Bitch Hunters

I love angsty fics, I really do.

But not "my dog died" or "I feel insecure" kinda angst. I'm talking about the cheating, the break up, the suffering, the tears, the begging, the pining, the stalking, the obsession UGHHHH, love me a fic where he fucked up and now has to do the most to get her back, it gives me a serotonin boost

yall gotta stop writing mark like he’s cool. he’s such a loser.

he’s not out here “you like that, dirty slut?” GIRL THATS ALL JENO.

Girl Code (18+)

pairing: student!jihoon x student!reader

genre: college au, angst, smut (MDNI), lotta crack, friends to...?

description: when you and your friends find out jihoon's been writing down everything you've off-handedly said about "girl code", you simply have to know why.

warnings: brief bondage/restraint, heavy insecurity on readers part, self-doubt, dirty talk, pet names, dom!uzi, sub!reader, desperation, oral (f. receiving), praise (f. receiving), muscly uzi, unprotected sex (dont do it guys....), pining, bad writing, red velvet are your friends, theyre super fun, mingyu is excluded badly, he just wants to b a part of it :(

quotes from my creative director (@joshibambi): "i am simply a hole for him", "pussy? wet. heart? pounding. me? yearning", "every1 talks ab sapphic yearning but what ab just. jihoon-yearning?",

wordcount: 12.0k

a/n: idk why but this is deffo not as good as my previous works. n e way also sorry to @onlyseokmins bc i promised her a seokmin fic WHICH IS STILL COMING i just felt like this was kinda genius and needed to happen first ok bye

It’s mid-spring, and the world is blossoming and flowering around you. Grass sprouts greener, plants drink in the heavy rainfall and flowers are blooming, slowly unfurling their pedaled heads to crane into the beautiful sky. At odds with nature, people walk the street to be drenched in the downpour, only to be dried off by the shyly peeking sun, and to have freckles surfacing on their skin and hair, getting frizzy from the humidity, when they’re biking along the streets. It’s serene, it’s natural. You’re reminded to love the place that birthed and fostered you. 

But that’s out there.

You’re sitting, bottom planted firmly on the sticky surface of Joshua Hong’s couch, looking distantly into artificially colored lights, flickering across the floor, where people are dancing on one another in skimpy outfits and makeup, and everything is very far from the moon and the flowers. 

“The second one is a lie!” Seulgi yells over the music, cup of god knows what in her hand, and slurring her words.

Sitting on the couch and stools surrounding the coffee table is you, Mingyu, Soonyoung, Seulgi, Irene, Yeri and Jihoon.

“No, I know she likes anal!” Screams Soonyoung giddily (forever oblivious to his surroundings), receiving a glare from your roommate, Yeri. You were currently playing two truths and one lie, and attempting to discern whether Yeri was lying about being on television, lying about having black belt in taekwondo or lying about having tried anal. “It’s about whether or not she’s tried it!” Irene rolls her eyes and huffs. “My point still stands,” Soonyoung grins and eyes Yeri, and you watch somewhat disgusted, reminding yourself to ask her about it later.

You’re sitting next to Mingyu, utterly small next to him, and the two of you are only watching the scene unfold, sharing snickering glances when something funny happens. “I’ve never done taekwondo!” Yeri screams at Soonyoung, and you and Mingyu fall back in your seats laughing and slapping each other, when Soonyoung’s face drops for a moment. 

“They’re so dumb!” Mingyu cries, and you nod buried in a decorative pillow. 

“Screw this noise, I’m finding Junhui,” Hoshi mumbles, a little deflated from his loss. Then he’s standing up, cargo-pants and all, and trudging away, pouting over his shoulder when he hears the laughing continue.

Jihoon - who’s been incredibly quiet and observant throughout the night, only sipping a single bottle of beer, slaps his thighs. You’re hoping in his ever searching eyes he hasn’t seen the way you’ve been staring at him all night. Are you drunk or is he so complex and sexy, and wearing a t-shirt that shows his huge arms and pants that show his thick thighs? You’re almost certain you can chalk this up to only ever seeing him in sweaters that totally swallow him - almost. “I’m going too,” he announces, standing up and not leaving much room for argument.

“Why? I’ll be the only guy,” Mingyu whines, pout pushing out his bottom lip. You scoff. You know he loves feeling like he’s one of the girls. “Paper,” Jihoon says, and adds more, when he realizes he’s being so curt it’s almost rude: “Tomorrow. I have a paper tomorrow.” 

The group seems to accept this, knowing the stresses of college are weighing on each of them heavily. But your eyes narrow. You’re not buying it. 

You watch him sling his jacket across his body, biting back more words. He’s quiet, sure, but never this quiet. With how he’d slumped back in his seat all night, almost bent into himself, there must be something bugging him. Jihoon’s eyes meet yours. It’s a half a second, but you feel like he knows you’re on to him, the way he hides his face under his long, black hair again and turns his back to you. All of a sudden he’s hurrying away, excusing himself half-heartedly. You narrow your eyes even further and purse your lips.

“Be right back,” you say. Seulgi pouts.

You’re trudging after him, fussing with your hair all of a sudden and adjusting your dress and - God, you care so much how he sees you. But you suppose you care more that he’s okay. That’s why you’re squeezing through the dancefloor, getting grinded on by several anonymous bodies, before pushing out to the entrance and finally breathing air that wasn't coming directly from someone else’s mouth. 

“Jihoon, wait-” 

You catch up to him by the doorway, where he’s stopped his journey, to slip Vernon a bill for a ziploc of mediocre weed.

“Jihoon!” 

Finally, he hears you and he turns to you, where you’re regaining your last leg from the mass of bodies. Vernon is apparently still sober enough (you wouldn’t have thought so) to understand time and place, so he gently pushes past the two of you into the crowd. 

You’re not ready for the look he gives you. Eyes so sharp and face darkened from his shaggy hair, curling into his face, and frowning and furrowing his brows as if he couldn’t understand why you’re here. 

It sends your out-reaching body slamming backwards. You’re shrinking away from him, eyes flitting downwards self-consciously. You consider your history with him for a moment, weighing it in a glass of vodka-cranberry. This is pathetic, you realize, and it feels terrible. You’re pathetic and desperate and clingy and why would you feel the need to ask him this.

And then one moment to the next you’re scolding yourself for thinking that way. For thinking it was wrong to reach out a helping hand.

Jihoon apparently has enough of you debating with the angel and the devil on your shoulder, because he speaks finally: “What is it?” 

There’s a pause.

“Are you okay?” 

Another pause. You watch Jihoon’s face soften in shock, mouth falling open for a split second, before he’s closing it again and looking away. The ziploc crunches in his fingers, when they tighten and he shoves it into his inner pocket. 

“I’m good,” he says.

“Okay.” 

And this time and even longer pause! You can barely take it, the way he looks at you, and it almost feels like he suspicious of you, like he’s trying to discern what you’re doing here in front of him.

“Have a good night,” you say. He nods slowly and begins to walk off, and you watch him and the way the moonlight fills the entrance, so you’re coated in for a moment. Then it disappears with a slam of the door. You let out a shaky sigh. 

Why did you do that? Why would you even think to do something like that? 

You decide against standing there for any longer, not allowing yourself to overanalyze it, and you turn around to go back to your friends. Yet again comes the song and dance of trying to navigate the most terrifying human cesspool, face scrunching up in disgust as you make your way back to the sofa, almost unscathed, except you think you accidentally got caught in an armpit. 

“Y/n! Come quick, so you can be a part of this momentous- momentous.. Moment!” You hear Mingyu calling and when he’s finally in view, you realize something very, very terrible is about to happen.

Mingyu’s holding a leather notebook between his fingers - Jihoon’s notebook. It’s the one he’s always writing in; the one he shuts closed whenever anyone gets too close, the one he keeps tucked under his arm at all times; the one he’s inexplicably writing in, even if he’s blasted on Vernon’s weed. And it’s private and he’s somehow forgotten it.

“We’re not opening it,” you say immediately, power-walking back to your spot in the couch. Mingyu snaps his head towards you, and he almost looks offended at that. “What do you mean we’re not opening it, of course we’re opening it!” 

“It could be private, Gyu!” You retort and Seulgi chimes from her spot on the couch: “I’m with Y/n.” 

“No, what? Fuck you guys! We’re seeing what’s in that notebook!-” Irene spits. “Thank you!” Mingyu says.

“Yeri, it’s up to you,” you say, eyeing your roommate sharply, as you sit down again. The entire group turns to her, fury behind their retinas, and she gulps, shrinking a little. 

“Me, I just…” she shrugs abashedly and trails off. There’s a moment where you think she’ll side with you and leave the poor boy alone. You have some semblance of faith in your friendship, and maybe, maybe she’ll back you-

“He’s a music major, it’s probably just angsty lyrics, now open!” 

“Yes!” Irene and Mingyu gloat, and despite wanting to respect his privacy, you scoot closer to Mingyu (he scoffs at you, but does not mention it further, as he is itching with curiosity). With a solemn, heaved sigh, as if about to unfurl the world’s grandest mysteries, Mingyu’s large hand flips the book open.

There’s no justified way to put word to the shock that follows this. The first page reads:

“Girl Code Rule #1

Guys should bring flowers on the first date. Either lilies, roses or tulips. Depends on vibe.”

There’s a confused silence - as much as silence as you can get from a bass-boosted room of drunk college students. 

“What?” Irene quacks in disappointment, leaning closer to read it again. “Why-.. Go to the next page.” And Mingyu does, turning over the page and the next couple of pages follow suit. 

“Girl Code Rule #2

Whoever offered the date pays for dinner. First date should always be dinner, ‘none of the bowling crap’.

Girl Code Rule #3

Guys are more attractive the more hygienic they are.

Girl Code Rule #4 

It’s an ick to wear skinny jeans. *Google what an ick is.”

They come one after another, each more confusing than the last, and it’s not until number 5, that the heavy, suffocating spread of realization begins blooming among you. Clarity - your minds open like leaves of a flower in spring.

“Girl Code Rule #5

The cinema on Attacca street is a nightmare and we hate them. Never go there.”

“That’s-” you begin.

“Us!” Yeri finishes, pointing her finger at the page but directing her eyes, wide and pupils small from shock, towards you. The group exchange gaping glances. It’s undeniable - the cinema thing is relating to an incident that had happened months prior. You refuse to go into detail, but it had gotten grim.

“These are all things we’ve said!” Seulgi snatches the book out of Mingyu’s hold, beginning to mindlessly scroll through the book with furrowed brows, etch growing deeper and deeper in outrage. 

“That’s- This is crazy. That’s so not cool!” You shriek and Yeri nods in agreement: “Girl code is for girls only!” 

There’s a general agreement on the outrageousness of this. That is, except for one big boy on the couch.

“I meaaaan,” Mingyu is looking a little sheepish sitting in the middle of you and Yeri and Seulgi and Irene. All eyes flit towards him, small and sharp. He’s talking slowly, lowly and carefully:  “You guys have to have said it out loud while he was there, so you weren’t exactly being discreet…” 

“Men don’t usually listen to women, we thought we were in the clear!” Irene hisses.

“No man has ever listened to me in my entire life,” Seulgi deadpans, looking at Mingyu from beyond the book. Mingyu throws his hands out, incidentally hitting Yeri in the face, and ignoring her pained groans when she falls back on the couch. “I listened. Just now. Check that off your list-” 

“Why is he writing this down..?” You mumble, seemingly the only one grasping the gravity of the situation (although maybe there is none? You can never tell when it’s with him) and it truly is such a mystery. Was he attempting to pry open the minds of women? You don’t exactly think he has trouble finding dates, so you’re left a little at a loss. 

“Let’s ask him-” Mingu says.

“He just left, dumbass,” Irene spits and you can tell she’s almost disgusted with herself for ever siding with him.

“Let’s ask him tomorrow, then, after class,” you say decidedly. 

“Ugh, don’t talk about tomorrow..” Yeri groans, and you can see the regret settling in because why do all the hot guys throw weeknight parties? “Y/n, can we go home?” she asks and you’re nodding immediately.

“Seul?” 

“Yep.” 

And in the span of just a couple of seconds, your entire friend group is packing up, Seulgi stuffing the book into her tote bag. Mingyu’s still sitting, much smaller when you’re standing over him, and when he has that almost starstruck look on his face. “I’m so glad I’m a part of this, guys.” 

“You’re not.” 

“You’re not.” 

“Yes, I am,” Mingyu counters, clearly thinking otherwise. He’s grinning stupidly. “Hey, wait, where are we confronting him tomorrow?” he calls out suddenly, but you’re already on your way out.

“GUYS! WHERE ARE WE MEETING?”  _____________________________

You, Yeri, Seulgi, and Irene sit side by side on the middle-back row in class, eyeing Jihoon from the peaks. It’s a quiet, morning class, and the teacher rambles on while the four of you glare down at him. Or at least they glare. You hope it’s not noticeable how there’s something softer in your eyes - something almost tender. He’s fidgeting a little. Maybe he feels the pairs of eyes on the back of his black-buried head or maybe he’s noticed the book is gone and he feels the consequences coming.

It was certainly a strange situation to tackle. Mingyu did have a point, if it was a private conversation, you certainly had not discussed it as such. And even then, was there a crime in what he was doing? You just couldn’t understand how Jihoon possibly felt the need to garner all this information on women. He’d never had trouble picking up girls. You would know.

You shake the terrible, terrible thought away, when Irene speaks up: “The coward is all nervous.” 

“Okay, let’s calm down. We can’t know he’s an evildoer, before we find out his true intentions.” Seulgi reasons, a hand soothing over Irene’s arm. Yeri nods softly. “God, I wish class was over.” 

And suddenly it was. Well, twenty more minutes of suffering through a class that was totally lost, picked up by the pollen-saturated wind. Then the professor is excusing himself and wiping the board. 

Never in your life had your group been so fast at packing up their things, pencils and computers shoved down bags, before you’re strutting (model-walking) over to Jihoon. “We need to talk to you,” Yeri says, once she’s in front of his desk, hand on the wood. Jihoon looks up from where he’s packing his bag, eyes peeking through the thick strands of hair. He nods. He knows. 

As you wait for students to exit the class (Minghao giving Jihoon a confused grimace, before he squeezes out), you study Jihoon. He’s still sitting, and you’re all towering over him. His pale skin is glowing in the light and he purses his lip and bounces his leg - God, his thick leg - in nervous await. 

Students are slipping out the door in droves and when the last, tired body escapes, Seulgi reaches into her bag and pulls out the leather-bound book. “We read it.” 

“I figured,” he mutters. He’s avoiding your eyes, flinching a little when Irene slams her hand onto the book. “So, why have you been writing down the girl code?” 

Jihoon sighs. His lips make a tight line, and you can see how he wonders what to say. The pause would’ve been more tense had you not had the girls with you. 

“The girl code is for girls only,” Yeri supplies. 

“Well, you weren’t exactly being discreet about it-”

“Just answer the question, Jihoon!” Seulgi snaps, crossing her arms over her chest. “This is, like, top-level strange.” 

“Alright!” Jihoon throws his hands up in the air. His eyes flit to you, totally quiet and scratching your nails on the wooden table. You look away. He sighs a little. “I… It’s..” 

You almost want to hug him when he buries his face in his hands, tugging at the ends of his hair. 

“You can’t tell anyone.” 

The four of you exchange glances.

“We won’t.” 

He pauses.

“It’s.. IhaveacrushonthisgirlandIdon’twanttomessitup.” 

There’s a beat, where the information glides cooly into your skulls and you begin to process. Jihoon - cold, cynical, loner Jihoon - has a crush on a girl and is trying to improve himself for her? 

Holy hell.

“Jihoon!” cries Seulgi and Irene chimes in, equally as adoring and diffused: “That’s so cute, you should’ve just said something!” 

There’s an uproar of coos and cries and oohs and ahhs and compliments being thrown at Jihoon and he just sits there, cheeks blazing bright red, although with a little, shy smile on his lips. 

And then there’s you. It’s so dumb. Why can’t you help the slight disappointment that lowers on you, like the fog does in the blooming season? Why can’t you smile wider, happier for Jihoon? Why do you feel this way? Does it really take all this commotion for you to realize how much you want him? You half-smile and look at your shoes. Just as how your feelings blossomed like a flower in spring, you hope they, too, are destined to wither away once more. 

“Congratulations,” you say to him, giving him a dignified nod. Jihoon looks at you for a moment, before he smiles tightly and thanks you.

“Jihoon!” Yeri says, and you know you’re about to hate her for what comes next: “We can totally help you with the crush!” 

Jihoon’s eyes widen. “Really? I mean- you guys don’t have to-” 

“No, no! You can come to our girls’ nights and we can tell you everything!” Irene cuts in, nodding in reassurance. Jihoon smiles to himself a little sheepishly.

“Who is it?” Seulgi asks, and you can tell her heart is triple its usual size.

“I’m not telling you.” 

“Come on!” Seulgi begs, but Jihoon is steadfast. He gives her cheeky smile and shakes his head again. “No way. It’s my secret.” 

“We can keep a secret!” Yeri begs, bending her knees in plea. You, unusually quiet, speak up again: “We can.” 

There’s a pause while Jihoon looks at you again. He narrows his eyes and it’s almost like he’s trying to decode you. Maybe he’s noticed you’re just as quiet as he was, at that party. You hate yourself when your heart picks up at the thought of him caring about you. 

Suddenly he’s snapping out of it and smiling and shaking his ruffled head of hair again. “No. If girl code was supposed to be a secret, then I don’t even wanna think about telling you.”

This time there’s no talkback, only somewhat embarrassed nods.

“We deserve that.”  _____________________________

You come back to your dorm room that afternoon, and lie down in bed. Thoughts of Jihoon plague your mind and you feel disease-ridden, attempting to push away the thought with the same useless reminder: You should do your paper, gotta do your paper now, it’s due very soon…

But no matter how many times you tell yourself, you can’t overcome the crushing feeling in your chest, like your entire rib cage is being compressed. 

You know when these emotions started. It was at the Halloween party, six months ago, and Jihoon had been wearing a cop-outfit and you, with a more humorous approach, a lobster costume (Mingyu was a chef). Somehow, he’d still found you sexy though, because he was laughing in the bathroom of Seungcheol’s frat house, ripping the costume off of you. 

“I can’t believe I’m gonna fuck a lobster,” he’d said in between kisses, laughing again as he caught sight of the costume, discarded on the floor. You giggled. “Me neither. There are plenty of fish in the sea, you know?” 

And he’d thrown his head back, still with that black hair, still in that sexy fucking uniform, and his nose all scrunched and adam’s apple bopping in time with his joyful laughter. “Stop making me laugh while I’m trying to get you wet!” 

“I’m already wet,” you’d shrugged, “you’re hot.” 

And before you knew it you were handcuffed and he was rutting into you against the sink. His cock was disappearing and reappearing from your pussy, hooked onto him like a vice. Groaning and listening to your withheld moans, he’d left the most sinful hickies along your shining neck, while mumbling desperate praises to you: “You’re so pretty, N/n, letting me have you like this, so fucking hot.” 

You supposed you’d buried those feelings, because you felt so pathetic for catching feelings from a one night stand.

And it is pathetic. And you are pathetic, and desperate, and alone, and God, is it even Jihoon, or is it the way it suddenly feels like no one wants you? 

“Stop that,” Yeri says suddenly, lying on her bed on the opposite side of your room. You tilt your tired eyes towards her. “What?” 

“I can hear you thinking. What’s up?” She said nonchalantly, dropping her phone, that she’d been mindlessly scrolling through. Cheeks bunched up on your pillow and mascara smudging under your eyes, you look at her and sigh.

