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⤷one-shot!! in which.... jungkook shows up every Friday for six months to ask your father for permission to marry you, and gets rejected every time. Still, he returns each week with flowers, pastries, and stubborn determination. Meanwhile, you have no idea your boyfriend has been secretly trying to “apply” for the role of your husband behind your back.
I'm gonna marry her anyway (Magic!-Rude)
pairing: 전정국 x fem!reader
Genre: romance | slice of life | comedy | fluff | bittersweet
warnings: jk is down baddd, he's SOO in love, jk's a bit delusional tho, peak romance trope btw, he loves to pamper y/n, he would do everything all again without question, crying, happy tears, respectfully he wont give up, Jungkook is the sweetest
word count: 7.2k
Every Friday at Four
If someone asked you to describe your boyfriend, you would probably say something annoyingly sweet.
Kind. Talented. Loyal.
The sort of person who remembers the name of the stray cat that lives behind your apartment building, not only he remembers it but buys extra cat food and leaves it out in little dishes. The sort of person who buys two of everything because he knows you'll steal half of his anyway, and he'd rather plan for the theft than risk you going without. The sort of person who texts "Did you eat?" at 2 PM and then again at 6 PM and then again at 9 PM, and actually waits for an answer each time, and sends follow-up questions if you take too long, "What did you eat?" and "Was it good?"
What you would not say is: "My boyfriend spends his Friday afternoons getting rejected by my father."
Mostly because you don't know what's happening, and sweet Jungkook intends to keep it that way.
The first time he drives to your parents' house, he almost turns the car around.
Three times… scratch that…actually, four.
The fourth time is especially embarrassing because he has already parked. The engine is off. The keys are in his hand. He's committed, and yet his hand keeps drifting toward the ignition like it has its own agenda, like it wants to go home.
He sits behind the steering wheel, staring at your childhood home. The house itself isn't scary. It's just a house with white walls that need repainting. A small garden where your mother has beautiful flowers. A blue mailbox that has your last name on it with faded stickers that are peeling at the edges. Normal things.
Unfortunately, your father lives inside, and your father is terrifying. Not in a dramatic movie way, he doesn't threaten people or is part of the mafia, and he definitely doesn't own weapons or has a scar across his face.
It’s the fact that he looks at people the way professors look at exam papers, as if he's found three mistakes in the first paragraph and is debating whether he should continue reading or just fail you now and save him some time.
Jungkook swallows. His palms are sweating against the steering wheel. This is ridiculous… What if your father hates him? What if he laughs? What if he says no?
Then you'll ask again.
He grabs the box of pastries from the passenger seat and gets out before his courage disappears completely.
The door opens, and your father appears. For a moment, nobody says anything. The silence stretches and Jungkook becomes suddenly, painfully aware of every part of his body. He bows politely. The low and respectful kind of bow that says I come in peace, I mean no harm, please don't destroy me.
The silence grows longer, and our dear Jungkook begins wondering if people can die from awkwardness. If that's a medical condition, and if he should have written a will. Your father stares, Jungkook bows a little deeper. His back protesting.
Finally, your father speaks. "Did my daughter send you?"
"No, sir." Jungkook's voice comes out steady.
A pause. Your father's eyes narrow slightly, scanning him like he's reading a label. "Did something happen to her?"
"No, sir."
"Then why are you here?"
Jungkook suddenly forgets every sentence he prepared during the drive. All those carefully constructed arguments inside his overthinker mind, all those practiced phrases…gone, evaporated.
Wonderful
He manages a nervous smile. It feels crooked on his face, too big, too desperate. "I wanted to talk to you."
Your father doesn't move. "About?"
For a fleeting second, Jungkook considers pretending he came to discuss the weather. The weather is safe, but unfortunately for him, that would make even less sense than his actual reason, and also, he's pretty sure your father can smell lies the way other people smell smoke.
"Sir, I love your daughter."
Your father blinks a few times. "Oh."
Jungkook nods. Encouraged. Maybe this is going well. Maybe the hard part is over. Maybe…it is not going well.
"That's unfortunate," your father says, and steps aside to let him in.
⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ♡ྀི ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔
Five minutes later, they're sitting at the kitchen table.
Jungkook has never seen such an intimidating kitchen before. Everything is clean and organized. He is afraid to touch anything. Your father places a cup of tea in front of him. The gesture is kind, but the expression on your father's face is not kind. Not in a malicious way, it’s the expression of someone who has watched young men come and go from this exact house, who has learned that most of them are not worth the time it takes to memorize their names. Jungkook suddenly understands where you inherited your stubbornness from.
"So," your father says.
"So," Jungkook echoes, and he immediately hates himself for echoing. He's not a parrot. He's a grown man. He has tattoos. He pays taxes, and he should be able to handle a conversation without turning into a robot.
"You love my daughter."
"Yes, sir."
"Why?"
Why? Because you're funny, because you laugh with your entire body, throwing your head back, because you cry during movies and then deny it, because you pretend not to like affection and attention and then complain when he stops giving it, which is confusing and annoying and completely endearing, because loving you happened so naturally he didn't notice it until he was already too deep in love with you.
He clears his throat. All of this is too much to say to your father. "She's amazing," Jungkook says.
Your father's face remains unreadable. "That's your argument?"
Jungkook panics. His brain, which had just started working again, shuts down completely. "No, sir."
"Good."
⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ♡ྀི ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔
An hour later, Jungkook has somehow been interviewed more thoroughly than a job applicant for a position that requires government clearance.
Career plans. Finances. Future goals. Emergency savings. Apartment size. Life insurance. Retirement planning. Your father asks about his parents, his siblings, his thoughts on home ownership versus renting, his opinion on private schools versus public schools for hypothetical future children that Jungkook is definitely not ready to discuss but finds himself discussing anyway because when your father asks a question, answering feels mandatory.
At one point, your father asks what kind of husband he intends to be. Jungkook answers honestly. It's the only answer he has, the only one he's sure of. "The best one I can."
Something shifts in your father's expression, only for a second. Maybe it was approval…or pity…or maybe even indigestion. Who knows…Then comes the final question and the most important one.
The reason Jungkook is here, sweating through his nice shirt
His heartbeat speeds up. He sits straighter, tries to look like the kind of man who deserves what he's about to ask for.
"Sir."
Your father waits. He knows what's coming. Jungkook can see it in the set of his shoulders and the slight tilt of his head.
"I want to marry her."
Your father folds his hands and looks directly at him.
And says:
"No."
Like he was declining extra napkins. Like Jungkook had offered him a flyer for a kebab place he wasn't interested in. Like this whole hour meant absolutely nothing.
Jungkook stares. Surely there's more, surely there's a ‘but’ or an ‘unless’ or a ‘however’ waiting in the air, ready to step on stage and save this moment from being exactly what it sounds like.
There isn't.
Your father takes another sip of tea.
Jungkook blinks. His mouth feels dry. His ears are ringing. "Sir?"
"No."
"I understand, but—"
"No."
"Can I ask why?"
Your father nods. "You can."
Jungkook waits. Your father waits too.
Nothing happens.
"...Why?"
"Because I said no."
Jungkook nearly laughs. Not because it's funny, but because otherwise he might cry, and he's pretty sure crying in your father's kitchen would be the final nail in a coffin that's already been nailed shut, buried, and had a parking lot built over it.
⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ♡ྀི ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔
The drive home feels longer. His pride aches took, his heart too…everything aches, actually, in a way that makes him wonder if this is what adulthood feels like. He should probably be upset, and angry, and embarrassed that he poured his heart out to a man who responded with a single syllable.
But Jungkook finds himself smiling, a small smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth while he waits at a red light because beneath the frustration is something unexpected.
Your father didn't laugh or mock him or send him out, and he didn’t tell Jungkook to find someone else’s daughter to love and cherish. He didn't say Jungkook wasn't good enough, wasn't successful enough, wasn't worthy. He just said 'no', and then he said it again, and then he kept saying it until Jungkook ran out of questions. He smiles because for two whole hours, he listened.
And Jungkook overthinks about it… a man doesn't spend two hours questioning someone he doesn't care about. A father doesn't interrogate a future son-in-law candidate unless the answer matters… unless the person sitting across from him is a real possibility.
‘No’ wasn't the end.
Jungkook glances at the road ahead, next Friday isn't far away. Five days, six hours, maybe less if he leaves work early. He can survive five days. He can survive anything if there's a chance at the end of it.
That evening, you're both sprawled across his couch, casually stealing fries from his plate. Your own plate sits untouched, still full, but you keep reaching for his anyway. Not because they're any different, just because they're his. This is the thing that you always do, and Jungkook loves it; it’s predictable and is exactly what he wants to come home to, exactly what he's fighting for.
Jungkook watches you. You glance up, caught, a fry halfway to your mouth.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Suspicious. Very suspicious. You narrow your eyes, and he sees your father in you for just a moment.
"What are you smiling about?"
He shakes his head. He can't tell you. Not yet. Not until he has something real to offer, something earned, something that proves he's serious. "Nothing."
You throw a fry at him. It bounces off his forehead and lands in his lap. You look proud, as if you've accomplished something significant, and your boyfriend laughs. Suddenly, the rejection doesn't feel so heavy anymore, because at the end of the day, every difficult conversation leads back to this. To you, to the future he's trying to build, one Friday at a time.
Jungkook picks up another fry. You steal that one too, quick as a cat, and he lets you. He doesn't even try to stop you. He watches you eat it, watches you chew, and for now, he lets you.
After all, he has bigger battles waiting for him next Friday. And the Friday after that. And however many it takes until your father finally says yes.
Now, 6 Months later
You are folding laundry when your phone buzzes against the coffee table, skittering like an insect that can't decide where to die. It's a text from him.
jk: Still at work, might be late for dinner, don't wait up
You smile because, of course, he is. He's always at work, or the gym, or somewhere building his body while you eat instant noodles in sweatpants that have a hole in the left thigh. (no shame)
What you don't know is that your boyfriend is not at work. Your boyfriend is currently sitting in his car in front of your parents' house. He's been here before. Many times. 6 months of Fridays, to be exact, which is 24 Fridays, which is 24 times he's climbed out of this same car with his heart hammering against his ribs.
Jungkook checks his reflection in the rearview mirror. He looks good. He looks great, actually, black sweater, hair styled in that particular way that took him 45 and 3 YouTube tutorials. He looks like a man who deserves a ‘yes.’ He looks like a man who is about to get another 'no', but hope, as they say, is a stupid and beautiful thing that dies slowly.
"Okay," he whispers to himself. "Okay. This time."
He reaches into the backseat for the flowers, peonies this week, because last week your mother mentioned she liked them and Jungkook remembered. He bought pastries again from that French place across town that requires a reservation three days in advance. Your father sees him coming up the walk through the living room window, and he doesn't move.
"Who is it, dear?" your mother calls from the kitchen.
"Nobody," your father says, which is technically true because, as far as he's concerned, Jungkook hasn't earned the right to be somebody yet.
"Nobody" rings the doorbell. Your father counts to ten before he stands. He opens the door.
"Sir," Jungkook says.
"Jungkook," your father says, like he's surprised, like he hasn't been watching the car sit in the driveway for fifteen minutes. "Again?"
"Yes, sir. If you have a moment."
"I suppose I have a moment."
This is their ritual. Your father steps aside to let him in, and Jungkook enters your childhood home. He can smell your mother's cooking from the kitchen. Something with garlic. His stomach growls, which is embarrassing, but your father pretends not to notice because even he has limits to his cruelty.
"Flowers," Jungkook says, holding them out. "For Mrs. … he clears his throat…for your wife."
"She'll appreciate them."
"And these are from Maison Blanc. The almond croissants you mentioned."
"You remembered."
"I remember everything, sir."
This is the part where your father should feel bad. This is the part where a normal person would see the earnestness in this young man's face. Your father is not having any of it. "Sit," he says. "I'll make tea once again."
They sit in the living room. The couch is old, and Jungkook sinks into it the way he always does, while your father sits in his armchair. The tea is green and bitter. Jungkook hates green tea, but he drinks it anyway.
"So," your father says.
"Sir," Jungkook begins, and he sets down his cup because his hands are shaking again and he doesn't want to spill on the carpet. "I know I've asked before. Many times. But I'm here to ask again."
"Mhm."
"I love your daughter. I have loved her for…" He pauses, does the math "…two years, four months, and sixteen days. Not that I'm counting. I mean, I am counting. I have a calendar. That sounds creepy. It's not creepy. It's —"
"Jungkook."
"Yes, sir?"
"Deep breath, son."
Jungkook takes a deep breath. Your father watches him.
"Sir, may I have your blessing to marry your daughter?" The question hangs in the air between them.
Your father takes a sip of tea. He thinks about you, his daughter, his only child, the person who once cried for three hours because her goldfish died and then forgot about it by dinner time. He thinks about the way you looked at Jungkook the first time you brought him home, like he was made of magic and promises. He thinks about the way Jungkook looks at you, like you are the only thing in the world that matters, like he would burn down every building between here and the sea if you asked him to.
He thinks, good.
Then he says: "No."
Jungkook nods. He expected this, but something in his chest still sinks, still curls up small and wounded. 25 rejections. 25 times he's asked.
"Can I ask again why, sir?"
"Because," your father says, and he leans forward, and Jungkook recognizes this posture. This is the posture of a man about to deliver a lesson. "You still flinch when I say no."
"I … what?"
"You flinch. Your shoulders go up, your eyes go down. You look like a dog that's been kicked." Your father's voice is not unkind, but it is firm. It is the voice of a man who has spent thirty years teaching high school English and knows exactly how to make a point land. "If you want to marry my daughter, you need to be able to hear 'no' without breaking. You need to be able to hear 'no' and keep standing anyway."
Jungkook stares at him. "You want me to… you're testing me??"
"I'm teaching you," your father corrects. "There's a difference."
"How long?"
"Until you stop flinching."
"And if I never stop flinching?"
Your father smiles. "Then you're not the man I thought you were, and my daughter deserves better."
They sit in silence. From the kitchen, your mother's voice rises in a question about dinner, and your father calls back that they'll be a while.
"You can go," your father says. "Unless you want to stay. Daeun made enough for three."
Jungkook should go. He knows he should go. He's supposed to meet you in two hours, and he needs to shower, and he needs to practice his smile so you won't know that he's been here again, that he's been rejected again, but the smell of garlic is making him dizzy with hunger, and your father's face has softened in a way it never has before, and something in Jungkook makes him stay.
"I'd like to stay," he says. "If that's okay."
Your father nods. "Set the table, then. You know where the plates are."
He does. He knows where everything is. He's been here enough times to have memorized the layout of your childhood home. He knows your father takes his coffee black and your mother hums when she cooks. He knows these things because he loves you, and loving you means loving where you came from, even when where you came from keeps telling him no.
⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ♡ྀི ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔
You just got out of the shower when he texts again.
jk: “omw saved you some dumplings. It was a coworker's bday today.”
Y/n doesn’t question anything. You don't know about the tea, or the conversation, or the way your father's eyes went soft when Jungkook finally laughed at one of his jokes. You have no idea that somewhere in your childhood home, there's a drawer where your father keeps the cards Jungkook has brought. And you definitely have no idea that your father talks about Jungkook to his friends, calls him "that persistent kid" with something like pride in his voice. You don't know that your boyfriend is learning how to be the kind of man who doesn't flinch. You don't know that his heart that's been broken so many times and still beats hopeful.
He thinks about you. He thinks about the way you look when you first wake up, he thinks about the way you laugh, he thinks about getting down on one knee and offering you everything he has, which is not much, which is everything. Because many months ago, he made a promise to himself that he would do this right, that he would have your father's blessing.
You text him
You: hurry up, I'm hungry, and the TV show just started!! <3
Three socks and a suspicion
You are standing in front of your open sock drawer when you realize something is wrong with your boyfriend. Not wrong-wrong, not cheating-wrong or lying-wrong or has-a-secret-family-in-a-whole-different-country-wrong.
Jungkook has been... off.
Not distant, if anything, he's been more present than usual, texting more, calling for no reason, showing up at your apartment with food he claims is "leftover from the guys" but is clearly freshly bought because since when does Namjoon eat salmon with lemon dill sauce? Since when does anyone in that dorm eat vegetables that aren't covered in cheese? (again, no shame)
You hold up three socks. None of them match.
"You're thinking loudly," Jungkook says from your bed, where he's sprawled on his stomach, scrolling through his phone. He always knows when you're thinking. It's one of his most annoying qualities as a boyfriend.
"I'm not thinking," you lie.
"Your forehead does this thing." He finally looks up, and his eyes… those big, dark eyes that you fell into like a well you never wanted to climb out of… crinkle at the corners. "It wrinkles. Right here."
"Maybe I'm just getting old."
"You're 23."
"24 in three months."
"Ancient," he agrees, solemn as a funeral. "Should I buy you a cane? Or maybe one of those chairs that lifts you up?"
"Jeon Jungkook."
"Yes, my elderly girlfriend?"
You giggle and throw a sock at him. "You've been weird lately," you say.
"Weird how?" he asks, and his voice is casual, perfectly casual, too casual.
"I don't know. Distracted. Happy distracted. Like you're not telling me something."
Something flickers across his face. Something that looks almost like panic, or maybe hope, or maybe a little bit of both.
"Maybe I am," he says, and then he smiles and pats the space on the bed next to him. "Come here. I'll tell you, angel."
You go because you've always been weak when it comes to him. After all, he could ask you to follow him into a burning building, and you'd follow. The bed dips under your weight.
"Tell me," you say.
"I can't."
"Jungkook."
"I literally can't. It's not my secret to tell…But I promise it's a good secret. The best secret, and when you find out." He stops and swallows… "when you find out, I hope you'll say yes."
Your heart does something complicated in your chest, a backflip, a small, confused seizure. "Say yes to what?"
"Everything," he whispers.
You should push. You know you should push, but he's looking at you like you're the only thing in the world, and you forget how to form words. You forget your own name. You lean in to kiss him because that's the only thing your brain will allow, you kiss him and he kisses you back.
