead return to his insistence that he’ll provide for the two of you.
“Do you like fishing?” Jeonghan questions, and you shake your head, making him pout a little. “I was going to say you can come out on the boat with me whenever you want. Weather permitting, I’m out every morning.”
“Oh, you have a fishing boat?” Soonyoung asks, leaning forward with big eyes sparkling with innocent intrigue.
“I do! My pride and joy,” Jeonghan coos, and tilts aside to lean his head on his wife’s shoulder. “My darling fixed her up for me in our first months here and keeps her in sea-safe condition.”
“I’ve always wanted to try fishing,” Soonyoung says honestly.
You can’t help but give him a surprised little look; you really thought you knew everything about Soonyoung. He’s never been shy about sharing his thoughts and feelings with you, and once you learned that he was an assassin, it seemed like there wasn’t a secret left in his heart around you. Then again, you never knew Bunny existed until today, and the pair seem really close, so you shouldn’t be surprised that there’s more he’s kept from you.
“Really?” Jeonghan asks with an excited little gasp as he sits up straighter. As soon as Soonyoung nods in confirmation, Jeonghan beams and leans forward, closer to Soonyoung, even if the two men are sitting diagonally to one another. “I’d love to have a helper come out with me!” he enthuses; Soonyoung is already lighting up with his own excitement. “You don’t get seasick, I assume?”
“Nope, even in storms, I’m good,” Soonyoung assures, which just makes you wonder when he’s been on a boat in a storm, but you quickly push it aside and decide not to worry about what Hoshi got up to in the past, it doesn’t matter anymore.
“Great! Though I do,” Jeonghan admits, and you notice Bunny sigh softly, looking like she really doesn’t like that her prone to sea-sickness husband insists on going out on a fishing boat every single morning, but she won’t try to stop him. Maybe she once did but eventually relented, though something in you says that she never even tried to argue in the first place. “So, you can drive to the fishing spots and let me rest so that I can fish quicker once we’re still. I usually have to spend half an hour just sitting until the nausea and dizziness goes, but if you’re driving, I can sit the whole time and won’t feel as bad!”
“Sure! I haven’t driven a boat in a while, but I’m sure I can handle it.”
“You can drive a boat?” you mumble in surprise. Soonyoung just looks at you and nods, eyes still sparkling with the thought of going out fishing. “I didn’t know that.”
“Well, I guess it never came up,” he reasons with a shrug. “I didn’t purposely hide it from you; I promise I only do that with good reason.”
“Now I’m wondering what you’ve purposely hid from me.”
“Uh…Injuries mostly,” he admits. “Though you usually figure those out when you see me, so I’ve said I’ve been away for work when I’ve been recovering from bad injury, so you didn’t see and worry.”
“As opposed for vanishing for months at a time on a fake job?” you deadpan.
“Yeah?” his voice tilts up, knowing by your reaction that he did wrong there, but he doesn’t quite understand how and is no longer confident in his own response.
“You’re an idiot, you know that?”
“You’ve said,” he replies with a nod, not at all offended. You just hum and face the couple opposite you again; they’re both watching amused. “Can I really go fishing with you?” Soonyoung asks Jeonghan, eagerly returning to the conversation.
“Of course! I’d love to have company! It’s early starts though, out before sunrise,” Jeonghan warns.
“I’m used to that.”
“Ah, right, of course.” Jeonghan nods a little and tucks his hair behind his ear out of his face when the strands dangle infront of his eye. “We’ll count tomorrow as a trial, to see if you really do want to take up fishing with me every morning, and if you do, we’ll discuss pay.”
“Pay?” Soonyoung asks, perking up. “As in a job?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Angel,” Bunny starts softly, making Jeonghan look at her. “You don’t even catch anything to sell, just bring home,” she reminds. Jeonghan says nothing, just continues to look at her; it’s only a few seconds of silent eye contact before Bunny visibly relents with a quick few nods. “You’re so right, you deserve to have someone to help you with all your work.”
Jeonghan immediately lights back up, beaming with so much joy that you truly don’t blame Bunny for caving so easily when this is her prize. He turns back around to look at Soonyoung again, immediately beginning to inform him of their plan for tomorrow and potential catches; while you and Bunny make short eye contact and share an amused, yet endeared, little smile for the genuine excitement shared between the two men.
Due to the men having such an early start, you and Soonyoung return home a little before 9pm, when Jeonghan’s starting to look sleepy enough to fall asleep on his wife’s shoulder despite still doing his best to be active in conversation.
Honestly, you’re pretty tired yourself. Weeks of travelling with your body and mind constantly on guard ready for any potential danger, will take more than just a single mid-afternoon nap to recover from. So, you’re happy to get an early night, and get the chance to rest as long as you want.
In complete contrast, you’re pretty sure that Soonyoung is fine to stay up for some more hours; he’s never needed much sleep. Or, at least, he’s been trained to function better on little sleep than a civilian could ever hope to. It’ll catch up to him eventually if he doesn’t get into good habits now, you’re certain of that, but you know it’ll also take him a while to get out of the habit of relying on the bare minimum to survive. You’ll try to get him into better habits soon enough, but for now, you’re too tired to even try, so you’ll leave him to look after himself.
“I’m going to get an early night,” you say when you’ve both removed your shoes and Soonyoung is already heading to the living room.
He stops at your words and turns to look at you. “Oh?”
“Mm, the past weeks have taken it out of me.”
“Ah, right, right. Sorry, kinda forgot about all that already,” he admits in a little mumble. “Not the whole ruining your life thing; I’ll always feel guilty as fuck about that. I just meant that it’s not normal for you. You…handled it a lot better than I expected, I won’t lie. You didn’t complain or ask to rest at all, even if you looked at me like you wanted to push me over the railing on like every boat we went on.”
“You noticed that then.”
“Wait! You really did?!” he squawks, eyes wide and arms flailing a little. “Babe! I was joking!”
“You ruined my life,” you remind flatly, and his arms drop down, face falling too.
“Yeah, I did. I know I can’t make it up to you, but I’m going to do everything I can to give you the best life here possible.”
“I know.” And you really do; you know Soonyoung will go above and beyond to make you happy, especially if he’s the reason you’re not in the first place.
Your confidence in your response, in him, makes Soonyoung’s gaze round out a little, his lips to turn up a little— adoring. “I’ll take the couch,” he says, not an offer but a statement; already decided, with nothing you can do or say to change his mind. Not that you plan to, you think he deserves to sleep on the couch and let you take the bed for what he’s done. Still, you appreciate it and give him a grateful little nod. “Sleep well, my love.”
You pause at the term you haven’t heard him call you in months, the truth to it, before you turn and leave with a simple “Good night, Soonyoung,” floating in the air behind you and the love in his eyes haunting your dreams.
There’s a lot to be said about Kwon Soonyoung, but that he doesn’t love you with everything in him, isn’t one of those things.
As it turns out, Soonyoung loves fishing.
From the very first morning, he returns home with bright eyes and a bounce in his step, excited to tell you about everything he caught, or failed to catch is more accurate. Apparently, neither Soonyoung nor Jeonghan are particularly skilled at fishing, but they don’t care. Jeonghan has always loved the calm he feels fishing, and Soonyoung quickly discovers he enjoys it too; it’s a huge contrast to the high energy life he’s lived for the past three decades with his work and training, so he really enjoys finally getting the chance to just exist without worries.
On that first morning, they catch nothing between them— mostly due to Jeonghan having to teach Soonyoung everything, and Soonyoung’s willingness to ask questions about it all, glad for Jeonghan’s endless patience— but the second morning, Soonyoung succeeds in his first ever catch, and you know that he’s found what he wants to spend the rest of his life doing.
Soonyoung may not be a great fishman yet— or potentially ever— but the thrill in his eyes, the content of his smile as he watches you eat the food he literally provided, is all you need to see to know he’ll go out every single day to bring home whatever he can, just to watch you eat well.
So, Soonyoung has a job pretty much from the first full day on the island; he gets up hours before you and is out until the sun is high in the sky, working as hard as he can while still taking advantage of the calm activity, and enjoying bonding with his new friend. You’re proud of him, in a way, for being so immediately successful and settled in this new life.
Yet, there’s a sour part in you that finds it so fucked that although this relocation and general ruining of your life— that you spent a decade on your own building in that city— is his fault entirely, he’s the one thriving while you’re utterly lost.
Admittedly, it takes you almost a week to recover physically from the past weeks, as now that you know you’re safe, your body decides to break down a little and force you to feel like you’ve gained the worst flu of your life. But thankfully, that passes with a few days of mostly sleeping it away and only getting up when you know Soonyoung will be home, so that you don’t worry him. You know that he’d refuse to go out on the boat if he knows you aren’t feeling good, so that he can look after you and nurse you back to health. But although you think it’s unfair that he’s so happy when you’re not, you never want to take that from him. You’re envious and hurting, not a selfish asshole.
Yet once you’re all better and have your energy back, you find yourself just sitting on the sofa and wondering what the fuck you’re supposed to do if you’re this lost after only a few days up on your feet.
So, although the house was spotless when you moved in— thanks to Bunny and Jeonghan—, and it hasn’t been long enough to get filthy, you scrub it from top to bottom. Just to give yourself something to do. But there’s little furniture or places for any dirt and dust to hide, so it doesn’t take more than two mornings to achieve.
Thankfully, once Soonyoung is back from work, he always hovers around you. Although it could easily be suffocating that he doesn’t seem to want to do anything but be wherever you are, doing whatever you’re doing, you’re honestly glad for his company. He’s always been good at entertaining you and distracting you without even realising it, so you ignore the ire and envy you feel towards him and just let him exist at your side like he did all those months back.
A part of you doesn’t want to admit how nice it is working side by side with Soonyoung again, cooking together, doing chores together, just being together. Of course, it’s not the together he wants, but he doesn’t push in any way and simply accepts whatever you give him with an eager smile on his face.
Still, as much as the afternoons and evenings are lovely— especially when the two of you meet with Bunny and Jeonghan—, the mornings kind of feel like personalised hell. You’re so fucking bored, you fear you might go insane and head back out on the run in the big wide world, just for something to do. Obviously, you don’t want to do that, but damn, you really don’t know what you’re supposed to do to pass the mornings.
It comes to you like some kind of weird epiphany when you’re sitting side by side with Jeonghan in the lounge at his house, both of you watching Bunny and Soonyoung argue over the rules of the obscure little board game the four of you are playing. Your eyes happen to catch on the large photo of the couple on the wall, then travel around, taking note of all the touches that make their house a home, not just a building.
Suddenly, you realise that although it’s been almost three weeks here, you haven’t even had the thought to change anything about your house, and Soonyoung— as everyone knows— is utterly hopeless at interior design, so you think he’s at home wherever he doesn’t have to look over his shoulder for a knife aimed at his back.
It’s still stuck in your head when you and Soonyoung return home and both settle on the sofa with the soothing tea blend he was gifted by the village shopkeeper last week— and immediately fell in love with upon trying it that night, so insists it’s now your shared nightly drink; not that you’ve once complained, it’s genuinely delicious.
“Soonie,” you start, and he hums questioningly in response. “I want to make this our home.”
“Uh…it already is,” he responds, giving you a puzzled look. “You feeling okay, baby? Did you drink too much wine?”
“What? Shut up, I’m not drunk,” you dismiss as you give him a bewildered, and offended, look upon turning your head to face him. “I know it’s technically our home for the rest of our lives, but it doesn’t feel that way. If we’re stuck here, I want it to feel like home, not just a forced situation. Does that make sense?”
“Oh…yeah, yeah, it does.” He nods and pauses to take a sip of his tea before speaking again. “So, what do we do?”
“You don’t need to do anything. I’d like to do it. I’m honestly losing my mind having nothing to do in the mornings, so having this as a project will help.”
“Ah, right.” He hums in understanding. “Okay, whatever you want, baby. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll get it for you.”
“I don’t know what things cost here,” you reason timidly.
He’s waving a dismissive hand before you’ve even finished your worry. “Don’t think about that; I’ll handle the cost. You just tell me what you need, and I’ll get it, okay?”
You stare at him for a moment in contemplation before nodding in agreement, a smile lifting you lips. “Okay, thank you, Soonie.”
“You’re welcome.”
Up until the last few weeks, you’ve never known just how much Soonyoung is a man of his word.
Of course, you’ve never doubted him about it before, because he’s never given you a reason to; he’s always stuck to his word or at least had a very good reason and a thorough apology if he couldn’t— always for reasons out of his own control. But in the past weeks, he’s really gone above and beyond to stick to his promise of getting you whatever the hell you want to make a real home out of your house.
Not once has Soonyoung told you that what you ask is out of his reach; even when it should reasonably be. Being on such a small island, there’s a lot that isn’t easily accessible for any of you, and the delivery boats only come over once a week, but somehow, Soonyoung always has whatever you ask for within a handful of days.
Admittedly, you have been a little worried that he’s been using his less than legal skills and knowledge to acquire your requested items, but all it takes is a smile and simple “it’s all legal, don’t worry, baby” from the man, and the possibility leaves your mind.
Thanks to Soonyoung’s endless commitment to making you happy, and all the ways he can get his way— which you don’t want to think about, especially after he went to help the village shopkeeper in a too small pair of shorts—, your home really starts to feel that way.
You’ve repainted the entire house, traded some decorative pieces with other villagers, bought new rugs and blankets, always have fresh flowers— that Soonyoung brings home— around the house, and have even started to think about what to do with the two empty rooms.
You did say to Soonyoung that he should have the spare bedroom, but he refused, saying that if any of the villagers see a new bed being delivered, they’ll know you two are sleeping separately and question your relationship. It makes sense, especially when your shared backstory includes having no friends or family beside Bunny and Jeonghan, meaning no potential visitors in need of a bed for the night; you can’t reasonably argue the logic, so Soonyoung still sleeps on the sofa every night and you both pretend the spare bedroom doesn’t exist.
The empty separate dining room, however, has stumped you. You really can’t figure out what to do with it. You even asked Bunny and Jeonghan, but they use theirs as an at home workshop for Bunny to fix smaller appliances— the bigger ones she fixes either at the client’s home, or at her garage on the village outskirts. They didn’t really have any suggestions either, seeing as neither you nor Soonyoung have any hobbies or interests that needs its own room, but promised to think about it.