“Just tired,” you hum. _____________________________

Jihoon has been adopted. For a whole week following that incident, suddenly, your friends are taking him with them everywhere, and your safe space is invaded by his hair, his laugh, and his subtle cologne. It’s him with you during movie nights, it’s him during girls’ nights, and it’s him while you’re getting ready for a bar-night, all sitting in Irene and Seulgi’s pink-tastic room, doing makeup on the floor and on the desks and on the bed. 

“I love your eye makeup,” Seulgi says to Yeri (it’s a pink number with glittery inner corners), under eyes totally covered in white powder, as she’s baking her makeup. Jihoon is sitting on the floor, hair tied up in two pigtails that Irene had given him. “Thank you, Seul.”

You’re doing your own makeup, working blush into your cheeks and trying not to look at him, the way he’s half-lying on the carpeted floor, looking absentmindedly into his phone. His thighs are huge, and he’s wearing gray sweatpants, and you think you’re going insane.

Irene (who’s done with her makeup before anyone else, always) looks up from her own phone. She narrows her eyes deviously. “Jihoon, what do you think of Yeri’s makeup?” 

Jihoon snaps his head up, pigtails bouncing. “Uh,” he looks a little lost, when he turns his head over to Yeri, who smiles sheepishly, not totally understanding what was happening. “It’s nice.” 

“Just nice?” Irene smirks, and Jihoon finally seems to catch on to the fact that this is some sort of test. Indeed it was, and you knew it from the moment Irene began to talk. Your eyes flit between them, sitting behind you in the mirror. “Can you elaborate on that?” Irene smirks.

“It’s…” Jihoon considers what to respond, almost nervous. “She looks better without makeup.”

“Son, no!”

“Never!”

“Absolutely not!” 

It’s a cacophony from the girls, even a pillow is thrown at his head, which he dodges in shock. “Never say that to a girl, Jihoon! It’s rude!” Irene lectures, a finger pointedly thrown in his direction. When he doesn’t seem to get it, Yeri explains: “Imagine spending time on something, only for someone to say they’d wish you hadn’t done it all.” 

Jihoon, who’s been bristling like a disturbed cat up until now, softens in understanding. “Oh. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay, our child, you’re learning,” Irene says, face turning back to her phone, as she apparently has lost interest in the conversation. 

You watch quietly with a bemused smile, having paused your ministrations on your face, brush held in the air before you. Jihoon’s eyes flicker over to you, an unreadable expression on his face. You meet his eyes in the mirror, pitch black and blank. You look away quickly.

You can feel him, still looking at you, and you feel self-conscious at the way you crooken your back to better focus on your face. What’s he thinking? That you look ugly? That your back is ugly? Your makeup?

“Are you okay, Y/n?” 

You freeze. His voice is soft as ever, and you understand now, better than ever, why he’s a music major, because it’s so melodious and sweet in your ears. All eyes in the room snap to you and you eye them all in the mirror. “Yep.” 

Yeri sighs, exasperated. “She’s been depresso for, like, a week.” 

“I’ve been fine,” you correct, smudging out the pencil on your lid. “I’ve been fineeee,” Yeri mocks, making her voice nasally and high. You glare at her through the mirror, but all she does is stick her tongue out at you. 

“I’m just stressed out, okay? I've got a lot on my plate,” you mumble bitterly, and it’s true, because every time you’re trying to do assignments, papers, write notes and focus in class, you think of him, and how he doesn’t want you. And one wrong thing leads to another, and then you’re thinking about how no one wants you, and you haven’t had a boyfriend since you entered college. And then it’s something about how you look, or it’s something about how you are, as a person, and you just sit at your desk with this terrible feeling in you gut, trying not to cry, or hoping that your sniffles don’t overpower Replay by Shinee blasting in Yeri’s headphones, as she’s eating crackers in bed, just a few feet away from you. 

“Just talk to us if you need anything, okay?” Seulgi frowns and you smile at her, hoping it looks convincing. She nods at you, turning back to her handheld mirror. But alas one person stays staring at you. You avoid his eyes, trying not to look like you’re about to cry.

“I can arrange a spa day? We can get our toes done,” Irene asks, and she wiggles her toes in the air for emphasis. “Ooo, yes!” Yeri exclaims. 

Finally, Jihoon’s attention is ripped from you, wincing at the thought of another person handling his feet. “Can I skip out on that, maybe?” 

Irene scratches her chin, pretending to think about it. Then she says, bluntly and directly: “Nah.” 

_____________________________

“Let me come with you to the spa!” 

“No! Jihoon, walk faster,” like a mother, Seulgi is grabbing Jihoon’s wrist and dragging him further from the tall, huge man behind you. Mingyu is following you all like a dog, whining and crying, and pouting. “Please, guys! I don’t wanna go with Seungcheol and Jeonghan, they’re mean!” 

“Spa day is for girls only!” Yeri yells over her shoulder, as the five of you stumble away from Mingyu, crying out to you. “What about him?” Mingyu yells and points. 

“Don’t listen to him, sweetie,” Seulgi tells Jihoon and he nods very seriously. “He’s our adopted son! Now shoo!” 

Finally Mingyu gives up the chase, and you disappear behind the outerwall, beginning down a busy street towards Irene’s favorite spa. “I don’t get how you’re friends with that guy,” Irene says, elbowing you, and you both snicker. “He’s a pup,” you shrug.

The streets are filled with people, the sun is shining, and it’s spring, and everything should be great, because you’re with your friends. But he’s here too. Swallowed up by his hoodie, pitch black in a sea of colors, he’s still here and his very presence has you tense, and yearning for the touch of a masseuse. The streets that had grown so familiar, that you thought you had learnt and mastered, had become so foreign, and you’re trying to escape into yourself, trying to find a backdoor out of the constant blabbering, teaching Jihoon the importance of gossip and female communication and companionship. These are your friends. The sadness eventually musters into frustration.

Soon enough, you’re sighing so hard you think your soul escapes with it through your mouth. A spa-worker begins massaging your feet, and working her thumbs into your sore soles. Irene laughs at your reaction, two seats over. “Told you all you needed was a spa day!” she beams. Yeah, a spa day and maybe a new friend group that wouldn’t adopt the guy who you should certainly not be around!

And speaking of him, he’s sitting in the chair right next to yours, grimacing and flinching back from the disdained worker. 

“What are you gonna tell her?” Yeri quips, smiling at the end of the row. Jihoon takes a second to snap out of his constant flinching, looking over at her nervously. “Oh, uh…” 

The girls are all looking at him expectantly, but you’re squeezing your eyes shut and wishing your ears could shut too. 

“Probably, like.. ‘Hey, I like you, would you maybe wanna go out on a date sometime?” 

“Pssh!”

“Absolutely not!”

“As if!” 

Jihoon is a little flabbergasted.

“Here’s what you’re actually gonna say,” Seulgi leans over in her chair towards him, directing him with a finger in her armrest. You hear Jihoon scramble in his chair, and you know he’s taking out that stupid notebook again.

Seulgi lowers her voice to mimic his, when she talks again: “‘Hi, crush, how are you?’ Wait for her response… Then: ‘I’ve always thought you were very beautiful. Your very presence takes my breath away. I would like to take you on a date, would that be okay with you?’ And be suave about it.” 

“HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAH.”

Yeri and Irene burst into laughter, hitting the armrests of their chairs and covering their bright smiles with their hands. Even you snort in amusement. “What?!” Seulgi exclaims, outraged. “What’s so funny about that?” 

“Nothing, I just-...” Irene wafts herself, trying to ease away that tears of glee that spring in her eyes. “I can’t imagine any man, let alone our son, saying that to a woman.. Wow.” 

“It’s good! I would be flattered,” Seulgi defends herself viciously. Yeri snorts from her seat: “It’s not a drama, Seul!” 

“Well!” Seulgi scoffs, twisting her upper body to face Yeri now. “Maybe I would like my life to be a drama, thank you very much!” 

Their argument continues viciously, insults and laughter being thrown at each other left and right and you can almost begin to tune them own, letting the feeling of pads on your feet and a gentle, cool brush on the nail lure you to sleep.

Then there’s a hand on your forearm. You peek an eye open and see him - God, it just has to be him - leaning over his chair to gently grasp you. He looks at you through lashes, and he’s so sincere that it kills you when he says: “I can tell you’re not okay.” 

You’re a little taken aback, one second prior you were being lulled to sleep and now he’s talking to you, so low, so seriously, while the girls try to attack each other behind him. You wish your heart isn’t suddenly galloping, and you wish his warmth on your arm and radiating onto you isn’t so nauseating. “I-”

“Don't say you are, when you're not. You’re very obvious, you know?” he hums, smiling softly when he sees you flush from his intense gaze. You avert your eyes nervously. “Uhm. I just.. I don’t really want to talk about it, Hoon.” 

You flick your eyes back up to his to survey his reaction. His expression softens at the nickname, and he holds your gaze for a moment longer, before he nods in understanding, all the warmth of his closeness disappearing, when he sits back down in his seat.

“That’s okay,” he smiles at you in reassurance, and your heart leaps, and you can’t help but think that he doesn’t need anymore training to make his crush - whoever the lucky girl is - completely and totally happy for several lifetimes. 

He’s a beautiful, sun-beamed flower, where he sits, light flitting through the store-front windows. You’d be happy for several lifetimes. If only he wanted you. _____________________________

“What is going on?!” 

It’s Mingyu, and he’s somehow found you, as you’re trudging out of your latest class, suddenly hot on your trail and outraged about something or other. “What?” you mumble, heading to the cafe near the end of the hall.

“With Jihoon?! Why does he get to be your son when I don’t?!” Mingyu wafts his arms and pouts and you cringe, leaning away from his loud voice. “Ugh…” 

“I need to know why he was writing that girl code stuff, Y/n. Why is he suddenly allowed at girls’ nights, when I’ve been trying to get in for months?!” 

You take a turn into the cafe and sigh at how crowded it is, immediately placing yourself in line, Mingyu right behind you. “Calm down,” you say, just wanting a sandwich and maybe some peace and qui-

“I will not!” he snaps back, brows furrowed and a determined look on his face. You look up at him, pursing your lips in thought. Did Mingyu deserve to know? Maybe. He had been trying to get into girls’ nights forever, always going on about being ‘an honorary member’. 

“I’m not sure I can tell you- Hey, can I get a tuna sandwich, please?” You say, quickly turned to the clerk behind the counter. “I won’t tell anyone, pleaseee- Can you get me one of those too? Thanks.”

You’re handed your sandwiches, and you hold both of them, drifting over to a table by the window, both of Mingyu’s hands on your shoulders and his voice in your ear: “Please, please, please, pretty please with the sugar on top?”

You plop down in your seat, simply exasperated, and hand him his sandwich. He’s settling himself down when you answer: “Okay.”

“Yes!” Mingyu fists the air in victory, mumbling self-assured under his breath: “Begging always works.” You snort and take a big bite of your sandwich. 

“Stop eating and tell me!” he whines. “I’m hungry– Hey!” 

Mingyu snatches the sandwich right out of your hands and grins at you deviously, dancing with it. You hate him. You hate him, but it is a little endearing.

“Jihoon has a crush on some girl and he’s been writing down the girl code in an attempt to understand women,” you deadpan, and when Mingyu’s mouth and guard drops, you snatch your sandwich back and begin gulping down hungrily. 

“Are you shitting me?!” You shake your head.

“So, that's why he's allowed at girls’ night?” You nod your head. 

“So, that’s why you’ve been so down?” You almost choke on your food.

“What?” 

“Because you like him,” Mingyu says seriously and, with a totally stunned look on your face, you shark down the bits of sandwich in your mouth painfully. “How do you know that?!” you cry, head suddenly snapping in seventy different directions, relief washing over you, when none of your or Jihoon’s friends are around.

“Because you’ve been acting all weird around him since you fucked at Seungcheol’s Halloween party,” Mingyu shrugs. You wave your arms wildly.

“How do you know that?!” Whining, you throw yourself back in your seat, and bury your head in your hands. This couldn’t be happening. Your delicate secret, the one that could have - should have - simply faded away into summer, was now out and open, and you look out the window, and it’s spring.

“I know everything,” Mingu says ominously, giggling evilly.

“Mingyu, I will fucking kill you.”

“Fine! I needed to pee and you guys were super loud,” Mingyu pouts and takes a bite of his own sandwich. “No need to be so rude.” 

“I can’t believe you know,” you groan, head collapsing on the table. Mingyu, forever and always silly, finally softens and frowns. You’re scattered. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” 

“No,” you say. Then, a moment later (in true Girl Code fashion) you’re lifting your head from the table and burying it in your hands: “I just. I don’t know, Mingyu. I feel so pathetic for liking him after a one night stand! And now he’s doing all this for another woman and he’s with us all the time…I haven’t had a boyfriend in college, Mingyu. I just feel so…” There’s a pause, when you’re trying to find the right word, and Mingyu stops breathing, looking at you and fearing the worst. Then comes the word, ripping itself from your lips:

“Unlovable.” 

Mingyu’s frown deepens. Big, puppy Mingyu who’s always silly and happy, just slumps in on himself. “You’re not unlovable,” he mumbles, sounding genuinely disbelieving. You scoff.

“Thanks, Mingyu, it’s just.. That’s how it feels,” you admit, running a hand through your hair and looking at your half-eaten sandwich on the table. Mingyu’s quiet for a moment. When he speaks up again, he’s determined, and you can discern almost immediately that there’s no escaping this plan. Or he’ll for God’s sake start begging again.

“I’m going to wingman you,” he’s nodding to himself, and you can see the plan falling into place in his head, “I’m gonna wingman you and set you up with my friend at the party on Saturday!” 

“Please, don’t,” you groan half-heartedly, but a piece of you brightens with hope, with summer, like maybe this was the thing you needed to get over your schoolgirl-crush on Jihoon.

“No,” Mingyu responds simply. “This is happening.”  _____________________________

Indeed, it is happening. 

The frat house is practically bumping with each beat of whatever pop song is playing over the speakers, and you lean into the rhythm that reverberates in the kitchen table beneath your fingers.

You somewhat wish that you hadn’t been as excited for this as you were, that you hadn’t spent hours picking out the perfect pink dress and doing your makeup, and that you aren’t hopelessly dependant on Mingyu (of all people) to find you a fuck. But you are. Putting on that dress and hoop earrings and doing your hair and declining Yeri’s invitation to the girls’ (and Jihoon’s) pre-party, you feel like you’re scrambling, like constantly falling through the air, flailing for something to ground yourself on. 

Now, scanning over the tinted lights and the dancing people and feeling the slight, warm buzz of vodka in your blood, you know you need this. And still, you combat that slight anxiety, the insecurity that you hadn’t felt in years - what if Mingyu couldn’t find a single guy that wanted you? 

Mingyu doesn’t seem worried though.

“Okay! We just gotta figure out who to set you up with. Take your pick,” he places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing and gauging your reaction. Your brows furrow as you shrug. Somehow, even when half the guys are objectively hot, you can’t say you find yourself drawn to any of them. You don’t linger on the feeling, fearful that maybe you’ll realize all the things they’re missing, the things they’re falling short of, are just Jihoon’s traits. “I don’t know, man. I just-..” 

Mingyu senses your struggle and elects to give you his excellent guidance. “Alright, well you could do Joshua?” He’s pointing somewhere in the crowd, and sure enough, you notice Joshua, majoring in communications or something like that. “He’s a star: total hottie, super smart, sweet and considerate, and-” 

“And he fucked Yeri,” you deadpan, head lolling over to look at Mingyu disapprovingly. Mingyu’s mouth falls open: “What?!”

“Yeah, like, two months ago!” you argue, wafting your hands. Mingyu’s mouth stays open, and he’s seemingly totally appalled by this. 

“What?! Okay- nevermind. How about him?” He points his long limbs again, and this time you notice- 

You narrow your eyes confusedly. Hopefully Mingyu was not trying to set you up with the biggest player in your year? “Jeonghan?!” 

“What? No, the guy beside him, dickwad,” he playfully smacks the side of your head as you refocus your eyes. Indeed, a blonde guy is standing next to Jeonghan, seemingly whining at him. “Who’s he?” 

“Lee Chan. Super sweet, great bod, a little dumb, but very doting-” 

“Is he a freshman?!” you cry, almost as if it were a crime. Mingyu huffs. “You’re not making this easy, you know?!” 

“I’m not dating or fucking a freshman,” you cross your arms and Mingyu senses the air of finality in your words. He sighs, slumping behind you for a moment, before he spots something across the room.

“Wonwoo! What about him?” he doesn’t even bother pointing at this point, simply tilts your head towards the man, who was currently talking to Seungcheol a little ways from the kitchen. You spot him. You suppose you’d always been a little curious about Wonwoo. From what you’d seen of him in passing, he was sweet and polite, absolutely gorgeous and extremely smart. You nod solemnly.

“I could- I could see that,” you say and Mingyu’s eyes light up. He bounces victoriously, punching the air. “He’s great, you’re- you’re gonna love him,” Mingyu delights and before you can even get another word in, Mingyu’s yelling across the room: “Hey, Wonwoo! Wonwoo, scootch over here!”  

Your eyes widen in shock. “Wha- we’re doing this now? Just, on the fly? No warning?” 

“It’s fine,” Mingyu waves you off, eyes trained on where Wonwoo is now walking towards you. 

“Do I look okay?” your voice is wavering nervously. You still can’t help how you feel, even in your dress and your makeup. Where had all your confidence gone? The confidence with which you’d literally fucked Jihoon in a lobster-costume? Even the thought of him stings. Mingyu’s confident facade falters for only a split second at the vulnerability in your tone. His gaze softens and he looks at you: “You look great, N/n. Calm down, Wonwoo’s super nice.” 

“Hey, Gyu,” Wonwoo’s voice is cool, as he approaches Mingyu. Standing in front of you and Mingyu, he briefly scans you, then acknowledges you with a nod and a sweet smile. “Wonwoo, hey, you know, I was just wondering if you’ve already done the history paper?” 

Wonwoo is unamused. “I’m not doing your paper again, Mingyu.” 

“Oh well, shucks, that’s simply too bad,” Mingyu (poorly) feigns annoyance and defeat, before he’s grabbing your shoulder. “Anyway, Wonwoo, have you met my very good friend, Y/n?” 

You fake a smile, hoping the absolute pain of the current interaction was not showing on your face. If you’d known Mingyu was this bad at wing-manning, you would’ve gladly put up with his begging instead. You want to crawl into a hole and die, because based on Wonwoo’s smug smile, he has a pretty good understanding of what’s happening.

“Whoops, look at the time!” Mingyu looks at his wrist. He is not wearing a watch. “Damn, I guess I gotta go and- and leave my two good friends alone with each other, such a shame, uh, anyway!” As he speaks he backs further and further from you, trying to ignore the glare in your eyes, before he’s bolting at his last word. 

There’s an awkward silence as soon as Mingyu’s gone. You feel like an unshelled turtle. You purse your lips and stare at your heel-clad feet. 

“So, Mingyu was trying to wingman you?” Wonwoo’s voice is deep and bemused. You look at him in horror, trying to think of a way to salvage the situation.

“Yeah,” your breathe, and he immediately begins laughing. “Sorry about that, he was- he was just trying to be helpful, although it’s hard to defend him right now.” 

“He’s wingmanned me before, too,” Wonwoo muses and, thank God, this was actually a good thing. You find a balance on the common ground. “Really?” you grin, looking up at him.

“Yep,” Wonwoo admits, “safe to say I did not get my dick wet.” 

You laugh hard, and it feels like a switch has flipped inside you, restarting your joy-generator, because you’re laughing and hitting Wonwoo’s arm, and he’s smiling because he’s just made a pretty girl laugh. 