Your mother knows.
She's known since week three, when she came home early from her book club and found Jungkook washing dishes in their kitchen while your father dried. They were arguing about baseball, and your father was laughing. She stood in the doorway and watched them.
"Mrs. Y/L/N" Jungkook had stuttered when he saw her, dropping a plate back into the sink with a splash that soaked his shirt. "I can explain."
"Can you?" she'd asked, one eyebrow raised.
"Not really. No. I'm sorry."
She'd looked at your father, who was doing a terrible job of looking innocent. Your father, who had told Jungkook ‘no’ 13 times at that time, showed no signs of stopping.
"How long?" she'd asked your father.
"13 weeks," he'd said, like he was proud of it. Like this was an accomplishment.
"And how many more?"
"We'll see."
Your mother had sighed then, it's the sigh of a woman who has been married to this man for 22 years and has learned that some battles are not worth fighting. She'd picked up a towel, started drying the plate that Jungkook had abandoned, and said: "He likes the almond croissants from Maison Blanc. But the chocolate ones are better."
Jungkook had stared at her. "You're not... mad?"
"Oh, I'm furious," she'd said, and smiled. "But I'm also hungry, and you two have clearly been eating without me, so you're taking me to dinner. Somewhere expensive."
That was week 13.
⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ♡ྀི ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔
Now it's week 27, and your mother has become Jungkook's accomplice. She texts him recipes your father likes. She has, on two occasions, lied to you about where Jungkook is on Friday afternoons, which makes her feel slightly guilty, but she's never seen your father have this much fun. Not at your graduation, not at your sister's wedding, not when he finally beat his brother at golf after 15 years of losing. This ridiculous ritual of weekly interrogation is the most fun he's had in decades.
"He's coming today," your father says now, not looking up from his newspaper. It's Friday. It's 3:30. He checked the clock four times in the last hour.
"I know," your mother says.
"He's bringing those almond things."
"You love almond things."
"I tolerate them," he corrects.
She sits down across from him. "You know you're going to ahve to say ‘yes’ eventually."
"Do I?"
"Yes. Because, despite your best efforts, you like him. You like him more than you liked Minji's husband, and you liked Minji's husband enough to cry at their wedding."
Your father sniffs. "I had allergies."
"You had feelings." She reaches across the table and touches his hand. "When are you going to tell her?"
"Who?"
"Your daughter. The person this actually concerns."
Your father is quiet for a long moment. Outside, Jungkook's car pulls up, and your father straightens his shoulders and puts on his mask of indifference to become the man who says ‘no.’
"When he stops flinching," your father says. "Or when she figures it out. Whichever comes first."
"And if she never figures it out?"
Your father smiles. It's a small, complicated smile, the smile of a man who has spent his life teaching other people lessons they didn't know they needed to learn. "Then she's not as smart as I raised her to be," he says, "and Jungkook will have to keep coming forever."
The doorbell rings. Your mother gets up to answer it, leaving your father to his newspaper and his anticipation and his strange, stubborn hope.
⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ♡ྀི ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔
Jungkook is not flinching today.
He's thought about it all week, actually, ever since your father said those words like a challenge.
He's practiced in the mirror. He's practiced in the shower. He's practiced saying ‘no’ to himself, which felt ridiculous but also necessary.
He stands on your parents' porch with lilies-of-the-valley in one hand and chocolate croissants in the other. He switched because he suspects your father is tired of pretending to like almonds.
I will not flinch, he thinks.
Your mother opens the door. "Chocolate," she says, looking at the box. "Smart boy."
"I have it on good authority that almonds are overrated."
"Your authority is correct. Come in. He's in his usual spot."
The living room is the same as always. The couch is waiting to swallow him. The armchair is waiting to judge him. Your father is waiting to break his heart, gently.
"Sir," Jungkook says. He doesn't sit. Not yet.
"Jungkook." Your father folds his newspaper. "You're early."
"I couldn't wait."
"Eager to be rejected?"
"Eager to try."
They sit. The tea is prepared, black today, not green, which Jungkook takes as a good sign, or maybe just as your mother intervening on his behalf. The chocolate croissants are placed on a plate.
"So," your father says.
"Sir," Jungkook says, and he sets down his cup, and he looks your father directly in the eyes, and he does not look away. "May I have your blessing to marry your daughter?"
Your father opens his mouth to say ‘no.’
Jungkook does not flinch or move, and your father notices. Your father notices, and something shifts in his expression like seeing a student finally understand the lesson.
"No," your father says.
Jungkook does not flinch.
"Okay," Jungkook says. "I'll ask again next week."
Your father leans forward. "Why?"
"Because I love her. Because I want to do this right. Because… because you saying ‘no’ doesn't change what I want. It just changes how long I have to wait."
Your father is very still. From the kitchen, your mother is listening, holding her breath, ready to intervene if necessary.
"And if I never say yes?" your father asks. "If I keep saying ‘no’ until you're old and gray and she's moved on to someone else?"
"Then I'll keep coming," Jungkook says, and he means it. "I'll keep coming because this isn't about you. It's about her. And she deserves someone who doesn't give up just because it's hard."
Your father looks at him for a long time. "You're not flinching," your father says quietly.
"No, sir. I'm not."
Your father sits back. He picks up his tea. He drinks it, slowly, thoughtfully, like he's tasting something new. "The chocolate croissants are better," he says finally. “Do you think I’m being cruel to you?”
"No, I understand you’re being careful."
"Do you?"
"I have a sister," Jungkook says. "She's younger, if someone wanted to marry her, I'd want them to work for it. I'd want to know if they were serious." He pauses, chooses his words carefully. "I don't think you're cruel, sir. I think you're scared. And I think that's okay. Because I'm scared too."
Your father laughs. It's a short, surprised sound, like a cough that turned into something better. "You're scared? Of what?"
"Of not being enough. Of messing up. Of all of it…marriage, forever, being someone's whole world. What if I'm bad at it? What if I hurt her? What if I try my best and my best isn't good enough?"
Jungkook realizes he's said too much, but your father doesn't attack. He just nods, slowly, like he's hearing an answer to a question he didn't know he was asking.
"So that's why you flinched," your father says. "Not because of me. Because of the fear."
"Yes, sir."
"And now?"
Jungkook thinks about the fear, which is still there; it will always be there, he knows that now. He thinks about the future, which is uncertain, which is terrifying, which is beautiful because it contains you.
"Now I'm scared," he says, "but I'm here anyway."
"Next week," your father says. "Bring the almond croissants. I changed my mind. I like them better."
"Yes, sir."
"And Jungkook?"
"Yes?"
Your father turns around and smiles, "Stop calling me sir. My name is Seojun."
⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ♡ྀི ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔
You are eating a salad when Jungkook finally shows up, two hours late.
"Sorry," he says, dropping onto your couch with the boneless grace of a man who has been through something and survived. "A meeting ran long."
"Liar," you say, but you're smiling because he's here. He's always here, because even when he's keeping secrets, he's keeping them with such obvious love that you can't really be mad.
"Am I?"
"You're wearing a hoodie. You don't wear a hoodie to meetings."
He looks down at himself, surprised, like he hadn't noticed. "Huh. Guess I'm caught."
"Guess you are. Where were you, really?"
"I was," he says slowly, "learning how to be brave."
"Jungkook…”
"And I think," he continues, "that I'm almost there, almost ready., my love." He reaches out, tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers are warm. "Soon," he promises. "Soon you'll know everything.”
"Okay," you say. "But if this secret is bad, if you're secretly a criminal or you have a twin, I'm going to be mad."
He pulls you close, rests his chin on your head, and you can feel his heartbeat against your cheek. "I love you," he says, like it's a promise, like it's a prayer, like it's the only true thing in the world.
"I love you too," you say..
The Blessing
You are standing in the middle of your apartment holding a spoon when the world changes. Your mother calls, and her voice, when you answer, sounds strange.
"You need to come home," she says. "This Friday. Four o'clock."
"Mom, I have work-"
"Four o'clock," she repeats, "And honey? Don't tell Jungkook."
"Mom...?," you say slowly, "what's going on...?"
But she already hung up.
⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ♡ྀི ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔
Jungkook knows something is different. He's known since Tuesday, when your mother texted him with instructions for this Friday that were more specific than usual.
Daeun: Wear the blue shirt, and bring the small box, not the big one. She's suspicious enough already.
He's been carrying the small box for four months. It lives in his gym bag, wrapped in an old T-shirt, tucked between his protein powder and his backup headphones. He's taken it to work, to the convenience store at 2 am, when you wanted ice cream. He checks his reflection in the rearview mirror. The blue shirt, your favorite.
Today feels different. Today feels like the last time, one way or another. He drives across town with the box in his pocket and his heart in his throat. He doesn't know you're already there. He doesn't know that your mother finally broke, finally told you everything, finally couldn't stand keeping the secret for one more day. He doesn't know that you're sitting in your childhood bedroom right now, listening to your mother's rushed explanation to you, “Every Friday, for 6 months, he…” with your hands shaking and your eyes filling with tears that you can't quite name.
Are you angry? You should be angry. He kept a secret. A big one. A secret that involved your father and pastries and some kind of ongoing test that you apparently needed to pass without knowing you were taking it. But underneath the anger is something else that feels like being chosen, over and over again.
"Why didn't you tell me?" you ask your mother, and your voice sounds small, like a child's.
"Because he asked us not to. Because he wanted to do it right. And because your father was having too much fun to stop."
"He's been rejecting him? For 6 months?"
"29 times," your mother says. "This will be 30."
"That's…" you stop, because you don't know what that is. Cruel? Romantic? "Where are they?"
"Living room…waiting."
You stand up. Your legs feel unsteady, and you walk to the door, opening it and hear:
"You're late," your father says.
"Traffic," Jungkook replies, and his voice is steady.
You walk slowly and silently down the hall. You can see them through the doorway. Your father in his armchair, the throne, Jungkook on the couch.
"So," your father says. "This is 30."
"Yes, sir."
"You know what I'm going to say."
"I think so," Jungkook says. "But I'd like to hear it anyway."
"You stopped flinching," your father says. "Week 26. Do you remember?"
"I remember."
"I thought that would be it. I thought I'd say ‘yes’ then, and we'd be done with this." Your father leans forward. "But then I realized… flinching was just the first test. The easy one. The real test is what you do after."
Jungkook is very still. "And?"
"And you've shown up," your father says. "29 times. Through my bad moods and my stupid questions and that week where I made you help me clean the garage because I wanted to see if you'd complain."
"I didn't complain, sir."
"Yes, that's right."
You are holding your breath. You realize this only when your lungs start to hurt, when the edges of your vision go blurry. You let it out, slow and silent, and you watch your father's face.
"Jungkook," your father says.
"Yes, sir?"
"Do you love my daughter?"
"More than anything."
"Will you keep loving her? When is she difficult? When she's tired? When she's been your wife for 20, and the newness has worn off, and you're left with just, with her ordinary flaws?"
Jungkook doesn't hesitate. "Yes."
"Will you keep showing up?"
"Every day," Jungkook says, and his voice breaks slightly, but he doesn't flinch. He doesn't look away. "Every Friday. Every Tuesday. Every day that ends in Y, I'll keep showing up until you believe me, and then I'll keep showing up so you don't forget."
"Jungkook," your father says.
"Yes, sir?"
"My name is Seojun."
"I know, sir. I mean — I know, Seojun."
Your father stands up. He walks to Jungkook, who stands too, automatic, respectful, ready for whatever comes next. He puts his hand on Jungkook's shoulder.
"Yes," your father says.
Jungkook's face crumples for a blink…the relief, the exhaustion, the pure happiness of finally being enough.
"Seojun," your father corrects, but he's smiling. "And you're welcome. Now…" he steps back, clears his throat "…you have a question to ask, don't you? Might want to get to it. She's standing right behind you."
Jungkook turns.
You are crying. You didn't realize you were crying, but your face is wet, and your hands are shaking, and you can't seem to make your mouth form words. You look at him. at your boyfriend, at this stubborn, persistent man who loved you enough to endure 29 rejections just for the chance to propose properly.
"You…" you start, and your voice breaks. "You idiot. You absolute…why didn't you tell me?"
"I wanted to- " he starts, and then stops, because you're walking toward him, and then you're in his arms.
"I would have said yes," you mumble into his shoulder. "Week one. I would have said yes."
"I know," he says.
"Ask me," you say.
"What?"
"Ask me. You came here thirty times to ask him, now ask me."
Jungkook's hands are shaking. He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out the small box. It's worn from being carried, from being hidden.
He gets down on one knee. Your mother appears in the doorway, raising the phone to record this, to capture it, to prove that it really happened.
"Okay," Jungkook says, and he's crying now too; you realize the tears tracking down his face in the most undignified, most beautiful way. "Okay. I've been practicing this. In the car. In the shower. In my head, about a thousand times." He opens the box. The ring is simple, exactly right, exactly you. "I love you. I've loved you for two years and four months and thirty days. Your father told me I wasn't ready. But I think- I hope- I'm ready now. Will you…" He stops, swallows, starts again, " …will you marry me? Will you let me keep showing up? Will you be my family, officially?"
You look at him. You look at your father, who is wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and pretending he's not. You look at your mother, who is crying, who has been waiting for this for weeks when she first saw Jungkook washing dishes in her kitchen.
You look at Jungkook.
"Yes," you say. "Yes, you idiot. Yes, I'll marry you. Yes to all of it. Yes, forever."
He puts the ring on your finger. He stands up, and he kisses you.
⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ♡ྀི ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔
Later, after the crying and the laughing and your father insisting on opening the good wine that he's been saving for something important, you sit on the porch with Jungkook, your hand in his, the ring catching the light.
"30 Fridays," you say. "You came here 30 times."
"29 rejections," he confirms. "One yes."
"Was it worth it?"
He looks at you. He looks at you like he looked at you the first time, like he'll look at you when you're old and gray and arguing about whose turn it is to take out the trash.
"Every single one," he says. "I'd do 30 more. 300. However many it will take."
You lean your head on his shoulder.
Inside, your father is telling your mother that he knew Jungkook would make it, that he never doubted, that he was just testing him to be sure. Your mother is rolling her eyes and pouring more wine and smiling in a way that says she knows exactly what really happened. That her husband has already accepted your boyfriend somewhere around week twelve, and has been pretending otherwise ever since.
But that's their story.
This is yours.
The future is waiting.
It's going to be exhausting and beautiful and completely worth it.
He's one of the best, no race too tough to handle, every track a new challenge he takes on- especially when it's you who's waiting at the finish line for him.
Tags/Warnings: Racer!Jungkook, established relationship, romance, suggestive themes, heavy flirting, adult content, mentions of online hate, only minor angst, they're a power couple, this MC is now my spirit animal, smut
Summary: You and Jungkook have been trying to get pregnant again for a while, and when it finally does happen, your husband does such a thorough job at knocking you up that he puts two babies in you at once.
Warnings: chapter specific warnings will be included on each individual post
Author’s Note: friends!! can you believe it’s finally almost here? the long awaited sequel to cradle robbers is almost in your hands! I decided to post it starting on halloween because that’s where the story begins. the rest of the posting schedule can be seen below and I’ll update the masterpost accordingly as chapters come out. get excited!! it’s going to be a rollercoaster 🥹
-> Cradle Robbers Masterpost
Prologue (M)
Summary: Your first Halloween as both a family and a couple is already a momentous occasion, especially when the holiday means so much to you and Jungkook, but he single-handedly turns it into a night you’ll never forget.
Word Count: 27.5k
The First Trimester (M)
Summary: Despite it being almost too easy getting pregnant the first time, you and Jungkook have been trying for a year with nothing to show for it. Although, you realize you should’ve been more careful what you wished for after your doctor gives you the most shocking news of your life.
Word Count: 34.4k
Flashback Drabble
Summary: “In college, I began hanging out with someone who also sang. This person ended up hurting me really badly and because we would sing and write songs together, I stopped doing that afterwards.”
Word Count: 3.5k
The Second Trimester (M)
Summary: You finally get to tell Naru she’s going to be a big sister, along with all your friends and family, but sunshine is often followed by rain, and right in the middle of your pregnancy, your family receives devastating news.
Word Count: 27.1k
The Third Trimester (M)
Summary: Your final trimester begins with Naru’s third birthday and ends in blood and guts, literally. Life is throwing curveball after curveball at you, but if there’s one thing you know, it’s that you and Jungkook can handle anything as long as you have each other.
Word Count: 37k
Social Media Special
Summary: A sneak peek into Bambi and Koo’s Instagram accounts as a family of five.
Word Count: N/A
First Anniversary Special (M) ~ coming on Saturday, June 20, 2026 at 12:00 pm EST
Summary: Naru’s a preschooler now and of course, that comes with a whole new world of parenting challenges, but what neither of you expected was just how many issues would arise because of the other parents.
( 뮤즈 ) ⃕ ωhen yours and a strangers kiss cam goes viral on the internet, you now make it your life’s mission to track him down — only you don’t know he is doing the exact same.
এ smau fluff strangers to lovers female reader explicit texting they both horn dogs
Synopsis: You knew Seungmin as the baseball star slash campus heartrob and now, your partner on a project. But was there a hidden intention on why he wanted to work together with you? (8k words)
Author's note: I'm in the mood for a fluff, this is actually the most sfw fic I've ever written. Part 2 will be out next Sunday!
"I have written down all the ideas, and you can start by trying to develop each one into a story," you pushed the note to him and showed him the things you jotted down during the brainstorming you did a while ago.
Seungmin nodded as you gave him detailed instructions cause it was his turn to continue working on the group project of writing a piece of fiction for the creative writing class.
You gave up guessing why he took the class in the first place because his major is Management, plus, he's a star of our baseball team, you don't see why he needs to work this hard because he's already earned his place.
"I will try my best," he said to you and took the note from you.
You gathered all of your things from the table and stuffed them into your bag.