Other than the two empty rooms, you feel like you’re doing a really good job with the house, and Soonyoung seems to feel the same way. Every time you change something, he always oohs and ahs about it when he sees the finished product— and often during the process if he manages to sneak a glimpse.
Sometimes, you think he’s just humouring you and doesn’t really care that you’ve found empty picture frames at the market that match the living room decor, which you hang despite having nothing to put in them yet— though you look out for prints to go in them every market. But you don’t really care that he’s faking his enthusiasm. And only a week later, you find a photo of the two of you in the biggest frame; you don’t even have it in you to ask where he got the photo from when you know it was taken over a year ago back in the city, but your chest fills with warmth every time you see it, so you don’t really care about the mystery either.
Before you know it, you’ve been living on the island for four months already, and although you’re not entirely fluent in the language yet, you can hold conversations well enough, and the villagers are all patient and kind with you.
You’re still not ready to forgive Soonyoung yet, but you find yourself waking less and less angry every single day. Some days, you even forget that this isn’t the life you always wanted, but only for a little while. Only until you remember that this isn’t something you chose but were forced into by your ex-assassin ex-boyfriend. And then that warmth growing in your chest gets doused with ice, and you’re left feeling confused and sore until the cycle repeats again.
Earlier this morning, Bunny arrived at your house and announced that the pair of you are going to go get a late breakfast in the only town on the island— though it’s still the tiniest town you’ve ever seen—, located in the very middle of the island less than half an hour drive away. Of course, you didn’t argue the announcement; you’re always happy to spend time with Bunny, and you don’t get much of a chance to do it without the guys due to how busy she usually is fixing everything in the village.
So, the two of you have spent the past hours in Centre Town— as it’s so creatively called—, with Bunny showing you all the best stores and spots to visit, after a homely breakfast at Jeonghan’s favourite café in the town. Bunny says she doesn’t have a personal favourite café in the town, but because it’s Jeonghan’s favourite, it’s also hers by default, and you’re once again reminded of how adorably whipped for the man she is.
In fact, at every chance, Bunny always mentions Jeonghan, reminded of him in the oddest moments; it’s something that used to annoy you with your old friends back in the city, but with Bunny and Jeonghan, it’s just so pure and genuine, that you don’t think you’ll ever get annoyed by it. It does, however, make you more curious than ever about their story. You’ve learned glimpses of it over the months, but you’ve never asked because it’s never really been on your mind before, but now it is, so, you ask.
“Bun?” you call a little after midday on the drive back to the North Village, where you know the two men will soon be finishing work and getting home, and Bunny never misses a chance to tuck Jeonghan in for his post-work nap.
“Yes, Lala?” she replies, using the nickname Jeonghan first came up with for you only two weeks into knowing them, but the pair have since adopted as your new name. In fact, most of the locals have even started to use it, and honestly, you don’t mind. You think you prefer it than everyone calling you Myla, the name that was borne of Soonyoung’s love for you; it doesn’t really feel right for others to use it.
“How did you and Hannie meet?”
“Oh.” She laughs softly, smiling as she recalls the memory and leaning her head on her fist, elbow on the open window frame and cool air gently blowing back the wisps of her hair that have fallen out of her lazy updo.
You have to admit, right now, she looks like the beautiful love interest out of some kind of indie LGBTQ+ movie about finding yourself on a summer road trip with your first gay love that was never meant to truly be. The thought almost makes you giggle to yourself; you know she’d find it funny too, but the two of you would get distracted from the topic by discussing your fake love story, and you’re genuinely interested in her real one, so you keep the thought to yourself.
“Well, you know, typical story. Girl is out on date with some guy, sees pretty boy struggling to get his car started in the restaurant parking lot while his own date watches and whines about it. Girl offers to help, pretty boy is reluctant as she’s on her own date, but girl insists, and sends their dates off together for hers to drive the pretty boy’s whiny date home and far away. Girl finds out what’s wrong with the car and offers to fix it at her garage. So, they exchange numbers, girl fixes pretty boy’s car and falls for his smile the second it lands on her,” Bunny explains, in probably a not very straight forward way, but you understand. Even if you didn’t, looking at the tender smile on her face, you think that you don’t really need to know their origin story to know the important part of their relationship.
“You two were made for each other,” you say.
“Yeah, I think so too,” she agrees, beaming big and dopily proud. “I know you’re not together, but I think you and Soonie are the same, you know?” You sigh and she makes an understanding sound. “He fucked up big time, but honestly, with how he was raised, I’m not at all surprised. He didn’t even have anything close to family until me, you know?”
“You?” you repeat, raising questioning eyebrows. “How did you two meet? I didn’t even know you exist until arriving here.”
“Ah yeah, well, it was drilled into us to not talk about other Company members since we joined. And by drilled, I mean that in the painfully tortured to learn how to not give up the information to enemies searching for it kinda way.”
“Wait, wait, hold on a second,” you rush out as you shuffle a little straighter in your seat. “Just to clarify, you’re telling me that you worked with Soonyoung?”
“Yeah. I thought that was obvious by now?”
“I mean, I suspected, but none of you confirmed it, so I didn’t want to assume.”
“Oh, right, yeah. Since we were kids, when the Company took me in; we were raised and trained together.”
“And to clarify, you were an assassin too?”
“Mm,” she confirms with a nod. “Though I was also one of the main mechanics and worked more as a getaway driver. But I was also sent on those kinds of jobs too if it suited my skillset. But Hosh…he really was the best of us all.”
“Right,” you mumble, gaze sliding aside to stare unseeing out of your window as you think about it all. After a few thoughtful moments, you look at her again; she looks entirely at ease, so you know she doesn’t mind the topic. “What happened to you?” She gives you a bewildered look. “You’re here now, have been for over five years.”
“Oh, right.” She nods understandingly, eyes back on the empty road ahead calmly. “I left.”
“What?” you whisper in shock. “Left? Just–just like that?”
“Mm, basically. A few months into knowing Jeonghan, I knew I could never live a normal, happy life with him, so I quit and asked him to run away with me, to where my past wouldn’t ever catch up with us. And here we are. Well, Soon’s here too now, but he’s like a brother to me, the only family I have beside Jeonghan, so I’m glad he’s here and didn’t stay behind much longer.”
“I didn’t know giving it up was an option,” you admit quietly a few seconds later, after you’ve registered her words and what they truly mean.
“For people like Soon and I, they don’t have an option,” she retorts, sounding oddly cocky even with the little snort she lets out with her amusement.
“What does that mean?”
“Well, I knew, and still know, so much about the Company that they can’t touch me.” She shrugs, as if it’s as simple as that, as if she really has too much knowledge and material on this Company for them to deem it a smart move to send someone after her.
“And Soonie?”
“He’s Hoshi; everyone’s too scared to even try to kill him.”
“Really?”
She nods. “Yep. They know that if they fail to do it in one blow, he’ll make them regret their entire existence.”
By now, the village is coming into view, and you know that you don’t have much longer to talk to Bunny, because she’ll be off to her husband as soon as she’s parked the car. Your mind is reeling with everything she’s said, but you know there’s something you need the answer to; something you didn’t even know was a question in your mind until now.
“Does that mean he could’ve left at any point, and nobody would’ve gone after him?” You have a feeling you already know the answer, and that you don’t truly want to hear the words, but now that it’s on your mind, you have to ask; you have to know.
“Yeah, pretty much,” Bunny confirms, too distracted driving through the village and determinedly towards the hill to be as attuned to you as she usually is; too distracted to realise that you’re already hurting and her words only make it worse. You don’t want her to stop, not at all, but part of you wishes she’d at least soften the blow instead of being so nonchalant about it. “I mean, they would’ve tried to get him to stay, of course; Hoshi really was the best. But at the end of the day, he’s feared for a reason. He could’ve left if he really wanted to.”
It’s what you knew she would say. It’s what you feared she would say. It’s what you wish she wouldn’t say. But you know it’s the truth.
Ever since Bunny spoke those words earlier, it’s all you’ve been able to think about. Although you tried to push it aside, tried to focus on finding homes for the new knickknacks you bought in town, tried to focus on reading your new book by Soonyoung’s side on the sofa, tried to focus on cooking and eating dinner by his side like you do every night, you can’t.
“Everything okay, baby?” Soonyoung asks when you’re both back on the sofa, usual cups of soothing tea in hands for your nightly routine, and your eyes doing nothing but staring off unseeing, mind lost elsewhere.
“Hm?” you reply, forcing your eyes to focus and find him on your left, to find his concerned frown already locked on you. “What did you say?”
“I asked if you’re okay; you’ve been spacey all day.”
“Oh.” You lower your gaze to stare into your mug for a few moments as you contemplate if you really want to confront him about this or just try harder to let it go. It doesn’t take long for you to admit to yourself that you won’t ever be able to let it go, that you care too much to do that. “Did you really mean it when you said you loved me?”
Soonyoung is silent for long enough that you can’t help but lift your head to look at him, only to find him looking at you as if he doesn’t even recognise you. “What did you just ask me?” he whispers incredulously.
“If you really did love me when we were together.”
“What the fuck?!” he sputters and quickly puts his mug on the coffee table, along with your own so that he can take your hands into his and hold them securely. “Of course I meant it! Why are you even asking that, baby? What did I do to make you question my love for you?”
“You chose Hoshi over me.”
“What?” His eyebrows furrow as he frowns. “No, I didn’t. It’s not like that at all.”
“Bunny told me you could’ve left,” you inform. His grip loosens on yours a little. “She left it all behind for Jeonghan; because she loves him and wants a life with him, a future. If you wanted that with me, why didn’t you do the same?”
In all the ways Soonyoung could’ve responded, all you expected him to say and do, you didn’t imagine the lack of response, never thought he would have nothing to say, no argument to explain his past choices. It’s all the answer you need.
“Right,” you mutter and pull your hands away to get up and go to bed without another word. Soonyoung doesn’t try to stop you.
Strangely enough, during the days after the revelation, Soonyoung looks as if he feels guiltier than he did when he was leading you across the globe. And unlike those weeks, he doesn’t try to apologise, doesn’t try to talk to you and earn your forgiveness. He gets up hours before you every morning to go to work like usual, comes home to shower and change like usual, then does his own thing away from you.
It’s weird not having him following you around or using your lap as his favourite headrest on the sofa. He doesn’t even join you in the lounge like normal, and you don’t try to get him to. You’re too hurt by what you’ve learned; that Soonyoung never deemed his love for you enough to leave the assassin life behind. That he couldn’t pick a future with you over killing.
Okay, you’re aware that you’ve very likely grossly oversimplifying it, but that’s truly what it feels like. Without him saying a word about it, what else are you supposed to assume? You’ve barely exchanged a handful of sentences since that night, and none of them have been related in any way, so as far as you’re concerned, there’s nothing more to be said about it.
It hurts, but you think that this might actually be the reason you walk away from the man. You don’t know if it’s possible, if there’s even somewhere else for you to go, because you know you can’t live anywhere else unless you want to be held accountable for the corpses Soonyoung created in the city in his fucked-up method of protecting you. And even if you could find another place, you’ve put too much work into making this house your home that it’d be painful to leave it. But you suppose, not as painful as living in the home you made with the man who never loved you enough to walk away from his dark past.
You feel kind of stuck, not sure what to do, how to move forward now. You know you’re unable to forget about it, to look at Soonyoung and not think about it, so you know you have to do something. Yet, you know that the only something you can really do is turn your back on him, but at this point, he’s such a huge part of your life, that you think that a part of you would be left behind with him, and you’re not sure you could ever fill that gap again. Not now.
It’s really not intentional, but you retreat into yourself in the following days, too caught in your own mind to be your normal self. You’re really not up for even leaving the house, so when Soonyoung knocks on your bedroom door to ask if you’re ready to go to Bunny and Jeonghan’s house for the weekly dinner and games night, you say you’re not going. You’re not sure if it makes your heart hurt more that he doesn’t even try to convince you, just reminds you to get dinner, then heads off, leaving you feeling more alone than you’ve felt in a long time.
Though, not even half an hour later, you hear the front door open, and movement downstairs. You really can’t imagine it’s Soonyoung back already, you’re pretty sure he would’ve called up the stairs to let you know he’s back, but you also can’t imagine any of the locals entering your home without permission, even if the door is always locked. It’s safe here, everyone knows each other and looks out for one another.
Yet now, someone is in your house, and you find yourself wishing you accepted Soonyoung’s offer months ago to teach you how to fight past basic self-defence.
Just when you gather the courage to get out of bed with the intention of going downstairs to confront whoever broke into your home, you hear footsteps ascending the stairs, and you freeze with one foot on the carpet, the other still on the mattress.
It’s only seconds, but you feel like it drags on for hours until the steps stop outside of your bedroom door, and your heart jumps into your throat.
There’s a knock, and to your immense relief, a familiar voice calls through the wood, “Lala, are you awake?”
“Hannie?” you choke out, chest heaving as your lungs rush to fill, and you drop heavily onto your bed to try and tame the shaking of your body as the fear and adrenaline leaves.
“Mm, can I come in?” Shakily, you respond in consent, and then the door opens and Jeonghan appears with his usual gentle smile. Though upon spotting the way you’re trembling, his smile vanishes for concern to take its place, and he rushes over. “Oh, Lala, what’s wrong? Are you ill?”
“No,” you answer, shaking your head and letting him clutch your hands in his as he sits close to your side, thumbs stroking comfortingly over your knuckles. “I–I didn’t know it was you,” you admit.
“Who did you think it was?” His voice is a low murmur, something like fear creeping in. “Has… has someone said something to you? Threatened you? Made you think they’d hurt you?”
“No, no, nothing like that,” you assure, squeezing his hands. “Just general fear of a person raised somewhere you could never dream of leaving your front door unlocked, or walk the streets alone at night, even the day sometimes.”
“Ah, right, I see. I’m sorry for scaring you; I didn’t even consider you would be scared. I guess I’ve kind of forgotten that fear now.”
“That’s good, I’m glad you have. I hope I do too one day.”
“Me too, nobody should have to feel like this, especially in their own home.” You just hum and nod in agreement. “I brought dinner over, I had a feeling you won’t feel up to making anything, and I think, if anyone understands how you feel right now, it’s me.” You give him a questioning look that he smiles softly at. “Let’s go downstairs, and we can talk about it all over dinner, okay, sweetheart?”
“Okay,” you agree quietly, and let him help you up. He keeps one of your still slightly shaking hands in his all the way downstairs into the kitchen, until you’re sitting down in one of the already set places. He sits opposite you and waits for you to have a drink and start to eat before he lifts his own fork.