“He’s so bad!” you say when you’re done laughing. “Everytime!” Wonwoo drawls, “Everytime he pulls that shit and he’s never wearing a watch!” 

You and Wonwoo laugh together, throwing (good-hearted) snarky comments about Mingyu around, and your cheeks are rosy and shining in the kitchen-light. Finally, party still bumpin’ and pumpin’ in the near distance, your laughter dies down and you’re both half-leaning against the counter. Wonwoo looks down at you with a smug smile. 

“What?” you ask, growing insecure again under his gaze. He hums.

“So you asked for me?” 

“Hm?” 

“When Mingyu was wingmanning you,” Wonwoo reminded you, tilting his head. “You asked for me?” 

“I-” you stutter, and your heart clenches nervously, because if things had been right, if things were different at least, you would have asked for Jihoon. It’s this gut-punching guilt. It feels wrong to use him, Wonwoo, to overcome Jihoon. “He was laying down my options.” 

“Options?” Wonwoo quips, brow raised questioningly, but he doesn’t interrogate further. Instead, he leans his head down, so he’s much, much closer to you, breathing hitting your face when he whispers: “But you wanted to fuck me. Isn’t that right?” 

You gulp. His presence is almost suffocating. Avoiding his eyes, you flicker them onto the dancefloor, where- 

Where Jihoon is storming out of the house. 

You squeeze your eyes shut - something Wonwoo thinks is out of embarrassment, from the question he’s just asked you - and try to refocus on Wonwoo. Try to ignore how the thoughts about Jihoon come bubbling in your head. It was probably something with his crush. You want to do nothing more than comfort him, hold him, steal away every bad thought he may ever have. 

You open your eyes, hoping that somehow seeing Wonwoo’s face would fill you with a need for him - him, and not Jihoon - but seeing him in the low lighting only serves as a reminder that Wonwoo is not him. 

“I’m- I’m so sorry, Wonwoo. I gotta go. I’m really, really sorry-” you say suddenly, and immediately you’re scurrying towards the door. Wonwoo frowns, eyes following you in your path. “Did I- Did I make you uncomfortable?” 

“No, you were hot!” you say absent-mindedly, before you’re disappearing into the entrance, and then further along, out the door.

Wonwoo stands alone at the counter, still somewhat leaned towards your ghost in front of him, and shakes his head in confusion. “What the fuck?”  _____________________________

“Jihoon?” 

You exit just in time to see him, stomping on the other side of the road, armless denim jacket wafting in the wind. It’s spring, just warm enough that you’re not freezing, but still cold enough that you curl your arms around yourself. Your hair blows gently. It smells distantly like flowers. 

He turns around at your voice. When he does, you know your suspicions were right. He looks so defeated. His gorgeous long hair, that usually only makes you clench your thighs together, is limp and drags him downwards. His arms hang similarly at his sides, fists clenched at the bottom, causing veins to ripple along the forearms. He stands just below a street light, spot-lighted, as if on a stage.

“Leave me alone!” he yells out to you across the road, voice breaking halfway. This does nothing to dampen his demeanor - this tough front, this anger he suddenly carries. You still in the grass beside the road, looking at him pleadingly. He can’t hold your gaze.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, Jihoon,” you begin, choosing your words carefully. “But I can just.. Support you. You don’t have to be alone right now.” 

This almost seems to piss him off more, clenching his jaw, sharply defined by the harsh shadows, and steering his head away from you, like a sunflower following the sun in the sky. It hurts your heart. The way he almost seems angry with you. And yet again you’re made to feel pathetic for following him out here. Like you’re on your knees and he’s standing there in front of you, spitting on you. Why does it hurt so much? You almost wish you’d stayed with Wonwoo - that you’d followed him to his room and let him fuck you and pretended you weren’t thinking about him the entire time.

“Shouldn’t you go back inside?” he’s prickling with hostility. “You seemed like you were having a good time.”

“Jihoon,” you say breathlessly. “None of us is having a good time if you’re not.” 

Whatever cog you unturned, whatever screw you unscrewed, Jihoon’s tightly wound posture unwinds, and he softens and withers before you, one hand clamping over his eyes. You take this as a sign to move towards him, heels clicking on the asphalt warning him of your advance. It’s deadly quiet, save for the heartbeat of the frat house behind you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, finally lowering his hand and looking at you. You smile sympathetically, relief flooding you, when he lets you gently place a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay.” 

The two of you begin to walk in silence, and you recognize it as the path that leads back to the dormitory. It’s calm, steps becoming rhythmic and breeze easing your muscles with its cool touch. You study his face as it’s lit and unlit by the systemic presence of street lights. You’re able to put your own feelings aside for him, to be a martyr, and to sacrifice yourself to comfort him. It feels like cutting your own throat to talk to him about another woman, a woman he loves, truly, but you know it must be done.

“So,” you muster finally. “What happened in there?” 

He scoffs bitterly, looking at the pavement underneath his shoes. You frown. “Nothing happened.” 

“Nothing?” you repeat, a little confused.

“I didn’t tell her.” 

“Oh.” 

You’re honestly not the best comforter, you realize, cringing and hoping you’re not making it worse by talking to him about it. You see the faint outline of the dormitory at the end of the street. 

“Why not?” you quip quietly. His mouth makes a tight line. He breathes out shakily, and you fear you’re riling him up again by asking further.

“She was talking to some other guy,” Jihoon says, eyes flitting to yours before immediately ducking back to the pavement. You furrow your brows. Could it be you? That thought nurtures the spring garden in your stomach, the one you’d been trying to kill. But the insecurity that had come with it, and with him, only manages to squander that light.

“I’m sorry that happened,” you say softly, hand finding his arm, but he pulls it away from you immediately. Ouch. 

“Yeah,” he chuckles without humor. 

Finally, you decide to just shut up, to stop pushing him when he’s so vulnerable, but this time it’s Jihoon who doesn’t stop speaking. “You know,” he begins and again he’s laughing, but you can tell it’s only a cheap plaster for the pain in his voice, “I’d memorized that- that confession thing Seulgi made. And I followed all the- the style advice and the-” his voice breaks and he hisses at how pathetic it sounds. “Everything. I did everything,” he summarizes finally and when you look you see orbs of tears forming at his waterline, like the dew drops that sparkle on leaves in spring. 

You don’t know what to say. It’s almost too hard to see him like this. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, but Jihoon shakes his head.

“Stop saying that,” his voice is harsher, groggier, thick and stained by the sobs in his throat. You pause your steps. You’re standing in the yard outside the dormitory now. Hundreds of windows become an audience to where you now stand before each other. 

“Why?” you ask. 

“Because-” he wipes the tears away aggressively, composing himself before he finally, finally looks at you. “Because you’re gonna make me think that you actually care.” His voice is suddenly laced with venom again. The hostility that you’d tamed returns and it’s so much stronger, more bitter. You’re taken aback.

“I-I do care? Why do you think I don’t care-” 

“Oh, please, Y/n. You didn’t want me at your girls’ nights or at spa day or fucking whatever. You didn’t- You don’t care about my book or my crush or my-” 

“I do care!” you interrupt, voice stern and much louder. “What, you think I follow you out of parties for fun? Because I don’t care about you? And yeah, maybe I didn’t want you at the girls’ nights, but what does that matter-” 

“It matters because!–” he stops himself in his tracks, hand coming out to halt you. “Fuck it, wait here,” he orders, and suddenly he is trudging into the darkness of the courtyard. You stand still, flabbergasted, and thoroughly confused. It’s so dark you can’t even see what he’s doing, only hear him in the dirt, silhouette blending into the shadows. Then, he’s walking back to you and you finally see him. 

There are flowers in his hands. 

It’s a makeshift bouquet, held tightly in between his veiny, pale hands, consisting of flowers that grow in the courtyard, red, yellow and lilac. It’s a slow-burning realization as he stands himself before you, looking into your eyes with a sincerity that is laced with pain. You know this part of the girl code. 

“Hi, Y/n, how are you?” he breathes, and his voice is shaking and he’s looking at you and practically begging you to play along - to indulge him, even if you would turn your back on him. You can hardly register anything but him and those flowers, because your surroundings, the moon, the stars, the shadows and the streets are overpowered by the blooming in your chest. A single flower unfurls the pedals of your heart until you are open before him. You meet his eyes.

“I’m good.” 

He nods. 

“I’ve always thought you were very beautiful,” it almost seems like it physically pains him to admit these breathless feelings. “Your very presence takes my breath away. I would like to take you on a date,” another pained, gulping pause. “Would that be okay with you?”

It’s as if time has stopped in this moment; how his chest rises and falls under his shirt, how his hair gently nuzzles his face, how his eyes blear out at you from underneath his bangs, how he glows in the moonlight, and how his hands shake around the stems of the flowers. 

“Was I..” his voice is hoarse, “Was I suave about it?” 

“Yes,” is all you can manage, because all those flowers that you had stomped into a half-death were coming alive again and this time it was more than welcome.

“Yes?” 

“Yes, you can take me on a date,” you break into a wide smile and, upon realizing you probably look like an idiot, you lower your gaze and your warm, shining cheeks to the pavement. He gasps, and it’s probably the cutest thing you’ve ever heard.

“But- you and Wonwoo-?” 

“Do you wanna know why I was even talking to Wonwoo?” you ask, and when you meet his eyes again, he’s also smiling. You can’t help but reach out a hand to wrap around one of his, still frozen in holding the flowers. He quickly maneuvers the bouquet to the other hand and intertwines your fingers. Your heart soars. “Mingyu found out that I was sad because you had a crush on someone - I didn’t think it was me, you know? So he promised to wingman me at this party.” 

“Son of a bitch,” Jihoon whispers, and you laugh, feeling so floaty and lovely. “Don’t call him that,” you say, but Jihoon only smiles cheekily, eyes matching the crescent moon in the sky above you.

“No, I meant me,” he says. He looks down at the flowers and frowns. “Is that why you were so quiet? On girls night?” 

You nod and he sighs. “I’m such an idiot.” 

“No, you’re not. You’re so sweet,” you say genuinely, and Jihoon nearly melts at how much you mean it. There’s something so wonderful about the way all the words, that he would never use to describe himself, float around your head and sparkle in your eyes in this moment, looking up at him.

Jihoon needs to kiss you.  He’s not sure he’s ever needed anything as badly. He rips his free hand from yours only to place it tenderly against your cheek, pulling your face and your warmth into him, bouquet held out at his side to allow you snugly in his chest. 

His lips are so soft and his nose nuzzles your own, plush hair tickling your forehead, and his huffed out breaths dance along your cheeks. Your lips mod perfectly, unlocking the shackles with which that earth-shattering yearning had held onto you. The world is anguish but will momentarily and suddenly be interrupted,  cleaved apart with a sudden gash, by a planet-killer: love. 

You truly don’t mean to make it heated, hell, you’d be content just kissing him forever, feeling how his tongue prods at your lips and meets your own, but his sculpted chest under your fingers draws out a pathetic moan. His eyebrows spring up and he pulls back to look at you. You blush under his gaze, fiddling with your dress.

“Holy fuck, that was so fucking hot,” he gasps, lips swollen from your insistent sucking on them, panting into the night air. You brighten at his compliment. “Inside. Now. To my room.” 

“You know, girl code says to not have sex before on the third date,” you say smugly, unprepared when his free hand pushes you back into his chest, and his lips drag over half of your face, finding home at your ear. His voice is a growl: “Fuck. Girl code.” 

He begins a somewhat dramatic march to the front door and you can’t help but run after him, taking his hand, and seeing how he smiles at that feeling. He looks so happy. Your heart skips a beat, because it’s you - you’re the one making him so happy. 

And he’s so hot, it’s all you can think about as he drags you along the corridors, how nice his arms look in the sleeves denim, how pretty his hair is, his fucking face, and the chest you just barely felt under your fingertips. You’re watching doors pass in a monotonous routine, jittery and unable to wait for the one that might be his, for him to take you through it, and for you to bloom, totally and perfectly under him.

“Fucking finally,” he breathes, voice gruff and much lower than you’re used to when he stops at his door, fishing for his keys in his pocket. It enters the lock and with a click, everything you fantasized about is opening to you. 

As soon as you’re inside, he’s kicking the door shut and pushing you against the wall, nails gripping into your dress, when he finally drops the makeshift bouquet on his nightstand. He cries out into your mouth at the way your chest bounces from the impact, immediately capturing your lips in his again. 

You can’t help the way you’re tugging at his hair, trying to ground yourself in the feeling of him, when he shoves a thigh between your legs. You moan into his mouth, rutting into him, while his wandering hands pull your skirt up you to pool around your waist. He pulls back to look at you, how your hips cant into his strong, big thigh, and how your pink, lacey panties cling to your wet pussy. 

“Off,” he mumbles, apparently having decided that the simple tugging of the fabric of your dress won’t be enough. You turn around in a daze, not even uttering a word, simply shoving the zipper at the back of it. 

Jihoon groans, he has to, seeing the way you stick out your ass to him, while your hand lay flat on the wall. You shake your hips teasingly at him, and his hands float to your ass, petting it and squeezing it in his fingers, and biting his lips because it looks so fucking good and plump, and there’s a wet spot in your panties. He grabs your hips and rubs his dick into you. You gasp at the feeling, nails scratching against the wall.

“You make me so hard, baby,” he says breathlessly, unable to help himself humping against you, pre-cum spilling from his tip. “Shit,” he grunts, and you’re squeezing your eyes closed at the outline of his dick pressing into your pussy. 

Finally Jihoon collects himself and his cold hands drag the zipper down. The top of your dress loosens and slides down your shoulders, where Jihoon aids you in slipping it off. His hands spin you around, finally taking a breath to marvel your bare chest in front of him. 

You blush, suddenly so bashful, when just before you were wiggling your ass at him. You curl your arms over your chest, but Jihoon’s own come to stop them. “No, no, no, no,” he tuts, almost sad, “why are you doing that?” 

You don’t answer immediately, but apparently it’s not a rhetorical question. His hands intertwine with yours to prevent you from covering yourself up. “Uh, I don’t know,” you stammer sheepishly, “I don’t wanna, like, kill the mood or any-” 

“You’re not killing the mood, pretty,” Jihoon whispers so, so achingly sincere and your heart hurts. 

“Sorry, it was just-” 

“Don’t say sorry,” he lectures, interrupting again. He tilts his head and he looks at you with a flaming intensity. “Try again.” 

You pause, flustered out of your mind.

“I-I’ve just been feeling a little insecure lately, I guess,” you say and you’re positive your face is beet-red, but if it is Jihoon says nothing, only pouts and releases one hand only to direct your eyes back to his with a hand on your chin. 

“You’re so beautiful, Y/n,” he says and even when you seek it out, you can’t find even the slightest hint of lying in his voice. “I want to show you, but I can’t do that if you cover up. Understand?” 

You nod, lips breaking into a little smile, that his heart becomes hot like the spring-sunshine. “Okay,” you say and he smiles brightly, releasing your chin from between his fingers. 

He guides you onto the bed, but it’s no longer heated and rushed, it’s so soft and gentle, and he pulls off your underwear only after you whisper in agreement, and then he lowers himself into it, again, only allowing himself the pleasure when you whisper a strained yes and nod vigorously. 

He fully makes out with your pussy - his lips are wrapped around your clit, licking and sucking it, and fucking moaning into it, sending vibration straight to the coil in your stomach. You’re moaning so loud, broken cries bouncing off the walls, while your finger wrap into his hair and your legs thrash. His tongue flattens against your folds, then dips down to trail around your slit. 

“Jihoon!” you cry, hips bucking into his mouth. He groans again, releasing your pussy with a soft pop. “Fuck, baby, keep saying my name like that.” And then his face disappears in your pussy again.

And you do, everytime his nips and gums on your sensitive folds, tongue trailing back up to your nub to fully envelop it. He sucks, hard. And you think you might cum the second you look at him, because the image of his full head of hair buried in between your legs and lapping like a starved man is so pornographic, your head spins.

He might go insane from just the taste of you, he realizes, because even when you cry that you’re cumming, and your legs shake around his head and your pussy is soaked with your cum, he can’t bring himself to pull away, strong arms wrapping around stomach to still you as you begin to wiggle from the feeling of his tongue just continuing to lap at you.

“Jihoon! Fuck, t-too much,” you whimper and the sound shoots straight to his cock. He finally pulls away, eyes still trained on your pretty cunt, and the way it clenches around nothing. “Clenching so hard, sweetheart, only for there to be nothing, shouldn’t we fix that?” he hums, leaning down to trail his finger through your folds, gathering your wetness on its tip.

You whimper uncertainly, when he crawls back over your body, hair tickling your face when hovers just above you and he shushes your pathetic squeaks. He pushes the wet finger into your mouth and you suck obediently. “Shh, baby, just taste yourself on my finger, how can you be insecure with a pussy like that, hm?” 

You cry around his single digit, tongue sliding over it eagerly. He wants to fuck your face, the way your pretty, plump lips wrap around his finger, but he’ll save that for another time. “Shh, baby, I know. You’ll be stuffed full of cock soon, don’t worry,” he rasps soothingly, and slips his drenched finger from your mouth. 

Finally, he rips the denim jacket off, white tee following soon after, and you’re left, mouth gaping, at the how toned his stomach is, how big his pecs are and how fucking thick his arms are at his side. 

“You’re so fucking hoot, Hoonie,” you drawl, making grabby hands to urge him back to you. He smiles at those words, even gains a small dusting of pink on his cheeks, but he shakes his head. “Gotta get my pants off, baby.” 

“Hurry up,” you grin playfully, and he scoffs at you from where he stands, pants and boxers coming off in one fell swoop. “So needy,” he mumbles to himself, but you can tell by the overjoyed expression on his face, that he’s enjoying this just as much as you are. 

His cock is finally freed, and your eyes float to it, drinking in the sight of him. He’s so pretty and so red, and a single vein creeps up its curved surface towards the oozing head. You gulp, eyes sparkling. 

“Wan’ it in my mouth,” you mumble, where you’re now half sitting up and glowing from your first orgasm. Jihoon looks at you and laughs, as he climbs on top of you again. 

His face hovers over yours, finger carding through your hair tenderly. He looks in your eyes. “Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah.” 

He coos at you, eyes flickering to your lips for a moment, and you feel his cock twitch where it rests heavily on your stomach. “Not right now, pretty, I wanna fuck you.” 

“You don’t have to cum-” you reason, mouth practically watering at the thought of having him in your mouth. He stops you though, hand still brushing through your hair, so delicately, as if you were a lily, or a rose, or a tulip.

“I’m not gonna be able to hold back if you look at me like that with my fucking cock in your mouth,” he whispers, and it’s so intimate, despite being so vulgar. How warm you both are, naked and holding onto each other and his dick is oozing onto your stomach and your pussy is leaking onto his sheets. “Like that,” Jihoon emphasizes, when you look up at him adoringly. You smile. 

“Okay,” you say, a determined look on your face, “later then.” 

He laughs. “Eager baby. Relax, you’re gonna get a pussy full of cock now, your mouth can wait.” 

You wanna retort, say something snarky, anything, but you’re abruptly interrupted by the feeling of his cock pushing into you. You moan and your nails claw at his back, because it’s so big and so raw in your pussy, you feel that fucking vein dragging against your walls. “Shit, Hoonie. Fuck, fuck.” 

He’s groaning too, hands on your waist and face in your neck. “So fucking tight, so pretty.” 

You’re both panting when his cock is fully nestled inside you, sitting snug against your walls. You look up at him and he’s pretty, all flushed and lips swollen, and the sight makes you clench. He hisses, jerking abruptly, making the both of you moan. 