"You got any other plans for today?" He asked, pushing his hair to the back, and it only made his hair messy, but the attractive kind of messy.
You shook your head, "I don't make plans on the weekend. I usually just stay at home and eat and sleep," you winced, regretting that you gave him too much information that he didn't need to hear.
"I don't have any plans as well," he said, slinging his backpack on his shoulder, "I was thinking if we can go somewhere together?"
You looked at him, and he looked at you with a glint of anticipation, waiting for your answer.
"Only if you want to, of course," he immediately added.
It was only 5 in the afternoon, and there was no harm in going somewhere with him, and who knows, you might enjoy spending your weekend not cooped out in your small rented studio.
You nodded, "Yeah, sure, why not?" And tried to sound coy when you gave your answer.
He beamed a smile at you, he stood from his chair, "shall we go now?" He asked.
"Do you have any ideas on where to go?" You asked him once both of you exited the library. The sun was still shining, and it felt nice to feel the warm glow of it after spending hours in the library.
"I have a place to go to have some fun," he said, fixing up the collar of his varsity jacket that he always wears almost every day, and when he is not wearing it, he carries it around by hanging it on the strap of his backpack.
You have no idea what kind of fun he has in mind, but you got curious to find out what kind of person he is outside the campus.
"Oh, that sounds nice," you responded with a smile.
It was hard to catch up on his walk because his stride is wide, and you had to walk a little faster to match your pace with him.
He was aware of it too, he suppressed a laugh when he realized you were half-jogging rather than walking, then decided to slow down, taking smaller steps as you both made your way through the crowded streets.
Seungmin took you somewhere that somehow looked like a parking lot, but once you entered the place and the constant thumping sounds you heard from the inside, you recognized that it is a batting cage.
"So, this is your idea of fun?" You asked him with eyes widened in disbelief, "more baseball?"
He nodded while grinning.
"I mean, you practice baseball all week long, and you play some more baseball to have fun?" You asked again since his first answer didn't satisfy you.
He nodded again, "this is fun," he assured you, then went checked in. The man at the front desk showed him the available slot among the row of cages.
"Come on!" He told you, and you followed him from behind. Your eyes lingered on the broad of his shoulders from the back, and his varsity jacket does nothing but accentuate it.
He opened the door to the batting cage, took a bat, and practiced a few swings before the machine started shooting balls in his direction. You winced every time Seungmin hit the ball right with the bat and made a loud popping sound.
And this is why he's the baseball star, he nailed every throw pitched at him, you knew it wasn't the same with the real game but still, watching him doing what he's good at is another level of attractive.
He lightly panted, then put down the baseball bat, opened the door, and held out his hand at you.
"It's your turn now!" He announced, stepping down a stair still with his hand held out at you.
You looked down at his hand with veins coiling on the back of his hand and down to his long, slender fingers.
"Huh?" Your eyes widen, nonplussed, "I'm not playing," you meekly said.
"I'll teach you," he said with a smile.
You shook your head, "No, no, no," you kindly refused his offer, "I'll stay here and cheer you up,"
He rolled his eyes, "my hand is getting tired here," his eyes motioned to his still outstretched hand at you.
You grimaced but caved in at the end, you took his hand, and he helped you climb the stairs into the cage.
"Just a warning, I'm so bad at sports," you whined, almost like a fussy toddler.
Seungmin handed you a wooden bat, "that's why I'm here,"
You reluctantly took the baseball bat from him, "I-"
Seungmin grabbed you by your waist and positioned yourself in front of him, facing to the side.
He placed his hands on your shoulders next, "first, line up your shoulders with your legs,"
You stood up straighter and did what he told you to do.
Seungmin looked down at your feet, "spread your legs wider," he ordered.
"Oh, wow, and you didn't even buy me dinner first," you joked and regretted saying it once it got out of your mouth.
Seungmin softly chuckled with his cheeks blushing profusely.
He cleared his throat, then put his hands on the small of your back, "keep your knees bend," he ordered.
You obeyed and bent your knees, awkwardly.
"Don't crouch or stoop," he warned, he grabbed your waist and swayed your body side to side, "it's important to have a steady and grounded stance," he added.
"Now, let me see how you hold the bat," he commanded.
You lifted the baseball bat and held it the way you know how to hold it.
"Is it right?" You asked him.
He put his hands on yours, "Don't hold the bat in the palms, it won't allow you to flex your wrist," he commented, then helped you wrap your fingers around the bat.
He traced your knuckles with his fingers, "see this?" He asked you.
You nodded.
"You should line up your knuckles," he said, so attentive as if he was training you to be a player.
When he was sure you gripped the bat the correct way, he showed you how to take a good swing. He practiced with you a few times as he whispered instructions so close to your ear.
"Keep your body in a straight line and keep your eyes on the ball," he instructed, again practicing another swing along with you.
"Relax your muscles and be ready," he finished but with his body pushed so close behind you only makes it harder for you to relax.
He put his hands away from yours and stepped back, "I think you're ready," he announced with a grin.
You suddenly felt so self-conscious that he left you on your own, "what if I'm not hitting any ball?" You asked him.
"We can always play another round," he casually said.
You roughly wiped your sweaty palms on your jeans before gripping the bat again, "what if the ball hit me in the face?"
Seungmin burst out laughing, "that won't happen," he assured you, then got out of the cage to watch you behind the chain-linked fence.
You let out a long sigh as the machine signaled that it was ready to pitch the ball, you repeated the instructions Seungmin gave you earlier in your head.
"Keep your eyes on the ball," you repeatedly said.
With a loud pop, the ball shot in your direction, and instead of swinging your bat, you dodged it.
"What am I doing??" You frantically shouted at yourself, then uneasily glanced at Seungmin.
"It's okay, just keep your eyes on the ball!" He instructed again.
You quickly got ahold of yourself, then gripped the bat so tight, you shifted your focus back ahead.
"Keep your eyes on the ball," you repeatedly said to yourself like it was a scared prayer.
When the ball came at you, you held up your bat over your shoulder just like how you practiced, then when the ball was close enough, you began to swing it, and there was a loud bang.
You successfully hit the ball with the bat, your mouth agape in surprise, then looked at Seungmin in awe.
"I did that?!" You asked him for confirmation.
He nodded while grinning from ear to ear, "look straight ahead! The next one is about to come!" He reminded you.
You succeeded in batting 6 out 10 and insisted on going for another round to make a better record.
"Not going to lie, that was so much fun!" You exclaimed with a stupid grin on your face.
Seungmin held out his hand to help you get down the stairs but ended up lifting you by your waist to get you off since you were too ecstatic to watch your steps.
"I'm glad you had fun!" He sincerely said, then put a cold canned drink in your hand, "here's to soothe your hand"
You looked at the inside of your hands and winced, "ouch!"
You didn't realize your palms were red and raw from gripping the bat too hard, you squeezed the canned drink and let the cold seep in.
"Your turn now!" You said to him.
"You want me to go again?"
You nodded, "yes," you replied while wrapping both of your hands around the cold canned drink.
"Okay then, I'll go," he said then got into the cage.
You watched as he took his stance and swung the bat over his shoulder like it was a natural thing to do, many people had been saying he looked so attractive when he plays, and that was when you knew what the fuzz is all about.
"Do you think I can make it into the team?" You half-heartedly asked him as you dipped your French fry into ketchup.
Maybe because you weren't used to using your body for sports that you got so hungry and finished the burger in under a few minutes.
"Maybe," he replied, after a moment of hard thinking.
You chuckled and dipped another fry into the ketchup then shoved it into your mouth.
"You got something..." he said to you, gesturing to your mouth.
You quickly wiped whatever was on your mouth.
He shook his head, "I'm sorry, but I have to invade your private space," he said to you before reaching up and wiping a drop of ketchup on the corner of your mouth with a tissue.
You hurriedly took the tissue from him and wiped it yourself, "thanks," you muttered and roughly wiped all over your mouth, just in case.
You looked down to avoid his gaze that somehow made you flustered. You never felt like this for a long time, the butterflies, the heart flips, and whatever it is that made the cold of your heart slowly melt. Actually, you never let yourself feel all of these things because they were all trivial and always led you to disappointment.
But something about him made your heart shift, all of these times, you thought of him as not more than just a popular guy on the campus, and that he'd act like an actual jock.
You smiled because he isn't so bad, maybe you shouldn't trust your prejudice in the first place.
"How're your hands?" He asked you.
You held out your hands with your palms up, "it wasn't as hurt," you answered.
He leaned forward to look at your hands, and his fingers trailed the bumps on your palms, "apply some ointment when you get home," he suggested.
"Can I see your hands?" You asked him, out of curiosity.
He held out his hands at you on the table.
You saw how his hands are calloused and rough, from years and years of training and holding a bat, you traced the bumps on his palm and cooed.
When you looked up, his face was so close to yours, and you could see the shine of his dark hair and imagined how soft it would feel in your hands.
He lifted his head, and his eyes met yours, you retracted yourself immediately, feeling flustered.
"My friend always said I don't have a knack for sports. I can't wait to tell her about today," you said with a grin on your face.
Seungmin softly laughed, his hand wrapped around his cup of soda.
"So, how long you've been friends with Kim?" He suddenly asked.
You got taken aback by his question but gave him the benefit of the doubt, he probably had seen you around with Kim on the campus.
"We're friends since junior high school," you answered, then reclined on your seat.
"She is quite something," Seungmin said with a snicker.
That was when the smile on your face slowly fades, not again, you said to yourself.
"She has a lot of fireworks in her," he added.
You scoffed and laughed to yourself, "yeah, she is," you half-heartedly added.
You refused Seungmin’s offer to drive you home and took the bus home instead, you felt the urge to be alone and be in your own space.
Arrived in your cramped, small studio, you face-planted onto your bed and just let your thoughts drown you in like usual.
You thought about how Seungmin almost got you with your guard down only to find out he was just like another guy who tried to get close to you, with the ultimate intention to get close to your best friend, Kim.
Kim is undeniably attractive, but apart from her physical appearance, she is the kind of person who got everything that comes easy for her and is good at everything. She knows how to get around people, in conclusion, she's everything you are not. She's always been the center of attention the moment you became friends with her, and you have always been there by her side, as the sidekick, the less attractive of the two, and last but not least, a quick gateway if anyone wanted to get close to her.
It had happened more than a handful of times already, some guys approached you only to ask you about Kim. You reminded yourself that it's not her fault, she didn't ask to be born that attractive the same as you didn't ask to be born less attractive than her.
You never felt bothered by it but sometimes, sometimes you just got so tired of explaining yourself to people that you are more than just Kim's best friend.
The next time you met Seungmin to work on your project, you worked in silence and only talked when you needed to. The silence became so deafening that Seungmin sensed something was slightly amiss.
"Are you okay?" He asked you while shuffling the papers in his hands.
"Yes," you shortly replied without looking away from the screen of your laptop.
You both continued working with the dead air hung in the space between you and him, it wasn't easy for you too but you swore to yourself never to let your guard down again.
Once you were done typing everything on your laptop, you shut it down and closed it.
"I think we're done," you informed him, gathering your notes on the table and putting your pens back into the case.
"I can do the final editing," Seungmin offered, but with the unpleasant look you gave him, he retreated himself.
"If you let me, of course," he quickly added.
You put your things back inside your tote bag, "It's okay, I can do it for us," you kindly refused.
Seungmin smiled back, "To be honest, you'll do a better job than me," he weakly said.
You felt bad for being so sour when all he did was being good to you, you forced a smile and said, "I'll email you the final edit, and you can tell me if there's something you want to change," you said to him.
He smiled back at you, and somehow it made you feel so warm inside.
"Can I treat you dinner?" He asked, scratching the back of his neck as he did.
You hummed for a while before coming up with an answer, "what about I treat you tonight?" You offered.
Seungmin got slightly surprised by the turn of the event and that he thought things were coming back to normal between you two.
"Only if you let me treat you dinner the next time," he said with an eyebrow raised.
You shrugged in defeat, "sure!" You replied, then got up from your seat.
You settled on your favorite pizza place that serves the most delicious cheese pizza, but that night you ordered half cheese and half pepperoni in large size.
"I don't think the two of us can finish this," Seungmin said when he looked down at the steaming pizza with cheese bubbling on top, the smell of it was almost aphrodisiac.
You pushed his cup of drink to the front of him on the table, "someone will be joining us soon," you told him.
And just like she was being summoned, Kim came through the door and shot you a teeth-baring smile the moment he spotted you.
You waved at her, and she half-jogged to your table, "oh my God, the pizza is here already!" She exclaimed.
She quickly sat down on the empty chair between you and Seungmin, she didn't waste time to take a slice and bit on it.
With her mouth busy chewing the food, she turned her head and jolted on her seat, "Oh, Seungmin!" She exclaimed.
You handed her your cup of drink, and she quickly swallowed her food to take a sip, "did you guys just work on that project together?" She asked.
Your eyebrows were raised in question because you never told her about it, well, you told her about the project but not about who your partner is.
You stifled a nod, "Yes, but how-"
"Always a pleasure to meet you, Kim," Seungmin cut in, then bit into his pizza.
Kim nodded in acknowledgment. So they have talked to each other before? It was obvious now because they didn't seem awkward toward each other.
"Seungmin, are you even allowed to eat pizza? Aren't you suppose to be on a strict diet?" Kim teased as she shove a piece of pizza crust into her mouth.
Seungmin snickered, "Only if you don't tell, Kim,"
"Are you aware that you'll not be 22 forever?" She asked him, taking another slice and tearing a piece.
"Yes, but I don't see how is that related to pizza," he replied.
You watched their conversation intently like watching a tennis match, Kim turned her head at you and laughed.
"Oh, have I told you that Seungmin and I went to the same kindergarten," she explained and tore another piece of pizza.
You gasped at the newfound revelation.
"Our moms are sort of besties," Kim explained more.
It was getting more obvious that they are close, closer than you thought. You nodded along and felt your appetite dissipate as you watched them talking and how good they looked together. And you saw the bigger picture, that maybe it wasn't a bad idea for them to be together and maybe they're meant to be, you never know but it was time for you to be out of that picture.
You dropped your unfinished slice of pizza and got up from your seat,
"I'm sorry, guys, but I have to go," you informed and hastily gathered all of your things, "I forgot that I have something to do with my mom and that I-" you blabbered, "I need to clean my room or else she'd give me hell," you sighed from excessive explanation you did.
"But you haven't finished your pizza yet, it's your favorite cheese pizza!" Kim said, getting up from her seat, but you pushed her back down onto her seat.
"I'm in a hurry, you know my mom," you came up with a false excuse.
"I'll go with you then," Kim offered.
"No, no, please stay," you refused and took a step back from the table,
"Stay and eat the pizza. It's my treat," you convinced her and put on a smile, "I'll be taking the bus, do not worry," you added.
"I can drive you if you're in a hurry," Seungmin offered.
You shook your head, "No, no, no, it's okay," you quickly refused.
You slowly retreated from the table, "I'll get going now, bye everyone!" You waved your hand at them then walked out of the door. You resisted the urge to look back and kept on walking.
Later at night, Kim came knocking on your door and barged in the second you opened the door.
"I know there's something wrong," she exclaimed as she plopped down on the love seat. She looked around your small studio and sighed, "you would have cleaned your desk if your mom really is coming," she said, looking up at you with squinted eyes.
"Your mom's favorite drama is playing every Saturday night, and on Sunday morning, she has that volunteer work at the nursing home," she elaborated as she put up her legs on the seat.
You probably shouldn't have lied to your friend, especially the one that had known you for years and knew every detail of your life
There was no way to escape this but to come out clean. You sighed then sat next to her, "Seungmin likes you, and I think," you paused and tried to ignore the twinge in your heart when you mentioned his name, "he's a good guy, and I think you look good together,"
Kim burst out laughing and reached for the snack you always stored under the table, opened a pack of chips, and began munching.
"I'm just trying to set you guys," you weakly said.
"You sound like a total dumbass right now," she said with her mouth full of food.
"I am not going to take that personally," you sneered at her.
Kim sat up straighter and scooted closer to you, "Listen," she began, "what I'm about to say to you is a hundred percent confidential, but since you got your panties in a twist, I have to intervene here,"
You looked at her rather confused and wide-eyed, "what are you talking about?"
She stopped munching and put down the bag of chips on the table, "Seungmin likes you," she said.
Your heart skipped a beat, "what?"
"He likes you," she repeated, "at the beginning of the term, he asked what classes you took, and you think he took a creative writing class for the grade, no honey, he did all that for you," she explained with her index finger pointed at you.
But the more she explained, the more confused you got, "wait, what?"
Kim heavily sighed, "he did all that to get close to you! that's how much he likes you,"
"But I thought he likes you," you stuttered and froze on your seat, learning the newfound truth about his real intention to you.
Kim rolled her eyes, "please, I've seen him piss his pants during a school trip, and he has seen my face got swollen from my allergy. We disgusted each other enough to have a romantic feeling," she groaned.
You stifled a laugh, surprisingly feeling so relieved that it was just a misunderstanding and also felt bad for being unpleasant to him, or worst, he thought that you didn't have the same feeling for him.
"I think I just blew my chance," you sadly declared.
Kim patted your shoulder a few times, "Hey, I never said it's too late to get him now,"
You glanced at her, "you knew?"
"Of course, I know you like him," she said as if it was obvious to her, then took the bag of chips back on her lap and started munching again.
It had been days since the last time you met after that little mishap in the pizza place, you saw him around the campus but never could get yourself to, at least, say hi to him.
Plus, the piling assignments didn't help and kept you occupied the whole week. It took its peak when you got called to your professor's office.
Your heart beating out of control as you stood in front of the door of his office, you took a deep breath before finally knocking on his door.
"Come in!" You faintly heard the voice from inside the office.
You swung the door open and saw your professor was talking to another student in his office, only when you got closer did you realize it was Seungmin.
"I called you both to let you know that I really like your writing," your professor told you both as you stood there facing his desk.
You sighed in relief and felt the knot in your stomach loosen, you glanced at Seungmin and smiled at him, glad to see him again than hearing the praises from your lecturer.