For a little while, neither of you say a word, though it’s not awkward or tense, it’s still as calm and comfortable as it always is around Jeonghan. You used to be worried that maybe you wouldn’t get particularly close to Jeonghan due to only really seeing him when Bunny or Soonyoung are around, but he quickly proved you wrong, and makes sure the two of you spend time together alone too. Although he’s obviously closer to Soonyoung due to working with him every morning, you think there’s a special kind of bond with Jeonghan that neither Soonyoung nor Bunny can ever understand. A bond only those with an ex-assassin partner can understand. Or ex-partner, in your case.
“Soonie told us everything,” Jeonghan says when over half of your meals are gone. You lift your gaze to look at him but don’t say a word, waiting for him to continue. “Actually, he told me the next morning. He wasn’t acting like himself, so I asked what was wrong, and he told me the general gist of it yet asked me to not say anything to Bunny, because he knew she’d feel guilty about getting the thought in your head.”
You hum to show that you’re listening and understanding everything; that you agree that Bunny would feel bad about it, knowing that her offhanded words have caused an issue between you and Soonyoung. But you don’t blame her, and you know Soonyoung doesn’t either, though convincing Bunny of that is another matter entirely.
“But when Soonyoung turned up without you tonight, my Bunny couldn’t ignore it, or that there’s obviously something going on with you two, so she made Soonie tell her. Last I saw, she was yelling at him for being an idiot,” he muses.
“Last you saw?”
“Mm, yeah, I was already packing up dinner to come here when Soonie started to explain and left just in time for the yelling to start.”
“Ah, right.” You nod and turn your gaze back onto your plate as you push your food around with your fork.
“Did you know that Bunny wasn’t born into the life they lived?” he questions, making you look at him again, confused about the sudden topic change, but willing to go along with it.
“She said they met as kids, but I didn’t know what that really meant; if she was just with another company before there or something.”
“No. She had a family.” Your eyes widen a little and you straighten up, shocked by the information and wanting to learn more. “She was a normal enough kid, though extremely gifted with mechanics and engineering. All that just kind of makes sense to her in a way I, and most people, can’t wrap our heads around.”
“Yeah, she’s really smart.”
“She is,” he agrees, smiling all softly smitten and proud of his wife. It makes your lips turn up into the first hint of a smile that has graced your features in days now.
“What happened to her family?” you wonder, knowing that something had to have gone tragically wrong for Bunny to end up being trained to be as an assassin as a child.
“They were killed. Turns out, her dad was the son of some big scary gang leader and ran away from it all; and was finally found. His wife was killed first, a few days before Bunny was left with her dad’s friend after making him promise to look after her, and then her dad was found dead that same evening.”
“She remembers all this?”
“Sort of,” he confirms with a little nod. “She has glimpses of it, but she was only nine and it was a traumatic time, so she blocked most of it out and never wanted to try to remember that time. I don’t blame her at all; I wouldn’t want to remember if I were her either.” You hum in agreement. “Anyway, it turns out that the man she was left with works for the Company to train new recruits. He usually worked with adults, but he figured he might as well put Bunny to the test. Of course, she didn’t know the first thing about fighting, but she was stronger than the average nine-year-old due to moving around heavy parts and tools so much, so he saw the potential. He only had her for a few months to get her good enough to be accepted, then sent her to the Company, and Bunny’s records were adjusted to say she died with her dad that day; some kind of murder suicide when he couldn’t face living without his wife anymore.”
“That’s…severely fucked up.”
Jeonghan lets out a laugh. “It is,” he agrees. “But there’s a point to telling you her backstory.”
“There is?”
“Mm.” He nods and has a quick drink before responding. “Bunny knows what it’s like to be loved; to have a family. Soonyoung doesn’t. He was taken in from an orphanage before he could even hold his head up. He was raised by people only interested in creating a weapon, not loving a little boy.” Jeonghan takes a moment to frown off to the side before looking back at you, lifting his lips a little again upon spotting your own frown. “He didn’t know what it means to care and be cared for until Bunny arrived when he was seven, and he finally had a friend. She stood up for him when he was pushed too hard or punished for things out of his control; he was their golden child even then, so he was always held to a standard his little body and mind couldn’t live up to at that point. And the worst part is that he thought it was normal, never fought back because he didn’t know any better. Bunny had to teach him how to just… be a human.”
“I think part of me knew that,” you confess quietly. “He’s…not actually the most adept in ways a kid raised with love and morals should be.”
“He tries.”
“He does,” you confirm without hesitation; you’ve never doubted that about Soonyoung at all. Even when he does the most fucked up stuff, you know he tries to be better; he just needs more time to learn how.
“Which leads us to the issue at hand.” You give him a questioning look. “Bunny did once know a family, a life outside of all of that; she knew better; she knew what love was and that what they did was morally fucked up. She spent nine years in the real world, so she knew what it was like, and due to being a mechanic she’s always had the skills to build a civilian life if she wanted to.”
“And she did, because of you.”
“Yes, exactly.” He nods. “But Soonyoung has only ever known that life. He’s had glimpses of the real world on jobs or when with you, but he…he’s never lived it, not really. He’s killed so many people, has so much blood on his hands and conscience, that he probably never imagined anything else for himself. He probably never thought he deserved anything more, not with the unforgivable acts he’s committed on another’s order.” Jeonghan reaches over the table to hold your hand where it lays limp on the tabletop. “I think that the only way he was ever going to get out of it was this way; to protect the only person he’s ever loved.”
“But…Bunny is his family,” you try to reason quietly. There’s no strength to your voice, it’s all being used up on processing Jeonghan’s words, his explanation to why Soonyoung didn’t put his love for you over his life as Hoshi.
“She is, and he loves her like a sister, but she’s not the woman he wants a life with. Bunny asked him to leave with us five years ago, but he refused, even knowing they may never see each other again. It hurt him to do it, but he didn’t know anything else; had nothing to offer the world in return for letting him live a life away from it all. But to protect you, Lala, he’d do anything, no matter what the world has to say about it.”
Jeonghan leaves not long after cleaning up from dinner; he can tell you have a lot on your mind and need time to process, and you’re grateful for that. Though it doesn’t mean you manage to straighten your thoughts at all.
When Soonyoung gets home a little before 9pm, you’re still laid on your bed wide awake and staring up at the ceiling. Though when he comes up to check on you after you don’t answer when he calls up the stairs to say he’s home, you quickly roll over and pretend to be asleep.
Your heart aches at the gentle way he adjusts the duvet around you and presses a kiss to your hairline. The “I love you” he whispers against your skin almost makes you break, but he doesn’t linger, and soon, you’re left alone with nothing but your thoughts whirling in your mind and tears threatening to spill onto your cheeks.
For the first time in all the months you’ve lived on the island, you’re awake before Soonyoung. Though, that’s not surprising when you failed to get to sleep last night, mind too busy going over everything Jeonghan said to you; everything you know about Soonyoung and his actions and words towards you.
You know he loves you, you don’t think you’ve ever truly doubted that, despite what the past week suggests. But for a moment, you let a little doubt of his devotion to you in, and it festered into something so painful that you felt you might break in two. You have never doubted Soonyoung’s intentions towards you before this past week, and you never want to again; it really felt like everything you knew about the world was utterly wrong.
It’s taken until now for you to realise just how much you believe in Soonyoung’s love for you, how much you trust him, even knowing all you do about him. You know he’d never intentionally do a thing to hurt you, so he must have a genuine reason for remaining as Hoshi and not asking you to run away with him until the day came he had no choice but to make that move.
When that thought finally settles, finally makes a home in your mind, and refuses to budge, you know that you can’t avoid Soonyoung, or the subject, anymore.
You know it’s too early to have any type of meaningful conversation, Soonyoung won’t be alert enough yet— not when there’s no danger—, and you have been awake for too long to trust that you’ll make sense, so you’ll have the conversation later. But, for now, you can still make the first step.
When Soonyoung stumbles into the kitchen wearing only his boxers, eyes barely open, and hair a mess on his head, you’re momentarily stunned. You had genuinely forgotten that he sleeps in his boxers, and also how good he looks in so little clothing.
Even now, months out of his past life, Soonyoung keeps himself in great physical condition, partly out of habit, and partly because he likes feeling and looking so good. His muscles have always been practical, have never just been for show, but they’ve changed slightly in the time since you last saw so much of him. Before, he was more compact, strong, yet still lithe, and focused on speed and flexibility for the sake of his work. Yet now, Soonyoung doesn’t need to be fast or flexible for his job, just strong enough to lug around equipment and reel in thrashing fish; and the change in job has really shown in the ways his biceps and shoulders have grown bigger, stronger. Even his thighs are bigger— and they’ve always been strong enough to make you feel weak kneed— to support the strength and stamina he now needs.
For a few long moments, you just gawk at Soonyoung, unable to stop yourself checking him out in the utmost appreciation. But the moment he freezes upon realising that he’s not alone for the first time in the morning, your focus returns and you wave a little in greeting before getting back to making breakfast.
“Uhm…you’re up early,” he comments, moving closer to stand around the other side of the counter to you, hands holding onto the edge and blinking rapidly at you as he tries to force himself to wake quicker, become more alert.
“Mm, do you want to go get dressed while I finish getting breakfast ready? It won’t be long.”
“Oh, right, I’m naked,” he comments a little dumbly as he looks down at himself. You also take the opportunity for one final look. “Sorry, didn’t expect you to be here.”
“It’s okay,” you assure, trying to be as casual as you can when you want to insist that he can wear even less more often if he really wants to. But that really isn’t wise to say, or act on, so you keep your libido under check to not risk ruining things.
“Uhm…okay…be right back,” he decides, and though you’re not looking at him anymore, you can feel his stumped expression aimed at you, before he turns and rushes back to the living room to get dressed into the clothes he picks out of the basket of clean laundry he’s kept in there this past week. Usually, all of his clothes are put away neatly in the bedroom along with your own— mostly in case any locals visit, notice them elsewhere, and question why they’re not in your shared bedroom— but the past week, you’ve barely left the bedroom, and he hasn’t wanted to disturb you, so he’s kept his freshly washed clothes downstairs with him for ease of access.
While Soonyoung is gone, you take a quick break from cooking to splash your face with cold water at the kitchen sink and then get back to it before he can return and question what the hell you’re doing. He doesn’t notice anything amiss when he steps back into the kitchen, and you’re very glad about that.
It’s the first meal you’ve shared in a week, and it’s the tensest the two of you have ever been. Soonyoung, although he usually devours anything you cook for him, chews slowly, and mostly just picks and pokes at his food. You’re not doing any better.
With a sigh, you put down your fork and look at him, making him look at you with slightly widened eyes, stopping mid chew, and almost freezing. “We… Did Jeonghan tell you what he and I talked about last night?”
“No,” he replies after forcing himself to swallow, probably too soon based on the way he winces then immediately grabs his glass to soothe his throat with his morning glass of cool milk once he’s done talking. “But I’m guessing it was about us.”
“It was,” you confirm with a few light nods. “He said some things that made me think about it from your perspective, and I think I might understand you better now, but I’d like to hear it from you, if you’re willing.”
Immediately, Soonyoung straightens up from his position hunched over his plate, nodding madly and eyes growing eager. “Yes, yes, of course. I hate that we’re like this, so I want to fix it.”
“Yeah, me too,” you admit quietly, picking your fork back up. “We’ll talk about it tonight, yeah?”
“Hannie won’t mind if I don’t go in today, not if it’s for our sake.”
“I know, but I haven’t slept, so I need to do that so that my mind is less all over the place for this conversation.”
“Oh, oh, right, yeah, I get it.” He nods. “Please go right back to bed after breakfast.”
“I will, it’s hitting me now that I know you’re willing to talk about it.”
“I’m always willing, I just… didn’t know how to say any of it the other day. Bunny helped me straighten it all out in my head last night.”
“Heard she yelled at you.”
“She did,” he confirms with a pout, whining a little. “I deserved it, but I still don’t like it when she does that.”
“She’s your sister, she just cares and wants the best for you.”
It takes Soonyoung a few seconds of just staring at you and blinking a little too much to be normal before his lips curl up into a little smile that looks so innocently happy that you can’t help but smile to yourself as he looks down at his plate. “Yeah, she is. She’s my sister.” He fills his fork and shoves it into his mouth to eat as enthusiastically as normal, with a smile turning his lips up the whole time.
Although you’re awake and fully mentally present when Soonyoung returns from work a little after midday, you don’t start the conversation yet, and neither does he; he goes right up to shower and gets into fresh clothes like normal, and you continue scrubbing the kitchen floor.
Even when Soonyoung is back downstairs, neither of you bring it up. He just refills your empty glass, gets himself a drink, and then kneels on the floor a little away from you to get started scrubbing that patch of tiles.
It’s the first time in a week that you’ve been around each other without any kind of tension between you; you had really missed it. Existing at Soonyoung’s side has always felt so normal and natural, especially the past months, that you really felt lost without him there. Though you know it was your own choice to take the time apart, you still didn’t like it and are beyond glad to have him back.
All the way until dinner, the pair of you just exist like normal; working side by side to tackle chores he hasn’t been able to handle alone, making plans to change the details of your home that aren’t quite homely enough yet, and cooking dinner.
It’s only when you’re both most of the way through eating and Soonyoung is done retelling his work week in depth— something he usually tells you about every day, but of course, hasn’t had the chance so he’s making up for the missed days, and you really don’t mind at all— that, finally, the moment comes.
“So…” he starts, turning his fork in his fingers a little awkwardly. “What–what did Hannie say, exactly?”
You take a moment to make sure the words are right in your head before you put down your cutlery to give him your full focus. Soonyoung immediately copies, wanting to show you that he’s listening and taking this seriously; he doesn’t need to say the words for you to know as much, it’s clear in the earnest gaze locked on you.
“That you never knew anything but that life. Even when you were with me, or out in the world, you were never fully there. You didn’t know anything more, and…didn’t think you deserved more than you had.” Soonyoung doesn’t say anything, but he does nod a little, silently confirming the words, and making your heart ache something awful. It takes you a few seconds to fight past the sudden lump trying to rise in your throat. “That you couldn’t imagine being able to live a normal life, because your skills were related to killing; nothing you can make a living with.”