“Fuck, baby, can’t just clench on me like tha-” 

“Please, please, just fuck me now, can’t wait anymore!” you cry, clawing at him, nails raking over his flexed biceps, where he holds onto you. And he can’t help but fulfill your wish.

You honestly don’t know where he gets his stamina, because the second you’re done asking, he’s ramming into you so hard and so fast, your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open in a long whine. The whole bed is shaking from the impact, as his hips sheath and unsheath from your warm, welcoming pussy. 

“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” he drawls, hands trailing up from your waist to your bouncing chest, thumbing over your nipples. “Bet Wonwoo wishes he got to see you like this, hm?” 

The way your pussy has his cock in a chokehold, the way you’re lying beneath, it has him fully dazed, and now he babbles all that comes to mind. “Yeah, but you’re mine, princess. No one else gets to see you like this, no one else can have you crying like this for their cock, right?” 

“N-No one else,” you whimper, sopping cunt clenching and unclenching around his dick. “That’s right,” he pants, humid breath on your cheek, “Say you’re mine, pretty girl, say you’re fucking mine.” 

“A-ah, ‘m yours, Hoonie,” you cry and he thinks he might cum just like that, at your blissed face, glowing beneath him, and your pussy sucking him in, and you obeying him thoughtlessly. 

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” he rewards you by dragging his hand down your stomach to rub your clit. Your whole body convulses into his, hands dragging over his big arms for support. “Come on, sweetheart, cum on my cock now.” 

And you do, the tension in your stomach tightening beyond what you can take, before it finally unfurls, and it blooms, and it’s spring, and your squirting all over Jihoon’s abs, because God, he’s so fucking hot and he fucks you silly with his dumb, big muscles and his dumb, cute face.

The sight of your squirting, thrashing and shaking underneath him is all he needs. Jihoon shoots you full of his cum, making you feel so full and wet, before he finally halts his rutting hips, stilling on top of you. 

You’re both panting. You’re sweating so much, your hair sticks to your forehead, and you’re gasping for air. Jihoon is still on top of you, holding himself up somehow, and licking at your neck appreciatively. 

There’s a pause, where you’re basking in each other's warmth, and there’s so much love between you it’s almost suffocating. Then you're narrowing your eyes at the head of hair in your neck, growing suspicious. 

“... Are you still hard?” 

He laughs into your neck, peering up at you with a sheepish smile.

“Are you still open to that dick-sucking thing?” _____________________________

“So,” Yeri trails off.

You’re sitting in front of her, Seulgi and Irene at the campus cafe after a thorough round of congratulating you and Jihoon’s new relationship. They’d been both surprised and somehow not-at-all-surprised. 

“He can’t come to girls night anymore,” Irene states the obvious, and immediately you, Seulgi and Yeri are nodding along. 

“Thank God, I wasn’t the only one thinking that.” 

“It just wouldn’t work,” you supply, agreeing. 

There’s a pause. Seulgi pouts. “I can’t believe we don’t have a son anymore. They grow up so fast,” she says and she sounds genuinely sad about it.

You sigh a little, debating whether or not to play this card. Then you say: “I know someone who would like to be our son.” 

“Oh, no..”

“Don’t say..” 

“Yep,” you shrug, and then you hear him. Lumbering clumsily down the hall, like a galloping horse. 

“I HEAR THERE’S A NEW POSITION OPEN DURING GIRLS NIGHTS!!!!! I MADE MUFFINS!!”

Mingu is running through the cafe, dodging stools and chairs like he’s on Ninja Warrior. 

Irene frowns. “I guess he’ll do as our new son.” 

“We can always kick him out if he gets too annoying,” Yeri shrugs, just in time for Mingyu to stand before your table with a fresh tray of muffins. 

“Yes!” he cries with glee, voice incredibly high because he just can’t believe it.

“Begging always works!”

⇢ word count: 6.9k ⇢ genre: fluff, established relationship, secret relationship, office workers!jisung & reader, holiday themed, a bit of a crackfic (everyone in this is slightly unhinged and you should NOT act like them in your actual workplace PLEASE), appearances from absolute nuisances nohyuck (mainly hyuck being a nuisance and jeno being a desk candy bowl thief) and chill boss johnny (he’s actually the only normal one around this office fr), part of my 2024 hallmark movie marathon ⇢ warnings: lots of discussions of sex/sleeping together (nohyuck have an absolutely unhinged plot to have reader hook up w jisung w/o realizing that they’re already dating, shenanigans ensue) ⇢ extra info: this was originally going to be part of want from me, but i felt like i was losing the plot a bit, so i tweaked some stuff and made it its own fic instead this is part of my 2024 hallmark movie marathon, three short, unrelated fics starring jisung all with cheesy hallmark christmas movie-esque premises. there’s no continuing plotline between fics in this series, they’re all standalone fics ⇢ author’s note: ok i may be stretching the concept of a ‘cheesy hallmark movie’ in this one, but there’s a holiday party. sue me. ⇢ 2024 hallmark movie marathon

“You need to fuck Jisung.” Donghyuck sat on your desk the following Monday, nearly knocking your cup of pens over.

“What happened to hello? How are you?”

“I get why you didn’t want to tell anybody when I was interviewing,” Jisung sighed as you adjusted his tie for him. “But don’t you think everyone’s formed their own opinions about me by now?”

“You told me Mr. Kang called you Joosung yesterday,” you pointed out. “We agreed after your three-month evaluation, remember?”

“That’s next month!”

“Two weeks. December tenth, to be exact, will be three months since you started.”

“I know, I know.” He pulled you closer by your hips, burying his face in your neck. “Thank you.”

You rested one hand on the nape of his neck, the other stroking his hair. “I hate it too. I was in the bathroom yesterday and overheard a couple of the women from budgeting talking about you. Apparently one of them wants to ask you to the holiday party.”

He lifted his head up, squinting with confusion. “Wait, was it Song Minji from budgeting?”

“Yes…”

“Yesterday she asked me if I was going, I said yes, then she asked if I had a date, and I said no, and she said she didn’t either. Then she just stared at me. It was really awkward, so I told her I had to get back to my spreadsheets and walked away.”

You burst out laughing, covering your mouth as your boyfriend continued looking down at you with absolutely endearing confusion. Patting his cheek, you informed him gently, “She was waiting for you to ask her to the party, baby.”

“Well, even if I knew that, I wouldn’t have,” he huffed.

“I know, Sungie,” you kissed his cheek. “I know.”

“Good.”

You glanced at the time on your bedside clock, tapping his arm indicatively. “We’ve got to go.”

“Y/N, someone from bookkeeping will be over to pick these receipts up today,” Mr. Suh, your boss, informed you, setting a large banker box down on the ledge behind your computer monitor.

You nodded. “You sure you don’t want me to just take them over there now?”

Bookkeeping was on the same floor as your team, just on the opposite side of the large office building.

“No, I’ve got six more boxes in my office. They should be coming with a dolly. I’ve got a lunch meeting, then I’m on-site at a build. Can you make sure they get them all?”

“Of course. See you tomorrow, then.”

“Thank you. See you tomorrow.” He smiled and reached into your candy bowl, securing a chocolate for himself before heading off towards the elevator.

As you continued working up your reports, another figure approached your desk.

“Hi.” Jisung smiled down at you from over the banker box.

“And what is a bookkeeping gremlin doing over here?” You teased, having already spotted the bright orange dolly next to him. “They let you guys out of your cages?”

“Just me, because I’m on a mission.” He did a little mock salute, making you giggle. He then looked between the dolly and the box. “But I don’t really think this was necessary…”

“There’s six more boxes in Mr. Suh’s office,” you informed him happily, pointing to your boss’ door.

“Oh.”

Two of your team members, Donghyuck and Jeno, congregated around your desk then as well, Jeno zeroing in on your candy bowl as always, and Donghyuck snooping at what you were doing on your screen.

“Boring!” Hyuck declared, hitting CTRL + S on your keyboard to save it for you before exiting out of the program. “Lunchtime!”

“Hey, I was working on that, you know,” you protested, keeping up your usual banter with your work friend.

“Now you’re not,” he shrugged.

“Actually, you were chatting with…” Jeno trailed off, looking at Jisung expectantly.

“Jisung,” your boyfriend filled in.

“—You were chatting with Jisung when we got here,” Jeno finished, popping another chocolate in his mouth and tucking it in his cheek to talk around it. “So you weren’t really working.”

“She was telling me where the other boxes of receipts were,” Jisung explained quickly, gesturing to the dolly. “I’m supposed to pick them up. I’m from bookkeeping.”

Hyuck scanned him from head to toe. “You’re new, right?”

He nodded.

“Come to lunch with us.”

“No, Hyuck,” you snorted, cutting up your food as your coworker attempted to show you a picture of another one of his friends over lunch. “The last asshole you set me up with stood me up, remember?”

“I told you, Jaemin got a stomach bug!” Hyuck insisted. “And that was like, over a year ago!”

You looked at him pointedly. “And he could text you but not me? Think about it.”

“Okay, so he was a flake, but Mark is like, a really good guy!” He elbowed your other coworker next to him. “Jeno, back me up!”

Jeno shrugged. “Eh, he seems like the kind of guy to call you ‘bro’ in bed.”

“Not the kind of back-up I meant!”

“Am I wrong?”

“Why are you thinking about what Mark would call you in bed, Jeno?” You snickered.

He stuck his tongue out at you, and you mimicked him.

Hyuck pushed on in his seemingly never-ending pursuit to set you up with his also never-ending pool of single friends. “Ignore him, Y/N. Will you at least consider? For me? Your bestest friend?”

“I never see you outside of work functions,” you pointed out.

“Please? Pretty please? Pretty pretty please?”

“Whatever. Send me his CV,” you said noncommittally, taking a bite of your food.

“On it!”

“Wait, he’s applying for a job?” Jisung finally spoke from his seat beside you, his confusion apparent.

“No, that’s just what they call whatever information Hyuck sends her about the guys he tries to set her up with,” Jeno explained for him. “It ends up being pretty much the same stuff that’s on a résumé, though.”

Hyuck then focused in on a new target. “Jisung, what about you?”

He froze. “What?”

“Are you single?”

“Uhm—”

“Lie if you have to,” you advised. “Once he smells blood, you’re done for.”

“I’m not a shark!” Hyuck took great offense to this comparison. “I’m-I’m like Cupid!”

You let out a derisive laugh at that, stabbing your fork into your food and lifting your next bite to your mouth.

“I’ve got a girlfriend,” Jisung answered hurriedly.

Hyuck narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “So you’re bringing her to the Christmas party.”

“I-I don’t know, we uhm—we just started seeing each other.”

“You’ll bring her to the next monthly mixer, then?”

“I’m pretty sure this is workplace harassment,” you stepped in on Jisung’s behalf, giving Hyuck a disapproving look. “We had a seminar, remember?”

“You’re not curious?”

“No, I don’t care to see you bother poor Jisung for the rest of our fleeting lunch break.”

“Fine, I won’t disturb Y/N’s precious lunch break,” he gave in melodramatically. “But I want to hear about her when we get back to the office, Jisung.”

When you and Jisung got home that evening, you waited until the two of you had gotten out of your work clothes to address the pout on his lips that had been present ever since lunch.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, sitting at your dining table with him.

He started unpacking the to-go food. “Why did you tell Donghyuck to send you that guy’s info?”

“To get him to shut up about it. He would’ve done that for our whole lunch break, Sungie.” You shook your head, watching as he avoided your eyes. “Are you jealous? It’s not like I’m actually going to do anything with it.”

“I know, but I still don’t like that he’s sending you dating résumés, and it’s apparently been a regular thing?”

“Okay, I know we made it sound like it happens all the time,” you agreed. “This is like the third time, including the guy who stood me up last year. When you and I started dating, I told Hyuck not to bother anymore. But then he heard that I wasn’t bringing a date to the holiday party, and he started his little matchmaking thing again. That’s why I never told you, because there never was anything to tell.”

“I’m sorry if it sounded like I was accusing you of something, baby,” Jisung murmured, reaching for your hand over the table.

“Do you want me to block him or something?”

He sighed. “No, of course not.”

“Damn it, I was hoping you’d say yes. I’ve been looking for an excuse for years.”

He finally chuckled at that, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Here.” You brought out your phone and stood behind him, maneuvering your arms around his shoulders so he could see your screen as you opened your texts with Hyuck and started deleting the most recent ones debriefing you on his newest eligible bachelor for you.

“Wait a second.” Jisung stopped you before you could delete all the pictures that Hyuck had sent.

“What?”

To your surprise, your boyfriend actually opened one of the pictures of the guy.

“Jeno was right,” he snorted, closing out of the picture.

“Wh—Oh,” you started laughing. “Yeah, absolutely.”

You finished deleting everything about the guy, then shut your phone off. “All gone. Can’t even remember his name.”

Jisung pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Thanks, baby.”

“And I’ll tell Hyuck no more in the future. Sound good?”

“No, maybe it’s for the best. I don’t think you need to be subjected to the interrogation I went through today.” He leaned his head against yours affectionately.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I trust you.”

“Aw, thank you, Sungie.” You kissed his hair then hugged him properly. “I knew that. It was cute to see you get jealous, though.”

“You need to fuck Jisung.” Donghyuck sat on your desk the following Monday, nearly knocking your cup of pens over.

“What happened to hello? How are you?” You blinked up at him incredulously, rescuing your writing utensils and pushing them to a far corner.

“No time, we need to save our new favorite little bookkeeping gremlin.” He quickly saved your project and closed the window on your computer.

“And you think having sex with me is the cure for cancer or something?” You snorted. “They really wasted their money on your slot in that workplace harassment seminar.”

“No, look, he’s in an awful, awful situationship. I know he said she’s his girlfriend at lunch the other day, but he doesn’t have any pictures of her, he didn’t want to show me her social media. He said she probably wouldn’t be able to come to the mixer because of her ‘work schedule’—” Hyuck used finger quotes around the words ‘work schedule’ “—but the way he said, it sounded like he was just preemptively making excuses because he knew she would turn him down. I asked him about their first date, and you want to know his answer?”

“What?” You asked dryly.

“That they don’t really do ‘that stuff!’” More air quotes.

“Okay?”

“Then I asked what stuff they do do, and he turned bright red!”

“So he’s lying about having a girlfriend to get you off his back.”

“Mm, she sounded pretty real.”

“Okay, maybe he’s twisting the truth and he’s got a fuckbuddy and he still doesn’t want you playing matchmaker,” you suggested another alternative. “Either way, you should leave him alone.”

“No, look, I’ve got this all figured out. He needs to be reminded that there’s women other than this girl—”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “How do you have a rotating roster of men to throw at me, but somehow the only woman that comes to mind for your braindead plan is the one in your immediate line of sight? This is confirming my suspicions that you get no bitches, Lee Donghyuck. Have you talked to a single woman other than me and your mother?”

“Listen, it has to be you so nobody catches feelings!”

“So you’re saying I’m unlovable?”

His eyes widened comically as he went to backpedal. “No, of course not! I meant—Jeno, back me up!”

Jeno, who had been silently leaning against the ledge behind your computer monitor this whole time, happily snacking on the red and green Hershey’s kisses in your candy bowl, slowly finished off the one in his mouth before speaking. “Here’s the thing—”

“You condone this?” You scoffed.

He shrugged. “It’s like, his second-worst idea. Marginally better than setting you up with Na Jaemin.”

“Why do I bother asking for your back-up?” Hyuck muttered.

“But he doesn’t think you’re unlovable. He just knows that you’re a professional, and Jisung is still a newbie and works in a different department. So obviously, there’s like no risk of catching feelings if you guys do… Because work, you know?”

You sat back in your chair, glancing between the two of them dubiously. “Do you two think these are normal things to say to people? At work? To your coworker?”

They looked at each other with wide, horrified eyes, beginning to stutter apologetically.

“I’m in,” you declared abruptly, watching their jaws drop. You then focused your next sentence at Hyuck specifically. “If you’ll stop trying to set me up.”

“Done,” he agreed immediately.

Jisung had excitedly told you about the results of his three-month evaluation to you over dinner that evening, and as you two cleaned up after, you relayed your conversation with your coworkers to him.

“I finally got Hyuck to stop setting me up. Permanently,” you announced in a sing-songy voice, drying the last dish Jisung had just handed you before putting it up in the cabinet.

“Really? Did you find out he killed someone or something?” He asked, shaking the water off his hands over the sink before grabbing the towel hanging in front of it to start drying his hands.

“Nope, he just asked me to do something.”

“Oh, and who do you have to kill?”

“Nobody.” You wrapped your arms around his waist from behind him. “You see, he’s very concerned that this ‘girlfriend’ of yours doesn’t like you as much as you like her.”

“I know we’re literally coworkers, but he needs to get a job,” Jisung retorted.

“Why did you say we didn’t go dates when he asked about our first date?”

“I was afraid you might’ve mentioned it before and I didn’t want him to connect the dots if I told the same story.”

“You couldn’t come up with a fake first date? Carnival? Arcade? Dinner?”

“I was panicking!”

“Anyway, he thinks you’re in a toxic situationship, and that the only solution is for me to sleep with you.”

“Wait what?!” His muscles flexed and contracted under your hands with his words, and he seemed almost oblivious as you continued roaming them over his front.

“Because we would never catch feelings for each other, obviously,” you informed him with mocking seriousness, making him scoff.

“I assume you told him to fuck off and stop setting you up anyway?”

“Nope.”

“Huh?”

You finally put a hand under his shirt to touch his bare skin, and he shivered and jerked away instinctively.

“Ah! Cold hands, baby,” he whined, but made no further moves to get away.

“Then let me warm them up, Sungie,” you giggled, pressing your fingers more intentionally against his skin. “Anyway, why would I pass up the perfect opportunity to fuck with Hyuck and fuck my hot boyfriend at the same time?”

“I don’t think I like how similar that phrasing was.”

“Sungie,” you dragged out the last vowel pleadingly.

“So you’ve got a scheme?” He asked knowingly.

“A fun one,” you promised, kissing his neck. “In multiple senses of the word. But it means everyone finding out we’re together a few days later than we planned. Is that okay?”

He let out a deep sigh. “Alright. What’s first?”

“I’ve got to hold up my end of the deal, of course.”

Donghyuck and Jeno were quick to swarm you first thing in the morning. They at least brought you a coffee this time. There was no work up on your computer yet for Hyuck to close out of, so he just made himself at home on top of your papers that were on your desk instead.

“Okay, we need to brainstorm,” Hyuck got right to business as Jeno dug into your candy bowl. Well, not the business you were actually sitting inside of, but his plot. “The holiday party is on Friday. I’m thinking if you start being a little flirty leading up to it, like casual, you know, not too much, that should warm him up.”

“The more planning you put into this, the creepier it gets,” you informed him, taking a sip of your coffee.

The elevator dinged then, and Jisung stepped off, eyes focused on his feet as he hurried off towards the break room. The elevator opened towards your side of the floor, while bookkeeping was on the other side, and the breakroom, storage closet, and copy room were situated at the midpoints on the floor.

“Jisung’s late?” Jeno commented, bewildered. “Didn’t he say he always gets here ten minutes early to make his coffee before everyone else?”

Hyuck looked at this as well, eyes narrowing. He turned back to you and Jeno. “Did you guys see that big hickey on his neck? Now he’s running late and wearing the same tie as yesterday? This is why we need to help him. Anyway—”

You shifted in your seat then, readjusting your blazer so that it ‘accidentally’ pulled your blouse just enough to show off a love bite situated on your collarbone.

Hyuck actually froze in place, staring at you as he short-circuited. Jeno gave you a quiet, short round of applause.

“Damn, you work fast,” he commented.

You looked down at where Hyuck was staring, as if belatedly realizing your mistake, moving your neckline back up to cover it again.