When the appreciation speech ended, and he let you both be on your way, you sighed the second you closed the door behind you.
Seungmin stood there next to you, "I think we make a good team," he said to you.
You smiled because the first thing he said to you after that unfortunate day was a positive thing.
"Yeah, I think we did," you agreed.
There was a silence awkward after all, but you quickly came up with something from letting the silence go on, "I think we should celebrate it," you said to him.
Seungmin nodded, "I'd love that,"
You thought of a place you can go to later when you are both done with your classes, "I think we can go to that cafe we-"
"But I can't, I have practice today," Seungmin added.
You closed your mouth and stopped talking, "oh," you tried not to sound sad but failed.
Seungmin pushed his hair to the back and always looked attractive doing so, "what about tomorrow?"
"Yes, sure," you immediately answered and winced for answering it too quickly.
Seungmin softly laughed, his eyes crinkled under the sunny afternoon light. He looked down at his phone screen to check the time, "I'll text you for tomorrow, I have to go now," he said, hoisting the strap of his backpack on his shoulder.
You nodded in acknowledgment, "yeah, you better get going," you said to him.
He flashed a smile that melts you from the inside, "I'll see you," he said with so much hope to see you again.
"Trust me, even though he didn't say it's a date, it is a date!" Kim said through your speakerphone.
You didn't know how long you had been trying out on some outfits for today, no matter how embarrassing it was to call your friend to help you pick on an outfit to hang out with a guy, you were just that desperate.
You slumped on the couch, "I don't think it's too late to bail on him,"
"Don't you dare!!!" Kim barked, "Put that outfit on and get your ass out there," she instructed, you could imagine her saying that while rolling her eyes.
"Then what?"
"Just be you," she said, "it sounds so cliche, but he likes you way before all this, so there's nothing to worry about," she convinced you, "and I have to go because my mom needs my help in the kitchen, good luck and bye!" She quickly ended the phone call.
You entered the cafe clutching the side of your skirt out of nerves, you spotted him right away on the table you both once worked your project on.
With hesitant steps, you walked up to him as your heart beat faster and faster.
His head tilted up when he realized you were coming his way, a bright smile rose on his face.
"Hey, you came," he said as soon as you were closing into his table.
"Yes, why wouldn't I?" You said back, you fought the urge to slap your mouth for saying it.
Seungmin chuckled, he got used to you blurting out whatever was inside your head.
"I was about to text you that I have to go somewhere," he said to you when you were already seated across the table from him.
"Huh? What?" You asked him, just in case you misheard him.
"My friends insisted on going to his party, and he won't stop until I really came," he explained.
You looked down at your lap, at your choice of skirt that took you hours to pick, and said, "oh," again, failing to not sound disappointed.
"I mean, would you come with me?" Seungmin asked again, rephrasing what he was trying to say to you.
"Going to the party with you?" you asked him in disbelief.
He nodded.
It wasn't like you never heard of a party before or had never been in one, but to be seen together with him at a party was a big deal.
"We don't have to go if you don't want to," Seungmin added with a reassuring smile.
But of course, you didn't want to disappoint him, maybe it was a party of a friend that is not from the campus. You braved yourself and nodded, "it's just a party, I say let's go," you said with such coy.
Being in a car with Seungmin and seeing him driving was something you never thought you would ever witness. But here you were, sitting on the passenger's side and stealing a few glances at him as he drove with his eyes focused on the road ahead.
You let yourself look at him for a while and saw that he is wearing a blue sky shirt underneath his varsity jacket with his hair is neatly styled and parted in the middle. Your eyes lowered to where his hands gripped the steering wheel that made the veins on his hands prominent.
You looked away when he was about to look your way, you were glad he was playing music, or else, he would hear the noises you made when he was about to catch you looking at him.
Forget about staying invisible at the party, everyone recognized you the moment you got out of Seungmin’s car and got so self-conscious, you thought of fleeing the scene and start running back home.
"We don't have to stay long," Seungmin said, he sensed that you were nervous being there with him, " I'll just say hi, and we can be on our way," he added.
His words didn't quite calm you down, but something about the way he inserted the word we as if it was something as natural. We and that we mean, you and him.
You shot a thin smile at him, "I'm alright, just take your time," you convinced.
Seungmin didn't bother to introduce you to anyone since you were already well acquainted with everyone, which is a perk from having a popular friend. You ignored the curious eyes on you and went on your way, but you decided that maybe Seungmin wouldn't like having you following him around like a puppy so you let him socialize with his peers that are mostly his baseball teammates.
But when you were about to leave his side, he grabbed you by your wrist, "I want you to meet my friends," he said to you.
You blinked a few times at him, not sure if you heard him right.
Seungmin introduced you to his friends, and you shook hands with each one of them, they didn't look as bitter as you think they would, they looked alright and welcoming instead.
"Let me get you a drink," one of his friends offered.
You kindly refused him, you knew the drink was spiked with alcohol, and you are not good at drinking.
When his friend handed you a drink, someone nudged your back and sent you tripped forward, the drink sloshing all over your white blouse.
Your mouth hung open, looked down at your blouse with a red stain on it and reeked of alcohol.
"I am so sorry," his friend quickly apologized.
You slightly shook your head at him, "it's fine, I'll excuse myself to the bathroom," you said to him and quickly made your way out of sight, out of Seungmin’s sight especially.
"It's the second door on the left," he shouted the direction to you then broke into a run.
You locked the bathroom door and hoped no one would come banging on it since you would be likely staying in there for a long time, at least until you washed off the stain on your blouse. And that too, only if you succeeded washing it off.
When you saw your reflection in the mirror, you got hopeless. The night had just started yet you were already a mess, and there was no way you could get rid of the stain on your blouse, you almost broke down crying when you heard a knock on the door, “A moment, please!” you shouted to whoever behind the door.
“It’s me,”
You recognized Seungmin’s voice right away, you reluctantly opened the door, just slightly ajar, and peeked out, “Hey, I’ll be out in a moment,” you immediately told him.
He didn’t say anything but handed you his jacket through the door, “Here, use my jacket,” he told you.
You took it from him.
“I’ll wait for you here,” he said again.
You nodded, “Okay,” then closed the door.
You stared at the varsity jacket that he always wears, draped around your hand, and hesitated to wear this saintly piece of clothing.
You reminded yourself that you have no choice but to wear it, and since there was no way for you to salvage the blouse, you threw it into the trash bin. You washed your hands, wiped the sticky juice with a wet cloth then put on Seungmin’s jacket next. It was too big that you pulled the sleeves up to not let your whole arms hands engulfed by it and buttoned the jacket since you were wearing nothing but your plain white bra underneath.
You fixed your hair and fixed your make-up, it was the least you could do to look presentable. You gained your composure back and opened the door, found Seungmin leaning against the wall waiting for you.
You smiled awkwardly at him, not feeling confident in his jacket and definitely not looking as good as him in it.
Just like he could see right through your mind, he said, “It looks good on you!”
“Thanks,” you shyly muttered to him.
“Shall we go now and continue our date?” he asked.
Your heart flipped at the word date, so Kim was right, it was a date after all. You nodded at him and began following him as he parted the sea of people filling in the place, your feet were on the floor, but you felt like you were floating.
“I’m sorry that we can’t have proper dinner meals,” he said to you as the both of you sat on the cap of the car with burgers and fries you bought from the drive-thru, looking out at the city view from the top of the parking building.
You smiled at him, “it’s more than alright! I love burgers!” you said to him with such enthusiasm.
Seungmin bit into his burger, “I’m sorry about your blouse,”
You swallowed the food in your mouth, “No worries. It’s just a blouse!”
When both of you were done with the food, you stared out at the view and enjoyed the pleasant night, despite the cold air kept blowing in your way, you were glad you were wearing his jacket.
“Kim said you were a quiet kid in kindergarten,” you told him.
“I still am,” he responded with a low chuckle.
“I’m not sure about that, you are a different kind of quiet,” you said, you shoved your hands into the pockets of the jacket.
“Yeah?” he asked, “What kind of quiet?”
You hummed, “The kind of quiet that is not because you don’t have anything to say, it’s actually the opposite, you have so many things to say but decide to only say things that people could perceive,”
Seungmin got quiet because he felt like you just saw through him.
You turned your head at him, “It’s okay to talk your thoughts out, you know, who knows you might find someone that understands you,” you finished with a smile.
Seungmin intently looked into your eyes and smiled, “I think I already did,” he said.
He was slowly leaning in at you when raindrops suddenly came pouring down on you, your hands covering your head, while Seungmin grabbed your hand and took you back into the car.
He opened the backseat door, and you hurried into the car so he could get in after you, you wiped the drops of water on his jacket with your hands and from your face, afraid that it ruined your make-up.
"I didn't know that it will rain today," he said as soon as closed the car door.
"I think it's the spring rain," you crooned and hugged yourself.
When it got quiet, the limited space of the car got a lot smaller by the second and none of you wanted to break it.
Seungmin cleared his throat and broke the heightened tension, "You know, Kim and I, we're just friends," he uttered out of the blue.
You already knew that he would say something about it at one point in the evening but didn't know he would choose this moment, were you both in the car and surrounded by the pattering of the rain.
"Yeah, I know," you told him, you shoved your hands into the jacket pockets, mostly to avoid the urge to touch him since his knee is only inches away from yours.
Seungmin got quiet again and shifted on his seat, "but you did think that I like Kim?"
You stifled a nod, "I got so used to being Kim's wingman," you joked.
Seungmin scooted closer to you on the seat, "Can I tell you something?" He asked.
You turned your head at him, "yes,"
"I like you," he said with eyes unwavering, looking deep into yours, "I like you a lot," he emphasized the last word to let you know how much feeling he has for you.
You smiled at him despite the burning feeling of blurting out how you felt about him to the tiniest details, but for now, you settled with, "I like you too," you said back, "a lot,"
A smile rose on his face, ever so softly, so gently as the sun rises. He leaned in so close, and you closed your eyes, soon after, you felt the plush of his lips on you.
Your heart palpitation and hands balled into fists inside the jacket pockets when he put his hand on your jaw. He opened his mouth and captured your lips between his, brushing his lips over yours like he was savoring a cone of ice cream.
He used his tongue to pry open your mouth until you gave in yourself, opening your mouth to him with a delightful sigh.
He didn't waste any time to taste you, invading your mouth with his tongue and twirling it with yours.
The kiss was slippery and hot, his fingers wrapped around the side of your jaw while his thumb steadily pulled your mouth down to keep it open.
You reclined on the seat and let him deepen the kiss, finally braved yourself to get your hands out of your pocket and tangled them in the soft of his hair.
The sounds of the rain hitting the roof of the car drowned out the smooching sound of your kisses and the occasional sighs you let out against his lips.
He pulled away slowly, swiped his thumb over your swollen, red lips, glistening wet with a mix of his saliva and yours.
His hand traced down your neck and stopped at the base of your throat, to where the top button of your jacket rested.
You gave him a nod of permission, and he acknowledged it, he began working to open it one by one. His eyes followed to where his hand worked while you were watching his face with his mouth slightly open.
Seungmin swallowed once he was done unbuttoning your jacket, he sighed when he put his hand underneath and slowly revealed your skin inch by inch, parting the jacket open and sliding it off one shoulder.
He whimpered as his fingers trailed your collarbone and the skin under your bra strap, "you're so soft," he softly muttered.
You bit your lower lip to fight the urge to kiss him and failed, you pulled him by the collar of his shirt then crashed your lips on his.
While your lips were connected in a long, passionate kiss, Seungmin ran his hand down your chest then gripped your waist to hoist you up onto his lap.
You gasped when your mouths unattached and straddled him with your legs on each side of his, your face hovered only inches away from each other. He reclined on the seat, with his head tilted up at you. You looked into his eyes, clouded with lust and intensely staring at you.
He placed his hands on your waist, and you shuddered when his hands moved to the small of your back, roaming on the skin, and you could feel the roughness of his fingerpads.
He withdrew one hand and reached up to cup your cheek, "you're so beautiful," he said to you, swiping his thumb over your lower lip.
You smiled at his praise, shyly looked down at his chest, that even with his clothes still on, you could feel the firm of his muscles under your touch. You put your hands on his shoulders and traced the broad of his shoulders, your breath quickened since it was something you badly wanted to do.
Seungmin slowly pulled you by your chin to plant a soft kiss on your lips, a kiss that escalated things where both of your bodies pressed close together.
Your hands were in his hair while his hands were all over your body, he dragged his lips down to your neck and began kissing the thin, sensitive skin making you softly moan into his hair.
He slid the jacket down your shoulder, slipping his finger under the strap of your bra then placed a tender kiss on your collarbone.
You put your hands around his neck as he made a trail of kisses across your chest, tilting your head up and pressing your lips together to muffle your moans.
The rain has turned into a drizzle, but the window started to fog, the space inside the car shrunken by the seconds, and all you did was pull him closer and closer until there was no gap left between your bodies.
Seungmin sank his mouth on the skin between your breasts with his hands wrapped you tightly in his embrace.
When he looked up at you, you smiled at him then gave his lips a quick peck.
Seungmin lifted his head to capture your lips into a kiss again, and you softly laughed against his lips.
For a moment, you were so caught in the moment you didn't realize your phone was ringing, and you tried to ignore it, but it kept on ringing.
You winced, "I'm really sorry," you said to him, then got off of his to get your phone from inside your purse on the front seat, you quickly punched the accept call button.
"How was it? How was the date? Where did he take you?" Kim shot you questions the second you picked up the phone, you glanced at Seungmin in unease, afraid he could hear her through the phone.
"Kim, I'll call you later," you quickly replied.
"What? Why? Don't tell me you're making out right now? Holy sh-"
You abruptly ended the call and put your phone back in the car, you sat back next to him again in the backseat.
It was so quiet and dark in the car, beads of water rolling down the car window.
Seungmin took your hand in his and held it, "I'm sorry that I couldn't take you on a proper date," he said to you.
You turned your head at him, "I like it. I like the elements of surprise," you playfully commented.
"I'm glad," he said with a low laugh.
Even in the dim light, you could see his eyes crinkled as he looked at you.
"Ready to go home?" He asked.
Deep down, you just wanted to stay with him a little longer or if you could, spend as much time with him as possible yet you nodded at him, "yes," you answered.
Seungmin reached for your jacket and pulled it close, you began buttoning them yourself. Seungmin helped you fix your hair by putting strands of hair behind your ears, "you're so beautiful," he murmured, it felt nice to hear the praise again, and you could tell that it was sincere.
When you were about to say something but his lips were already got ahead of you, kissing you briefly to leave a taste of his lips before letting it go with a sweet smile.
Arrived in front of your apartment building, Seungmin parked his car in the parking lot. He immediately got out of the car to open your car door, and it took you by surprise that something like this happen to you.
Seungmin walked you to the entrance of the building but did not get in.
You turned around to face him, "thank you for today," you said to him.
He grabbed your hand and clasped it with his, "no, thank you for not running away from the date," he joked.
You laughed, "I had a great time,"
"Me too," he said back, squeezing your hand then rubbing the skin on the back of your hand with his thumb.
"Your jacket," you jolted when you remembered you were still wearing his jacket, "if you don't mind waiting, I'll change my clothes and give it to you,"
He shook his head, "you can give it back to me tomorrow,"
"Okay," you responded.
You didn't know how long you stood there facing each other, looking at each other’s eyes, and was not quite ready to part for the day.
"I should go," he said, but his feet nailed to the ground.
"Okay,"
"Okay," he said back.
You giggled at how adorable he looked, you initiated first, stood on your tiptoe, and kissed him on the mouth.
"Goodnight!" you said to him and slowly let go of his hands.
Seungmin shyly smiled then said, "Goodnight!"
You waved your hands at him before starting climbing the stairs to get to your studio, and once again felt like you were walking on clouds.
We have to talk!
Seungmin said in his text.
You knew that nothing good ever comes out of those words, and it was the first text Seungmin sent to you that day. You got fidgety in your seat during the first class, couldn't focus on whatever the lecturer was saying at the front of the class.
Is there something wrong?
You typed a reply with your phone under the desk.
Meet me in the library after class
The class will end in fifteen minutes, and your feet bounce in anxiety under the table, counting down the seconds that lead to it. All kinds of thoughts rushed through your head, and none of them helped to calm you down. Because all you think about was if Seungmin has a second thought about dating you. When the class ended, you still couldn’t decide whether you should be excited or scared.
Summary: Jeongin becomes a dad to your daughter and the guys find out and give him a hard time about it jokingly
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1.1k
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There’s applesauce in the fridge at the Stray Kids dorm, wedged between protein shakes and something that might’ve once been kimchi, sits a bright yellow squeeze pouch with a cartoon giraffe on it.
No one in that apartment eats applesauce and if they do it certainly isn’t in a pouch.
“Why is there baby food in here?” Changbin asks, holding it up like it’s a crime scene exhibit.
Jeongin freezes mid-step. “It’s… mine,” he says.
Hyunjin blinks. “You snack on puree?”
Jeongin shrugs. “Texture thing.”
That would’ve been the end of it if it weren’t for the other clues. The soft humming in the shower that sounds suspiciously like a lullaby. The way he slips out on Sunday mornings dressed way too nicely for a “coffee run.” The random sticker on his phone case. A tiny dinosaur. Glittery.
Then there’s the photo. Felix isn’t snooping. He swears he isn’t. Jeongin just leaves his phone face-up on the couch and a notification pops up with a lock screen preview.
A toddler with chubby cheeks and yogurt on her chin, holding up two fingers like she’s inventing peace signs.
Can you pick up more bananas on your way? She only eats them if you slice them.
He walks back in and sees seven faces staring at him like he’s just confessed to tax fraud.
“It’s not what you think.”
“Is that your child?” Seungmin asks, way too calm.
“No!” Jeongin’s ears turn red instantly. “She’s not mine.”
“Then why are you buying giraffe applesauce?” Han presses.