“He’s right,” he confirms, tone a little bruised around the edges. “I’ve done so much bad shit, like fucking unforgiveable stuff, things I never want to tell you because I never want you to have that image of me in your head. I won’t deny it at all; it’s a source of fucked up pride for me that I was the best; that nobody would take up a hit on me because they were too scared they would fail and they’d then have to face being on my list. Hoshi…he doesn’t deserve happiness; he should have to pay for all he’s done.”
“Soon…” You reach out to him, but he doesn’t let you take his hands even if he clearly wants to.
“I know, I know you don’t see me as him, but I am,” he reminds. “And Hoshi doesn’t deserve this life, can’t function in this world. He doesn’t deserve you, my love, but because of you, I want to try to live in this world. I just couldn’t see a way out of it, not without putting you at risk.”
“Me?”
“Yeah.” Finally, he leans forward across the table just enough that he can curl his fingers around yours and hold on as if your touch is the only thing that can tether him right now. There’s a pain in his eyes that makes you hold tighter, lean closer; keep him as close to solid ground as you can with a table between you. “They can’t touch me, I know that. But you…I knew if I left, they wouldn’t be happy and they’d get back at me by going after you.”
“Oh…”
“I never want to be the reason you’re in danger, and I hate myself that I couldn’t keep you safe.”
“What?” you frown, tugging his hands sternly so that he’ll pay attention to you and the words you’re about to say. “Are you a fucking idiot, Kwon Soonyoung?”
“I mean…sometimes, yeah,” he replies so innocently honest that you can’t help but laugh. The confused furrow of his brow and the sad drag of his features simply melts away at your laughter. His posture straightens and his eyes light up, lips curling without thought as he admires the smile on your face. “God, you’re beautiful,” he exhales heavily, so full of his affection and awe of you that he is unable to stop it filling his chest and spilling from his mouth.
“Ah, shut up,” you argue, cheeks flushing with the sudden compliment, and one hand lifting to cover your face. “Don’t change the subject.”
“I didn’t!” he insists, and when you peer over your fingers at him, you find him leaning closer with that stupid, endearingly cheeky smile of his on his face. “Your beauty is always on my mind somewhere.”
“Shut up!” you hiss and reach out to put your hand over his face this time so that you don’t have to see the love in his eyes as they remain happily locked on you. “I’ve forgotten what I was saying now,” you complain, dropping your hand down to the tabletop; Soonyoung immediately picks it up to place back on his face— though now cupping his cheek— and he contently leans into your palm. You can’t help but stroke your thumb over his skin, earning a pleased little sigh to spill from his parted lips. After a few seconds, you remember what you were talking about and lift your eyes from watching your thumb move against his sun-kissed cheek, to his sparkling gaze. “I have never felt safer than when I’m by your side, Soonyoung,” you inform, honest and tender. Soonyoung’s fingers hold onto you a little tighter at the words.
“Really?” he whispers in disbelief. You nod. “But you were almost kidnapped a week before getting here.”
“You weren’t by my side then,” you remind. “But I knew you would be, I knew you’d be back any second and protect me.”
“What if I wasn’t though?”
“The thought never crossed my mind. I have always believed in you, Soonyoung. I’ve always known you’d never intentionally hurt me.”
“Then why did you leave me because of Hoshi?” He frowns; looking as if the pain in his eyes has weighed him down since the day you broke up with him over a year ago. “If you knew I’d never hurt you, why did you break my heart?”
“Because I was scared you wouldn’t come home to me one day.”
“Baby, I’ll always come back to you,” he promises firmly.
“I know you’d try, but every time you came back injured, even slightly, I was reminded what you did, who Hoshi was, and that you won’t always be the best. I couldn’t handle that; the thought that one day, the tables could turn and you wouldn’t be able to save yourself, to come back to me.”
“Baby…”
“I figured that it was better I ended things and put distance between us, so that by the time that day arrived, I wouldn’t ever know. I could just go about my life blissfully ignorant and never know the day yours ended too soon.”
Soonyoung’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens, yet nothing comes out for a few long seconds. And when it does, it’s a pained type of exhale before he’s up on his feet and moving around the table to kneel on the kitchen tiles beside your chair. When he gently tugs, you scoot your chair back and let him turn your seated form to face him, allow him to securely hold your hands in his and press them to his mouth briefly. “I am so sorry,” he whispers, sounding more broken than you’ve ever heard him, even the day you broke his heart and he cried and begged you to take the words back, he didn’t sound this torn up. “I never– I never realised, never considered it from your point of view. If I had…”
“You wouldn’t have been able to quit,” you remind gently, freeing one hand from his hold to gently brush his hair back. “It doesn’t matter if you knew or not, Soonyoung.”
“No, but I would’ve listened to you,” he says, voice catching a little. “If–if I knew the real reason you broke up with me, I would’ve stayed away. I never would’ve tried to win you back. I never would’ve fucked up like this, and you could be…happy.”
“Soonie,” you exhale and pull him into the space between your knees to curl over him and hold him close. His arms wrap around your waist, fingers gripping onto your shirt for dear life as he buries his face in your stomach. “This is never what I expected my life to look like; I never could’ve imagined running away and having to learn an entirely new language and culture, but I…I’m not unhappy here. This past week has been hard, and it was at first too, but it’s not all been bad. We’re building a life here and…I’m glad you’re here with me. I can’t imagine you not being around, so please don’t do something stupid on the boat and fall overboard into the propeller.”
Soonyoung snorts a laugh and essentially nuzzles into your waist, making you yelp at the ticklish sensation and pull him back by a fistful of hair. He grins at you, cheeky, and a little sleazy, making you let him go to nudge him back. “Hey, I thought we were making progress there,” he declares, pouting as he obligingly crawls backwards as you give him a stern look.
“We were having a nice moment until you looked at me like that!” you respond, pushing him back with your foot against his chest when he leans forward again. He groans dramatically and lets your nudge topple him onto his back, where he lays feeling sorry for himself, staring up at the lazily swirling ceiling fan as you return to your dinner.
In fact, he’s still laid there when you’re done eating, and he makes no effort to move when you get up with your dirty dishes in hand. “Just step over me,” he offers, motioning vaguely with a put-on sigh. You give him an unimpressed look. “What? You step over me all the time!”
“I’m wearing a skirt, pervert.”
Immediately, he smirks at you, and you know he hadn’t forgotten that fact. “And? You saw this morning when I was in my boxers, it’s fair I see your panties in return!”
“That was your choice to walk around in your underwear,” you deadpan.
“I didn’t expect you to be up!” he defends, whining. While he’s pouting, you step over him, and he cheers back up at the view he gets under your skirt when you step over his head. Admittedly, you could’ve stepped over his waist, or chest, or just walked the long way around to get past him, but you’re feeling kind…okay, you just want to tease him with what he can’t have as payback for this morning. “Yes!” he exclaims excitedly, pumping his fists a little, then starts to wax poetic about how pretty your underwear are and how he’s missed seeing them on you, all while you make sure to keep your back to him as you wash your dishes, just so he doesn’t see the smile on your face.
Over the following days, things with Soonyoung are better than ever. That talk you had seems to have fixed issues you didn’t even know existed. Maybe there was a part of you both that needed those things said aloud, you just didn’t realise it on a conscious level. Or maybe the planets have just aligned to put you in each other’s immediate orbit. You don’t know what the exact reason is, but you’re glad of it and don’t have any intention of questioning the new kind of ease between you.
Honestly, you keep expecting him to try and win you back now that things are so good, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t push any boundaries, doesn’t make any remarks, and keeps sleeping on the sofa without question or complaint.
A few times, it’s you who almost changes things, not with your relationship exactly, but because of the sleeping situation, yet always bite the offer back at the last second.
Due to Soonyoung usually being gone for work hours before you’re even awake, you’ve never before seen the way he rubs his aching neck every morning. But the past few days, storms have hit, rendering the sea far too deadly to traverse, so he’s been getting up a little later and you earlier, unable to sleep through the relentless rain and thunder, giving you the chance to see the ache on his features.
Still, he doesn’t say a word and always does his best to hide his discomfort when he realises that you’re already awake and witnessing it. You know he’d love to climb into bed with you every night, and that he’d likely jump on the offer should you give it, but there’s something stopping you. You just have no idea what that something is.
Despite there having not been a storm for a few days now, Soonyoung and Jeonghan are off work. Well, Jeonghan is, Bunny claimed Soonyoung’s muscles to help her fix up things around the village that got damaged during the storm.
Though, that doesn’t mean you’re home alone, not at all. Jeonghan has decided to spend the morning with you at your house, helping you rearrange the living room because you don’t like that Soonyoung sleeps directly under the window with a broken latch. Admittedly, you could just replace the latch— and you plan to once you can get to the hardware store in Centre Town— instead of moving the heavy furniture around, but this is what you’ve decided to spend your day doing, and Jeonghan doesn’t even question it.
At least, he doesn’t at first, but Jeonghan— although an angel and the nicest person you’ve ever met— has this innate ability to just know when there’s something unsaid, and he’s not in the habit of ignoring it.
“So,” he says when you join him with fresh, cold drinks where he’s now lounging on the couch to get his breath back from helping you heave the furniture around the living room to its new home. “What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why are you suddenly moving the sofa?”
“Oh, the latch is broken,” you inform, pointing to the window opposite you both. “It makes it draughty underneath, and I don’t want Soonyoung sleeping in a draught and getting ill.”
“That makes sense,” he hums, and you nod in agreement before sipping at your drink. “What doesn’t is the fact he’s still sleeping on the couch, Lala.”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
“Because you’re not mad at him anymore.” That makes you look at him questioningly. “Sweetheart, you let him sleep down here initially because you were mad at him for uprooting your life and being the reason you’re a wanted woman.” You nod slowly, agreeing, but not sure where exactly he’s going with this and feeling a little off kilter suddenly. “But you’re not mad at him anymore, about anything.”
For a second or two, you just stare at Jeonghan, processing what he’s said. You can see his lips turn up into a little amused smile as his words settle in your mind, and you know that he can see the revelation happening on your features.
“Oh,” you mumble, and he giggles. “I’m not mad at him anymore…at all.”
“You’re not.”
“Oh.”
“Mm, so, going to let him know?”
“I…will think about it,” you decide, still not sure why you’re keeping up that final wall, but you’re not quite ready to knock it down yet.
“Okay, sweetheart,” Jeonghan agrees easily, and pats your knee. “You take all the time you need, Soonie isn’t going anywhere.”
“I know.”
“Good.” He pats your knee once more, then leans aside to put now empty glass on the side table, before getting up. “Come on, let’s finish this and then go out for lunch; I want to show you a café in the West Village I think you’ll really like!”
Usually, you’re at home when Soonyoung gets back from work; you’ve never actually seen him on the boat before, and you especially haven’t been on the docks with Bunny waiting when the boat pulls in. Though seeing the way Soonyoung lights up bright enough to rival the midday sun upon spotting you there waiting, you think you might have to start making a habit of it.
“Baby!” he screeches, letting go of the wheel with both hands to wave at you brightly.
“Don’t let go of the wheel!” you yell back, noticing the boat veering. Soonyoung’s hands immediately return to the wheel with a sheepish grin, and an apology tossed over his shoulder to Jeonghan, wherever the older man is.
Not even ten minutes later, the boat is safely docked and tied up, and Soonyoung is bouncing along to you excitedly. “What’re you doing here?!” he exclaims, and almost reaches out to hug you, but then he remembers that he’s very sweaty, and pulls his arms back to himself with a little pout.
“We were just leaving the store when we saw the boat, so we thought we’d meet you two,” you answer, motioning vaguely to Bunny, where she’s closer to where the boat’s docked and cooing over her motion sick husband as he lays sprawled on dock with his eyes closed and a pout on his lips, soaking up the doting.
“Ooh, makes sense,” Soonyoung replies, nodding in understanding. “Wanna see the fish I caught?!” he asks suddenly and grabs your hand to lead you to the boat, help you aboard, and over to the icebox hidden out of the sun’s bright rays. “Look!” he enthuses, opening the tightly shut lid to proudly lift the biggest fish he’s caught so far.
“Wow!” you respond, impressed, but mostly playing it up just to watch Soonyoung beam and wiggle a little in his place. Even when he starts to prattle on about how he caught it and how he almost thought he lost it, you just continue to stare up at him with a smile, more than happy to listen to him talk about whatever he wants when he looks so thrilled about it. “Hannie says I’ll be promoted if I keep this up!” he informs as he leads you back off the boat with the icebox in his arms— you’re glad he’s slightly behind you so that you can’t get distracted by his bulging biceps and fall overboard.
“Promoted to what?” you hear Bunny question in a confused mumble, but Jeonghan just giggles tiredly, Soonyoung doesn’t seem to even notice, and you’re just content to bask in Soonyoung’s glowing pride, so you don’t let her bewilderment linger in your mind. She doesn’t press it either and instead gets to work helping Soonyoung lug everything off the boat to allow her husband to rest longer.
Of course, you wait with Jeonghan on the dock, sitting at his side and ignoring his teasing grin to instead admire Soonyoung’s strong physique now that you’re sitting safely and can’t swoon over into the sea. Though, you do let that thought run a little wild, just to imagine Soonyoung diving in after you to wrap his strong arms around your waist and heave you out of the water; the way his clothes will stick to his muscled body and water will drip off.
At least, you think about it until Jeonghan nudges you and you realise you’re literally gawping at Soonyoung; mouth dropped open and eyes big and dumb as they remain locked on him. Thankfully, Jeonghan doesn’t say anything, just grins at you teasingly, before he gets up and wanders off to help now that he’s no longer nauseous.
As soon as Soonyoung is finished doing everything he needs to for work, he’s right by your side, still grinning brightly, and all but bounces at your side the entire walk home— even with a heavy icebox in his arms.
“I was thinking, we can try that recipe you liked the look of; the one from the new book I bought in the West Village the other day,” you suggest as the two of you go into the kitchen, where Soonyoung puts the icebox on the counter.
“Really?” he asks, somehow looking even more excited than before; invisible puppy-dog tail wagging a mile a minute behind him. “Oh.” His mood suddenly dampens and he looks a little disappointed all of a sudden, bewildering you. “We can’t. That’s a low and slow recipe, we need to be here to watch over it, but we said we’d go to the hardware store today to get a replacement latch for the window.”
“I’d rather stay home with you,” you admit.
“With me?” he whispers, sounding surprised and awed all at once.