“You really…” Donghyuck trailed off, blinking rapidly as he began rebooting.

You shrugged. “Didn’t want to announce it like we were in a locker room.”

“He’s walking over here,” Jeno coughed under his breath.

And sure enough, Jisung approached your desk. He looked uncertainly at Donghyuck sitting next to you, and ended up standing by Jeno behind the ledge, finally looking you in the eye.

“H-Hi, Y/N,” he stuttered nervously.

“Morning, Jisung,” you greeted him brightly. “Kiss?”

“Huh?!” He squeaked.

“Hershey kiss?” You pointed to the bowl that Jeno was grabbing another candy from. “They’re caramel filled.”

“O-Oh. Sure, thanks.” He took a green one. “S-See you later.”

“Bye.”

With that, Jisung skittered away, back off towards bookkeeping. Hyuck and Jeno both turned to you with wide eyes.

“I’ve made a grave miscalculation,” Hyuck whispered.

“That boy is pussy whipped,” Jeno whistled lowly.

You rolled your eyes at them. “Or maybe you guys were looking at the two of us with flashing ‘I KNOW YOU HAD SEX’ signs over your heads.”

“Oh, did I forget to leave that at home again?” Hyuck replied snidely, mockingly swatting just above his head. He then leaned in to whisper-yell at you, “Do you actually have the cure for cancer in there because what the hell was that?!”

“Good morning, Mr. Suh!” You chirped at your boss as he walked by.

Hyuck sat up straight, saluting to your boss. “Good morning, Mr. Suh!”

“Mornin’, Mr. Suh,” Jeno said through a mouthful of candy.

“Morning, morning, morning,” Mr. Suh greeted each of you in turn, then yawned. “Ugh, is it Friday yet?”

“Not quite, unfortunately,” you chuckled.

At home that night, you were keeled over with laughter on your couch, clutching your stomach as you and Jisung recalled the looks on your coworkers’ faces this morning.

“Who knew you were such a good actor, Sungie?” You choked out through laughter, wiping at your tears.

“I just had to act like I was madly in love with you, that wasn’t acting, baby,” he smiled fondly, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer. “I’ve had to act every day at work except today.”

“So smooth, Park Jisung,” you giggled, kissing him.

“It’s the truth.”

“I know. You’ve never been smooth, just honest. And I love that about you.”

“Ouch, and also thanks?”

You snickered and kissed his pout. “Ready for tomorrow?”

Stepping off the elevator in the morning, you didn’t spare another glance to Jisung, who had ridden up with you. Typically, you would take separate elevators, one of you waiting for the next one, but today, you broke that rule. You dropped off your purse at your desk before going to the break room and making your usual cup of coffee.

Jeno and Donghyuck were already waiting for you at your desk. You rolled your eyes at them. “You two have your own desks, you know?”

“You and Jisung got here at the same time,” Jeno stated.

“Is there a question in there?” You raised an eyebrow at him, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Did you get a new shampoo?” Donghyuck asked, leaning forward to sniff the air around your head.

You swatted at him. “Personal space?”

“That doesn’t smell like a woman’s shampoo…” He went back in for another sniff.

“Quit it, freak!” You rolled away from him.

“What’s happening?” A third voice had joined you all, right on time. Jisung was at your desk, cup of coffee in hand.

“Nothing, Jisung.” You threw on a bright smile, scooting back up to your desk. “What can I do for you?”

“I-I just uhm, I wanted to say good morning. And I brought you some coffee.” He offered the cup out to you.

“Aw, thanks,” you said sincerely, then looked down at your own cup on your desk regretfully. “But I already got some.”

His face fell. “O-Oh. I guess I’ll—”

“Hold on, Jisung!” Donghyuck stopped him from leaving, hopping off your desk. Jisung froze in place as your coworker grabbed his arm. First, he took the coffee from his hand and set it on the ledge behind your monitor, then he grabbed your boyfriend’s collar and yanked him down to take a deep whiff of his hair. Jisung yelped at the rough treatment, arms flailing until Hyuck let him go, giving him a loud slap on the shoulder. “That’s all. Thanks for the coffee.”

“Lunch later?” Jeno offered to him. “All four of us.”

“S-Sure,” he looked at you and blushed before hurrying away.

You crossed your arms as you glared at Hyuck. “You literally just assaulted him.”

“And you—” He pointed at you dramatically, “—slept with him again. That’s his shampoo that I was smelling on you.”

“I think my extracurriculars are none of your business.”

“Mm, Jisung’s more of a co-curricular, don’t you think?”

Jeno snickered.

“I think it’s still none of your business.”

“This wasn’t the plan, Y/N.”

“I did your stupid plan, Hyuck. Why are you so obsessed with Jisung’s sex life? Is it because you’re not getting any?” You taunted.

“Nice attempt to deflect, but the plan was to get him to stop being strung along by that other girl. Not for you to start stringing him along.”

“You make me sound like an evil witch.”

“So you’re serious about Jisung then?” Hyuck gasped mockingly. “Adorable. Gonna be each other’s date to the holiday party? When are you meeting the parents? Have you picked a ring yet?”

You bit down on your lip and looked at your lap to avoid laughing, which he thankfully seemed to interpret as guilt on your part.

“Exactly as I thought,” he said smugly.

“The puppy love thing is cute now, but it’s probably best for working together in the long run to just let him down easy sooner,” Jeno gave some surprisingly wise advice through a half-eaten Hershey’s kiss.

Having composed yourself, you finally let out a contemplative, resigned sigh. “Yeah, you guys are probably right.”

“Always are,” Hyuck tsked.

Lunch was honestly kind of fun—It felt like being a kid with a crush again, sneaking glances at Jisung, trying not to be too obvious about your flirting, and playing innocent when your coworkers would shoot you pointed looks every time Jisung did something totally head-over-heels for you.

Mid-afternoon, and Jisung was back at your desk. He had a few papers in his hand, some flimsy excuse of questions about the receipts he’d picked up last week, but really, you two were just talking. Discussing what to make for dinner, additions to the grocery list, what you were working on, little things.

The sound of a door opening caught your attention, and you looked over to see Mr. Suh coming out of his office. He’d just been on a phone conference, and had his empty coffee mug in his hand.

“Hi, Mr. Suh.” You sat up a little straighter. “Afternoon decaf?”

“Yep.” He lifted the mug in greeting as he walked by, heading for the breakroom.

“I’m going back to my cage with the other bookkeeping gremlins,” Jisung murmured. “Don’t want him to catch me still here when he gets back.”

“Laser beams aren’t going to come out of his eyes and incinerate you on the spot if he does, you know,” you giggled.

“How do you know?” He tapped your desk rhythmically, then mouthed, ‘See you later.’

You mouthed it back, contentedly watching him walk away. You were back to working on your reports when Mr. Suh returned from the break room. He drifted over to your desk, however, standing against the ledge conspiratorially.

“Was that the new kid in bookkeeping?” He asked lightly, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Yeah, Park Jisung,” you informed him. At your boss’ inquisitive lean forward, you gave a little more context, “He picked up those receipts last week and Hyuck ended up inviting him out for lunch with us.”

“He seems to be over here quite a bit recently.”

“We chitchat sometimes.” You paused, then widened your eyes. “Is that a problem? Nothing’s been late or anything, has it?”

He gave you his usual easy-going smile. “It’s fine, Y/N. Your work has been great as usual.”

“Okay, good.”

“Hi, baby,” Jisung greeted you brightly that evening from your usual meet-up place after work. If neither of you had to stay late, or had an errand to run after work, you would meet up outside a cornerstore a couple blocks away from the office.

“Hi, co-curricular,” you beamed back, leaning into the kiss he was pressing to your cheek.

He pulled away with an adorably confused pout on his face. You laughed, taking his arm in yours as you started down the sidewalks together, relaying your conversation with Hyuck and Jeno this morning.

“I don’t know what’s funnier, the idea of me genuinely ‘stringing you along’ or your new nickname,” you giggled, squeezing his arm.

“You already changed my phone contact, didn’t you?”

“I put a heart next to it!”

“The rumor has spread to bookkeeping, by the way.”

You blinked at him in mock surprise. “You guys have office gossip over there?”

“Yeah, we finally invented the wheel and have time to gossip now,” he snorted, rolling his eyes. “Huang Renjun told me he heard Song Minji and Park Chaeyeon talking about it in the copy room.”

“That’s how it breached containment,” you tutted. Chaeyeon was from your department, but you knew she and Minji were office friends. She must have overheard it from your area—Hyuck wasn’t exactly the quietest man you knew, and there was no way your other coworkers hadn’t noticed Jisung’s frequent trips to your desk if Mr. Suh had.

“Uh-huh.”

“What exactly were they saying? Did Renjun tell you?”

“Some stuff he didn’t want to repeat about you—” He cleared his throat. “But mostly, he wanted to ask me what, if anything was true. I felt bad lying, I like Renjun.”

“Yeah, he was my favorite bookkeeping gremlin before you started.”

Jisung elbowed you, obviously offended. “I still did bookkeeping before I worked here! I just did it somewhere else!”

“He was my favorite at this company before you started. Better?”

“Much.” He smiled as you leaned in to kiss his nose. “I told him the rumors weren’t true.”

“That wasn’t a lie!” You reminded him emphatically. “We’re not just coworkers with benefits, or co-curriculars, or recently started secretly dating, or whatever!”

“I’m just glad we only have two more days of this.” He laced his fingers with yours. “I want to be able to have a picture of us on my desk, and talk about you to everyone, and show up and leave together.”

“Me too,” you agreed, fond smile on your lips as you approached your front door. “It’s been fun, but the best part will be when everyone knows you’re mine. For real.”

This was weird. You had been at work for thirty minutes and hadn’t seen nor heard Hyuck or Jeno. Maybe today would be normal for once. As soon as that idea had crossed your mind, they came beelining for your desk, and you knew that would be impossible.

“Good—” You couldn’t even get a friendly greeting out of your mouth, Donghyuck fully sitting on top of your keyboard, entering a bunch of random characters into the email you had been writing. “Uhm, you know, that email to Mr. Suh wasn’t important, actually…”

Yanking your keyboard out from under Hyuck, you deleted the gibberish and saved the draft email before setting it aside to deal with whatever was going on. You looked at your coworkers expectantly.

“Y/N…” Jeno surprisingly took the lead. “How did you go about letting Jisung down easy?”

You blinked in surprise. “What are you talking about? I just told him we should keep it professional and not see each other anymore…? And that was it.”

“And how did he take it?”

“Fine?” You glanced between their extremely serious demeanors with increasing worry. “Why? What’s going on?”

“We just had to comfort a crying Jisung in the men’s room for the past thirty minutes, that’s what’s going on!” Hyuck finally hissed. “I don’t think your easy is very easy!”

You leaned away from him in utter shock. That was definitely not part of the plan today, and now you were genuinely worried about why your boyfriend was apparently crying in the men’s room—he definitely wasn’t a good enough actor to do that on the spot.

“Woah, I didn’t—”

“Well, you did.”

“You don’t get to pin all the blame on me here,” you shot back immediately. “Whose stupid fucking plan was it for me to sleep with him in the first place anyway? If I recall, you never found him crying in the bathroom with his last girl that you were so concerned over.”

“You diverted from the plan and he got attached!”

“Okay, it’s everyone’s fault!” Jeno cut in decisively.

“What’s everyone’s fault?” Mr. Suh stopped by your desk, briefcase in hand as he had just gotten into the office. “There’s been an awful lot of whispering going on over here. Something I should know about?”

“No, Mr. Suh!” Hyuck chirped brightly. “Lunch plans fell through, we’re just rescheduling.”

Your boss looked at you skeptically, waiting for confirmation. You nodded hurriedly. “Yeah, lunch plans.”

“Alright.” He shrugged. “There’s a good sandwich place a block over. If you’re looking for recommendations.”

And with that, he went into his office.

Turning back to Hyuck and Jeno, you whispered, “I swear to God, I wasn’t expecting him to be crying. Okay?”

“We’re being a little harsh on you,” Jeno admitted quietly. “We should all just leave Jisung alone, I think.”

He took a candy out of your bowl and departed your desk without another word. Hyuck followed, still shaking his head. You quickly brought your phone out, immediately texting Jisung.

[you: BABY SOS]

He texted back immediately

[co-curricular 🩷: IM HERE]

[co-curricular 🩷: WHAT’S WRONG????]

[you: im fine but are YOU okay?!]

[you: jeno and hyuck told me they found you crying in the bathroom]

[co-curricular 🩷: oh nonono im okay baby i promise]

[co-curricular 🩷: im in the copy room, can you come so i can explain?]

[you: omw]

You hurried from your desk to the copy room, relieved to find it devoid of any coworkers except Jisung, who was attending to a copy machine, placing documents on the glass, closing the lid, and copying them in a steady rhythm.

“Sungie,” you breathed out in relief, darting over to him, needing to see his face for yourself.

“Hey, baby, hey,” he said soothingly, letting you wrap an arm around his waist and lean into him affectionately. “I’m okay, I’m okay.”

You stepped back, cognizant of the fact that any of your coworkers could enter at any moment. “So what were Hyuck and Jeno talking about then?”

“When we got in this morning, the temperature change from the cold air outside to the heat inside the building was making my eyes water and my nose run,” he explained, gesturing to his face. “I went to take care of it in the bathroom. Donghyuck and Jeno ran into me while I was cleaning myself up and assumed I had been crying. Nothing I said could convince them otherwise, and they of course also assumed it was connected to their advice to you to let me down easy. So I played along. I know it wasn’t part of the plan, but I couldn’t get them to let it go.”

“I was almost feeling bad about lying to them, but they do this to themselves.” You crossed your arms, leaning against the wall next to his copy machine. Your tone softened as you added, “I’m really happy you’re okay, Sungie.”

“I’m happy you checked on me so quick, baby.” He smiled, taking a step closer to peck your forehead. He lowered his voice to say, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you murmured, looking up at him, fighting the urge to just grab his suit jacket and kiss him. “Lunch later?”

His nose wrinkled with distaste. “Are Hyuck and Jeno coming too?”

“Just us? At home?”

“Oh?”

“I miss you.”

He nodded. “I miss you too.”

It was finally Friday, finally the day of the office holiday party. You just had to survive work and lay the last couple breadcrumbs, then it would all be over tonight.

You were making your morning cup of coffee in the breakroom with Hyuck and Jeno, and went to engage them in conversation. “Are you guys bringing anyone to the party tonight?”

“Nah.” Hyuck poured his own cup.

“You’re not beating the ‘no bitches’ allegations.” You clicked your tongue.

“I think it’s a bit weird to bring someone you’re not like… properly dating to a work event and introduce them to your coworkers,” Jeno answered, rooting through the employee fridge.

“So that’s a no?”

“Correct,” he mimicked your taunting tone of voice.

Jisung, who had been quietly measuring out sugar into his own cup of coffee at a far counter, apart from your conversation physically but definitely within earshot, inserted himself then, “I’m bringing a date.”

Jeno hit his head on a shelf in the fridge. “Shit—! Huh?”

“You are?!” Hyuck blinked at him, utterly shocked.

You slowly turned around to face Jisung, cocking your head. “Oh, me too.”

“Since when?!” Hyuck snorted.

“Just because I didn’t tell you about it doesn’t mean I haven’t had one,” you hissed.

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

Jisung nodded, and you saw the corner of his lips twitch, ever-so-slightly, too small for anybody who didn’t know him as well as you to catch. “Guess I’ll see you and your date tonight, then.”

“Same. You, as well.” You nodded curtly, watching him pivot on his heel and stride out of the breakroom.

“You don’t have a fucking date,” Hyuck stated dryly as soon as he was no longer in eyesight.

“That was hard to watch,” Jeno said, opening a Tupperware of food that definitely had somebody else’s name on it.

“And neither does he,” Hyuck continued, pointing to the doorway that Jisung had disappeared through. “No way he’s found somebody in a day. Unless…” He looked at Jeno with alarm. “Oh no. You don’t think…?”

Jeno squinted. “What?”

“What if he brings his toxic situationship to get back at Y/N?” Hyuck gasped. He then turned to you, “Look, I guess I can see if Mark’s free tonight—”

“No,” you cut him off firmly. “I’ve already got someone in mind.”

“So beautiful, baby,” Jisung murmured, taking one of your hands and kissing your knuckles.

“Hey, I’m trying to fix your tie clip,” you laughed, pulling your hand back from him to continue adjusting his tie clip that had gone askew thanks to his seatbelt.

The two of you were standing outside the venue of the office holiday party. You were fashionably late, as part of the plan. You had to make sure Hyuck and Jeno were already there, so they could see you arrive together, wearing your coordinated outfits. Jisung’s tie was of course a complimentary shade of the color of your dress—not too matchy-matchy like kids at a grade school formal, but clearly together, not accidental.

“There.” You smoothed out the lapels of his suit jacket, smiling up at him. “So handsome.”

He kissed your cheek. “Thank you.”

“Are you ready?”

“More than.” He grinned, lacing his fingers with yours.

Walking in, instrumental Christmas music was playing over the speakers and a steady hum of conversation filled the room. There were a few familiar faces near the front, but nobody you were overly friendly with. You grabbed Jisung’s shoulder for support as you went to talk to him over the din of the crowd. He hunched over slightly to listen to you better, holding you steady with a hand on your hip.

“Want to get a drink first?” You suggested.

“Sure,” he agreed, keeping his hand on your lower back as you moved through the sea of people.

There was a special cocktail for the night, ‘Mistletoe While You Work,’ which you ordered out of curiosity. Once it was in your hand, you took a sip, and you were pleasantly surprised. Not too sweet, and you couldn’t taste the liquor at all.

“Hey, baby,” you smirked, holding your glass up between yours and Jisung’s faces. “Uh-oh, we’re under mistletoe… kinda.”

Jisung laughed, and you put the glass down to watch his face crinkle up and his nose scrunch in all its adorable glory. “Mm, hard to argue with that.”

You were still smiling as you pressed your lips to his in a short but sweet kiss. He kept you close when you broke apart, an arm still wound around your waist.

“Uhm, Merry fucking Christmas to you guys, too,” Hyuck announced himself, standing off to the side, his own drink in hand and Jeno of course with him.

“Oh, hey guys,” you greeted them nonchalantly. “Merry Christmas.”

“What happened to your dates?” Jeno cut right to the chase.

You and Jisung pointed to each other, making nearly identical faces as if you were oblivious to why Jeno and Hyuck were confused.

Hyuck started buffering as he tried to process the situation. “What…?”

“We’ve been together this whole time,” you finally put them out of their misery, watching as their jaws dropped simultaneously.

“Since before I interviewed, actually,” your boyfriend added.

“Over a year, to be exact.”

“You guys are sick in the head,” Hyuck jabbed an accusatory finger at you both.

“Who was making a whole convoluted plan for me to sleep with one of our coworkers that you barely knew?” You immediately fired back. “You’re lucky we did this instead of reporting you to HR.”

Jeno quickly threw on a wide smile, clapping Jisung on the shoulder. “You fit in great here, Jisung.”

“Glad to have you on the team.” Hyuck went to hug Jisung, making him stiffen up at the unexpected affection. Your coworker then gestured to both of you, putting a hand over his chest. “You two are so adorable together. What a great couple. I’ve said that from the beginning, right, Jeno?”

“You thought they would’ve had awful chemistry.”

“Would it kill you to back me up for once?” Hyuck turned his ire on your other coworker.

Mr. Suh walked up to the bar then, putting his order in with the bartender before greeting you all. “Ah, hello, everyone. Merry Christmas.”

A chorus of hellos and Merry Christmases rang out in response.

“Was Mr. Suh in on it?” Jeno asked you.