Jeongin hesitates.
You told him this would happen.Not the interrogation. Not the dramatic courtroom energy in his living room. But the whispers. The questions.
You’re a single mom. Your daughter just turned two. You’ve done the whole sleepless-night, fever-at-3am, singing-the-same-song-forty-times marathon mostly alone.
Then he happened. Yang Jeongin. I.N. The one who once, very loudly, on a live stream, declared he didn’t want kids because they were “too sticky.”
You’d laughed when you saw the clip. Sent it to him with a simple: Sticky, huh?
He’d shown up that night with wipes in his pocket. Just in case.
The first time he met your daughter, he was stiff. Polite. Careful like she might shatter. She stared at him for a full thirty seconds, then shoved a plush bunny into his chest and said, “Hold.”
And he did.
Now he ties her shoes. Crooked, but tight enough. He knows which cartoon she refuses to skip the intro for. He carries her on his hip like he’s been doing it his whole life, one hand automatically supporting her back.
He doesn’t even think about it anymore.
That’s what scares you.
“They think she’s yours,” you tell him one night, sitting on your couch while your daughter naps against his chest.
He looks horrified. “I told them she’s not.”
“But you didn’t deny being there every weekend.”
He opens his mouth. Closes it.Because last weekend he built a pillow fort and stayed inside it for an hour while your daughter declared him “Sir Dragon.” Because he learned how to buckle her car seat. Because he let her fall asleep drooling on his shoulder without moving even when his arm went numb.
“They’re joking about it,” you add, quieter now. “About how you were the most against having kids.”
“I was,” he admits.
Your stomach tightens.
“I didn’t want kids,” he continues, staring down at the tiny hand fisted in his hoodie. “I thought it would trap me. Or I’d mess it up. Or I wouldn’t get to be selfish anymore.”
You nod slowly. That makes sense. It’s honest.
“And now?” you ask.
He exhales.
“She’s not trapping me.” His voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it. “You’re not either. If anything, I feel… more steady. Like I know what I’m going home to.”
Home. He says it so casually. Like it’s obvious.
“But what if one day you wake up and remember you didn’t want this?” you ask before you can stop yourself. “The whole package.”
The room feels fragile. Like one wrong word could crack it in half.
Jeongin shifts, carefully laying your daughter down on the couch. She grumbles but doesn’t wake.
Then he kneels in front of you. “I didn’t want kids,” he says again. “I didn’t want random, hypothetical kids in some far-off future where I’m overwhelmed and not ready.”
He reaches for your hand.
“But her? You? This isn’t hypothetical. This is you two. And I choose you. Not because I have to. Not because I’m pretending to be anything.” He gives a small, shaky smile. “I’m good at it because I want to be.”
You search his face for doubt. For fear. There’s some fear. Of course there is. He’s twenty-something and in a chaotic idol group and dating a woman with a toddler who thinks he’s a dragon knight. But there’s no hesitation.
Back at the dorm, the teasing doesn’t stop.
“So when are we meeting our niece?” Felix grins.
“She’s not your niece,” Jeongin insists.
“Then stop carrying diapers in your backpack,” Seungmin replies dryly.
They corner him one night after practice.
“You know,” Changbin says, softer now, “you don’t have to hide it from us.”
“I’m not hiding,” Jeongin mutters.
“You’re playing dad better than some actual dads,” Hyunjin adds.
That one makes him pause b ecause it’s true.
He knows how to distract her during tantrums. He knows the exact tone to use when she’s about to test boundaries. He’s memorized the bedtime routine. He even cut up strawberries into perfect tiny hearts once and didn’t tell anyone.
He groans, covering his face. “She’s not mine.”
“Does it matter?” Han asks gently.
A week later, the members finally meet you.
They expect chaos. Awkwardness. Maybe a secret baby reveal.
Instead, your daughter walks straight up to Jeongin, tugs on his pant leg, and demands, “Up.”
He lifts her automatically. Just instinct. The room goes quiet.
Changbin leans toward Felix and whispers, “That’s his kid.”
Jeongin glares. “She’s not.”
Your daughter pats his cheek. “Innie.”
He melts. Completely. Pathetically. Irreversibly. And when she falls asleep against his chest thirty minutes later, drool and all, the members stop joking. Because whatever the biology says, whatever he claimed in the past, whatever fears used to sit in his chest, he looks like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.
summary ; Yang Jeongin has to go back to braces again. He can't help but feel insecure again, thinking that you might look at him and think he looks just like he thinks, childish. So, when he tries to distance himself, you can't help but force himself to remember how hot you think he is, braces or not.
word count ; 2.01k+ words
ss count ; 5 pictures
tags ; braces!jeongin, established relationship, fluff, small angst (barely any), hurt/comfort i suppose, face kisses, making out, hickeys, slightly suggestive, implied sex, skz is lowkey scared of i.n's girlfriend, no use of y/n or (name)
mieu's note ; braces jeongin u will always be in my heart ugh, god i just drank two bottles of soju and gin each, blacked out and wrote this. hope it still makes sense. enjoy ~ !
Ever since his company had forced him to go back to being with braces since his teeth shifted again ('Curse you, JYP' he still says in his head whenever he remembers), Jeongin had noticeably distanced himself from you, his adorable girlfriend.
Don't get him wrong, it's not because of you— never because of you. It wasn't because you did anything, but it was due to the fact that he felt insecure.
His 25 year old self going back to having metal geared onto his teeth made him really feel like he was the 17 year old maknae again, the one who freshly debuted, barely graduated—how he even qualified to graduate, he isn't sure himself—and knew how to whistle scream.
He felt like a kid again. Young. it was kinda funny, he was still in his early 20's for fuck's sake. . . but his sharp jaw and fox-like gaze had finally grown and matured, making him feel more like an adult.
But now? With the tacky colored metal squares glued onto his teeth? Yeah, he thinks he just looks downright silly. Childish, even.
And he thinks you think that too. That he looks younger than he should be to be in a relationship with you.
So, he distances himself.
You were perfectly fine with not seeing your boyfriend everyday.
With his chosen career, being a prolific idol while still having an off-day where you both have all the time in the world felt like an occurence that happens once every blue moon, so you were pretty used to just short updates with him.
Quick calls on the phone about each other's day before Jeongin is needed for practice, or messages randomly sent by him, photos of him, or just a simple 'i miss u :('
But this time? this was different. you could feel it.
Feel it in the way that the already seldom messages he'd sent were even more rare, and even more clipped. No more photos of his face. Just plain 'ily too <3'. Sweet, yeah. but still, suspicious.
The calls you both would share just as long as before. But you know your boyfriend, you know all his tics and habits, and his cheery voice was subtly shielding some sort of sulkiness to it.
You'd tried asking him about it, vaguely pushing and prodding through calm questions.
"Jagiya, did something happen today?" you asked during one of his calls, a short phone call during his practice breaks.
"I— well, no. Not really, baby." he bumbled over his words, a small bout of hesitation in between his sentences.
"You sure, you sound a little. . . different, I guess."
"Oh, that’s— ahem, that's nothing. I'm just a little congested today, so. . . yeah."
"Mhm?" you hum, noncommital.
"Yep."
You were normally extremely patient with him, whenever a small argument happens or a tiny problem occurs you just explain your way in a calm tone.
But after watching the recent fancams of him during his group's performance of their latest album, you couldn't help but push yourself to do something after seeing it. Because when the dance was over and he could stop smiling?
His grinning face slowly dropped, his gaze to the floor. Reserved. Muted. Like his mind was hung up on something he didn’t know how to shut out.
So, you do something Jeongin had never expected you—his sweet and egregiously patient girlfriend—to do.
“I— hey. . .?” Chan’s voice is a mix of confusion and familiarity as he opened the dorm’s entrance, seeing his maknae’s girlfriend.
“Innie didn’t say you were coming for dinner,” his brows a little furrowed, but he let you in, the door closing shut.
Without wasting any time, you turn to him, ordering, “Listen, I really don’t want you guys to get caught in the crossfire right now, so I think you guys should go to any of the other dorms.”
Your face showed nothing but sincerity, but Chan could tell that your thinly veiled politeness was on the breaking point.
He didn’t know what Jeongin did to make you irritated like that; you’re normally quite reserved when it came to him, their precious fox-like member. So, without nothing but a no, he walks in to the living room faster than you do.
You hear the other members’ voice, Hyunjin calling out, “Hey! C’mon hyung, the dinner’s getting cold.”
“Yeah, let’s eat hyung, I don’t wanna eat cold chickennn. . .” someone whines. You could tell it was Han. You’d chuckle if you weren’t so hellbent on your mission.
“Guys, we need to go.” Chan’s voice is a little hurried, panicked even.
A cacophony of ‘what’ and ‘why’ had filled the room, until you walk into view, your arms crossed and observing each and every member until you find the one you're looking for.
“Oh,” Minho calls your name in slight surprise, “you’re here!”
You don’t respond, finally locking eyes with the man you were looking for, his gaze wide-eyed, unaware of what was to come.
“Yang Jeong-In.”
The easygoing vibe that had permeated throughout the dorm had been cut short. Your short, no-bullshit call of his name had made everyone's actions pause, wide-eyed.
Most of them were unsure of what to do, action's paused, but the latter?
"Y'know what I think we should just eat in me and Jisung's dorm—"
"Yeah, that's a great plan, hyung—"
"I'll get the plates, that seems like a splendid idea—"
They were scattered, utensils clattering as they tried their best to scurry off with most of the food, leaving their dear maknae in the dust, giving only a mere pat on the back and a 'good luck' before they nod to you, closing the dorm's door.
He was scared stiff, to say the least.
Jeongin was sat up straight, his eyes following you as you walk up to him, arms crossed as he tried his best to act cool.
"H-hey, baby. . ." his words were let out with a slight tremble, his hands hesitantly placed on your waist, unsure if it was the right thing to sweet-talk with you.
It was not.
"Why are you avoiding me?" you prodded, unphased by his sugar-talking.
"What?" his brows furrowed, "I'm— i'm not doing anything,"
"Stop lying to me, Jeongin." your neutral voice, plus with your compliance with using his government name instead of what you usually call him had his head sulking down, pulling you into him.
He sighed deeply, his breath shaky.
As much as you wanted to act more stonehearted, your hard exterior can't help but crumble when he pulled you closer. Kneeling down to be eye-level with him, your voice went soft.
"Innie," you coo, your hands coming to cup his face, directing it to meet yours. His eyes refused to meet eye-contact with you, his demeanor almost. . . embarrassed?
"I can't keep being in a relationship with you if you can't communicate with me properly what I did wrong. . ." you explain, his aura shifting into desperation, meeting your gaze with shock and plea.
"No!" he weakly calls, his hands coming to cup yours as you kept holding his face. His panic had rose when you mentioned that you didn't want to be in a relationship with him.
"Please don't leave. Jagiya. . ." he whined, his face leaning into one of your palms, eyes shut as he basked in the warmth of your hand.
"Then tell me what I did, dummy."
"It's. . . It's not you, per se, but. . . it's me." he mumbled into your hand, loud enough for you to hear it.
You look at him deadpan, eyebrow raised that told him 'are you being fucking for real right now?'
"Are you really pulling that shit with me right now, Yang Jeongin?"
"I swear! I- I swear it's true. . ." He gripped your hands a bit tighter, "It's just. . . I don't like me."
"You don't like. . . you?"
"The braces. I don't like the braces. It. . . God, it makes me look so. . . so weird. Like, I'm 25 for fuck's sake," he explained, exasperated as he looked up and tried to find the right words.
Your body went a little slack as he continued, your heart going soft.
"I thought you'd find me, weird. I mean, the other's do! They've been babying me even more ever since I got them back on," he scoffed, "And. . . and I didn't want you to think that I was this- this kid, I just," he sighed, pulling you close to lean his head on your chest.
"I didn't want you to see me like this. I thought you'd leave."
You could hear his small sniffles. Your smile grew as you finally understood the situation.
Your hands were free from his limp grasp, raising them to scratch his back, and play with the nape of his hair, running your fingers through the locks as you let him breathe you in.
"Y'know, for someone who's not in Paboracha, you seem like you'd be a perfect member, jagiya."
"Hey!" he lifted his head in annoyance, meeting your eyes.
"What? It's true." you chuckled. You cup his face, thumb brushing his lips down slightly to show to yourself the shiny metal geared into his mouth. "Do you really think I'd leave you for this?"
He didn't reply, ashamed that he thought so.
You leaned into his face, kissing slowly around his lips, then his eyes, then his cheeks. Not rushed, but firm enough to leave a warmth in its wake.
You pulled away to see your boyfriend's irritated face, pouting his lips to show you where he wanted to be kissed the most.
So, you did.
Soft, tentative pecks had been placed on his lips by yours, before you deepened the last one, hard enough for him to grab onto your waist to steady himself.
"Yang Jeong-In. Whether you like it or not, you're stuck with me, no matter what you do to your stupid face." you kiss him one more time.
"But I thought you liked kissing my stupid face." he retorts.
"Oh, I'd like to do more than just kiss it, baby. . ."
The kisses shared between you and him had turned more sensual as they continued, your legs caging his as you straddle him, his hands wandering your body as yours ruffled through his hair.
"Mmm," he hummed into the kiss when you had adjusted yourself on his lap.
You'd merely changed your seating position, yet he jolted a little from the friction.
His hands grip had settled on your waist, gripping a little firmer as he pulled away.
"Jagiya, it feels. . . weird," he vaguely states.
"What feels weird, baby?" you ask innocently, quickly understanding what he meant, but you'd rather he spit it out.
You grind down on his lap again, finding the seam of his sweatpants growing under you.
He let out a slight hiss from the friction again, before letting out a shaky, "That. It makes me want to. . ."
You didn't need him to finish his words, merely burying yourself in the crook of his porcelain neck, starting to suck and bite.
"Hah! I— jagiya, wait a sec. . ." with every suck and nibble that you leave on his neck, a desperate whimper dies in his throat.
What makes it even worse is that kept grinding on him, the tent in his pants noticeably larger.
"Innie-ah, do you maybe wanna. . ." you whisper in his ear, saccharine and full of need.
"I— Now? We're on the couch!" he pulls you away from his neck, making you face his flushed face.
"No?" you sulk, your expression pouty as you wrapped your arms our his shoulders.
"Jagi, someone could come in," he reasoned, but your whiny demeanor didn't fall.
You knew he would fold.
He sighed deeply. You smiled, already knowing his answer.
"I. . . just once, if we do it quickly."
Safe to say that what happened after was not just once, and it definitely was not done quickly.
BONUS ENDING ;
so. . . yeah im surprised i was even aware enough while i was drinking to write this lol, anyway braces jeongin pls come back the kids miss u—
Summary: You surprise your boyfriend Hyunjin by getting him a ferret.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 2.7k
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You’re scrolling on your phone late at night, half sprawled across Hyunjin’s chest while he plays some drama on the TV and pretends he isn’t falling asleep. A Jiniret plush is tucked under his arm like a little pillow, faced toward the screen.
You’re only half paying attention until a video pops up.
A ferret in a little hoodie, trying to squeeze itself into a shoe.
You snort.
Hyunjin hums. “What?”
You tilt your screen so he can see. “Look.”
His eyes focus. He blinks once, twice.
Then he melts.
He grabs the phone with both hands, drags it closer like a grandma who just discovered Zoom. There’s suddenly warmth in his voice that wasn’t there two seconds ago.
“Oh my God,” he whispers. “Look at it. Look at its little face.”
You laugh. “It looks like Jiniret after taxes.”
He shoves your shoulder lightly, still transfixed. “Don’t say that, he’ll get stressed.”
You watch him watch the ferret. The soft curve of his mouth. The way his eyes go all crinkly and loyal.
A dangerous thought pops into your head.
What if.
You don’t say it out loud. You just tuck it away with all the other little secret plans you’ve slowly started making since you moved in together.
He replays the video three times before finally giving your phone back.
“I want one,” he says, simple and sincere.
You raise a brow. “What?”
He gives you a flat look. “A ferret.”
You smile and pinch his cheek gently. “Of course you do.”
He cuddles Jiniret a little closer. “He needs a friend.”
You roll your eyes, but the seed is planted.
A few weeks later, you’re standing in a small, warm-smelling pet store with your heart racing for absolutely no reason.
The staff member is talking you through everything again, even though you already read three articles and watched way too many videos.
“They’re very social,” she says, smiling. “He’ll need out-of-cage playtime every day. Supervised, of course. They get into everything.”
“I’ve been warned,” you say, staring into the little enclosure.
The ferret inside is cream and brown and chaos. He’s digging in the corner of his bedding, then stopping to stare back up at you. His eyes are bright and curious. His nose twitches.
You’re in trouble already.
You crouch down. “Hey,” you whisper. “Are you gonna ruin my life in a cute way?”
He presses his paws to the glass.
You sigh. “That’s a yes.”
You sign the paperwork. You get the cage, the food, the toys, the litter, the tiny harness, the tunnels. You get more than you need, because you know Hyunjin, and if you’re going to surprise him with a ferret, it has to be done properly.
It’s surprisingly funny carrying an impatient ferret home in a little carrier. He keeps scratching around, snuffling like he’s already planning where to hide your socks.
You rush around the apartment like you’re in a timed game. Cage in the corner of the living room. Bedding. Food bowl. Water bottle. A hammock you absolutely did not need but couldn’t say no to. You set it all up right under the shelf where Hyunjin keeps his SKZOO plushes, Jiniret front and center.
You check the time. He’ll be home from practice soon.
Your heart flips.
You put the ferret carefully into his new home. He scurries around, sniffing everything, body bending like a noodle. You watch him for a second, then tuck your fists under your chin and smile.
“Okay,” you murmur. “Let’s hope your dad doesn’t scream.”
“Jagi, I’m home,” Hyunjin calls, voice tired but light, keys jangling as he steps inside.
You quickly sit on the couch like a very suspicious statue.
“In here,” you answer, trying to sound normal.