“Mm, no-one I’d rather spend the afternoon with,” you confirm, and just like that, puppy-Soonyoung returns, all but vibrating with his joy and smile so big you think it must hurt. But he doesn’t complain, just silently turns and skips off upstairs with a cheesy love song spilling from his lips as he goes.
When Soonyoung returns from his shower, he’s still floating on his joy, and can’t seem to stop himself from wrapping you in a hug once he’s in the kitchen where you’re preparing everything but the fish according to the recipe. His arms go around your shoulders from behind, head tilted against yours, and his chest rumbles at your back as he contently hums lowly, swaying the two of you in time to his wordless song; and you don’t even consider pushing him off. If your hands weren’t dirtied from the ingredients on the board before you, you’d have likely even put your hands over his arms encouragingly and leaned back against him, but they are, so you just let him sway you both for a handful of seconds.
Without a word— though still happily humming away—, Soonyoung lets you go and moves over to get started on preparing the fish. You only have a few more things to do, and then you wash your hands and just lean against the counter to admire how great he looks wielding that knife, confident. It’s very attractive.
“What?” he asks, voice a little low and one side of his mouth curved up slightly after a few minutes of your silent watching.
“Just admiring your skill, problem?” you retort.
“Never got a problem with your eyes on me, baby,” he flirts, winking at you before focusing back on his work.
“Good to know,” you reply lowly, deciding to flirt back. Soonyoung freezes in shock, then lifts his head to look at you with eyes wide and mouth parted, though you’re already turning away to get the pan ready for the fish with a sly little grin on your lips.
It’s when you’re about to step foot onto the bottom stair ready to go up to bed, Soonyoung already making up the sofa in the lounge, that you really think about it, and realise that you have literally zero reasons for making him sleep on the sofa. Especially when you’re adult enough to admit to yourself that you don’t want him to sleep on the sofa anymore.
Determinedly, you return to the living room, just in time to see Soonyoung peel his t-shirt off. You short-circuit for a moment, though manage to get yourself back on track just as his hands reach for the tie of his shorts. “Soonie.”
Immediately, his head jerks up to look at you in surprise. “You okay?” he checks, hands dropping to his side and eyebrows furrowing with the start of worry. “Is there a bug? If it’s wider than my pinkie and has wings, I’m sorry but your room belongs to it now.”
“No, no bug,” you assure with a soft laugh. “Come to bed.” Instantly, his eyes bulge and his mouth audibly pops open. “Hm?” You don’t wait for him to respond, and instead turn and head upstairs, though you’re barely off the top one before you hear him let out a victorious noise before rushing around— likely to tidy everything up.
By the time you’re done in the bathroom and have returned to the bedroom wearing one of his t-shirts like normal, Soonyoung’s perched on the edge of the bed, still wearing his shorts, and looking like he’s never seen the room before.
“Aren’t you going to lay down?” you muse as you cross the room to climb up onto the bed and get comfortable in your usual place.
“Is that my shirt?” he whispers dumbly. You just nod. “You’re actually going to kill me,” he declares before getting up. “Gotta brush my teeth.” You only hum, and then he rushes off to the bathroom.
When Soonyoung returns a few minutes later, he shuts the door quietly behind him and kicks off his shorts, before padding over and climbing into the empty gap beside you a little tentatively. Though when you only watch him quietly and don’t show any sign of discomfort, he relaxes and turns the lamp off before settling down.
There’s probably a lot that could be said right now, a lot that should be said, but you don’t say a word, neither does Soonyoung. You both slowly fall asleep more content than you have been for a long time.
It really shouldn’t surprise you at all, you know how affectionate Soonyoung is, but for a split second upon waking up to the sound of an alarm ringing, the body pressed against your back and secure arm around your waist almost makes you panic.
“Fuck,” Soonyoung’s low, rough morning voice murmurs directly behind you before he lets you go to roll away and turn off his alarm clock— you hadn’t even noticed last night that he brought it upstairs. Without thought, you whine and blindly reach behind you to grab his arm and pull him back to you. Soonyoung chuckles, burying his face in your hair, and holds you tighter, not at all complaining about the silent demand for affection.
You’re not sure how long you lay there, comfy and content in Soonyoung’s embrace, almost dozing back off, but you know it can’t be that long really; he’s always been good at tracking time, even with his back turned to the clock.
“I gotta go to work, baby,” he announces softly, trying to untangle himself from you, but you lace your fingers with his and shuffle backwards until you’re as close to him as possible. “Baby,” he chuckles, sounding far too happy about this to even pretend to argue.
“No.”
“No?”
“No.” You curl your left arm over his, bending his with your own so that you can tuck your connected hands up under your chin.
“Want me to stay?” You nod and he lets out a deliriously happy little giggle that makes you almost giggle too, he sounds so cute. “Okay, I’ll call out from work today,” he decides, making absolutely zero attempt to even pretend to be against the idea, not when you’ve said you want him to stay. He’d do pretty much anything you say, honestly, especially if it involves getting to hold you for longer.
Pleased, you hum in approval, letting your eyes close with every intention of going back to sleep. Unfortunately, your conscience kicks in and makes you unable to truly agree with the plan. With a disappointed exhale, you loosen your hold, shuffle away, and give him his arm back.
“Baby?” he questions utterly bewildered and pouting slightly when you blearily peer over your shoulder at him. “I’m not going to try anything, we can just cuddle,” he promises, making you smile amusedly; you’d laugh but you’re still too tired.
“Bunny would tell us off if you stay home without good reason,” you point out.
“Being with you is the best reason!” he defends, looking genuinely offended that you’d say otherwise.
“Not when it means Han going out to sea alone; you know how protective she is.” Soonyoung deflates and rolls face down to groan into his pillow. “Exactly, so, off you go. See you later,” you say, and take the chance to pat his ass— it’s right there, it’s impossible to resist—, before you turn back over and get comfy.
“Touch my ass again,” he requests, then cracks up when you blindly reach back to hit him, though he’s already rolled out of bed, so you just hit empty air. “Alright, alright, I’m going. Go back to sleep, I’ll see you later, baby.” You just hum, and then he’s out of the room and making sure to shut the door behind him so that he doesn’t disturb you any further as he gets ready for the day.
After waking up pressed together the first morning after sharing the bed, it seems only natural to cuddle every night. It happens without any discussion too; you just tuck up against Soonyoung’s side the second night, and he doesn’t hesitate to put his arm around you as if it belongs there.
It’s not just at night that the affection reappears at full force as if you never broke up and it was forced to a stop. At every available opportunity, Soonyoung approaches you to put his arms around you and hold you close. The first time you curl up against his side on the sofa, he gets so happy that he doesn’t stop giggling, and consequently ruins the calm cuddling, causing you to move away from him; but he calms— mostly— and pouts so cutely at you that you can’t fight the urge to crawl right back into his arms.
Still, even with sharing a bed every night, even with holding one another at any given chance, even with moments where you’re certain Soonyoung wants to lean in and kiss you just as much as you want him to, things don’t really change. The two of you are in some kind of weird, unlabelled middle ground where you can’t realistically say “we’re just friends” anymore, but you also can’t say you’re in any kind of romantic relationship. Which, you don’t really mind, you’re genuinely enjoying all the affection and don’t really see the need to change things.
But once again, it’s Yoon Jeonghan who puts everything in motion.
“No! That’s cheating!” Soonyoung accuses, pointing a finger at Bunny from feet away, the pair standing in the middle of Bunny and Jeonghan’s living room, arguing yet again over the rules of a game. Soonyoung always accuses Bunny of cheating, Bunny argues back because she hates the false accusations, and you and Jeonghan just watch it all happen and wait for the moment Soonyoung realises he just hasn’t understood the game, again.
You’d think that after this many weekly game nights, Soonyoung would understand the rules of the games the four of you always play, but nope; the man can kill a person 57 ways with a piece of string, but he can’t understand the rules of a game with a minimum recommended age of 8 years old.
“So,” Jeonghan starts quietly, leaning closer to you where he’s sitting on your left on the sofa, bowl of popcorn in the space between you and almost gone thanks to the weekly dramatic entertainment of the pseudo-siblings before you.
“What?” you wonder, giving Jeonghan a suspicious side eye.
“Just wondering when you’re going to tell him you’re still in love with him.” He shrugs and tosses a piece of popcorn into his mouth. You blink at him a few times, then ever so slowly, turn your head forward to look at Soonyoung.
And then it hits you, right here and now, that Jeonghan’s right; you’re in love with Soonyoung. You’re still in love with Soonyoung.
You realise that you never fell out of love with the man, not really, you just convinced yourself you had because it was for the best. Admittedly, you weren’t wrong when you first decided to stop loving him; it really was better for you then to lose all feelings for the man. But it’s been over a year since then. It’s been months since you stopped being angry at him, since you let him back in. Not that you were doing a very good job of keeping your heart closed to him before then.
“Oh,” you whisper on an exhale, and hear Jeonghan’s pleased little giggle to your left, but you don’t pay it any attention, your sole focus is on Soonyoung and Soonyoung alone. Because Jeonghan is right— again— about you being in love with Soonyoung, and he’s right in his implication that you should tell Soonyoung. Without a thought besides “fuck it”, you decide to follow his words. “Soonie!”
Immediately, Soonyoung turns his head to look at you, his expression turning so soft and adoring, smile lifting his previously angrily pouting lips. “Yeah, baby?”
“Let’s get married.”
Jeonghan cracks up, tilting aside and leaning on the arm of the couch to his left with how sudden and hard he starts to laugh. “Not what I meant!” he wheezes.
Though, again, you’re not paying his amusement any attention and are instead focused on Soonyoung. Soonyoung who doesn’t seem to be fucking breathing. Worried, you get up and rush over to hold his face as he keeps his eyes glued to you, and his hands instinctively lift to hold onto your wrists. “Breathe, baby,” you encourage, stroking your thumbs over his cheeks.
Thankfully, Soonyoung is prompted to act like a functioning human and sucks in a harsh breath, coughs on it a little, but quickly returns to breathing properly. “Y–you want to marry me?” he whispers out, sounding choked and disbelieving. You nod, smiling a little, encouragingly. “Because of the locals? Because of the story we’re together and–and marriage is the next natural step in a story like that?”
“I truly, wholeheartedly, without hesitation, can say that I do not give a fuck what they think, Soonyoung,” you assure, amused by his reaction. You didn’t know how he’d react— honestly, you haven’t ever thought about proposing to him before, so it’s understandable you’ve never considered his reaction before— but you’re very surprised by his reaction and never would’ve expected it.
“You don’t?”
“Not in the slightest bit.”
“Then…why?”
“Why did do I want to marry you?” He nods, looking so adorably lost, yet hopeful at the same time. “I want to marry you, Kwon Soonyoung, because I am so violently in love with you.”
Soonyoung barely gets a surprised, soft inhale out, before he’s surging in to kiss you. Of course, you don’t hesitate to respond, and wrap your arms around his neck, his own winding around your waist as he melts against you.
“Ew!” Bunny exclaims, though she sounds fondly amused, while her husband cheers and claps from the sofa in between his pleased giggling. “Okay, great, we’re happy for you, congrats, now either detach and lets finish the game, or go fuck in your own house.”
You and Soonyoung do as requested and stop kissing, chests heaving as you lock eyes, and then immediately and silently decide to rush out of their house, with the pair laughing and catcalling behind you both.
“Baby, baby, baby,” Soonyoung calls, slowing and making you slow down too, only a few metres away from your house.
“Yes?” you reply, turning to look at him, feeling impatient now that you’ve got the chance to have your way with the unfairly attractive man for the first time in over a year, but always willing to slow down and hear him out when he requests it.
“Are you sure about this?” he checks, turning a gentle kind of serious as he gently brushes your hair away from your face with the hand not pressed palm to palm with your own.
“Fucking?” you ask bewildered.
“No,” he chuckles. “I know you’re good with that, we’re great at that together.” You nod in enthusiastic agreement— you two really did have a great sex life together back then—, and he giggles at your reaction. “Glad you agree.”
“I do, so let’s go inside and—”
“No, no, baby, I’m not done.”
“Oh.”
“I didn’t mean are you sure about the sex, I meant us. You just asked me to marry you, and I want to make sure that you really mean it; spending the rest of our lives together.”
“Of course I do,” you assure and press a soft kiss to his lips. “I love you, and I want this to be real, not just a cover story.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Me too, I’ve always wanted that.”
“I know.” You frown, guilty and apologetic, but he kisses your head and you know he forgave you long ago, if he was even holding it against you in the first place. Knowing Soonyoung, he never blamed you, was never upset with you, just the situation he got you both into, and upset at himself. “I’m sorry it took me this long to realise that I never stopped loving you.”
“Oh… really? I thought you hated me.”
“I don’t think I could ever do that. You’re a lot of things, Kwon Soonyoung, but capable of doing anything to make me hate you, isn’t one of them.”
“Good.” Satisfied with your answers, he presses his lips to yours in a kiss that feels like a promise for a long, happy future together, yet also a threat that you won’t be able to walk in the morning without your thighs shaking. And honestly, you’re more than okay with that.
Kwon Soonyoung is a lot of things: cheeky, handsome, fun; still a lightweight with alcohol, great in bed, terrible with technology; in wonderful physical condition, quick on his feet, observant; once a highly sought after assassin, now a mediocre fishman, and awful at board games. But mostly, he’s the man you love with everything in you, and you’re more than happy to spend the rest of your life by his side.
Don't forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖
🎶Who: Min Yoongi (BTS) x female reader. Jeon Jungkook (BTS) x female reader.
🎶What: Some humour. Fluff. Suggestive (18+). Slow burn. Strangers to Friends to Lovers. Single parent Yoongi. Music teacher Yoongi. Child Taehyung. Child Jihoon. Ex husband Mingyu. Best friend Mingyu.
🎶Word count: 9.2k
🎶Warnings: Autistic/ ADHD child Taehyung. Autistic child Jihoon. Bit of an emotional meltdown due to emotional overwhelm and insecurity. Jungkook is eternally horny for reader tbh. Suggestive themes. Implied Jungkook x reader. Profanity. Reader and Mingyu have the healthiest relationship ever, and I just want to point that out. I love them. Actually, tbh, I think I love all the characters in this series, they’re all so wholesome.
🎶Summary:
Even before you meet him, Min Yoongi owns a piece of your heart.
Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio. I also block blank blogs.