“Whatever ‘it’ was, no, but now I wish I was,” Mr. Suh answered, clearly intrigued by this conversation.

“Y/N and Jisung are dating!” Hyuck immediately tattled, and you rolled your eyes at his childish tone.

“There’s nothing against the rules,” your boss said calmly. Then, he added with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “Especially if the relationship predates one of you working here.”

You and Jisung exchanged a surprised look, making Mr. Suh laugh.

“Okay, I had a hunch, but that was the confirmation I needed,” he chuckled. “When I’d see Jisung at Y/N’s desk alone, I don’t know—you two seemed way more comfortable around each other than two people who had only talked for the first time a week ago. No matter how much you liked each other.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Hyuck gawped.

“It didn’t seem like any of my business.”

⇢ 2024 hallmark movie marathon

TAGLIST

@annenakamura @bee-the-loser @lotties-readings @ppddpjdr @reiofsuns2001

@giirlfriendd @shaqs-oatmeal @sofipolii01

@tearinka @yoursyuno @yutasputa69

@winkeuu

call me your favorite. (and call me the worst) | prologue.

★ himbo(jock)!s.mingi x reader!

★ genre | college au, slowburn, angst, and smut (in later parts)

★ summary | song mingi seems to be on every corner. he’s following you around, asking for help with work, and teaching you the grounds of your newly joined sorority. being in a fraternity himself, it’s the only subject he knows the most about—and the subject you most despise.

★ word count | 500+

★ sun’s notes | HELLOOOO READERS, wow a new series from me, but this time i’m actually dedicated. I hope for this series to be about 3-5 parts, not including the prologue (this part) and the epilogue. requested by my lovely @moamidzyism. also it’s lowkey my ateez writing debut? JOIN TAGLIST!! | MAIN M.LIST

You can feel the thumping bass from the speakers resonating in your chest as you push through the large group of people. There’s the smell of illegal substances that fills the entire room as everyone loses their damn senses to the intoxication.

You look around to see girls in their greek letters and guys in their own frat letters as well looking for a good time. Equally important, you spot your friend in the corner, and you remember why you came in the first place.

Honestly, you would’ve pulled her off and probably save her some of the embarrassment of exchanging saliva with some random dude—but this is the life she lives for.

This isn’t you.

The reek of weed was clouding your nostrils, almost burning your sensitive nose hairs. Not to mention the alcohol either, you took one measly sip and now you’re trying not to puke up your lunch. It was a nice attempt at trying to get the full college experience, but you rather sneak out, or even curl up in an unoccupied room.

Anything.

Just anything to escape this overwhelming pressure, like the whole room is watching you pretend to be something you’re not.

In reality though, nobody is really watching you—nobody even really cares.

You weren’t there to enjoy it, and you didn't quite fit in with the demeanor of the people surrounding you. Even though, you mustered up the courage to push through the cluster of bodies, cringing as you heard their deafening cheers as they guzzled down shot glasses.

With aching arms and feet, you made it through the crowd and soon found yourself face to face with the stairwell, leading up to a safe-haven.

You had no time hesitate, and as you clung onto the cold wood of the staircase, you were grateful to be away from the chaos of the main floor at last. The silence was blissful and you could finally think clearly again. You ran up the stairs and soon arrived at a small door. As you twisted the knob and shut the door behind you, you released a deep sigh.

You plop down on the warm cushion of the bed and check your phone, internally sighing at the time being 1am. Tonight was going to be harder than you thought. You couldn’t possibly leave early either, because you have Bee to look after.

Even though she may be a wild card, she’s still your friend and it would be unloyal of you to leave her…in the state she’s in.

You make your way to the closed bathroom door and as you get it ajar, you see a couple raw dogging it on the counter.

Okay.

Maybe this was a bad dream, because no way you just walked into this humongous man railing this girl. To be frank, she looks a hot ass mess like they’ve been going at it for hours. You may or may not have stared at them for a little longer than you should’ve out of disbelief.

“Holy shit!”, you screamed in utter shock— a delayed reaction but a well deserved one. The mystery man looks at you and palms his face in more so disappointment than embarrassment. The girl, who was obviously getting fucked, gets shy and hurriedly picks up her belongings and runs out of the bathroom and out of sight.

The moment was embarrassing, to say the least. Not even a “hello” or any formal introduction. What was even more embarrassing is you knew this dude.

“Mingi?!”

“Oh hey, Pumpkin.”

Song Mingi, if you went to the University of Westbrook, you know exactly who he is. Notorious for being the talk of the campus, and being insanely hot. To you, he’s just a man you somehow keep running into—a man you can’t stand.

Also, that stupid nickname ‘pumpkin’, yeah he started calling you that when you forced him to bring you pumpkin spice lattes everytime he wanted your expertise tutoring. He never failed to get you the drink though, he knew he needed the extra help and you— well you knew you liked pumpkin spice lattes.

But there’s a problem, because no way in hell are you looking at him pulling up his boxers and red sweats after seeing his bare ass cheeks. No you didn’t want to see that, and you definitely didn’t want to see him sweat drenched.

Thankfully, you didn’t see his private parts. That would’ve been the end of your tutoring sessions, and sadly, lattes.

Mingi always had a flirtatious and smug attitude, he just swore he could get any girl. So maybe this isn’t the most unrealistic thing that could happen, but it sure is shocking for you to see of all people.

He stands there with a smirk on his face, not at all embarrassed or ashamed, and he barely pulls up his sweatpants. He runs his fingers through his sweaty hair, while he lets out a low chuckle and says, “Isn’t the view nice?” referring to his shirt being off.

You grip the doorframe tight, as you take a deep breath and reply “Absolutely not.”

Feeling deflated and exhausted, you just want to go home. You take a few steps towards away from the frame and sternly say “Get dressed.” before closing the bathroom door and walking away.

Meanwhile while Mingi was situating himself, You're lying spread-eagle on the bed, eyes closed and arms stretched out.

“I wish you could’ve caught me in the middle of a perfect stroke,” Mingi chuckled at his own joke through the closed door.

You didn’t even crack a smile, that’s how unfunny his jokes were.

Loud music seeps under the door, making it the only companion in the otherwise silent room. Suddenly, the door creaks open and you turn to look- it's Mingi wearing a grey hoodie, rubbing his head from its damp state. He walks over to the side of the bed, and as he sat the bed sunk to his weight.

“Not your type of crowd, pumpkin?” He asks, as he adjusts his hoodie.

You sigh, your eyes still closed, and say “It's never been.”

Mingi lets out a belly laugh and replies, “Well, you'll get used to it. You're joining the party life after all.”

You look up at Mingi, unsure what to say. He was always so confident in everything he did, and maybe that's what made you trust him so much. You have to give him his props, he’s made a name for himself regardless of his bad grades.

That’s got to be some type of accomplishment, right?

“Is it too late to back out of the sorority life? I’m pretty over it already,” you said, hoping he would have some pieces of wisdom maybe even some reassurance.

Mingi scoffed and said, “Nope pumpkin, we have a deal. You tutor me and I help you gain your way to fame.” He pushes himself up from the bed, his hand held out demanding for you to do the same.

“Okay, time to get up and out of here,” he said.

You roll your eyes, quickly responding, “Can’t. Bee is downstairs. Won’t leave her.”

Mingi then took your hand in his and pulled you up from the bed, you could tell he used all his strength because you could’ve swore you had wings for a second.

“I’m sure she can handle herself, trust me, I know a spot.”

In all honesty, you could’ve did anything else in the world— but trust this man.

DOYOUNG X D&G (2024)

❥・word count: 25.5k ❥・genre: fluff, enemies to lovers, single dad kun, single mom reader, there is some angst but not between reader and kun, more-so around them in terms of like life events ❥・warnings: cursing, kid on kid violence (biting lol) ❥・extra info: people are called ‘mommy’ and ‘daddy’ in this so if u can’t be normal abt that maybe skip this one ❥・author’s note: omggg it’s finally here! this one has been a wip for like literally like 1.5 yrs i think? anyway im absolutely in love w single dad kun in this one, and i hope u guys fall in love w him too 🫶

“Mr. Qian, I’m failing to see how this is any of your concern.”

“Because you’re treating my kid like he’s a felon.”

“Well yours treated mine like a chew toy so excuse me for exercising some caution,” you finally snapped, tightening your grip around your son and cradling the back of his head.

PART I: moments turn to dreams within my mind

Woobin had always been a kid with big feelings, from big smiles to big tears, and as his mom you encouraged him to feel those big feelings when they came. Your older cousin often warned you that you were raising a “crybaby,” but you brushed off her attempts at parenting advice. You’d rather have your Woobin and all his softness than her kid who screamed and threw his monster trucks at the wall at the slightest provocation.

But that didn’t make it any easier for you to walk in and see your son bawling by himself in the corner of his classroom when you went to pick him up from preschool that afternoon. You immediately skirted around a couple other kids and parents to kneel down beside him, feeling your heart breaking as you rubbed his back, “Binnie, Binnie, hey, hey, hey. Mommy’s here.”

You caught the three-year-old by the underarms before he could throw his arms around your neck. His face was bright red, eyes puffy from clearly how hard he had been crying, and snot and spit coated his chin.

“Wait a second, Binnie, I know,” you kept your voice level and calm despite how frantic you felt. “Is it a scary cry or a boo-boo cry?”

It took him several deep inhales and sniffling exhales before he could sob out, “Scary and boo-boo cry, Mommy!”

“Oh, baby,” you immediately enfolded him in your arms, cradling him to your chest gently. “What hurts, Binnie? Can you show me the boo-boo?”

It was then that one of his teachers finally joined you, an apologetic look on her face, “Ms. Y/N, I am so sorry. We would have called, but it happened right before the end of the school day.”

“What happened?”

“Woobin had an incident with another friend.”

“An incident? What sort of incident?” You looked around for another crying kid, expecting that they both had gotten hurt doing something together.

Woobin had just pulled up the left sleeve of his whale patterned longsleeve shirt when his teacher explained to you, “Woobin got bit.”

And there, on your son’s upper arm was the bright red imprint of teeth marks. In fact, it seemed to have been so recent that you could still see the indents in his skin. You were filled with such a burning, white hot rage that your skin tingled and if you weren’t already holding Woobin, you think you would’ve swung on someone. You liked to consider yourself a level-headed person, in control of your emotions, but it was practically all out the window in that moment.

“He got bit?” You repeated her phrasing incredulously. “You mean another kid bit him.”

“I understand that this can be upsetting—”

“How did this happen?” You demanded, pulling Woobin’s sleeve back down and wrapping your arms around him tighter. “What were you doing?”

“Ma’am, I think it would be best for all of us to have a discussion about this together.”

“All of us? Including the biter’s parents? I want to know what you are going to do to make sure my child is safe at your preschool before I even think about bringing him back here, much less have some mediation like he’s at fault as much as the kid who bit him.”

The teacher paused, as if waiting to see if you were done, before speaking again, “Ms. Y/N, it is our policy in such incidents to have a meeting between school personnel and the guardians of both involved children, regardless of... injury. In order for Woobin to keep his spot, you two are required to attend this meeting. We understand if you wish to seek out different accommodations for him, however, we’ve found that all parties are typically satisfied with the outcome of this process. I highly encourage you try it, and if you still want to pull Woobin from our program after, that is of course your decision as his mother.”

Your chest was heaving as you took deep breaths, clenching your jaw as you stared her down. After a few moments of deliberation and listening to your son’s continued sobs, you let out a short and bitter sigh, “When would this meeting be?”

“After school tomorrow. Will you be available then?”

“Fine. Yes,” you stood up with your boy still in your arms, shifting him onto your hip. “But Woobin will not be at school tomorrow.”

“He will be missed,” she nodded with that same placid smile.

As you stalked out of the classroom, you passed by a father and son speaking to the other teacher.

The next day, you dropped Woobin off at your parents’ place with a peck on his forehead and profuse ‘thank you’s to them. You had vented to your mother on the phone the night prior, after putting your son to bed, finally letting loose all the obscenities that you had wanted to in the preschool. Your mom gladly took her grandson for the day before shooing you off to work.

You then had to leave work a little early to pick Woobin up from your parents’ to take him to the preschool since the meeting was to take place right after the school day ended. For some godforsaken reason that escaped you, they required the kids to be in attendance at the meeting too. As if your three-year-old was really going to be testifying about the entire situation. The most him being there could accomplish was prove that he had a bite mark, which a picture on your phone could also do.

After a “give ‘em hell” from your mom, and an offer to come along from your dad, which you contemplated for a moment, then declined, you started for the school. While your dad coming along would make you feel better, it would also make you feel like you were buying your first car again and were afraid of the salesman trying to scam you for being a woman. This was a meeting about the welfare and treatment of your son, you could do this.

Standing in the lobby with some other parents who were milling around, waiting for the respective classrooms to announce they were ready for pick-up, you found yourself tapping your foot impatiently. The 1-year-olds picked up first, then the 2-year-olds. As those families filtered out, you were left with only a few parents, as this section of the school only went up to 3-year-olds. The 4-year-olds went to a different wing of the building for VPK, and you knew that the other buildings on the rather expansive campus held an elementary, middle, and even high school.

You felt Woobin shift in your arms to get comfortable, and readjusted him to your other hip, “Sorry, Binnie, I know you’re tired.”

“Do you two want to sit?” A voice spoke up from behind you.

You turned around and had to look down at a man in a suit sitting on one of the padded benches in the lobby. He was presumably some kind of businessman from the nice upkeep and fit of his suit, even as he had loosened the tie a little bit for being off of work. His handsome, friendly smile would’ve made your heart skip a beat on any other day, if you weren’t on a mission today.

All of the seating had been taken up when you got there, and you didn’t even think to look around for open spots as other parents started to leave.

The man shifted to one end, gesturing towards the open spots that could fit probably three adults comfortably. You smiled at him gratefully, “Oh, yes, thank you.”

You sat down, keeping your sleepy Woobin on your lap. Being at his grandparents’ today had thrown off his usual nap schedule, and you rubbed his back soothingly. Rolling up his sleeve which was on the side opposite from the man, you inspected the bite mark. It had blossomed into a rather gnarly bruise overnight, all blue and purple, and it only made anger churn again in your chest. He hadn’t given any indication that it still hurt as you fixed his sleeve, thumb tenderly swiping over the area after.

Finally, the three-year-old class was dismissed for pick-up, and the other parents gathered their children. You hung back, waiting for all of them to filter out, before you approached the classroom. You figured the parents of the biter would still be in there, but hadn’t expected the man who had offered you a seat to be the one there with another little boy and the teachers.

“Wonderful, everyone is here,” Mrs. Chen, the older of the two teachers, announced.

“Qian Kun.” The man took it upon himself to do the introductions, bowing to you politely. He then ruffled the hair of the boy standing beside him, just above knee-height, “And this is my son Junyi. I am deeply sorry for Junyi biting Woobin, Miss…?”

“Y/L/N Y/N,” you half-nodded half-bowed back to him as best you could with Woobin in your arms. “And before we get into all that, what I really want to know is—” You rounded on the teachers. “How this could have even happened.”

Ms. Xu, the younger teacher with whom you had spoken yesterday, opened a door on the far side of the classroom, “Of course. We’ll be having the meeting in here.”

With a short sigh at how your question was once again brushed off, you stepped into the interior office space. It looked like it must be where the teachers took their breaks and did any sort of administrative work. A few desks were against the walls, closed laptops and bags set on a couple of them. There was a table set up in the middle, four chairs around it, and a small area with toys off to the side.

“We have a place over there for the children to play while we discuss,” Ms. Xu smiled, gesturing to the toys you’d spotted when you walked in.

Mr. Qian nodded, gently directing his son towards them, “Go on and play for a bit, Junyi. Daddy’s going to talk right over here, okay?”

Junyi toddled over and plopped himself down on the playmat, picking up a truck and doll, easily entertaining himself. The other three adults looked to you and your son expectantly.

“Thank you, but Woobin is going to be staying with me,” you informed them. All the talking had made Woobin stir, but he seemed rather content in your arms anyway, simply looking between all the adults with big, curious eyes.

“Ms. Y/L/N, I assure you, I had a talk with Junyi last night and again this morning about not biting our friends. He shouldn’t be doing that anymore.”

“And I assure you, Mr. Qian, my concerns are not about your parenting,” you told him frankly. “But Woobin will be remaining with me for the duration of this meeting.”

“Ms. Y/L/N, really, Woobin will be fine with Juny—”

“Mr. Qian, I’m failing to see how this is any of your concern.”

“Because you’re treating my kid like he’s a felon.”

“Well yours treated mine like a chew toy so excuse me for exercising some caution,” you finally snapped, tightening your grip around your son and cradling the back of his head.

Mr. Qian’s jaw dropped, and Mrs. Chen cut in before he could say anything else.

“Let’s all sit down and try to have a more productive discussion.” The words were phrased like a suggestion, but the stern tone she said them in very much let you know that they weren’t. “Ms. Y/L/N, Woobin can of course be wherever you are most comfortable having him.”

You nodded to her curtly, taking a seat at the table. With Woobin more awake, you turned him in your lap to face the table, and set up a couple toys and small games on the tabletop to keep him occupied. The teachers took a seat beside each other, leaving you and Mr. Qian sitting caddy-corner.

“First, I want to know what happened,” you demanded, entirely focused on the two teachers.

Ms. Xu took over the explaining, “The class had earned free play yesterday after finishing their curriculum work early. After, we were doing our end of the day clean-up activities, which all of the students help with. Junyi and Woobin were assigned to pick up toys this week. It seems there was a disagreement about who was going to be putting away a specific toy, a whale. Woobin was bit.”

You clenched your jaw at that passive phrasing again. “And where were you two when this was going on?”

“Mrs. Chen was assisting the students who were cleaning the snack tables on the other side of the room. I was the one overseeing the students tidying that side of the room.”

“What do you mean when you say disagreement? I’m trying to understand how it was allowed to escalate into biting.”

Mr. Qian finally spoke up again, “Ms. Y/L/N, Junyi has never done anything like this before, I honestly don’t know where this came from. He’s not a mean kid.”

“Mr. Qian, that is not what I said nor asked,” you turned to him coolly. “I want to know what exactly she was seeing and how much time she had to intervene.”

Ms. Xu recalled, “The two of them were getting along fine. Junyi did seem to be getting a little frustrated, and Woobin was beginning to tear up, but there was no contact at that point, and we know how Woobin is.”

She glanced at the boy on your lap with a sympathetic look, and it took everything in you to hold back your revulsion at her. Yes, your son was quicker to cry than others, but that didn’t mean that as the adult, she shouldn’t investigate what exactly was making him cry.

“I was keeping an eye on the situation to see if they would resolve it on their own,” she tried to reassure you. “If I had thought that it would escalate like that at all, I promise I would have intervened. The contact was entirely unexpected and very sudden.”

“The biting.” You clarified flatly.

“Well, yes,” she nodded. “As soon as I saw it happen, both Mrs. Chen and I went over and separated the two. It was no more than a second or two at most, Ms. Y/N.”

“It sounds like you two did the best you could’ve,” Mr. Qian told the teachers before turning to you once more. “Ms. Y/L/N, again, I am so sorry that Junyi did this, but it sounds like it really did come out of nowhere.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, inhaling deeply to recenter yourself. Entirely ignoring Mr. Qian’s platitudes, you looked at the teacher, “It took you just a second or two to separate them?”

“Yes,” she confirmed.

“Binnie, may I?” You murmured to your son, reaching for the sleeve of his shirt.

“Okay, Mommy,” he easily let go of his toy for you.