He walks in, hair damp from a quick shower at the studio, bag over his shoulder. He looks exhausted and beautiful and a little confused at your posture.
“Why are you sitting like that?” he asks, cautious. “What did you break?”
“Nothing,” you say quickly.
He narrows his eyes. “What did you buy?”
“Nothing expensive.”
He groans. “That’s a yes.”
You bite your lip, trying not to grin. “Okay, close your eyes.”
He stares at you. “We’ve talked about this. Every time I close my eyes, something chaotic happens.”
“Hyunjin,” you say, soft but firm. “Trust me.”
That gets him.
He sighs dramatically and closes his eyes, one hand over them for extra insurance.
You stand, heart pounding, and gently take his free hand.
“Come on,” you say. “No peeking.”
“If it’s a snake, I’m leaving the country.”
“It’s not a snake,” you laugh, tugging him toward the corner.
You position him just right, then let go of his hand.
“Okay,” you say. “You can look.”
He drops his hand slowly.
His gaze lands on the cage.
On the ferret.
And his brain visibly short-circuits.
There’s about half a second of total silence.
Then he makes a noise you’ve never heard from a human being.
It’s half gasp, half squeal, half dying animal.
He claps both hands over his mouth, eyes huge. “No,” he whispers through his fingers.
You swallow a nervous laugh. “Surprise?”
He whips around to look at you, eyes glassy. “No. You didn’t.”
You start to panic. “If you hate it, we can..”
“I love it,” he says immediately, voice cracking. “I love it so much I think I’m going to faint.”
Relief floods you so hard your knees feel weak. You laugh and shove his shoulder gently. “You scared me.”
He’s already kneeling in front of the cage, face pressed close to the bars.
The ferret stops chewing on the rope toy and trots over, sniffing this new giant with long hair and shiny earrings.
“Look at him,” Hyunjin breathes. “He’s real. He’s a real ferret.”
You sit down beside him. “He is.”
Hyunjin turns, eyes wide and shining. “He’s ours?”
“Yeah,” you say, heart soft. “He’s ours.”
Hyunjin turns back to the cage like you just told him he won the lottery.
“What’s his name?” he asks.
You hesitate. “I thought you’d want to name him.”
He goes very quiet, very serious.
He looks up at Jiniret on the shelf, then back down at the ferret.
“Jiniret Junior,” he says, nodding like it’s obvious.
You choke. “No.”
“Yes,” he insists. “Or Jiniret Two.”
“We’re not calling him Two.”
Hyunjin tilts his head. “Jiniret… Real Edition.”
You laugh. “That’s worse.”
The ferret sneezes like he’s weighed in on the matter.
Hyunjin gasps. “He spoke.”
You reach through the cage and gently scratch the ferret’s head. He leans into it, curious and unbothered.
“What about Gguri?” you suggest.
Hyunjin’s mouth curves. “Gguri,” he repeats. “I like it.”
He carefully opens the cage, movements slow, respectful. He looks at you for permission even though it’s obviously his pet now too.
You nod. “He’s social. Just support his body.”
He gently scoops the ferret up. For a second Gguri squirms, then settles against Hyunjin’s chest like it’s the most natural place on earth.
Hyunjin’s face softens in a way that makes something in your chest ache.
“Hi,” he whispers. “I’m your dad.”
You snort. “I thought Jiniret was your son.”
“He’s my son too,” Hyunjin says, scandalized. “We’re a big family.”
Taking care of a ferret with Hyunjin quickly becomes the cutest chaos you’ve ever experienced.
You spend the first few days ferret-proofing the apartment.
“No more leaving wires out,” you say, taping cords up and tucking them behind shelves. “He’ll chew them.”
Hyunjin is on his knees with his head under the coffee table. “He can’t go under here, right?”
Gguri immediately proves him wrong by disappearing under the couch and reappearing from the other side with a triumphant little hop.
Hyunjin gasps. “He teleported.”
“You’re going to be worse than him,” you mutter, but you’re smiling.
You both learn the sounds.
The happy digging in the litter box. The frantic scratching when he wants out. The little chitter when he’s excited, especially when Hyunjin gets on the floor and crawls after him, letting Gguri run over his arms and shoulders like a living jungle gym.
One night you walk into the living room and freeze.
Hyunjin is lying flat on his back on the rug, Jiniret plush on his chest, and Gguri curled up right beside it, half on his shoulder.
Hyunjin is holding his phone above them, trying to take a picture.
“What are you doing?” you ask, even though the answer is obvious.
He startles, clutching both ferrets instinctively.
“Shh,” he whispers. “Don’t move. It’s a family photo.”
You tiptoe closer and peer at the screen.
The picture is ridiculous. Hyunjin’s hair is a mess, his eyes are soft, and the real ferret and the plush ferret are side by side like a before and after meme.
You feel something warm flood your chest.
“I love you,” you say without thinking.
He drops the phone on his own face.
“Ow,” he groans, then looks at you, dazed. “What?”
You laugh. “Nothing. Keep posing.”
He narrows his eyes. “You can’t say that and then say ‘nothing.’”
You kneel down and smooth his hair back from his forehead.
“I love seeing you like this,” you say softly. “Happy.”
His expression shifts into something shy and bright all at once.
He reaches over and grabs your wrist, tugging you down so your face is in the frame too.
“Family photo,” he insists. “You have to be in it.”
“Fine,” you laugh, squishing your cheek against his.
Gguri decides he wants to climb onto your head instead.
The photo ends up blurry and chaotic and perfect.
Hyunjin takes his role as ferret dad very seriously.
He sets alarms on his phone for feeding times. He Googles ferret-safe snacks and makes a whole list. He buys a little playpen so Gguri can safely explore while he’s cleaning the cage.
You find him more than once sitting on the floor beside the cage, chin on his arms, watching Gguri sleep in his hammock.
“Are you okay?” you ask.
He nods without looking away. “He’s dreaming.”
“How do you know?”
“His little toes are moving,” he whispers. “What do ferrets dream about?”
You shrug. “Stealing.”
He smiles. “Like me.”
You roll your eyes. “You steal hearts, not keys.”
“That’s cringe,” he mutters, but he’s blushing.
He teaches the members about Gguri too, whether they like it or not.
Felix comes over and sits cross-legged on the floor, eyes sparkling. “He looks like Jiniret.”
Hyunjin nods proudly. “Obviously.”
Changbin keeps his distance at first. “He’s not going to bite me, right?”
You assure him it’s fine. Gguri immediately licks his knuckles.
Changbin melts. “Okay. I love him.”
Han brings a little toy tunnel one day and spends twenty minutes making explosion sounds every time Gguri pops out of one end.
“Look, he’s a torpedo,” Han cackles.
Seungmin acts unimpressed until Gguri falls asleep in the sleeve of his hoodie. Then he just sits there for an hour, terrified to move, expression quietly soft.
Jeongin asks three thousand questions about diet, lifespan, vet visits.
“Are you planning to get one?” you ask.
He shrugs. “I’m gathering data.”
Bang Chan just shakes his head when Hyunjin sends him yet another video.
“Please remember you have human schedules too,” Chan says gently. “You can’t skip practice because your son looks sad.”
Hyunjin clutches his chest. “You don’t understand.”
You send Chan a photo of Hyunjin asleep on the couch with Gguri curled on his stomach and Jiniret tucked under his arm.
Chan sends back, Take care of all three of my children.
It isn’t all cute chaos though.
There’s cleaning. A lot of cleaning.
“Ferrets smell,” you groan one afternoon, wrinkling your nose as you change the bedding.
“They smell like love,” Hyunjin argues, tying his hair back as he helps scoop the litter. “And a little like feet.”
Gguri is offended and jumps into the fresh bedding, digging like he’s searching for buried treasure.
There’s a vet visit too, which nearly gives Hyunjin a heart attack.
He sits in the waiting room with Gguri in the carrier on his lap, bouncing his knee nervously.
“What if he’s scared,” he whispers. “What if he thinks we’re abandoning him?”
“He’s literally sniffing the air like crazy,” you say. “He’s fine.”
When the vet finally appears, Hyunjin answers every question like he’s taking an exam.
“How often are you feeding him?”
“Three times a day,” Hyunjin replies quickly. “And sometimes snacks but only the approved ones, not just anything, we checked, right, jagi?”
You nod obediently. “We checked.”
“Litter habits?” the vet asks.
“Dust-free, cleaned every day, sometimes twice, he likes a clean bathroom,” Hyunjin answers. “He’s just like me.”
You squeeze his hand before he can spiral.
The vet smiles. “He looks very well cared for.”
Hyunjin beams like he just got an award.
On the walk home, he keeps glancing at the carrier.
“You did so well,” he coos. “You’re so brave. You’re smarter than your dad. Don’t tell anyone though.”
You slide your arm through his. “He knows.”
Hyunjin bumps your shoulder with his. “I love him.”
“I noticed,” you say, amused.
He stops walking for a second and looks at you, eyes softer.
“And I love you,” he says quietly. “For… this. For trusting me with something small and alive.”
Your chest tightens.
“You’re really good with things that need gentle,” you say.
He blushes, looking away. “Only when they’re cute.”
“I’m cute?”
“You’re alright,” he mutters, hiding his smile.
One night, weeks later, you’re lying in bed scrolling while Hyunjin is in the bathroom, humming as he does his skincare.
You hear faint scratching.
You look up.
Gguri is at the bedroom door, somehow having escaped the living room playpen, looking very pleased with himself.
“Oh no,” you whisper, already laughing. “Jinnie.”
Hyunjin comes out with a headband on, spotting the ferret instantly.
Gguri runs straight to him, tiny claws skittering on the floor.
Hyunjin scoops him up and holds him at eye level.
“How did you get in here?” he demands. “Explain.”
Gguri yawns in his face.
You snort. “He’s your son.”
Hyunjin sighs dramatically and climbs into bed with the ferret tucked against his chest.
You watch them settle, Jiniret plush on one side, Gguri on the other.
Hyunjin pulls the covers up around all three of them.
“You can’t sleep with him every night,” you tease. “He has a cage.”
“He’s cold,” Hyunjin argues. “He needs the warmth of his father.”
“And what about me?”
“You can have my left arm,” he says generously.
You roll your eyes, but you nestle into his side anyway, head on his shoulder, hand resting over his ribs where you can feel his heartbeat.
Gguri eventually wriggles free and curls up between your stomachs, tiny body warm and trusting.
Hyunjin watches him for a second, then looks at you.
“Are you happy we did this?” he asks quietly.
You meet his gaze.
You see the worry under the joke. The fear that maybe it was too much, too soon, too big of a responsibility. The fear that you’d regret it, that he’d mess it up.
You smile and kiss his jaw.
“Yeah,” you say softly. “I’m really happy.”
His shoulders relax. He turns his head and presses his lips into your hair.
“Me too,” he murmurs. “I feel like… I don’t know. Like we’re our own little weird family.”
You laugh quietly. “You, me, a ferret, and a plushie.”
“The dream,” he says, serious.
You reach for his hand under the blanket and lace your fingers through his.
Gguri sighs in his sleep, little whiskers twitching.
Hyunjin’s thumb strokes over your knuckles, slow and steady.
“Thank you,” he whispers into the dark. “For loving me enough to add someone else for me to love.”
You swallow past the lump in your throat.
“I like seeing you take care of things,” you say. “It makes me feel safe.”
He squeezes your hand gently.
“Good,” he murmurs. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”
You drift off to sleep listening to his breathing, the soft rustle of the ferret, and the quiet hum of a life that feels like yours.
summary: stays always talk about how chan is secretly their oomf on twitter, but they never stop to think that a member’s secret girlfriend could also be their oomf
a/n: okay so @astrayapple inspired me with the concert idea part of this fic after i sent her an ig reel so she is now canon in this universe because as its creator i said so !! this series also lives in my head rent free and the idea was just so delicious so i had to make this part right away and post it right when i finished it for you all! honestly i'm still blown away by all the love for this silly little series i hope you guys enjoy part 3 tysm for reading!! and remember stay delulu
special dt to my wife @etherealyoungk hehe this is for u my no 1 husband gyu enabler and fan overall love you sm for the inspo too <3
w.c : 1.8k | a/n at end.
It was way overdue for your official work hours. But then again during missions that spanned over days, and not just ones that could be finished within the 24 hours, this was normal. Yet today in particular, it felt like you wished the day could be over just so you can finally get some sort of a break.
You weren’t one to complain but it just felt a little more heavier than usual. You stood in front of the elevator, wanting to finally descend down and it seemed like it was taking ages to come up.
Sighing, you checked your watch that was on your left wrist, nothing too grand, just a simple silver Casio. It read ‘9.23’ and you couldn’t help but groan as you looked back up at the elevator sign, showing it was yet on the fifth floor while you stood on the twelfth one.
A few seconds later as you continued to glare at the numbers on the LED plate, you felt a presence beside you. You didn’t even need to know who it was before you already smelt him, his usual sweet yet strong earthy scent that gave away his whole self before you looked.
And of course, he addressed you first.
“Hey-”
“Finally.”
You turned towards him, having a slight frown, “What took you so long?”
Mingyu tried not to smile, doing his thing of clicking his tongue and looking away for a second before he replied while you, knowing your husband’s usual behaviour, continued to glare at him.
“Uh- Seungcheol was giving me a bit of…a brief about the next mission.”
Of course, it had to be Seungcheol with his usual antics, even if he didn’t mean it this time, he still managed to get on your nerves.
“And he couldn’t wait till literally tomorrow morning?”
He couldn’t help but let out a chuckle as he stepped closer to you, still standing beside you, as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him. It caught you off guard as you yelped, and despite being married, his actions like this made you feel like you were back in the stages of getting to know each other. Your face began to warm up as you hit his torso lightly.
“Wha!-What are you doing!”
“A man can’t even hug his partner??”
“You-! We’re still in the office!”
“So??”
The cheeky grin on his face made you feel the familiar warmth you did when you could see his eyes glinting with his usual mischief. The familiarity of it made you feel a bit better.
Then the elevator pinged and you pulled yourself as quick out of his semi embrace and cleared your throat. It did not help, even if you stood a bit further again, when the doors opened to reveal Seungkwan, who was in his own world up until he saw Mingyu and you standing directly in front of him.
Before he could question the teasing look on Mingyu’s face who hadn’t even acknowledged his presence while you looked at Seungkwan and glared harder, as if to say not a word.
And who was he if not obedient, he raised his hands in defence and went about.
Without another word, you entered, Mingyu quietly following.
“Soo what’s going on?”
“Hm?”
As you pressed the basement and stood back beside him, you looked up at him as he spoke,
“There’s something up.”
You knew you weren’t the most joyous person in a room, nor were you someone who vehemently expressed it, most of the time you stood in a neutral mood, to an extent even having been told you have a resting “bitch” face. Yet, it was in your smaller less noticed antics and behaviour that could distinguish when you actually felt upset.
The one person who could fully understand it, if not sometimes better than you did yourself which also appalled you, was your husband. And in that very moment, he just knew it.
You felt a touch on the space between your eyebrows, Mingyu lightly pressing his finger and playfully saying, “Stop thinking so much, your eyebrows are all scrunched up.”
Somehow that worked, as you rolled your eyes and lightly swatted his hand away as he feigned an overdramatic look of hurt, “See you’re being awfully violent.”
“It’s nothing really, just a tiring week. I just…I wanted a break.” You expressed your truer emotions, which you didn’t to everyone of course, it wasn’t like you hated your vulnerability, it’s just you were so used to being guarded up, you sometimes forgot that you were allowed to say it when you felt it and not just brush it away.
Without a word, he slipped his hand into yours, intertwining your hand in his and you accepted the gesture as he squeezed your hand a little tighter.
“Well lucky for us, we’ve got a while now, to ourselves.” His smile was contagious, as your lips briefly moved upwards in a small smile nodding along, quietly murmuring, “Yeah…”
You’d finally reached the basement, going to your car as you decided to leave your hand wrapped in his, not wanting to lose the sense of comfort it gave you.
Mingyu had an idea of what to do next and without seeming too suspicious, you both went about with your routine of going home, him driving a little faster so he could reach home quicker and then finish his whole…idea.
When you reached home, as you opened your apartment, he stopped and turned to you, “Uh so I kinda have something I wanna do, but! I swear I'll be back in a few!”
Of course you felt suspicious, for one he never mentioned it on the way home because he would have and it was already late. “Uhm…alright.” Still, he might have been wanting to get something from somewhere and you didn’t think too much about it before you headed inside alone and got ready to finally drop dead asleep on your bed. But obviously, you’d clean yourself up before that.
As you finished your night time activity, not routine because you sometimes didn’t even have nights at home, you wondered what Mingyu might be doing right now so late, and by the time you got out of your shower, it got even more weird when you found your home still empty.
You picked your phone, seeing the time as ‘10.07’ and decided to call Mingyu before you heard the bell ring. Shaking your head lightly with a small grin, because it was just like him to somehow spawn when you remembered him, you opened the door only to be met with a huge bouquet of flowers in your face.
You identified red tulips, pink and white ones too along with lilies. Your favourite flowers all in one. Mingyu moved the flowers a little to the side, showing his face with his canines peaking out, grinning, “You’ve got a delivery.”
You were in awe. A bit shocked by the thing because even if it was as simple as flowers, it still made your heart flutter in a way that you felt it in your entire being.
“Oh really? Isn’t it a little too late?” You decided to play the part, leaning on the doorframe and crossing your arms, the slow formation of a grin beginning on your face. Despite being awfully exhausted, somehow in a matter of moments, you felt it slowly disappearing into a much more relaxed state.
“Eh, figured, better late than never right?”
“Mm you sure have a way with words huh?”
He laughed at that while you rolled your eyes playfully, stepping aside to let him in. You didn’t even notice he had something hidden in one hand that he’d kept behind himself and only when he stepped in and pulled it in front of you, you recognised the sign of your favourite bakery.