My general masterlist
🎶Mr. Min Masterlist. Previous Chapter. Next Chapter.
Honestly, you always find it weird when you don’t have Taehyung present on a non-school day.
When Mingyu’s home on weekends and holidays, the three of you do things together, and he only really has Taehyung alone when you work or are ill. You’ve suggested they can do things without you if they want, but both of your boys always want to do things as a family, and really, you love it and are more than happy with family time.
They spend plenty of time together playing at home while you’re in another room, so it’s not at all like Mingyu doesn’t willingly spend time one-on-one with his son. He’d always be with Taehyung if he could, but he also loves his job, and you know he’d lose his mind if he didn’t have that balance. Mingyu really is the best dad Taehyung could ever need or want and does everything possible for the little boy.
Still, you don’t get much time truly without your son unless he’s at school, and even then, you’re usually looking after the house or working.
So, when you wake up when you hear the pair leave the suite— only loud enough because one of them shuts the door a little too loudly—, you immediately wonder what you’re supposed to do to occupy yourself until lunch time. You know they will be back a little before midday to change so that the three of you can go down to the restaurant to eat, but that still leaves you with a few hours to kill.
At first— upon realising that it’s barely past 9am—, you try to go back to sleep, but the suite is too quiet, too empty without them.
Although you and Mingyu sleep separately at home, the suite only has two bedrooms, which means you’ve been sleeping in the same bed; and despite it being a king-size, he’s been stuck to your back and snoring into your neck the past nights. So now that he’s not here, making you overheat and deal with his snoring almost in your ear, you can’t sleep.
Stubbornly, you try to get back to sleep for what feels like hours, yet when you open your eyes and look at the time on your phone, it’s barely been half an hour. Frustrated, you groan and kick the duvet off to get out of bed and toddle to the bathroom to use the toilet, brush your teeth, and wash your face to freshen yourself up a little.
For a little while, you aimlessly meander around the suite, tidying up and checking that you all have enough clothes and toiletries to last the rest of the trip, but that doesn’t last long at all.
There’s a basket of fruit on the table in the kitchenette— a gift from the hotel to all guests—, though the contents are mostly gone now thanks to Mingyu always picking at it when he walks past, and Taehyung copying his dad. You’ve had some too, of course, but you honestly haven’t really been to the kitchen area much as you’ve been eating at the restaurant, and Mingyu has been handling snacks and drinks, always so happy to dote on his family when he can.
With not much else to do and knowing lunch is still a couple hours away, you decide to grab the melon from the basket and cut it up. You still don’t understand why exactly the hotel supplied things that need cutting like this; especially as you soon discover there isn’t even a knife in the kitchen big enough to handle the task.
“That’s fucking stupid,” you mutter once you’ve thoroughly searched the kitchen area in search of a big, sharp knife, yet all you find are dinner knives that are barely sharp enough to cut the grapes— as Mingyu found out on the first day of your stay.
Just when you grab the suite phone with the intention of calling the front desk to request a good knife or at least ask someone to come and cut the melon up for you if they won’t allow you to have a sharp kitchen knife, there’s a knock on the suite door.
For a moment, you think it could be Jungkook coming to seduce you upon knowing Mingyu and Taehyung are out, but then you wipe that thought away knowing that he wouldn’t try to have sex with you in the bed you’re sharing with Mingyu, it’s far too disrespectful. Also, the man’s probably still asleep himself, or in the bed of another wedding guest he spent the night with.
You really have no idea who could be knocking on your door at barely 10am; you don’t think Mingyu and Taehyung would be back already, and they would have a key card anyway. Then again, it’s easy to accept that Mingyu’s forgotten the card, but still, it’s too early for them to return.
Puzzled, you put the phone back down and walk to the door. When you peer through the spyhole, you’re surprised to find a newly familiar pair of faces on the other side.
“Hi,” you greet once you open the door to look at the father-son duo.
“Hi,” Yoongi responds a little awkwardly. “Did we wake you?”
“No, I’m just having a lazy time,” you answer honestly, explaining why you’re in your pyjamas with unbrushed hair still.
“Ah. Is it okay if we come in to talk?”
“Sure,” you consent and step back, giving the pair space to walk into the suite. “Did you get one of these fruit baskets?” you wonder after shutting the door and returning to the kitchen with the pair toddling after you politely.
“Yeah, we’ve barely touched it though, it’s far too much for us.”
“Gyu’s a bottomless pit,” you muse. “Do you happen to have a knife in your room?” you wonder, poking at the melon on the counter in front of you with a little pout, suddenly craving it even more.
“I have no idea; we haven’t used the kitchen other than the fridge and cups.”
“Ah, I’ll have to call down and request one, then.”
“They supplied melon and pineapple without a knife to cut it?” Yoongi asks in disbelief. You give him a look that reflects your feelings on the matter, making him chuckle. You hum, lips lifting a little at his amusement before you glance to Jihoon, who is looking around the suite with a frown. Yoongi follows your gaze, then his son’s, before looking back at you. “Is Tae in bed?”
“Oh, no, he and Mingyu are with Jin and Cel at the pool.”
There’s a sudden sniffle before Jihoon lifts his hands to cover his face as he starts to cry, alarming you, though you quickly gather yourself and lead them to the lounge, so they’ll sit on the couch while you grab the box of extra soft tissues from the side unit to bring over and offer.
“Thanks,” Yoongi says, carefully plucking a few of the tissues from the box after putting it on his lap, then handing them to Jihoon as you sit on one of the armchairs to give Jihoon as much space as possible without abandoning them in the lounge.
You expect Jihoon to calm with time, especially with his dad’s gentle voice murmuring to him soothingly now and then, but the boy continues to cry, rocking back and forward in his seat with no end in sight.
Clearly, Yoongi realises this too and turns to look at you apologetically. “He’s been feeling some big things,” he starts, making you nod in understanding. “We talked last night and this morning, about last night, and have come to understand that it was more than just sensory overload that led to Hoonie getting overwhelmed.”
“Oh?”
“Mm, Hoon, is it okay if I keep going and explain, or do you want to try?” Yoongi offers, though Jihoon immediately shakes his head and vaguely motions to Yoongi with his elbow without removing his hands from his face, so Yoongi looks back at you. “Ever since Jihoon was born, Jin has called him his favourite nephew, and we honestly didn’t even know he has other kids he’s close to until now. So, Hoon’s feeling a lot about that, like he’s being replaced by Tae.”
“Oh, no, sweetie, I promise you that Jin will never replace you as his favourite nephew,” you assure in a tone that you hope Jihoon can hear as sincere and soothing at once. “Jin is your daddy’s best friend; he’s just a good friend to Tae’s daddy and me. He’s much closer to you guys. He doesn’t even call Tae his nephew.”
“B–but,” Jihoon sobs louder, and you think you’ve said the wrong thing somehow. “He–he pick–picked him!”
You and Yoongi exchange a confused look before looking back at the wailing boy. “Picked him for what, Hoon?” Yoongi asks.
“T–the rings!” You both immediately understand and make soft noises to reflect that.
“Bud,” Yoongi starts, adjusting slightly, and gently moving Jihoon’s hands down from his face so he stops pressing them into his eyes. Jihoon whines and tries to pull away but gives up when Yoongi holds both of his wrists in one hand and uses the other to run his fingers through Jihoon’s hair. As much as the boy doesn’t like being touched, he clearly finds his hair being played with very soothing. “Uncle Jin didn’t ask Tae over you because he likes Tae better, Hoon, he asked him because he knows you.” Jihoon calms a little and glances at his dad with a sniffle before looking away again. “He knows that you wouldn’t like that; all the attention that would come with being the ring boy. Taehyung is much more comfortable with attention on him and even likes it, you don’t. Jin didn’t ask because he would never want you to be uncomfortable, he always does his best to make you happy, doesn’t he?”
By now, Jihoon has stopped crying almost entirely, only silent tears rolling down his ruddy cheeks from red, swollen eyes, and he nods slightly, agreeing with his dad’s words. Yoongi carefully releases his hold on Jihoon’s wrists, though keeps his other hand on his head to play with his hair, so that he can grab some tissues and gently pat at his son’s cheeks.
“Taehyung hasn’t replaced you at all. Jin loves him too, but you are his only nephew,” Yoongi finalises.
“Bu–but…” Jihoon hiccups as he tries to talk around his shuddering breath, trying to calm from his crying. “Why didn’t he–he ask us to sw–swim too?”
“He thought you would want some space this morning,” you explain gently, making the pair look at you, though Jihoon naturally looks away again, and Yoongi focuses back on cleaning up his son. “He knows that last night was a lot for you, so he wanted to respect your space and give you the morning to yourself.”
“R–really?”
“Mm, he told me so last night,” you answer honestly. The boy must trust your words, because you can practically see the last of his worry over being replaced as “favourite nephew” leave his body as he slumps a little, only rocking slightly now, yet still on edge and needing some help to relax back to his normal levels. “Your daddy told me you like music?” you say after a moment, while reaching to the coffee table to grab your laptop where it’s been untouched since the first day, when you used it to play one of the videos that help Taehyung relax upon first arriving at the hotel.
Jihoon doesn’t answer, but he does watch you curiously as you move closer, crouching on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, where you place the loading computer within his view.
“Since meeting your daddy, Taehyung has really gotten into music, and it helps him regulate when he’s feeling a lot. We found out that he really likes jazz, do you like jazz?” you ask, looking back at the boy, who nods, making you smile before you turn back around. “That’s great, it’s very soothing, huh? Sometimes Tae and I will sit and watch this video for ages. It consists of gentle colours spilling and spreading to the music,” you explain as you find the correct file in your system, then look back at the boy. “It might not be relaxing to you, and that’s okay, but want to give it a try?”
Jihoon hesitates before nodding and shyly shuffling off of the sofa to sit on the floor on your right, so that he has a better view of the screen when you press play. Yoongi scoots down onto his son’s right side and returns to playing with his hair, smiling softly when Jihoon leans into his side in search of physical comfort and affection from his dad.
Before you know it, the suite door opens, startling the three of out of the trance the soothing video has put you in. By now, Jihoon is slumped entirely against his dad, and his features aren’t bright red and splotchy anymore, though his eyes are still a little swollen.
“Mama!” Taehyung calls as he barrels into the suite, unable to see you with the sofa in the way but he follows the sound of the video he’s very familiar with.
The moment he rounds the sofa and the father-son duo notice the violent looking bruise on Taehyung’s nose and surrounding the inner half of his left eye, Jihoon lets out an alarmed sound, and Yoongi inhales sharply.
“Oh,” Taehyung says, face dropping in surprise at the sight of the pair, though he lights right back up. “Hi, Ji! Hi, Yoongi!” he greets and bounces over to clamber onto your lap, uncaring that he’s wrapped in a damp towel with his wet trunks underneath. You don’t much care either that he’s getting your pyjama’s damp, you’re more focused on wrapping your arms around your son and kissing his head. “Want go to park with us?” Taehyung asks, looking at Jihoon directly, whose eyes grow wide.
“P–park?” Jihoon repeats, looking and sounding very confused.
“Yeah! After lunch we to going park! You want go with us?”
Jihoon blinks a few times at the younger boy, before turning to look over his shoulder at his dad questioningly.
Yoongi smiles and brushes his hand once more over Jihoon’s head. “We can go if you want, it’s up to you, bud.”
While Jihoon considers it, you glance over to the back to the sofa where you can see Mingyu leaning from your peripheral vision. Just like Taehyung, the man is wrapped in a towel, but it barely fits around his shoulders, and you can see the drops of water slowly trailing down his abs to the waistband of his trunks.
When he notices you looking at him, he shrugs, answering the silent question in your eyes about where Taehyung got the idea that you’re going to the park after lunch; you don’t even know where a park is. But Mingyu smiles, and you smile back, knowing that you’re both more than happy to go along with it for the sake of your son, especially if it means he has more time with his new friend.
“O–okay,” Jihoon’s soft agreement makes you look back and find him facing Taehyung again, but he’s not looking at him and instead shyly down at his own hands. “Th–that sounds fun.”
“Yay!” Taehyung bounces excitedly on your lap.
“Yay!” Mingyu cheers too, making Taehyung giggle, and Jihoon smiles to himself, not quite a giggle but almost there. “Let’s go shower, Taetae; we can’t go to lunch smelling like chlorine!”
“We matchy match?” Taehyung asks, jumping up and happily heading to the main bathroom with his dad, both already planning which of their matching outfits to wear to the park.
“We’ll leave you to get ready and go to lunch,” Yoongi says as he starts to get up, pressing his hands into the sofa cushions behind him to help him get off of the floor. He lets out a little groan once he’s almost upright, hands rubbing at his lower back while he straightens, making you giggle amusedly. “Ah, don’t laugh,” he complains embarrassedly, cheeks tinting pink as you and Jihoon get up without issue, though your ass does hurt from being sat on the floor for over an hour straight. “You’ll be making these noises when you get to my age.”
“Your age?!” you laugh as you walk them to the door. “You’re not even old!”
“You don’t know my age,” he argues with a little pout.
“I’m assuming you’re the same age as Jin, or very close.”
Yoongi blinks at you a few times then sighs. “Okay, you’re right, he’s four months older than me.”
“Which means you’re only two years older than me,” you declare, earning a bewildered look from the man. “What?”
“You’re seriously 33?” You nod. “Oh…I thought you’re younger, like at least five years younger than me.”
“No, Gyu is though. He’s 30.”
“Huh, thought he was older than you.” That makes you laugh, and he smiles in a way you can only describe as gummily cheeky. “Don’t tell him that. He’s twice the size of me; he’d break me with a single punch.”
“He’s a baby, he’s never even been in a real fight. Only wrestling like an idiot with his friends, Jin included.”
“Yeah, that man will never grow up,” Yoongi says with a chuckle. “Anyway, do you want to meet in the lobby after lunch?”
“12:30 sound good to you?”
“Sounds perfect,” Yoongi agrees with a nod. “Okay, we will see you then.”
“I look forward to it.” You don’t mean to add the flirty edge to your words, and you hope that Yoongi doesn’t notice it, but by the way his gaze darts to you quickly before he leaves, eyes slightly wider in surprise, he does.
It takes everything in you to not turn and bang your head against the door once you shut it behind you.
“Can’t believe I did that,” you mutter, and would devolve into berating yourself for your thoughtless tone if you didn’t hear Taehyung squeal with laughter from the bathroom, and you quickly forget about your idiocy to focus on getting ready.