Rolling up the longsleeve of his shirt you turned him a little to show off the deep black, blue, and purple bruise in the perfect shape of a set of little teeth to the other three adults sitting around the table with you. Ms. Xu audibly gasped, Mrs. Chen covered her mouth and looked away, and Mr. Qian had the most visceral reaction, grimacing with his whole upper body as if he’d been slapped.

“I simply find it hard to believe that it was only a mere one or two seconds when my son’s arm looks like this now,” you stated, making firm eye contact with both teachers. “So, I will ask again: How long did it take you to separate them?”

Mrs. Chen and Ms. Xu exchanged uncomfortable looks before the older woman took over speaking.

“Ms. Y/N, I’m not sure if you’ve had experience with removing a child that’s bitten onto another and won’t let go, but you can’t simply rip them apart without causing further damage to the other child’s skin. Ms. Xu couldn’t separate them on her own, she had to wait for me to get there, and as we’ve already said, I was on the other side of the classroom. So yes, it did take longer than we would have liked to separate the two.”

“So it took longer than two seconds, which is what you just told me, twice. You have lied to me twice now about how my child got injured in your classroom.” You rolled Woobin’s sleeve back down, absentmindedly patting his head. Leaning forward as much as you could with him there, you jutted your pointer finger decidedly into the tabletop outside of his toys, “So now I want to know what you and the school are going to do to ensure my son’s safety in your classroom.”

The father beside you suddenly jolted into action at your words, “Ms. Y/L/N, Junyi won’t—”

You rounded on him incredulously, doing your best to both be firm while not absolutely losing it on him, “Mr. Qian, I have already told you that I am not here to concern myself with how you parent your child. And I think the fact that you take my concern for my own child’s wellbeing as an affront to your relationship with yours says more than I would ever think is appropriate for me to.”

Okay, maybe you lost it on him a little.

With him sufficiently dumbfounded, you were able to focus back on the school staff in front of you, “Now please, can we get back to the topic at hand? I want to know what you two plan on doing about classroom management and observing the children under your care to prevent future incidents like this from happening. And I want it written down in a formal document, with assurances from your superiors about how both that and your staff training on communication with parents will be handled, because it certainly can’t include lying to them.”

Ms. Xu looked down at her lap guiltily, while Mrs. Chen simply looked disgruntled. You held the older woman’s gaze steadily, having a distinct feeling that little lie you’d been told was her doing, and the junior teacher was following her own superior’s lead.

“Of course, Ms. Y/N. I will call the principal right now to aid in drawing up the document you’ve requested,” Mrs. Chen acquiesced, standing up and moving over to one of the desks, picking up the landline phone sitting there.

You nodded to her, finally letting your eyes drop down to your kid in your lap. You were unable to fight off the smile that spread across your lips as you looked at your son, picking up one of his hands and bringing it up to your mouth to kiss his little fingers.

“My turn Mommy!” He squealed, grabbing one of your fingers and giving it a comically loud smooch.

You could feel Mr. Qian’s gobsmacked stare on you still, but ignored him. You’d done what you came here to do, none of which involved making nice with the biter’s parents. While what you’d said about not wanting to comment on his parenting was true, that didn’t mean that you hadn’t formed a silent opinion or two about it, especially with how defensive he was. Needless to say, with how he’d attempted to handle this, you didn’t really think very highly of Mr. Qian.

After leaving the mediation with your own copy of the formal plan on how the three-year-old classroom’s management and safety procedures were going to be tweaked—with specific policies about biting and inter-student de-escalation—and a form that you and Mr. Qian had signed attesting that you participated in and were satisfied with the mediation process, you paused in the lobby of the school. You were juggling too many things: the papers, some of Woobin’s toys, Woobin, your purse, all while trying to get your car keys.

“Hey, you need some help?”

You turned to Mr. Qian with a strained smile, “No, thank you, we’re okay.”

Considering the conversation over, you went to set Woobin down on the ground, “Here, Binnie, wait right here next to Mommy.”

“Oh, glad to see his legs do work.” The man was apparently still there.

“Yes, they do.” You pressed your lips into a flat line, not very amused. “And I don’t appreciate the passive-aggressive comment on my parenting, Mr. Qian.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Your joke was referencing the fact that the entire time you’ve seen Woobin and me this afternoon, I’ve been either carrying him or holding him in my lap, despite the fact that he can stand on his own. You’ve been letting your son walk on his own all afternoon and haven’t picked him up once. Thus, implying that I’m coddling my son and raising him to be dependent on me, while you’re raising yours to be independent.” You tossed Woobin’s toys into your purse, then folded the papers in half to tuck in as well. “Trust me, I’ve dealt with lots of people thinking they can give me unwarranted advice on parenting. Especially men who think I’m going to give him one too many hugs and he’ll develop an Oedipus complex. They also presumably think that my uterus is roaming around my body causing me to become hysterical while I’m telling them off, too.”

Having finally fished your car keys out from the bottom of your purse, you hoisted Woobin back up into your arms, defiantly making eye contact with the father, “Goodbye, Mr. Qian.”

A couple weeks of uneventfully picking up Woobin from preschool passed by. You saw Mr. Qian in the lobby, or passed by him in the classroom, of course. But you made no moves to talk to or even acknowledge him, nor he you. Ms. Xu seemed genuinely apologetic about what happened, doing everything possible to ingratiate herself to you at every opportunity, chatting you up at pick-up, asking about your day at work, or telling you about how well Woobin did at curriculum or art or such during the day. Mrs. Chen was cordial, and did your requested weekly check-ins on how the implementation of the new procedures were coming along. You sincerely engaged with and thanked her after each update. After all, you wanted your relationship with your son’s teachers to be productive, not adversarial. As long as they were done lying to you.

Today when you went to pick up Woobin, he was contently sitting in his chair at a table, swinging his feet under him. You squatted down beside him, mussing up his hair a bit, “Hey, Binnie. Have a good day?”

“Yes,” he nodded, reaching out towards you, and you grabbed his hand. “Missed Mommy.”

“And I missed Binnie!” You replied, squeezing his little tummy, delighting in the bright little giggle he let out. “Now come on, bubbles, let’s go home.”

“Oh, Ms. Y/N!” Ms. Xu was suddenly at your side before you could stand up.

“Ah, hello, Ms. Xu, how are you?”

“I’m very excited, actually. But first, Woobin had a fantastic day at school today. He went down so easy for naptime, and he finished the curriculum so fast that we brought out a 4-year-old worksheet for him just to see, and he did that one too! It was some counting, and he did great!”

You turned to your son with a grin, “Did you have fun doing all that counting, Binnie?”

He nodded enthusiastically.

“And are you proud of yourself, bubbles?”

“Yes, Mommy. Can I have a high five?”

“You can have two high fives,” you held out both your palms for him to smack his little hands into.

Turning back to the teacher, you indulged her in the question she very clearly wanted you to ask, “And why are you so excited, Ms. Xu?”

She handed you the piece of paper in her hands, “Well, the Fall Festival is coming up. The entire campus pitches in to put it on, and this year the preschool is running the Bake Sale table. We’re asking parents to volunteer to either bring treats, set up, break down, or do a shift running the table. If you’re able.”

It looked like you were the first parent Ms. Xu had given the sign-up sheet to, all the slots were empty. Eight slots to bring different baked goods, and two slots for each hour-long shift. While you weren’t exactly feeling charitable to the school—Woobin’s bruise still hadn’t fully healed—you noticed the text at the top of the sign-up sheet advertising that any parent who volunteered would get two free ride tickets. Woobin hadn’t gone on his first Ferris Wheel yet, and that was a memory you were looking forward to making with him.

“The ride tickets—” You tapped that part of the paper to draw Ms. Xu’s attention to it. “Will there be a Ferris Wheel?”

Her face immediately lit up and she nodded fervently, “Yes! And Woobin should be just big enough as long as he sits in your lap.”

Well, you could kill an hour running a Bake Sale table with another random preschooler’s parent then take Woobin on the Ferris Wheel. You quickly scribbled down your name for the first hour after the set-up shift, then handed the paper back to Ms. Xu.

The day of the Fall Festival was upon you, and you were holding Woobin’s hand as you walked across the expansive campus grounds. The booth where the preschool’s Bake Sale was set up was near the other food and carnival games towards the front of the grassy clearing, and you could see the Ferris Wheel at the very back. You were about fifteen minutes early, and most vendors were still finishing setting up. Since you were doing the first shift, you wanted to make sure you weren’t late, as well as see if there was anything from set up that you could help with if needed.

The Bake Sale booth was easy to find, and you saw two men there carrying in large tubs filled with containers of various baked goods.

“Good morning!” You greeted them brightly. “Are you the set-up crew?”

“Johnny Suh,” the taller of the two gestured to himself, then to his companion, “Jeong Jaehyun.”

“Nice to meet you two, I’m Y/L/N Y/N, and this is Woobin. I’m on the first shift. Your kids are in the three-year-old class as well, right?”

“Yes, Sungchan,” Mr. Jeong confirmed with a smile. “I think I’ve seen you around the classroom at drop off and pick up before.”

“And Mark is my boy,” Mr. Suh nodded, then looked around the property. “Well, these are the last of it. Now, he should be around here somewhere…”

You followed Mr. Suh’s gaze, and your stomach dropped as you recognized two familiar figures approaching the table from the direction of the school. Qian Kun was holding a metal box in one hand, and his son’s hand with the other. He set the metal box down on the table.

“Sorry, had to get the money box from Mrs. Chen in the classroom,” he explained, then looked to the two men with you. “Thank you, Mr. Suh, Mr. Jeong. Ms. Y/L/N and I have got it from here.”

“Alright, we’ll see you at the end for break-down, then,” Mr. Suh slapped Mr. Qian’s shoulder in a friendly gesture.

“Goodbye, Ms. Y/L/N, Mr. Qian. You too, Woobin and Junyi!” Mr. Jeong gave waves to all four of you before taking off after the other man who was already several long strides away from the table. “Hey, Johnny!”

Two pop-up chairs were set up behind the table, and Mr. Qian grabbed a bag that was beside one, unfurling a playmat from the inside and laying it down on the ground beside the table. He poured out a bunch of toys too, then squatted down beside his son.

“Alright, Junyi, I need you to look at me. Daddy needs you to play on this blanket today, okay? If you need to go off the blanket, you have to tell Daddy first. It’s so we can stay safe. You cannot leave the blanket without telling Daddy. All your favorite toys are there, you’re going to play with them and have fun. I’ve got snacks and stuff, too. But you need to stay on it. Do you understand, Junyi?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Okay, can you please tell me what you’re going to do then?”

“I’m going to play on the blanket.”

“And what if you want to leave?”

“I ask Daddy.”

“Why?”

Junyi’s face screwed into a pout as he tried to remember. “I forgot, ‘m sorry…”

“That’s okay, buddy. It’s so we can be safe,” Mr. Qian repeated it for him. “Now, why are we going to stay on the blanket?”

“So we can be safe.”

“Good, buddy,” He ruffled his son’s hair. “Now go play, I’ll be right here at this table.”

The man stood up straight again, his eyes flicking over you briefly as he began organizing the sweets on the table.

“Good morning, Ms. Y/L/N. Woobin is welcome to play on the mat with Junyi during the shift, if you’re comfortable with that, of course.”

“Oh, thank you.” You led Woobin over to the mat as well. “Binnie, Mommy is going to be working for a while at this table. Your job is to stay on the playmat with Junyi, so that you two can stay safe, okay? You cannot leave the playmat without Mommy.”

“Okay, Mommy.”

“So tell me, what are you going to do?”

“Play with Junyi.”

“Where?”

“On the playmat.”

“Can you show Mommy what all the playmat is?”

He pointed to the edges of the yellow and blue blanket for you.

“And are you going to leave it without Mommy?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“So I can be safe.”

You grinned at him, “Thank you, bubbles. Go play, baby. Call for Mommy if you need me, okay?”

“Okay.”

After depositing a few more toys that you had brought along for Woobin on the mat, you returned to where Mr. Qian was setting out the food.

“Here,” he held a tray of brownies out to you. “These will go there, right in front of you.”

“Oh, got it.” You set them down exactly where he gestured. “So, you signed up for set up and the first shift?”

“I’m actually helping to run the Bake Sale, so I’m setting up, breaking down, and filling in for whichever slots nobody signed up for.”

“Wait, did you bake these, too?”

“Only the ones in containers with the green lids. Other parents contributed too.”

You looked over the baked goods he had indicated. All the ones in the green containers looked the best, you had considered in the back of your mind that one of the richer parents might have just bought them from a bakery and brought them in instead of baking themselves.

Sneaking a glance at the man beside you, you then panicked when you realized that he was already looking at you, expectantly holding out a plate of frosted sugar cookies.

“Here, next to the brownies.”

“Right, on it.”

Mr. Qian cleared his throat, “I am surprised, Ms. Y/L/N… that you’re allowing Woobin to play with Junyi.”

“I’ve also allowed him back at school for the past month, Mr. Qian.” You pointed out. “As I said, my issue has never been with Junyi, but with how the school handled the entire situation.”

“Hm.”

You let out a short sigh, “Though, I am sorry for some of the things I said at that meeting, they were out of line.”

“Some? May I inquire about which ones?”

“The chew toy thing…”

“Oh, yes.”

“And the whole ‘my concern over my child’s safety not being an affront to your relationship with yours.’ That was seriously… awful of me. Just so pretentious,” you breathed out, feeling ashamed as you relived your words. But if you were to ever expect to teach your son humility and owning up to his mistakes, you had to practice it yourself. “I said I wasn’t there to comment on your parenting and then I did exactly that in the exact same breath. I’m sorry, Mr. Qian, and I hope you can believe me when I say that.”

He held your gaze steadily, “I forgive you, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Everything else I said, though, I stand by,” you reaffirmed pointedly.

“I understand,” he nodded.

You were pretty sure the festival had officially opened, as families had begun filtering in. Some were slowing down as they passed by your table to skim their eyes over your offerings, but none had stopped so far. So you were still just stuck there with Qian Kun and the overwhelming silence that felt like it was damn near suffocating you.

“So, what do you do for a living?” You finally decided to ask. If you weren’t going to be holding a grudge against the guy, you might as well make small talk.

“I’m in sales.”

Okay, small talk was not his forte. This was going to be like pulling teeth.

“Well it seems like they put the Bake Sale table in good hands, then.”

“What about you?” At least he understood reciprocity.

“Publishing.” Yeah, you weren’t any better than him. You stumbled to add on more information, “Uh, I’m a copy editor.”

“Is that like a proof reader?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

And at that moment, your blessed first customers walked up to your booth, a group of high school students, and you leapt at the opportunity to get out of that awkward conversation.

When your hour shift was finally over, you gleefully picked Woobin and his toys up from the playmat, took your two free ride tickets from Mr. Qian, and waved goodbye to him and the new volunteer parent who had shown up to take over your slot.

“Alright, Binnie, the Fall Festival is our oyster,” you looked it over with shining eyes. “What should we do first?”

Two hours later, and you were just finishing up your slightly late lunch. You scrolled through the delightful pictures that you’d taken of you and Woobin on the Ferris Wheel, sending a couple to your parents before tucking your phone away.

“Dessert sounds good, don’t you think?” You suggested to Woobin, and the Bake Sale popped into your mind. Those desserts that Mr. Qian made had looked really good, and you weren’t able to try any when you were working the table this morning…

“Please, Mommy?”

“You didn’t even need to ask, bubbles, Mommy wants some dessert too,” you admitted, taking his hand in yours. “I think we should go get some of those sweets that Junyi’s dad made. How does that sound? Did you see them earlier?”

There was a short line that you bumped up against at the Bake Sale table, just a couple families ahead of you. When you finally got to the front, your greeting to Mr. Qian stopped in your throat as you took in the empty spot beside him.

“Are you all by yourself, Mr. Qian?” You craned your neck to look around for signs of another parent.

He let out a tired sigh very clearly from deep within, eyes conveying a harrowed, ominous kind of exhaustion, “It seems as though the parent who signed up for the last four slots has skipped out on me. Been by myself for the past thirty minutes or so. I gave up on him about fifteen minutes ago.”

With a resolute nod, you hoisted your son up onto your hip and slid around to the other side of the table to stand beside Mr. Qian, “Binnie and I will finish the day out with you two then.”

“No, Ms. Y/L/N, you really don’t have to. I’m sure you have things to do, and I can run a preschool Bake Sale by myself.”

“Junyi! Come play with Woobin over here please!” You called after the little boy that you’d spotted toddling a little too far away from the playmat for comfort.

The man whipped around as his son came waddling back over at the sound of his name, clearly unaware that he had just wandered off. He squatted down to chastise the boy, reminding him to stay on the blanket. Junyi nodded, plopping down with his toys.

“I’m not leaving you out to dry, Kun,” you told the father frankly, sitting Woobin and his toys back down on the playmat too.

He gave you a frazzled smile, “Thanks, Y/N.”

Another couple hours passed by of you and Kun jointly running the Bake Sale table. Word had apparently spread since the first hour that you’d done with him in the morning, and the treats were extremely popular. Your line was never empty for more than a minute or two, and often times wrapped past other booths. Now you could see why Kun was so out of it when you had gotten there, he had been doing this by himself, even for just thirty minutes, with Junyi there.

The two of you fell into a symbiotic rhythm of taking orders, payment, handing out food, and keeping an eye on the two boys with you.

In a rare, brief lull between customers, you were caught off-guard when it was also quiet behind you. The telltale giggles, babbling, and nonsense conversation of Woobin and Junyi had faded out. You frowned thoughtfully as you finished rearranging the brownies in front of you, about to turn around to investigate anyway when a heart-wrenching wail pierced the still air. Immediately, you went to jerk around to comfort your crying Woobin, but were stopped in your tracks, so caught off-guard to see that it wasn’t your son sobbing. He was standing in front of Junyi, who was sat on the playmat, half-crying and half-screaming his head off.

Kun couldn’t get the cash in his hand into the register fast enough, and you rushed over to try to get Woobin to at least back up. Crowding Junyi definitely wasn’t going to help.

But you stopped as you realized that Woobin was talking to the other boy.

“Junyi, scary or boo-boo?” Woobin quietly asked him. After he didn’t get a reply, he asked again, “Scary or boo-boo?”

Junyi managed to blubber out, “Scary!”

Kun had finally arrived on the playmat while you watched on with wide, bewildered, and awestruck eyes as Woobin gave Junyi a big hug. The dad looked even more confused than you.

“What’s going on?”

You held up a finger for him to wait a moment, then turned to your son, “Binnie, do you know what happened to Junyi? Why is he having a scary cry?”

“Junyi fell down, Mommy,” he answered you dutifully.

“Okay, thank you,” you nodded to him. Looking at Kun, you explained, “Seems like Junyi just fell down. I don’t think he’s hurt, it just gave him a scare.”

“Daddy!” Junyi whimpered, and Kun gently extracted him from the other toddler’s arms to bring him into his own. Cradling his son, Kun murmured soft reassurances to him as the boy clung to his neck.

“Uh, thank you, Woobin,” he nodded to your son. “I’ve got Junyi from here.”

“You’re welcome,” Woobin replied, but you could see the moistness gathering in his eyes too. Oh, your big-hearted kid.

Both you and Kun brought your respective kids back to the table with you, sitting in the pop-up chairs with them in your laps. The two of you were quiet until Junyi’s sobs had simmered down into little hiccups, and you could feel that Woobin’s breathing had evened out into a nap.

“Okay, how did you do that?” Kun whispered at you.

“Do what?” You replied just as quietly.

“Get Woobin to do what he just did.”

“By asking him the exact same question pretty much every single time he’s cried for the past three years,” you answered honestly. “And he didn’t use to even answer me, much less ask other people that. That’s the first time he’s ever done that, actually.”