“Oh my God, no way!” Kim Mingyu, somehow, managed to get your favourite desserts from this little bakery in the city that was a place you always visited, countless times by yourself and even with him. You didn’t realise they would be open so late.
You grabbed the bag excitedly as you peaked inside like a kid getting excited over a new gift, and Mingyu found it so delightful to see you as happy even though he knew you’d been having a rough and tiring week, especially since he knew firsthand what it was like to need a break from the job.
You looked up at the flowers and took them from his extended hand, admiring the beautiful colours with a twinkle in your eyes that made Mingyu remember why he loved to do a lot of things in the name of love, just to see the way your adorable face lit up. And of course, he loves you too much and this was just one of the many ways he wanted to show it.
“I’ll put these in a vase, and be right back!” You had a pretty vase, a gift from a close friend in your kitchen, which you grabbed and placed the flowers in as you set the desserts on the table.
Moving back to the living room, Mingyu had just closed and locked the door as he turned around and you quickly wrapped him in a hug, moving your arms around his waist as your head naturally fit on the centre of his chest. He wrapped his arms around your form, a very instinctive thing as he moved his hand slowly up and down your back, in a comforting manner.
“I love you. I know I should say it more, but this was so…this was so lovely. Thank you, and I love you for you.”
Oh gosh, he thinks if grinned even more, his cheeks will probably begin to ache but he didn’t care at this rate, if it meant having hurt cheeks from your loving words, then so be it.
“And I love you too, always. Plus there is more left. To this whole surprise.”
“Oh yeah?”
You looked up at him, smiling widely, having the same thing of hurting cheeks but you could care less because for Mingyu, you’d endure way more if it meant you could stay under his warm smile for a little longer.
He cupped your face in his hands as he leaned down, closing his eyes as his lips wrapped around yours and you scrunched your hands tighter behind his back as if pulling him impossibly closer. Your eyes shut automatically the moment his lips touched yours, you couldn’t stop from smiling into the kiss as he felt his own smile.
Mingyu was as cheesy as one could possibly be, especially making you wonder how on Earth he loved someone like you, probably on the opposite end of the ‘cheesy’ spectrum, yet when he did small things like these, it made you realise just why you love him. And of course, the fact that he loved you too, which made it all even better.
a/n : woooo finallyy writing for svt again:") i genuinely missed em and i also missed writing for gyuu and omg these pictures pls i am actually obsessed? i hope this was good enough because it has been a hot minute since i properly wrote omg and i hope to now get back into it properly too haha but anyways lmk what you think!!
perm. taglist ( open ! ) : @mansaaay ; @gyuguys ; @toplinehyunjin ; @cherrylovescheol ; @stagefrjghts ( if you want to be added just send an ask/reply to this !)
all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.
writingmeraki Ⓒ 2026
feedback is always appreciated 💌 !
links : main navi ! | svt masterlist ! | info !
Thursday is Hamburger and Fries Day, and all of it nearly spills from your tray when Connie yanks you down next to her at the lunch table.
“Why are you wearing Charlie’s jersey?”
You blink. “I got cold in math class.”
“He gave it to [Y/n] right before class started,” Kenny, who sits behind you in third period, pipes up. “The place is freezing.”
Nodding, you roll up the sleeves and pick up your burger. Connie raises an eyebrow. Next to her, Guy mirrors her expression, albeit with his cheeks bulging from his own hamburger. The rest of your friends pause their conversations one by one to glance at you, and you furrow your brow.
Warnings : No use of Y/N, Angst, Fluff, Sexist Comments, Degrading Comments, One bad Word, Self doubt, low Self esteem, Charlie being the best boyfriend, Romance
Summary : You suffer an injury during an important game and are benched for the rest of the season. Things only get worse from there.
A/N : Requested by @madbreadsworld . Thank you for the idea and hopefully I did it justice. Enjoy :)
Beads of sweat drip down the side of your face and neck, soaking your undershirt. Strands of hair had gotten loose from your braid and now stick to your neck and face. Your chest rises and falls as you control your breathing and try not to choke while squirting water into your mouth.
“You’re all doing good out there.” Praises Coach Orion. “You’re getting through their defense, avoiding their moves, and especially at keeping that puck away from them. But it’s not enough. We’re tied and I know you’re all tired but this is the last period and we have to make it good. We have to give it our all.”
You felt the pressure before the game even started but now it was undeniable. It was heavy on your shoulders and it made you nervous.
Since arriving at Eden Hall, pressure was all the Ducks felt, between having to prove themselves and proving they belong there. It didn’t matter that they won the Junior Goodwill Games as Team U.S.A. the year before, some saw it as a publicity stunt while others thought they were snobs because of it.
However, after defeating the undefeated Varsity hockey team, The Ducks' status at Eden Hall rocketed and you thought the pressure would be knocked from your shoulders but it only got worse.
Now in the semi-finals and with the score tied, everyone— the Dean, the school, the parents and even The Ducks themselves — were counting on them to win the first championship for the freshman so they had to win this game or else.
Charlie glances at you and while your face doesn’t show your nervousness, your fidgeting hands sure do. Without saying a word, he removes his glove and takes your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
It’s a small gesture but it helped stop your raising mind and calmed you. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. A soft smile breaks on your lips as you give his hand a small thankful squeeze.
The Ducks walk back out onto the ice and you take your position on the red line along with the starters. You look at the opposing player, number 88, and there’s a condescending smirk on his face.
“Ready to lose?” He taunts.
You don’t let it get under your skin and keep focus but looking at his stupid face, you had to make a remark. “Funny. I was going to say the same to you.”
He didn’t like your response but he can only glare at you because the referee blows the whistle then. The puck drops and as soon as it lands on the ice, the third and final period of the game begins.
It was a tough final minutes and The Ducks didn’t hold back but neither did the opposing team. There was a lot of back and forth. Fighting for the puck, keeping the defense up and when the Ducks managed to score, the other team did too a second later.
It was like you were dancing instead of playing hockey and one particular person seemed to prefer you as a partner. Number 88 always was on you whenever you got hold of the puck. It didn’t matter if he was on the other end of the ice or paired with someone else, he always appeared in front of you.
You keep your head in the game but every time he appeared, your focus started to break. His comments only made it harder.
“Just give it up, girly. You’re not a match for me.” He laughs as he’s on defense.
You don’t respond and instead pass the puck to Ken as he passes by, shooting the puck between number 88’s legs. Since he was too occupied with you, Ken had easy access to the goal and scores. You could feel his eyes glaring holes into you as you celebrate with Ken and the others while his couch berates him for leaving it open.
The game continues and soon there's less than a minute left on the clock. The Ducks have possession of the puck and have one last chance to score to win the game. Everyone was at the edge of their seats, cheering louder than before. It was accelerating.
Thirty seconds left, Charlie leads the way towards the other end of the rink with the puck. He passes it to Russ. Russ passes it to Guy. Guy passes it back and Russ passes it to Connie.
Ten seconds left and Connie passes the puck to you. Where you stand, you have a small window open, a small path that is perfect for the puck to hit the corner of the goal and by the time defense can intervene, it'll be too late. So you take the shot as soon as you get the puck.
It’s like time has slowed down. Everyone is silent as they watch the puck soar through the air. Your heart beats fast and you can feel it pulsing in your head and clogging your throat. The puck gets closer and closer to the goal, heading towards the top corner, and the goalie raises his gloved hand up to catch it.
Make it in. Make it in. You think. Please, make it–
The puck misses the glove by a hair width and hits the net. The siren sounds then the buzzer marking the end of the game. The Ducks won and are heading to the finals but no one is cheering. No one is celebrating. No one is happy, not even the Ducks.
Everyone is frozen in their spot– the crowd, the players, the referee, even the children. No one moves a muscle. No one breathes. All eyes focus in the same direction on the ice. It’s silent for a few seconds then a blood curdling scream echoes through the rink, sending a cold shiver down everyone’s spine.
The screaming itself was horrifying but who it came from is what scared The Ducks, especially Charlie. He’s frozen in fear and having trouble understanding what’s happening but another scream, sounding more like a cry, hits his ears. He snaps out of it then and rushes towards the other end of the rink, towards the screaming. Towards you.
It all happened too fast. One second you were on your feet, scoring the winning goal, and the next, you’re sprawled across the ice with a searing pain in your leg. It was like a burning knife stabbed into your knee. You couldn’t move or speak. You couldn’t do anything besides cry out as the pain consumed you.
Charlie kneels by your side and carefully takes your helmet off. The cold air surrounds your face but does nothing to cool your heated skin. Tears fall from your eyes like waterfalls, mixing with your sweat and blurring your vision.
Charlie is saying something but it’s muffled by your cries. Two other people appear on either side of you and begin checking you. A broken scream leaves you when one of them touches your leg and you hold onto Charlie’s arm.
You can faintly hear Dean and Fulton arguing with someone as you’re escorted out on a gurney, getting louder as more people join followed by Coach Orion and someone else trying to deescalate the situation. But through it all, Charlie doesn’t leave your side.
“Hey, hey. It’s going to be okay.” Charlie holds your hand tight. It’s the last thing you feel before your tired body finally has enough and passes out.
You sat on the edge of the hospital bed, staring at the brace around your knee. After some examinations, the doctor had determined you tore your MCL– the ligament in your inner knee that holds your femur and tibia bone together– all the way through. Your knee was basically unstable and loose. You had to get surgery to fix it but it won’t properly heal for another six months and during that time, you can’t put too much pressure on it so no walking much less playing.
It was the last thing you wanted to hear and all because of a stupid injury caused by a stupid guy that couldn’t handle a girl was better than him. It wasn’t fair.
There’s a knock on the door and standing there with a bouquet of flowers and a warm smile was Charlie. “Hey.”
He was like a ray of sunshine that even on the coldest days can warm you up with just a glimpse. So it was hard for you to stay gloomy or fight of the smile forming.
“Hi, Char. Pretty flowers you have there.”
“I hope so since they are your favorites.” He teases before giving them to you with a kiss to your head. You giggle at the gesture and admire the flowers as he pulls up a chair. “So how’s my favorite girl doing?” Your smile falters and the gloomy cloud forms over you again. “That bad, huh?”
You sigh. “Can we talk about something else? I just… I don’t–”
“Yeah, sorry.” He chuckles awkwardly. “Uh, I was thinking, we could go grab something to eat at your favorite place once you get out. As a treat for surviving death.”
You laugh softly at his joke. “I’d like that.”
Two days go by since the day in the hospital and since then, it’s been a struggle for you. You didn’t know how much you use your knee until now as you try not to move or accidentally hit against anything. Then there was the additional care, the ice, the compression, the elevation and the painkillers. But worse was the crutches that took up space and were a pain in the butt.
At home it was tolerable but at school it was another story. During passing periods, most students would walk too close and would hit or get hit by your crutches and look at you like it was your fault. The teachers would berate you for being tardy and barely give you time to leave before the halls were filled. No one seemed to care that you were injured.
But The Ducks did. They cared a lot and helped carry your backpack, lunch, even yourself when you had a class upstairs and the girls helped whenever you needed to use the restroom. It was sweet of them and you were thankful every time but sometime during the seventh help in less than an hour, the sweetness slowly turned sour.
You began to feel weak and helpless especially whenever they helped with the simplest things like getting up to sharpen your pencil or the assignment. Like a baby needing their parents to do anything and everything because they couldn’t function. You could function. You could do things even though it was tougher for you.
So stupidly, you decided to go down the stairs without Fulton’s help. It was after school so the hallways were empty except for the few students staying late for extracurricular activities. You set the crutches down and balance on your good leg while holding onto the rail. You take a deep breath and hop down a step then another. You gain the confidence and hopped down faster but on the last step, your ankle rolls and you tumble down to the floor.
You groaned in pain but fortunately, you landed on your good leg. But unfortunately, Dwayne was passing by and saw you.
He rushes to your side and helps you up and hands you your crutches. “You alright?” He asks, keeping his hands hovering close to you just in case.
“I’m fine, Dwayne.” You grumble, angry at yourself rather than at him.
He doesn’t believe you but doesn’t comment. Dwayne then looks around confused. “Ain’t Fulton supposed to help you with the stairs?”
Your cheeks begin to heat up and you quickly look at the floor. Fulton was in a rush to see a teacher before hockey practice so you lied to him about having someone else to help but Dwayne didn’t need to know that. “He was but I wanted to try on my own but that was a mistake. I see that now.” You laugh it off.
“Right. Just don’t do it again. You can hurt yourself even more.”
“Yeah, I understand. Thanks again… for helping me.”
“You okay?”
Charlie’s voice brings you out of your thoughts. He’d been busy with hockey and homework but finally made good of his promise and took you out to eat at your favorite diner. You were glad for the distracting since a lot of negative thoughts have been plaguing your mind. But it didn’t last long when Charlie had to help you through the diner’s doors and to the back so no one could disturb your situation.
“Mm? Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Just hungry, that’s all.” You brush it off and change the subject. “So, uh, the final is this Friday. Are you excited?”
“Yeah and a little bit nervous.”
“I bet, but you’re going to be great.” You take his hand in yours. “I might not be able to play but I will be there cheering for you from the stands.”
Charlie chuckles. “Like my own personal cheerleader.”
“And temporarily cheerleader because once I’m healed up, I’m going to be on the ice right by your side.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
The food soon arrives and you two chat and eat for a good while before Charlie excuses himself to use the bathroom. The buzz of the diner fills in for him and makes you less lonely as you wait. You snack on your food and steal a fry from Charlie’s plate when suddenly your crutches clatter onto the floor, startling you.
“I’m so sorry.” The apology is sarcastic and when you see who said it, you understand why. A humorless laugh leaves number 88 when he sees you. “Look who it is. The brat who had me suspended for the rest of the season.”
You scoff. “That’s your fault actually. You’re the one who illegally tackled me so blame yourself, jerk.”
“I barely hit even hit you but since you’re a stupid girl and so fucking weak, I got in trouble.” He jabs a finger in your shoulder. “If anything, it’s your fault you couldn’t handle a little bit of roughing. Maybe you shouldn’t be playing.”
“If anything,” you mock him and smack his hand away. “It’s your fault that you freaking suck at hockey and maybe you should practice more if you’re so butthurt that a girl is far much better than you.”
He huffs angrily and glares at you but you don’t back down. “Whatever. You got what you deserve, you little brat.” He kicks your crutches further from you and turns to walk away.
You roll your eyes and scoot to the edge of your seat and reach for your crutches with your good leg. But as you do, number 88 comes back and shoves you off the chair. You try to land on your good leg but the fall was too fast and your injured knee hits the floor at just the right angle.
You open your mouth to scream but the pain is so sudden and so strong, it knocks the air from your lungs and prevents you from even making a noise. Number 88 smirks at the sight and mumbles one last insult before walking away. No one had noticed since you were in the corner of the diner and it wasn’t until Charlie came back that you got off the floor.
“What happened?” He asks full of worry.
You stare down at the floor and shake your head as you hold back sobs. “I wanna go home, Char. Please, just take me home.”
You don’t go to school the next day or the day after. Your parents didn’t question it, believing it had to do with your injury, and let you be. You stayed cooped up in your room for most of the time, only coming out to use the bathroom or eat.
But now, since your parents left to do something and your siblings were either with their friends or still at school, you were alone and you were thankful for it. You didn’t need your mom hovering over you, asking if you needed help, or your dad watching your every move just in case.
You’re rummaging through the kitchen when there’s a knock on the door. You sigh and make your way towards it, still struggling a bit with the crutches and accidentally hit the corner of the couch. You open the door and your eyes widen when you see Charlie.
You hadn’t seen him since the incident at the diner and have been avoiding his phone calls since so it was awkward to say the least.
“Char. Hi, uh, what— what are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see my girlfriend. Is that okay?” He asks unsure since you clearly looked off gaurd.
“No, that’s—yeah, it’s okay. Um, come in.” You scoot out of the way and close the door behind him. “Do you want anything to drink? Water? Juice?”
“Juice is fine.”
You nod and lead the way to the kitchen. You open a cupboard and frown when you see the cups on the second shelf. You take a deep breath and stand on your tip toes.
“Do you need help?”
“I’m fine.” You’re quick to say and sigh in relief when you get the cup. You grab the juice from the fridge and struggle slightly to keep the door open as you reach for the jug.
“Are you sure you don’t need–”
“I can do it myself, Charlie.” You grumble, already losing patience. Once you’re done pouring the juice, you leave the jug out and grab the cup but instantly pause you realise you won’t be able to carry it while using the crutches. An idea pops in your head and you lay your crutches against the counter.
“What are you–”
You begin to hop towards Charlie but pause when the juice swishes inside the cup. You then hop again. Charlie’s eyes widen and he steps towards you but you raise a hand. You take a breath and hop again, this time juice spills onto the floor.
“You don’t need to do that. I can just–”
“Charlie, I don’t need your help! I can do it my–” The word turns into a gasp when your foot slips on the spilled juice. You instinctively put your hands in front of you to break your fall. Charlie is faster though and reaches you in time but the cup hits the floor and juice spills all over the floor.
“What hell were you thinking? You could have hurt yourself! I could’ve just…” The words die in his mouth when he sees the tears in your eyes and he’s instantly turning soft. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. It’s fine. It was just an accident.”
Charlie helps you to the couch and cleans up the mess and when he joins you a couple of minutes later, your focus was on the floor, tears still in your eyes but some managed to slip down your cheeks, but it’s your fidgeting hands that concern him more.
He says your name and when you don’t respond, he takes your hand in his and says your name again and this time, you look at him. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”
You sniffle. “Do you think I’m weak?” You whisper like a toddler scared to ask.
Charlie gets taken aback before he frantically shakes his head. “No, of course I don’t think you’re weak. It never even crossed my mind. You’re the total opposite. You’re the strongest girl I know. Even with an injured knee, you’re stronger than me.”He reassures you. His voice then softens. “Why would you ask that?”
“Because I think so. I can’t do anything without anyone’s help and if I wasn’t, maybe I wouldn’t have gotten injured in the first place.”