As promised, Yoongi and Jihoon meet you in the hotel lobby, dressed ready to go out with as much as their bodies hidden from the sun as possible; in complete contrast to your family all dressed to embrace the sun. You think the five of you probably make a funny image as you walk along the streets to the park you had found online that looks suitable for the boys and isn’t on a main road, therefore, hopefully not busy.
Once you arrive at the park, Mingyu takes off first, gasping in excitement at the large rope climbing apparatus, big enough that he can climb it himself, unlike the parks near your home.
“Please tell your father that if he falls, I’m leaving him on the floor,” you say to Taehyung as he hands over his backpack to you once you and Yoongi have picked a spot on the grass just outside of the park fencing to sit, shaded by a large tree and up on a little hill so you have full view of the park.
“Okay!” Taehyung agrees then turns to Jihoon. “Come on, Ji! Race you!” Though instead of immediately running off like he would with others, Taehyung waits for Jihoon to hand his own backpack to his dad, then move closer, before Taehyung starts to run. He only gets to the bottom of the hill before he stops and looks back at Jihoon in patient, happy wait.
“You don’t have to run if you don’t want to,” you assure Jihoon, who glances at you to show he’s heard before turning back around.
To your surprise, and clearly Yoongi’s too, Jihoon tentatively moves faster than his walking speed down the hill until he’s with Taehyung, and then they slowly run side by side to the gate, then faster over to Mingyu at the climbing frame, where the man is already halfway up.
“I never expected Jihoon to take to Taehyung like this,” Yoongi admits after a few moments of the two of you just watching the three. Taehyung is bouncing around on the floor amongst the ropes, cheering his dad on encouragingly as Mingyu climbs to the top, while Jihoon just watches from a few feet away, but he looks like he’s smiling and happy to be there observing.
“They’re very different boys,” you agree with a hum. “But sometimes, that’s what a person needs. You and Jin seem like polar opposites and you’re best friends.”
“That’s true,” Yoongi concedes with a laugh. “What about you and Mingyu? He seems to always be rushing around while you watch. Is that your dynamic? He’s the playful parent and you’re the more serious one?”
“He’s the one with the boundless energy,” you answer amusedly. “I do run around and play with Tae a lot, but when Gyu’s around, it’s definitely preferable for him to do it. Though, we’re pretty equal really. He doesn’t leave the scolding to me, even if he hates having to do it; but he knows it’s healthy and Tae needs rules and boundaries in place to grow well. And Gyu himself was raised too well to ever try to put all the hard parenting on me. I think his mother would disown him if he did wrong by me, even before Tae came along.”
“You’re the daughter-in-law she always wanted, huh?” Yoongi jokes with a chuckle.
“Yep, I’m everyone’s dream daughter-in-law,” you confirm with faux arrogance that makes him laugh again, brighter this time.
You know you probably shouldn’t think it, but you’d really like to spend the rest of your life making him laugh like that.
While at the park yesterday, Yoongi had told you about a story and song session he saw online held in a local community centre. He said it’s aimed at neurodiverse children, and he plans to take Jihoon, before he extended the invitation, figuring it’d be of interest to Taehyung too.
Which leads to once again meeting Yoongi and Jihoon in the hotel lobby and heading off together. Though today, Mingyu isn’t with you as he had already agreed to hang out at the pool bar with Jungkook for a few hours, which you know means the pair will be flirting with everyone who gives them attention. Hopefully, neither of them will get in trouble this time for flirting with the wrong people; people they don’t know are spoken for until their spouses stalk over angrily.
As much as you know Jungkook would happily throw down with anyone to protect Mingyu, you know that Mingyu himself would hate it and retreat into himself for the rest of the day. You no doubt would have to spend the night with him curled up in your arms, Taehyung in his dad’s arms, and both of you giving him all the affection he needs to feel like himself again.
Even though you do worry about what the flirty duo will get up to while you’re away, you force the concern to the back of your mind so that you can give your full attention to the boys and man with you.
At first, the boys both seem to be very interested in the session. They sit and listen to the story enraptured, eyes wide, and mouths popped open as the volunteers leading the session skilfully add bits of music with their various instruments where suitable.
Neither you nor Yoongi can fight the urge to take photos of the boys, while also promising not to show the photos including the other’s son to anyone but Jin, at least not without obscuring the other child first.
Inevitably though, the volunteers bring out the box of child friendly instruments for all those attending the session to use as the song aspect starts, and both Taehyung and Jihoon immediately cover their ears at the cacophony of jarring sounds.
Without a word, you and Yoongi grab the boys’ bags and leave with the pair still covering their ears, until you’re all out of the centre and can no longer hear the noise.
“Well, the story part was good,” Yoongi says after a few seconds, once you’ve both made sure your sons are okay.
“I like the story,” Taehyung agrees. “Not the music. You do music class much gooder,” he declares with a frown. “They no be good music teachers.”
“They’re not music teachers, they’re just running a session for children to sing songs, and shake maracas and tambourines,” Yoongi corrects gently.
“Oh. I don’t like that.”
“Me either,” Jihoon agrees, features still scrunched up as if he can still hear the sound. Yoongi offers Jihoon his backpack, so the boy takes it and squats down to place it on the floor steady. He takes out his ear defenders to secure over his ears, and a fidget toy, before closing his bag and giving it back to his dad. Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind being tasked with carrying it and slings it over one shoulder.
“I think I saw an art museum on the map online,” you state, having done your own research on the session while at the park once Yoongi mentioned it, just so you knew exactly what you would be walking into and where the closest toilets and such are. “Do you two like art museums?”
“We’ve never been to one,” Yoongi admits sheepishly. “I’m not artistic, and he’s never shown an interest, so it’s never occurred to me to take him. But they’re usually pretty quiet, right? Museums?” You nod. “So, I think that will be a good idea, we don’t have any other plans, anyway.”
“We go see art?!” Taehyung exclaims excitedly and bounces closer to you to latch onto your legs and beam up at you, while Yoongi crouches a little to talk to Jihoon. “I take photos?”
“Maybe, we’ll see,” you respond, fondly brushing your fingers through his hair.
“Okay!”
When Yoongi straightens back up and looks at you, he nods with a smile, confirming that Jihoon has agreed, so you take your phone out and find directions to the museum.
As it turns out, even though Jihoon isn’t particularly interested in art personally, he quite likes wandering around the art museum. Although he keeps his ear defenders on and doesn’t say an awful lot, he always looks at whatever he’s shown and makes the odd comment about pieces that prompt a thought in him.
Of course, you knew Taehyung would love the museum. Despite the fact that he’d usually be prattling on about every piece he sees, rushing around the rooms to take photos on your phone, and then returning to his favourite piece to try and recreate it on the drawing app on your phone, he remains mostly with you today. He still skips off excitedly and tells you all he knows about artists he has knowledge on— as best as a five-year-old can— but he doesn’t go more than a painting ahead, then backtracks to walk at Jihoon’s side, and take a selfie with the boy in front of their favourite paintings. You think it’s the first time that Taehyung hasn’t filled your camera roll with photos of paintings from an art museum and instead his own beaming face beside another shyly smiling one.
Though, the moment the four of you are finished touring the museum and the only thing left to go is step into the gift shop, Taehyung takes off as his excitement wins out.
“He loves gift shops,” you muse to the father-son-duo at your side. “Meet at the benches out front in twenty minutes?” you suggest, knowing just how intensely your son will look at every item that catches his attention, and figure that neither Yoongi nor Jihoon will want to wait around the store that long.
“Sounds good,” Yoongi agrees, then you split ways. The pair go to browse around the gift shop themselves, while you go in search of your excitable son.
As expected, Taehyung is already absorbed in looking at items; currently the selection of puzzles with designs of some of the artwork on show.
“Mama, look,” he enthuses when you crouch next to his own crouching figure and he glances at you, then back to the puzzle that’s caught his attention, the one with his favourite painting from the day.
“Mm, that’s a big puzzle,” you say.
“Too big?”
“Little bit, yeah.”
“Oh.” He sighs sadly, but then jumps up and toddles off, making you chuckle at his ability to literally bounce back before you get up and follow him around.
Honestly, if you didn’t have to consider getting the items home, you probably would buy Taehyung the puzzle and make it a family project to leave on one end of the dining table for you all to add to when you pass, but you don’t want to deal with trying to fit it into your case. Not when there’s still plenty of time left before you return to South Korea, therefore, plenty of time to buy other, easier to pack items.
Thankfully, in the end, all Taehyung wants is a little collection of friendship bracelets for his friends at school, a magnet that states the name of the museum, and a postcard to add to his collection. They’re mostly from Mingyu’s travels, but Taehyung likes to get one everywhere you go, especially from places he wants to remember well, which means every art museum you visit.
Just as you head to the cash desk to pay, Taehyung diverts and rushes over to a display of teddy bears. Of course, you follow, and although you think the teddy wearing a t-shirt with his favourite painting printed on the front is what has drawn his attention, he shows you a different teddy. This one isn’t wearing a t-shirt, but a little bucket hat printed with music notes, and on the stand behind it is a selection of matching child-sized hats to be bought as a set.
“Can buy for Ji?” he asks, looking at you with big, pleading eyes. You smile and without a word, you search through the hats for one you think should fit Jihoon, but Taehyung knows it’s your consent and happily wiggles.
As agreed, Yoongi and Jihoon are waiting on the bench outside of the museum, enjoying the shade on the warm day and seeming content to wait there. Jihoon no longer has his ear defenders on, or his fidget toy in his hold, instead he’s holding a gift bag in the same colour— though a slightly bigger size— as the one in Taehyung’s hands.
Once they spot you and your son nearing, the pair get up and approach. Immediately, Jihoon thrusts the giftbag towards Taehyung, eyes downturned shyly. “Th–this is for you.”
“Me?!” Taehyung gasps excitedly.
“Yes. And I’m sorry for hitting you at the party.”
“It’s okay! Everything was lots and I made more,” Taehyung chirps in response as he swaps the giftbag in his hands with the one in Jihoon’s hands, surprising the older boy.
“It’s for you,” you clarify, knowing that Taehyung is already entirely absorbed in his own gift as he opens the bag, and will forget to state as much.
“R–really?” Jihoon asks, and you nod in confirmation. “But…I hurt him.”
“He understands completely and isn’t upset with you in any way,” you promise softly, with a gentle little smile to match, hoping to convince and reassure the boy. “You’re his friend.”
“Oh.” Jihoon takes a moment to let those words settle before he shoots you a shy little smile and pulls his gift closer to his chest. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. You can open it whenever you want,” you assure and turn to your son, hearing him making excited vocalisations. You can’t help but smile upon spotting the very same teddy bear you had thought Taehyung earlier spotted— the one sporting a t-shirt printed with his favourite painting. He’s holding it close to his chest in one arm, feet moving to make him bounce and step back and forth in his joy. “Wow, that’s your favourite painting, huh, baby?” Taehyung’s too happy to respond with words, but he does nod rapidly and make some more happy noises.
“We weren’t positive what size would be best, so the one we picked will probably be a bit big, but we figure he can grow into it if anything,” Yoongi says, making you look at him, and notice that Jihoon is clutching his own bear and has replaced his plain black bucket hat with the note printed one, a happy little smile on his face.
“Grow into what?” you ask confusedly.
“The t-shirt,” Yoongi clarifies, motioning to Taehyung’s bear. “That one has a matching t-shirt.”
“Oh, really?” you wonder, not having noticed the t-shirts with the bears in the store, but now you squat in front of your son and peer into the bag. “Taetae, there’s more.”
Immediately, Taehyung gasps and peers into the bag. He makes a displeased sound when he realises that he’ll have to let go of his bear to reach into the bag, so you take the gift bag from him to take the t-shirt out and show him. Instantly, his arms flap as he gazes at the painting printed on the front, mouth stretched in a bright smile. When he dives forward, you giggle at his enthusiasm and help him pull the t-shirt over his own one. You’d rather he not be wearing two t-shirts really, but you really don’t want to strip him in public, so this will do, and you’ll have to make sure to keep an eye on him for any sign that he’s overheating.
Taehyung’s still too excited and happy to manage words, but when he bounces over to hug Yoongi tight and beam brightly at Jihoon, you know they both understand. You feel something in you settle at the sight of the three smiling so happily at one another.
Upon returning to the hotel after returning from the museum trip, your two families split ways for a late lunch, and agree to meet in the lobby in an hour to go to the pool together.
Despite usually always being early to meet people, you arrive only minutes before the agreed upon time due to having to repeatedly tell Taehyung that he can’t take his new bear down to the pool in case it falls into the water. You really don’t think chlorine will do the toy any favours.
Taehyung tries to sneak the bear out of the suite once you’re both ready, so you have to send him back to his room to return it, only to repeat it when he steps out with a too-innocent look and a suspiciously bulging thigh from trying to hide the toy in his trunks.
Thankfully though, he does listen and leaves the toy on his bed to allow the two of you to be on time to meet Yoongi and Jihoon in the lobby. Jihoon is still wearing his white bucket hat with the black musical notes printed on, but otherwise, he’s matching his dad in a black t-shirt with a long-sleeved black rash guard underneath, black trunks, and black slides.
When the four of you are out by the pool and Yoongi sets up their towels on the lounge chairs, you have to do a doubletake noticing that the towels are brightly striped, not black, or at least in subdued colours and patterns.
“What?” he mutters, noticing you staring at the towel under him as he sits, and the boys wander off to the pool together, though they sit on the side with their legs in as Taehyung talks away about the fun things they can do in the water once Jihoon is ready to get in.
“The rainbow towels threw me, not going to lie,” you admit as you fold Taehyung’s t-shirt and tuck it into his backpack on the lounger to your left where his towel is, though you know he likely will not make much, if any, use of it. Even if Taehyung takes a break, he’ll likely climb up onto your lounger to sit with you, or just on the edge of the pool like he is now.
“Ah, yeah, I forgot to get new towels until the last minute, and the stores only had bright colours and patterns. I didn’t want to bring our old towels; faded, worn towels feel like a taboo to take on holiday, especially to a fancy resort,” he explains, sounding as amused as you are, so you’re not worried that he’s offended or anything at your entertained questioning, and relax on your lounger a few feet away from his own.
“It really does!” you agree. “And we have to bring our own too, because we can’t trust the hotel towels are suitable for the boys’ skin.”