“Hey, no, no. You didn’t get injured because you’re weak. You got injured because of that stupid guy that illegally tackled you. Okay? And just because you need help, doesn’t mean you’re weak. Everyone needs help once in a while. I know I do.”
He was right. You sniffle and look down at your intertwined hands. “I just want to do things on my own and not rely so much on everyone.”
Charlie nods before hesitantly asking, “is that why Dwayne found you at the bottom of the stairs?”
You cringe. “He told you, huh?”
“Yeah and after I confronted Fulton about it, it didn’t take a genius to put the pieces together. I didn’t mention it because I thought you would be embarrassed.” Charlie’s expression softens. “That was stupid of you, you know. You could have–”
“Gotten hurt. I know, I know.”
He smiles softly and squeezes your hand. “And you tried the same thing at the diner too?”
You don’t respond right away but when you fidget with Charlie’s hand, his smile drops. He says your name sternly and you know you have to tell him the truth.
“While you were in the restroom, the guy who caused this showed up. Apparently he got suspended for the season and he blamed me. We exchanged some words and as he was leaving, I went to pick up my crutches from the floor since he had knocked them down and he… he shoved me to the ground and called me weak and said I deserved what I got.”
Charlie’s face turns red with anger as he listens to you. He gives your hand a reassuring squeezes before brining you into a hug and whispers sweet nothings into your ear as you softly cry into his shoulder.
An hour goes by and you had calmed down but stayed in his arms as you two watch T.V. One of your siblings arrives and Charlie takes it as his queue to leave but you catch the glint in his eyes and knew what he was going to do. You didn’t try to stop him and only told him to be careful.
The next day after school, Charlie shows up at your door with the assignments you’ve missed. He looked fine for the most part, no bruises or marks on his face, so you thought he didn’t do what he was going to do but as he’s handing you the assignments, you notice his red and swollen knuckles.
“I was careful like I promised.” He says with a proud smile. “But you should’ve seen the other guy cause wow, he was not careful at all.”
You can’t help but laugh as you wrap your arms around him and give him a kiss which he’s happy to reciprocate.
Story Time || Charlie Conway x Fem Reader {The Mighty Ducks}
Requested: technically but not technically,,, oops
Summary: You coach peewee hockey and you team wants to hear about your hockey years; you reminisce on the time that wasn’t so good but taught you it wouldn’t always be and you have to decide how to deal with the changes life throws your way
Word Count: 3,333
Warnings: mentions of death; established relationship; follows D3 plot; slight changes to original storyline
Inspiration: a request I got asking for Charlie and Reader fighting....
Emi’s Note: ...but I got mostly through this and decided I didn’t like it for that request and came up with a different idea for it, I’m sorry my love, hopefully this’ll satisfy for the time being?💖
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The Mighty Ducks Masterlist
“Hey Coach, why do you always stay after practice and skate alone?”
You looked down at the blonde kid. Logan had a heart of gold and somehow maintained his innocence despite everything he’s already been through in his young life, you couldn’t help but admire and love the kid. You laid an arm across his shoulder and pulled him into a side hug.
“It helps me remember and keeps me grounded.”
“Helps you remember what?” Another young voice questioned from behind you.
Turning, you saw all of the Don’t Bothers now watching you curiously. You sighed, a sad smile on your lips. “Okay kids, gather around. I suppose I’m going to tell you a story.”
A new school, a new coach, and a team that was slowly falling to pieces. Your boyfriend, Charlie Conway, was ready to leave it all behind and you were about ready to smack him for how childish he was being.
You were tired, trying to hold a team together by yourself because their captain was more worried about pranking the varsity team.
Having gone into the new school without your two closest friends, Jesse and Dean, your boyfriend heading for the deep end, and then losing Banksy to the stupid varsity team, you would be ready to call it quits. But you couldn’t afford that. A better education and ability to play hockey officially with your team wasn’t a chance you’d likely get again.
Everything had been building for weeks, and a match at dawn between the ducks and varsity was the cherry on top. When Charlie and Banksy started fighting in the goal, you were the first to jump. You were trying to put a stop to it but it was taken as you trying to join, so when a bigger guy on the varsity team tried to start with you you simply decked him and kept skating, not having the energy to deal with any dumbasses that weren’t one of yours.
“Stop it!” You shouted as you tried to separate them, despite the several other brawls happening around you. “Chill out guys, you’re supposed to be friends.”
“Like I’d be friends with a Warrior jerk.” Charlie spat.
You saw pain flash through Adams eyes, knowing Charlie’s words had hurt him deep, but he covered it fast. Adam Banks was a people pleaser who went where he was asked when he was asked, to please whoever asked it of him. When he joined District 5 he was released of some of that.
You knew the Ducks were the first group of real friends he had and you knew how much he hated disappointing any of them. Anger flashed through you at how much of an asshole your boyfriend was being towards one of his own best friends.
“Okay, knock it off Charlie. You’re being ridiculous.”
He scoffed as you put yourself between him and Banks, your back to Banks, so it seemed as if you were choosing him over Charlie and protecting him.
“Y/n, you’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I’ll be on your side when you come back to your senses.”
He stared at you in anger and disbelief. You know it wouldn’t have been dropped if it weren’t for Coach having come in and breaking it apart. You kept your eyes fixed on him, letting Adam get out without anymore harsh words thrown his way.
“This isn’t who you are, Charlie Conway. And this isn’t who the Ducks are.”
“What would you know about it, Y/l/n? You’re new here. You’re not even an original Duck.”
You balled up your fists. He was right, you hadn’t been around as long as him, or Jesse, or Guy, or Connie, or any of them. You had moved to town after Bombay had left to the minor leagues. You moved in next to the Halls and befriended Jesse through that, but the first time you actually played with the ducks was in the scrimmage against the other five new players.
“Alright you two, break it up.” You and Charlie skated away from each other as coach scolded all of you. “Now get those Duck jerseys off now. Let’s go.” Your team froze up, awaiting to see who would make the first move. “Now. Come on, let’s go. Take them off!”
You were the first to start pulling your jersey off, the look of utter betrayal that crossed Charlie’s face was something you’d not soon forget. With you leading, more of your teammates started pulling off theirs as well.
“The Ducks are dead.” Coach Orion stated, holding Charlies glare. Charlie just crossed his arms defiantly. “You got two choices, Conway. Take off the jersey right now or you don't play.”
Shaking his head, Charlie uncrossed his arms. “You’re breaking up the best thing any of us ever had.”
“Well, its time to grow up.”
“Grow up?” You groaned inwardly at his stubbornness as he skated towards your coach. “Like you, huh? A washed-up pro who has to show off to a bunch of kids? Geez, that’s real grown-up.”
“Oh knock it off, Charlie.” You spoke up, receiving surprised looks from everyone. “You’re so obsessed with being a Duck, don’t you see that doesn’t matter? As long as you’re playing with us, as long as you’re leading us, the mascot doesn’t matter. We’ll always be Ducks, but that isn’t what makes us a team. Coach is right, you need to grow up, Charlie.”
Charlie stared at you, his face void of all emotion, “You just don’t understand. None of you do.” He turned his back and skated away from you without slowing down or looking back.
Coach cleared his throat. “Okay, good-bye, Conway. Anybody else?” You looked around, noticing Fulton skating after Charlie. “Alright, good-bye Fulton. No ones forcing any of you to be here, it’s your lives. You decide what to make of them.” After some silence as you all watched your captain and your protector walk away from you, you were confident everyone else shared your opinion. “Alright, twenty laps and then hit the showers.”
Silently, you took the lead and started the laps, feeling as though you should fill in on behalf of your missing boyfriend and knowing your teammates would be right behind you.
Your team was in shambles, you were in shambles. You hadn’t spoken to Charlie since he walked out, he was ignoring your calls and ignoring you when you swung by his house, leaving you to bang on his door until his mom had to turn you away. You weren’t even sure if you could still call him your boyfriend, as if this was his way of ending things.
Your team couldn’t win a game to save your lives, when Charlie and Fulton walked out on you guys it was like there was no reason to care anymore. You tried your hardest to keep the team together the best you could, but you were no Charlie Conway and you certainly weren’t in the headspace to be a leader.
Then news of Hans passing came and shocked the team to its core, you all loved him dearly. Fulton had come back, but Charlie was still missing in action. You decided to hunt him down, try and talk some sense into him. You weren’t going to let him keep ignoring you.
You sat at the diner his mom worked at for nearly four hours, waiting for him to show up. You had found out that he didn’t know about Hans yet, which meant trying to get him to think clearly would be that much more difficult once you told him.
The bell to the diner rang and you looked over your shoulder to see him already turning to walk back out.
“Sorry for hanging out here so long, thanks though!” You left some cash on the bar and grabbed your backpack as you dashed out of the diner after Charlie. “Hey, Conway! If you know whats good for ya, you’d stop walking right now!” You called after him. He didn’t know what was good for him.
You ran to catch up and stopped in front of him, blocking his path. He rolled his eyes and tried to get around you but you corrected and just blocked him again. He kept trying, failing again each time.
“I’m a defense specialist, Conway. You forget that already?” You raised a brow at him.
“Just get out of my way, Y/n.”
“No way in hell, Charlie. I need to talk to you and you’re going to listen. We can do it right here, right now, or we could go somewhere more private. But you’re not going to brush me off and ignore me. Not for this.”
He rolled his eyes again but sighed in defeat as he pulled you down one of the alleys nearby.
“What’s this about?”
You softened more than you’d expected yourself to, you knew you couldn’t be harsh in delivering news like this. Still, you were a blunt, full band-aid type of person and hated beating around the bush. “Hans passed away.”
“What? No. No, that can’t be!”
“Charlie,” His eyes finally met yours, the tears already flowing down your cheeks setting off the ones that were welling up in his eyes. “I’m so sorry.” You pulled him in for a hug.
He didn’t hug you back at first, he just kind of gave stood there, frozen. But eventually he grabbed you and pulled you as close to him as he could get you, burying his face in your neck and crying into your shoulder.
You kept repeating comforting words, trying to calm him down a little.
After what felt like an eternity of the two of you holding each other for the first time in so long, he finally straightened up and wiped his tears. You sniffled as you swiped your cheeks clean of your own tears.
The two of you sat quietly together, lost in your separate thoughts.
“Was there something else you wanted to tell me?” He finally spoke up.
You fidgeted with your hands before taking a deep breath and turning your body to face him.
“Come back to us, Charlie.” You said quietly, grabbing his hand. “Come back to your team, we’re lost without you.”
His eyes flashed with different emotions, sadness, guilt, anger; you knew what he was still too fogged with emotion to think straight.
“You’re lost because you gave up who you were.”
“No Charlie, we’re lost because you did. Why can’t you see that it doesn’t matter if we’re ducks or warriors? We’re a team and you’re our captain.” You kept your voice soft, you didn’t have enough energy to fight with him. “When you remember who you are, or if you need help getting there, come find me.”
You squeezed his hand and kissed him on the cheek before standing up and walking away from him.
You didn’t see him again until the funeral.
Bombay came in late and put Hans’ Duck jersey on top of the casket.
“Everytime you touch the ice, remember it was Hans that taught us to fly.”
Charlie walked away after that, you wanted to follow him but Jesse held you back.
“Let him go. He needs space right now, Y/n.”
You stayed until the end of the funeral, placing a flower on the casket gently before hugging your coach and teammates.
You and Jesse walked home together afterwards. It was spent mostly in silence, but when you were two streets from your homes, you finally spoke up.
“I know you don’t want anything to do with Eden Hall, but you’ve known Charlie much longer than I have. How can I get through to him, Jesse? I feel like he’s slipping and I can only watch.”
Jesse Hall stayed in touch with the team, he loved the Ducks as much as Charlie did, but he despised those rich kids more than anyone and couldn’t stomach the idea of playing with or for them. It was understandable, really. You were pretty much a bunch of street rats to them, playing schoolyard hockey and wearing the same clothes more than once. It was a completely different world and, despite growing fond of Adam, he preferred to avoid it at all costs. But being next door neighbors, you still saw him everyday and often joined him and the other neighborhood kids in street hockey games over the weekends.
“He’s Charlie. He’s a hothead who cannot handle change to save his life. Just give him time, Y/n/n, he’ll find his way. He always does.”
You smiled at your friend and hugged him tight. “I wish you were there too, ya know.”
He rubbed your back, hugging you just as tight. “I know.”
The next day you were awoken to obnoxious banging on your bedroom door. You groaned and threw your blanket over your head. “Go away!”
The banging stopped and you happily tried to go back to sleep, only to be jumped on not three seconds later.
“Up and at em, Sunshine, we got plans!” Averman laughed into your ear.
“How the hell did you get in my room, Lester?” You growled, still under your blanket. You weren’t ready to hear multiple people laugh.
Finally pulling your head out of your sheets, you saw Averman, Connie and Guy, Jesse, and Adam. Sitting up quickly, you scanned the room again, confused, “Banksy? What are you doin here?”
“The guys came to get me too. Coach is in town and thought some fresh air wouldn’t be too terrible of an idea. You in?” The boys eyes twinkled and you knew he missed playing with his team as much as his team missed him. You grinned.
“Hell yeah I’m in, now get the hell out of here so I can get dressed.” You shooed them out, grabbing Jesse’s wrist before he could go. “You’re coming too?”
“Wouldn’t miss a chance to play some schoolyard puck with my ducks again for the world.”
“What about Charlie?” You searched his eyes, which were still glinting with excitement, but he shrugged. “I guess we’ll see.” He gave you a small smile as he shook your hand free and shut your bedroom door behind him.
You grabbed a pair of jean shorts, the first t-shirt you saw, and one of Charlie's flannels, and headed for the door. Grabbing your rollerblades and pads, you squealed in delight as you bounced out of your house, Guy tossing you your hockey stick.
The rest of the Ducks were already there by the time the six of you arrived. You all joined in and soon enough, the smile on your face couldn’t be wiped away.
A while later, Coach and Charlie appeared.
“What took you guys so long?” You grinned in greeting. Not long after, they were padded, laced, and joining you guys.
It felt like the old days, a moment for time to freeze and all to be right again. Putting Bombay in a trash can was definitely a highlight of the day in your eyes. You wished you could stay like that for longer, but your fun eventually ended and you all went your separate ways to get ready for your game that evening.
Situated on the bus, you were left with the seat next to you empty. It had become standard, no one wanted to take the place of the one missing from it and you hated the idea of swapping spots. But your heart fluttered a little as a familiar mop of messy brown hair got into the bus before it could close and pull away.
“Conway?” Your coach questioned.
“I wanna be on the team, Coach. I want to play two-way hockey.” They were both silent for a moment. “Can I come back?”
Coach Orion stayed quiet for a moment longer before a smile lit on his face. “Take a seat, we’re late.”
Charlie grinned and climbed into the bus, scanning all the available seats before landing on the empty one next to you.
Your breath hitched for a moment, sure you had played some street hockey together, and you had that moment in the alley, but your relationship was still very confusing on where exactly it stood.
“Do you mind if I sit here?” You shook your head, not trusting your voice. He gave a tight lipped smile before taking his seat.
The excitement on the bus overwhelmed the uncertainty, but the baited breath of your teammates didn’t go unnoticed.
You had your captain back, that’s what mattered. Even in the face of possibly losing your scholarships, you were once again a team. And a team you’d stay.
“Y/l/n, over here, I’m open!” You looked over to your boyfriend, Charlie, and swiped your stick to send the puck in his direction, turning and pushing the guy that was hot on your heels immediately after.
“It’s all you Conway!” You shouted, skating after him to keep the varsity players off his back as much as possible.
“A power duo on and off the ice, Conway and Y/l/n are fighting for a win over the Eden Hall Warriors. Despite all odds, and being down two men, they’re making incredible headway. Conway skates it up to the net, he shoots and- no wait, he passes it back to Y/l/n, she’s shooting and, it’s in! The Freshmen Ducks win, one to zero! What an amazing game!”
Charlie skated over to you, your relationship had been in a holding pattern since his return, both deciding getting the team back to normal took precedence. He grinned as he scooped you up and twirled you around.
“That was amazing, Y/n/n!”
“It was a smart call, you really faked everyone out, even me.” You commented jokingly.
He held you tighter, his smile never faltering. Slowly, he leaned in and kissed you in the middle of the rink. You wrapped your still gloved hand around the back of his neck and kissed him back.
“We’re gonna need to have a long talk later, Conway.” You mumbled. He nodded in agreement and the two of you broke away from each other to join your teams celebrations.
“So, what happened with you two?” Nick practically yelled. “Did you figure things out?! Did you forgive him, Coach?”
Your kids all started chirping in with their own questions on your story, specifically Charlie. You laughed.
“Charlie wasn’t the point guys. The point is skating helps me remember that even at my lowest, I’ll always have this sport and,” You paused, poking the kids closest to you on their noses, “The people in this sport, to keep me flying.”
“Yeah, yeah, nice life lesson Coach, now tell us how the love story ended!” Lauren demanded.
“Yeah, Coach. I wanna hear how it ended too.” A teasing voice piped in from the door.
You rolled your eyes, not being able to stop the smile growing on your face.
Your husband walked over to you and your Don’t Bothers, shrugging his shoulders and grinning mischievously.
“We want all the details.”
You heard your kids whispering, asking each other if they knew who this guy was. You kept yourself from laughing as you walked over to him and fixed his jacket collar.
“You’re home early, I thought you’d still be out of town another week.”
He grinned, wrapping his arms around you.
“What can I say, I missed your face.”
“Wait a minute, that's Charlie Conway! He’s a professional, he plays for the Islanders.” Evan rattled off in shock.
“Wait, Charlie Conway as in the Charlie Conway from coaches story?” Logan asked.
You grinned, pulling your husbands face towards you and kissing him right in front of your kids.
“And that, children, concludes your storytime. Now he’s all yours, ask him anything you’d like.” You grinned. “Good luck.” Giving Charlie a kiss on the cheek, you left him like chum for sharks, making your way to the cocoa bar to watch from a safe distance.
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