“Exactly!” Yoongi exclaims, then sighs in a way that makes you giggle. He rolls his head to look at you, a little gummy smile on his face, but it quickly drops after he glances past you. Puzzled, you start to turn to find what has made his smile drop so rapidly, but he makes an alarmed noise, causing you to look at him with widened eyes, and spot the panic on his features. “So! Are you heading home tomorrow too?”
“No, we’re staying another day then going to Japan,” you answer without thought, your mind still wondering why he’s acting like this.
“Don’t!” he blurts when you turn again, but you don’t listen this time. It takes you a minute to understand what he has spotted; Mingyu is at the pool bar, blatantly flirting with two women. “I’m sorry.” The apology makes you look back at Yoongi confusedly. “Finding out that your partner is cheat–”
“Oh!” you exclaim in understanding and smile reassuringly. “We’re not together. We got divorced a year ago.”
“What?” Yoongi mutters dumbly. “You’re divorced.” You nod. “But…you…You live together,” he points out, then his eyes widen, and he looks at Taehyung still on the pool edge, before back to you and leans closer, voice lowering in volume. “Tae doesn’t know?”
“He does, we told him the morning after we decided to divorce, but we’re still best friends, still a family, even if we’re not in love anymore,” you explain with a little shrug. “Tae knows and understands.”
“Oh…I seriously thought you’re together.”
“I gathered that by your panic,” you tease and settle back into your lounger. “Who were you protecting doing that, by the way? Gyu, or me?”
“You,” he answers without hesitation, and also gets comfortable in his lounger so you’re both facing the pool again and can easily watch the boys. “I’ll never protect a cheater. Even if Mingyu was my close friend and you were his wife and not my friend, I wouldn’t hide his cheating from you. I just didn’t want you to see it like that. Seeing it and just knowing are different things.”
“Mm, true. I appreciate that, by the way. But really, we’re both very single and can do what we want, so long as we don’t bring it in front of Taehyung. Unless it’s more than just a fling, and we’ve discussed it first.”
“Ah, that makes sense. You two really do have a healthy relationship, huh?”
“We agreed to be open since we got together and keep it up even now that we’re divorced.”
“Damn, wish my divorce was as pleasant as this,” he muses, surprising you as you hadn’t even known that he’s divorced. Though, you guess you don’t know the man at all really, but you hope to change that. “Then again, my marriage fucking sucked, so I guess we ended how we went on.”
“Oh,” you murmur, heart aching for the man. You want to say something, you want to tell him that he deserves a lot better than a relationship that he sounds glad to be rid of, but you don’t get the chance.
“Hoon loves that bear, by the way,” he says quickly, rapidly changing subject, so you take the hint that he doesn’t want to linger. “He spent ten minutes putting it in the perfect position on his bed when we got back to the suite,” he informs with a chuckle, looking and sounding so fond of his son.
“Tae tried to smuggle his out after I told him multiple times to leave it in his room, so the chlorine doesn’t ruin it.”
The two of you share a laugh before, to neither of your surprise, you get into conversation sharing the cute and funny things your sons have done as they’re grown. Although you have Mingyu to talk about Taehyung with, it’s nice to have a parent of a child that isn’t your own to talk about kids with. You don’t have any parent friends, so you’re really glad that Yoongi is a part of your life now.
At some point over your time at the pool, Mingyu disappears, so when it comes to dinner time, you and Taehyung meet him in the restaurant as agreed that morning. Of course, Yoongi and Jihoon don’t join, so the two of you say goodbye to the pair in the lobby.
“Can I hug you, Ji?” Taehyung requests, all of you knowing that this is the last time you’ll see the duo for a while as the pair will head back to South Korea in the morning while your family is still asleep in your beds.
“Uhm…okay,” Jihoon consents and moves closer to accept the hug from the younger boy, while you and Yoongi watch the exchange with hearts so big and warm, knowing how much Jihoon has to like Taehyung to agree to the hug. He hugs the younger kind of awkwardly, as if he isn’t sure what exactly to do; you imagine he’s used to hugging adults only, not other children, so you’re not surprised he’s a bit confused about embracing someone smaller than him. Still, Jihoon’s expression relaxes quickly, and his lips even turn up into a tiny smile that grows a little more when Taehyung steps back swiftly, respecting the older boy’s space and limits.
“How about we exchange numbers?” you suggest to Yoongi and notice the way his smile twitches in a way that looks like he’s fighting his smile’s attempt to slip away. “We can arrange to meet again when we’re back home, so the boys can hang out some more,” you clarify, not wanting him to think you’re asking for personal gain.
“I…don’t think that’s a good idea,” Yoongi replies, motioning for Jihoon to get closer to him, ready to head to their suite. “I’m technically Tae’s teacher until February, so I don’t want to risk breaking school policy.”
“Ah, that makes sense,” you respond understandingly, and notice his expression relax, even as you feel your heart twist in your chest. “Well, I guess we will see you when school starts again, or at least Tae will. Gyu will see you for pick-ups and everything.”
“Yeah,” he agrees with a nod. “Thanks for letting us hang with you guys for this trip, it turned out a lot better than expected, right, Hoonie?”
“I had fun,” Jihoon admits quietly. “Thank you for playing with me, Tae.”
“Thank you for playing with me!” Taehyung returns and then bounces over to hug Yoongi. “I am excited to for school start again for music!”
“Ah, me too, bud,” Yoongi responds with a chuckle as he fondly pats Taehyung with the hand now on his back to return the hug. “I’ll make sure to have some fun activities ready for you.”
“Okay!” Taehyung chirps, letting go of his teacher when you gently tug on your son’s shoulders, prompting him to back up and stand in front of you.
“Have a safe flight back,” you say softly, giving a smile to match.
Yoongi hesitates a moment before he lets out a breath and returns the gentle smile. “Thank you, you too. Enjoy Japan.”
“Thank you.”
Only when Yoongi and Jihoon vanish as the elevator doors close do you and Taehyung turn and head to the restaurant, ready to meet his dad and tell one another about your days over dinner.
“Hey, mama,” the greeting in a familiar voice makes you look over from where you’re spread across a lounger, enjoying a poolside morning alone in the sun, and wearing a bikini to happily tan. A bikini you don’t wear around Taehyung, but he’s off snorkelling with his dad and won’t be back until the afternoon, so you have plenty of time to wear the skimpy swimwear without your son seeing.
“You have a mommy kink, don’t you?” you tease as Jungkook invites himself into the empty lounger beside yours, hands behind his head, and blatantly checking you out.
“Nah, it’s just you,” he replies shamelessly, eyes lingering on your chest as you adjust to turn onto your side to see him easier. “Fuck, you’re so sexy, you know?”
“I’ve been told, mostly by you this past year,” you muse.
“And I’ll keep saying it,” he promises seriously, making you giggle. His lifts his gaze from your chest to look at your face and smile too cutely for the topic. “So, just you, huh?”
“Mm, the boys are off snorkelling.”
“Yeah, Gyu invited me, but I didn’t want to get up early.” He shrugs and turns onto his side so he’s facing you. “I’m definitely glad about that now. No fish would be a better sight than this.”
“You say the weirdest shit, you know?”
“Yeah, I’ve been told. Also been told I’m hot enough that it’s not even off putting.”
You make a vague sound in response, not willing to agree and inflate his ego further, even if it is very true. Jungkook has said a lot of weird things to you since you’ve known each other, and many strange flirtations the past year, and yet, you’re still willing to take him for a ride. It’s really unfair how he can be so lame and still remain ridiculously attractive.
“So, what are your plans?” he questions, making you raise a questioning eyebrow. “For your free time until they return. Are you going to lay here tanning for the next hours? Not that I’m complaining at all, I definitely enjoy the sight. But I’d enjoy another sight even more,” he finishes with an extremely suggestive look.
For a few seconds, you just stare at Jungkook with a little amused smirk as he shuffles minutely under your gaze. “Is this your empty flirting, Kookie, or are you inviting me to your room?”
“Depends, are you going to reject me?” he retorts, scooting to sit up a little, anticipation clear on his features.
“Depends.”
“On?”
“Will it be worth my time if I accept?”
The cocky shit smirks and swings his legs around to plant his feet on the ground between your seats, leaning forward onto his knees on his forearms. “Definitely.”
You eye him slowly, taking in his tattooed skin exposed without a t-shirt on his body, only trunks on his legs and currently clinging to his thick thighs due to his position. Your gaze roves back up to his face and catch his tongue wetting his lips. “Lead the way,” you declare, and despite how seductive his expression was as he waited for your response, it immediately leaves as sheer excitement takes over and he bounces up, making you cackle.
“Don’t laugh at me!” he exclaims, though he laughs too, knowing how eager he seems— how eager he genuinely is to get his hands and mouth on you. “Come on, baby, let’s gooo,” he encourages, grabbing your bag to stuff your phone into from the chair by your hip as you get up.
You barely have time to grab your towel before he’s holding your free hand and enthusiastically leading the way to his room, to show you exactly what you could’ve been enjoying for the past year if only the timing had been right.
The morning of snorkelling followed by rock pool exploration with his dad, really wore Taehyung out. Even though he had a nap when the pair returned, he’s asleep in his bed not long after dinner is over, leaving you and Mingyu to relax how you see fit. Which, as per usual, means lounging on the couch cuddled up together with a movie on that you’re both only partially paying attention to.
“I fucked Jungkook today,” you announce out of the blue, making Mingyu pause with his drink can touching his lip before he lowers it and laughs.
“Seriously?” he asks as he looks at you with eyes alight with mirth. You nod in confirmation. “Wow! He’s been asking me if he can fuck you since I told him we broke up!” he cackles and puts his drink down, entirely uncaring that he wants to drink it and more interested in the conversation as he turns his body to face you. “Was it good? He brags all the fucking time about his sex skills.”
“Mm, yeah,” you confirm. “He’s got the right to brag.”
“Better than me?” he jokes, wiggling his eyebrows at you, making you shove him.
“Yes,” you say, entirely lying just to wind him up.
Mingyu gasps and abruptly tackles you to the couch until you’re on your back and he’s caging you in with his body, playfully biting at you everywhere he can reach. “Take it back!” he exclaims between bites while you giggle and squirm.
You let it continue until you think you’re likely to pee yourself if you keep laughing. “Okay! I give; I give! I was joking!” you declare honestly. “You’re the best I’ve had.”
“Knew it!” Mingyu exclaims smugly then settles on top of you in a still familiar position, his body between your legs, hands holding your waist under your top and his head on your chest. “You’re the best I’ve ever had too, by the way,” he says after a moment.
“Better than those two women at the bar?”
Mingyu tenses slightly, then relaxes, and you know him well enough to know that he was just surprised that you know about it, not feeling guilty; he truly has no reason to feel any guilt, and you both know it. “You saw that?”
“Mm, thanks to Yoongi,” you say. “He tried to prevent me looking over once he noticed you; to protect me from having to see that. He didn’t know we’re divorced and can see other people.”
“Ah, that’s nice of him.”
“Mm.” You only hum, a sound you’ve made many times before, but Mingyu leans up onto his elbows over you to look at you with furrowed brows, knowing you well enough that he can catch the underlying feelings you’re not speaking. The furrow in your own brows makes you unable to even try to pretend to not be feeling something right now. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to, you know his expressions as well as he knows yours at this point. You sigh. “I asked to exchange numbers, so the boys can hang out, but he said no because he’s Tae’s teacher still and doesn’t want to risk breaking school policy.”
“You don’t like that.”
“No, I don’t. I feel…hurt,” you admit after taking a moment to try and understand why you’ve felt a little off since that exchange with the man the day before. “I don’t understand why it’s a big deal. If we can hang out now, why can’t we do it back home?” Your frown grows and you reach up to run your fingers through Mingyu’s hair in an attempt to soothe yourself with the repetitive movements through his soft, freshly washed, and dried hair. “It’s not like I asked to bounce on his dick or anything… not that I’d say no if he offered.”
“Huh, really?” Mingyu questions, looking genuinely surprised as he moves up onto his knees between your spread thighs, his hands settling on his hips as he stares down at you curiously.
“Why’re you surprised?”
“Just look at everyone you’ve dated; he really doesn’t fit in, babe,” he comments, then motions to his own body. “You married me; he’s like half the size of me.”
“Maybe I want something new since you,” you retort, crossing your arms over your chest with a pout.
“You literally fucked Kook a few hours ago,” he deadpans and mindlessly reaches for your thighs to pat to a tune playing in his mind. “He’s the same build as me, and just a little shorter, but Yoongi is a lot shorter. And, well…I don’t know what he’s got under those baggy clothes he wears, but I’m assuming it’s not a six pack or big biceps. You like buff, sweetheart.”
You squeeze him between your thighs quickly, unable to easily nudge him in this position, as you pout up at him. “There’s always an exception to the rule,” you mutter almost defensively, but mostly just arguing childishly and he knows it, yet he ignores that.
“And you think Yoongi is yours?” he teases, expecting you to roll your eyes and shove him, but you open your mouth automatically to retort sassily, yet nothing comes out as his words really hit you, and you genuinely think about it. “Oh, shit,” he mutters in surprise at the fact you’re taking this seriously.
“I…I’ve never been attracted to someone pretty much as soon as I met them,” you say, and Mingyu nods mindlessly, knowing that to be true as you’ve said as much before.
It used to hurt him, when he was still in love with you, because the moment he first laid his eyes on you, he knew he wanted to be with you in whatever capacity you allowed. Which happened to be as his friend for a few years until you returned his attraction. It always hurt that he had loved you before you even liked him as more than a friend, but he never lingered on it. He was just happy that you did learn to love him, and you had genuinely happy years in love together. Yet now, even though you both fell out of love at some point over a year ago, he wouldn’t change anything about your relationship or wish you had fallen for him as quickly as he had you.
“But…” you continue, features twisting uncertainly as you look aside, thinking about the memories your words bring forward. “When Yoongi walked into the classroom on parents evening, I was drawn to him, Gyu.”
“Damn,” he mutters, and you hum in agreement, though his next words make you look at him with an unimpressed expression. “Can’t believe you’re going to marry our son’s teacher.”
“Shut the fuck up, idiot,” you scold, backhanding his thigh between your own.
“No, seriously though, babe, would you take his name?” he teases, then shrieks when you abruptly sit up and tackle him to make him shut up. You both quickly break into giggles as you play fight, and the topic is left in the past.
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