“Huh…”

Mr. Suh and Mr. Jeong came back an hour and a half later to help break down the table. It had been a pretty successful endeavor, if you did say so yourself, as there were only a handful of treats left, which you and Kun offered to a group of high schoolers who came by after break-down.

With everything packed up except the cash drawer, Kun turned to you with finality, “I’ve just got to drop this off with the front office and that’ll be it. Thanks, Y/N. You and Woobin were a big help today.”

“Of course. Sorry about that parent who skipped out on you. Who was it, anyway?”

“A… Mr. Nakamoto?” Kun read off the paper. “I’ve never heard of him.”

“I think I’ve chatted with him in the lobby a couple times. His son’s in the two-year-old class if I remember correctly?” You strained your memory, then gave up. “Oh, whatever. Maybe he just had an emergency or something.”

“That’s one way to look at it.”

“Anyway, have a goodnight, Kun, Junyi,” you nodded to the two of them, then squeezed your son’s hand. “Binnie, we’re leaving, do you want to say something to Junyi and Mr. Qian?”

Your son perked up, giving the two of them a bright smile and big wave, “Goodbye!”

“Junyi?” Kun prompted his son from where he was tucked into the father’s chest. “Tell Ms. Y/L/N and Woobin goodbye, you won’t see Woobin until Monday.”

“Bye, Woobin. Bye… Ms. Y/L/N.” Junyi said in between yawns, rubbing at his eyes. Poor guy seemed absolutely tuckered out.

“Goodnight,” Kun gave you one last nod before heading towards the school, and you and Woobin took off towards your car.

Monday morning you released Woobin’s hand to let him scamper into his classroom, giving Ms. Xu a wave of acknowledgement as you signed the morning drop-off sheet by the door. You were about to take off for work when a hand grabbed your elbow, and you hadn’t even realized that Ms. Xu had approached you, all too focused on heading to work.

“Ms. Y/N!”

“Ah, Ms. Xu, good morning,” you greeted her. “Is something the matter?”

“No, I just wanted to thank you for pitching in with the Bake Sale on Saturday. Mr. Qian informed us that he wouldn’t have been able to pull it off without your help.”

You looked around for Kun. You were only able to spot Junyi, however, coloring with Woobin at a table. Seems like he’d already come and gone. Great, now you had a reputation for being a helpful mom.

You shook off both her hand and her praise, “Oh, really Mr. Qian is exaggerating. He works in sales, did you know? Honestly didn’t need my help.”

“Well, whatever you two did, it was our most successful Bake Sale—well, any kind of fundraising event—for the preschool ever! And, we were wondering if the two of you would consider getting more involved in some parent leadership positions at the school? The preschool PTA have been trying to get a fundraising committee off the ground, and we really think that you two would do a fantastic job spearheading—”

You must have had some kind of look on your face, as Ms. Xu suddenly stopped dead in the middle of her sentence, entirely switching trains of thought. Keeping her same peppy tone and bright, hopeful smile, she said, “I am so sorry to have thrown so much at you. You must have to be getting to work. Why don’t we talk about it later when you come pick Woobin up? All of us, Mr. Qian, too. Goodbye, Ms. Y/N!”

And with that you were ushered out of the door, utterly dumbfounded at what had just happened.

That afternoon, you squared your shoulders and steeled your nerves as you approached the preschool doors. You had to keep your resolution firm: you were absolutely not going to be joining any sort of PTA, fundraising committee, or parent leadership position. The only thing that you were going to be spearheading was cracking open the bottle of wine that was waiting for you at your apartment tonight.

You were a little earlier than you usually were for pick-up, which you had done on purpose, needing to clear the air with a certain Mr. Qian Kun. Immediately homing in on the man, you made a beeline for him. He noticed you, his friendly hand falling as he seemed to notice the set of your brow.

“Good afternoon, Y—”

“Qian Kun,” you cut him off sternly. “Do you care to tell me why I was voluntold for a position spearheading a fundraising committee this morning?”

“Oh, that. Look, it came as a surprise to me too,” he tried to assuage you.

“Why the hell did my name even come out of your mouth in such a discussion in the first place?”

“Because they were praising me on how well the Bake Sale went, and I was making sure you got the credit that you deserved too. Are you upset about that? If so, I’m sorry? I guess?”

“You listen to the words coming out of my mouth: I will be a PTA mom over your dead body,” you hissed, scooching in to take the spot on the bench beside him and free up more standing space for the parents coming in.

“Okay, let’s take a step back from the threats, maybe, Y/N,” Kun suggested, holding his hands up in both a defensive and ‘are you kidding me?’ gesture. “What’s so awful about being a PTA parent in the first place?”

“Free labor for so little reward, and I don’t have the time for that. Do you?”

“We haven’t even heard their proposal; we don’t know what they’d be wanting us to do.”

“‘Spearheading a committee’ sounds like a part-time job at least.”

“Alright, well, didn’t Ms. Xu tell you that you and I held the most successful fundraising event the preschool’s ever had? And that wasn’t even with us making a concerted effort, either, that was just some random mid-grade effort Bake Sale. Imagine what we could do if we really go for it.”

“You work in sales, huh?” You deadpanned after his little pitch was finished. The one-year-old class opened for dismissal, and you leaned in towards him to continue your fervent conversation in a more hushed voice, “And can’t even realize when you’re the one being sold to! You do know that this campus has a bunch of filthy rich donors, right? They’re not hard pressed for cash, they just give the high school priority, then the middle school, primary, and the preschool gets the leftovers—if there’s even any—forcing it to have to fundraise for itself.”

“Isn’t that all the more reason to do this, then?” Kun pushed back.

“We could do a hundred Bake Sales and it wouldn’t make up the difference between the scraps the preschool gets and the millions that the high school does. No, it would be all the more reason for us to go find our own filthy rich donor who would put a stipulation on their donation for it to be used exclusively for the preschool.”

“Oh.”

“You’ve got to think bigger about this, Kun,” you knocked on his forehead with two of your knuckles as best you could in the narrow space between the two of you. “God. You said you work in sales, what do you even do?”

He rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly, red tinging the tips of his ears, “Would you believe me if I said I’m a Director of Sales?”

“No,” you snorted.

“That’s fair.”

“So anyway, glad we’re on the same page about saying no to this.” You went to lean away from him and put some pep back into your tone, watching as the two-year-old class was dismissed next.

“What? I—” he looked around, it was only the three-year-old parents left in the lobby now. You sighed, scooting back over to sit shoulder-to-shoulder again for him to be able to continue in a hushed voice, “I thought we were going to find a donor for the preschool.”

“You want us to go in there, and say yes to leading the preschool PTA’s fundraising committee on the condition that its sole mission is to stage a coup within the financial hierarchy of the campus?”

“Okay well when you say it like that—”

“I’m in.” You grinned at him. “As long as you were being serious about the Director of Sales thing.”

“I was,” he fished out a business card from his wallet to hand to you.

Qian Kun, Director of Sales, WeiShen, Inc.

And below that was his email, office phone line, and fax number. You gave it back to him.

“Perfect. Those connections will come in handy.”

The door to the three-year-old classroom swung open just then, and you got to your feet.

“Alright, Mr. Qian, ready to go start the cutest coup the world has ever seen?” You offered your hand to him.

He stood up alongside you, giving your hand a firm shake, “Yes, absolutely, Ms. Y/L/N. They’ll never know what hit them.”

While Mrs. Chen and Ms. Xu were definitely caught off-guard by your idea, after getting over their initial shock, they were surprisingly on-board with it. They requested that you two bring in a more formal proposal to the next preschool PTA meeting— next Wednesday. That gave you nine days.

“So how did you know all that, about the donors and distribution structure of the funds?” Kun asked as you walked out into the empty preschool lobby.

“I did my research before picking a preschool for Woobin. It’s all there on the Internet if you dig deep enough, and are somewhat adept at reading through the legal bull—” You cut yourself off, looking down at the two toddlers with you. Kun pushed the front door open for you, and you quietly thanked him as you led Woobin through it before resuming your train of thought, “It’s obviously not in any of the advertising stuff for prospective parents, but for prospective donors, investors; the corporate materials.”

The four of you stopped in front of the building, where the small parking lot was.

“So then why did you enroll him here, even knowing about how they treat the preschool with the donations?”

“The high school is the best in the area, and the easiest way to guarantee admission is to graduate in from their middle school. Easiest way to get into the middle school is to graduate in from the primary school.”

“And the easiest way into the primary school is through the preschool,” the dad surmised.

“Bingo. I’m keeping Binnie’s options open,” you squeezed your son’s hand affectionately. “He doesn’t have to go there, but I’m making sure he can if he wants.”

Kun’s eyebrows shot up, “Wow. That’s some really forward thinking.”

You tilted your head curiously, “So why’d you choose to send Junyi here?”

“It was the closest to my place.”

“Practical, that’s more than fair.”

“Speaking of, Junyi and I should get going, we have to pick up a couple things from the store for dinner tonight and buddy already looks like he’s not going to last the two block walk there.” He looked down at his son, who was very quiet, glassy eyes fixed on his feet.

You nodded in understanding, “Of course, Binnie and I have a wine night planned.”

“I’m sorry, a what?”

“Oh, Binnie gets grape juice and I have red wine in matching cups. He likes to feel included.”

“Does he get a matching kiddie charcuterie board too?” Kun chuckled to himself as he hoisted Junyi up onto his hip.

“No, he just takes what he wants off of mine.”

He gave you a blank stare, “I can’t tell if you’re pulling my leg or not.”

“Look, he insists on trying whatever I have, and he ends up liking a lot of it,” you shrugged. “He’s the only 3-year-old I know who asks for tapenade as a snack.”

“You’re being serious?” He checked again.

“Yes,” you laughed. Then, before you knew it, the next words coming out of your mouth were, “You know, you and Junyi should join Binnie and I for a charcuterie night. I’ll prepare actual kid-friendly stuff, too, for Junyi.”

Kun’s head jerked back just the slightest, and he blinked a couple times before asking, “Uh, just you and Woobin?”

“Yeah, is— Would that, uh, be a problem?” The offer had felt perfectly normal and natural for you to make in the moment, but his reaction was making you second guess and stammer. You rushed to tack on, “We can— It’ll be for the fundraising committee, you know.”

“Right, right, of course.” His voice was filled with shaky relief.

“Of course,” you echoed, offering a strained smile.

“As long as that’s not a problem for—for you.”

“Why would it be a problem for me? I invited you.”

“I don’t— That sounds great, thank you, Y/N.”

Desperately wanting to get out of the plane crash that you had inadvertently taken this conversation into, you readjusted your purse on your shoulder decidedly, “Of course. Uhm, well, we won’t hold you two up from the store anymore, it looks like Junyi’s about to fall asleep on you right now. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Kun looked down at Junyi’s head that had been resting against his chest, the boy’s eyes beginning to flutter shut, “Oh, God, there he goes. Bye, Y/N, Woobin!”

And the man was around the corner before Woobin could even lift his little hand to wave.

“So what’s the big deal, Y/N?”

“Well because I feel stupid now, Sooyoung,” you ranted to your friend over the phone that night as you washed up the dishes from dinner. “It felt like I was maybe finally getting my first like, parent friend, you know? And then he got all weird as soon as I invited him to hang out. I wasn’t being weird, was I? It was practically a playdate invite!”

Woobin had been put to bed a few minutes ago, and you were recounting the horrible nosedive that your conversation with Kun had taken, needing to know that you weren’t crazy.

“Y/N…” Sooyoung’s voice was patient as it came through your speakers. “Now, I can only guess, because I am, as we know, not a parent friend. But… is he married?”

 “Huh?” The plate in your hand nearly slipped out of your soapy grip.

“Wedding ring, seen one?”

You wracked your brain, trying to remember if you’d ever really looked at Kun’s hands that closely, “Uh, not that I can remember?”

“Okay. You ever met the mom?”

“No, it’s always Kun who picks Junyi up.”

“Has a mom or another parent or partner ever been mentioned at all?”

“Sooyoung, the point,” you requested sternly, having a sneaking suspicion as to what it was.

“I’m just saying, maybe he got all weird because he thought you were flirting.”

“Oh my God,” you sighed and ran a hand through your hair before realizing that it was still soapy. “God damn it!”

“Y/N?”

You grabbed some paper towels to clean the suds off your head, “Yeah, still here, sorry.”

“Anyway… is he cute?”

“SooSoo, I don’t even think I could flirt on purpose at this point,” you chuckled cynically, going back to your chore. “That muscle’s long shriveled up. I just need to time skip to being married with two kids, I think.”

Your friend laughed along with you, “Fair. But, that doesn’t sound like a no. Kinda sounds like avoiding the question, actually.”

“Sooyoung.”

“Ooh, you gonna send me to my room?” She taunted you, and you could hear her pout through the phone. “Put me in time out?”

“You’d like that, you little freak,” you snickered, picking up your next dish.

That Saturday afternoon you and Woobin had welcomed Kun and Junyi into your apartment with giddy nerves. Woobin was excited, and you were excited for him. This would be pretty much his first playdate with a kid that he wasn’t related to. And you had all the nerves, as this was your first time having a parent friend over, too. Not to mention that Sooyoung’s words were still bouncing around in the back of your head. When Kun held out a bottle of red wine to you with his left hand, you looked extra hard at his fingers— yep, no ring.

“Oh, Kun, you didn’t have to,” you took it from him gladly, ushering the two of them further into your home.

“You’re hosting and making us a charcuterie board. I figured wine was appropriate,” he explained.

“Well, thank you. This is perfect.”

Woobin was right where you’d left him in the living room on his playmat among his toys.

“Binnie,” you said, waiting until he looked up at you before continuing, “Mr. Qian and Junyi are here, so we’re going to eat now, remember?”

He nodded, immediately standing up and beginning to shovel toys off to one side of his mat. You helped him slide the mat to the corner of the room.

“Uh, we’re just going to eat around the coffee table, if that’s alright,” you explained, gesturing to the cleared table in the middle of the living room.

“Yeah, of course,” Kun nodded.

“Great, great. Dining table kind of has a partially built LEGO set on it right now,” you chuckled as you set the wine bottle down. “I’m going to grab everything from the kitchen, be back in a second.”

“Oh, I’ll help.”

“No, that’s okay, I’ve already got a little helper,” you held a hand out expectantly towards your son. Woobin immediately grabbed your hand, looking up at you. You gave Kun a quick smile, “Be back in a sec.”

In the kitchen, you handed Woobin his spill-proof cup, then another for Junyi. You fit two wine glasses by the stems and a corkscrew in one hand, and grabbed the charcuterie board with the other. Gently nudging your toddler ahead of you, the two of you headed back out to the living room, where your guests were waiting.

Kun and Junyi had sat down on one side of the table, and you gently placed the food down in front of them, then one wine glass in front of Kun. You looked to your son, who handed the correct cup to Junyi.

“It’s just water,” you informed the dad. “We have juice too, if he can have it. I never know about allergies and the like so I didn’t want to assume.”

“Juice?” Woobin looked up at you with wide eyes.

“Yours is already grape juice, Binnie,” you informed him with a head pat.

Kun rubbed his son’s back, “Water’s fine for him, he had a juice box this morning. Thanks.”

You and Woobin sat opposite from the father and son, Woobin immediately clambering into your lap. As you went to uncork the wine, Kun looked over the board in front of you all. You had made sure to prepare some kid-friendly options in one corner in addition to your usual refined spread.

“This all looks fantastic, Y/N. Thank you, seriously,” Kun smiled, and you swore that was the first time you’d noticed a deep dimple appear on both of his cheeks.

You poured first for him, then yourself, “Of course. Thank you two for coming over, Woobin and I were both excited to host for someone. Right, Binnie?”

“What, Mommy?” Woobin looked up at you with a scrunched nose.

“‘Host.’” You repeated the unfamiliar word for him, then clarified your question, “Are you excited to have Junyi and Mr. Qian over?”

“Oh! Yes!” He nodded his head so fast you could feel the rest of his little body shake in your lap. “Can I show Junyi my room, Mommy?”

“After you two eat some, okay?”

“Okay!”

“Did you hear that, Junyi? After you eat, you and Woobin can play.” Kun gently prodded his son, then looked up at you apologetically when all the child did was yawn. “Sorry, he just woke up from a nap before coming over.”

“That’s okay,” you giggled, cutting off a piece of cheese and pressing it onto a cracker, then making another serving of the same cheese and cracker. You handed one to Woobin, keeping the other for yourself.

Woobin eagerly took a bite of the cheese and cracker you’d given him, washing it down with his grape juice.

Kun offered a bear-shaped cookie out to Junyi, who shook his head. The dad sighed, and pointed at a banana slice, then blueberry, then cheddar cheese slice that you’d cut into small star shapes. They all got head shakes.

“Are you hungry at all, buddy?”

“Yes!”

“Then what do you want? Ms. Y/L/N made sure to put out all that food just for you. I don’t think you want what Daddy is eating, buddy. It’s grown-up food.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, unsure of if you should speak up. It seemed like they both needed help, but you weren’t one to try to interject your own parenting if it wasn’t asked for.

Junyi squirmed in his dad’s arms for a moment before mumbling, “But Woobin’s eating it…”

Meanwhile Woobin had in fact helped himself to a kalamata olive, pre-pitted, happily munching away.

Kun seemed at a loss, rubbing at his brow, and you finally decided to jump in.

“Junyi, you can try some, too,” you told him encouragingly, leaning forward and reaching over the board. “Do you want to try the cheese Woobin was eating or the olive he just had? Or both?”

“Cheese, please.”

You cut off a small piece of the gouda, “Here you go.”

He took it in his small hands, “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.”

You watched in amusement as Junyi ate the cheese, his features lighting up.

“Did you like it?”

“Yes! Can I try the olive?”

“Hey…” Kun’s voice held a slight warning as he pinched his son’s side.

“Can I try the olive please?”

“Thank you.” The dad patted the boy’s head before reaching around him for the glass of wine on the table.

You handed him an olive, both you and Kun watching with interest as he popped it into his mouth whole. Junyi’s face immediately screwed up in disgust. Without missing a beat, Kun held up a cupped palm with another short sigh, letting his son spit the food back out. Trying to hold back your giggles, you handed the dad a napkin.

“Thanks,” he accepted it, depositing the olive into the paper, and wiping his hand off.

After some more broadening of Junyi’s horizons—to mixed results—the board was mostly clear, and the kids had declared themselves full.

“Can I show Junyi my room now?” Woobin asked excitedly.

“Sure, Binnie. You two can go play,” you nodded, and he immediately scrambled off your lap. You held out a hand for him to use to balance himself as you kept talking, “Mr. Qian and I have some work to do, so we’ll be in here if you need us, okay?”

“Okay!” Both toddlers said in unison.

“Hey, look here,” Kun stopped his son before he could leave the room. The father waited until the boy was looking him in the eye before continuing, “Remember what we talked about before coming over? All week?”

Junyi nodded fervently.

“Good. Go have fun, buddy,” he ruffled his son's hair.

You watched the two of them speedwalk out excitedly, Woobin explaining the house rule of not being allowed to run because it’s not safe as they went.

Then it was just you and Kun. Sooyoung’s words echoed in the back of your mind.

“Alright, let me grab my laptop, then we can get to work,” you declared, getting to your feet.

A few hours later and the two of you had made good progress, only interrupted by the kids a few times here and there, mostly them wanting to show off toys or coloring pages, or Junyi had wandered in at one point seemingly just to make sure Kun was still there.

You had been adding something to your word document of notes when you realized that your house had been eerily quiet for too long. Fingertips hovering over the keys, you exchanged a suspicious look with Kun.

“Too quiet?” He asked knowingly.

“Yeah…” You frowned, setting your computer aside to get up.

Both of you treaded through your home until you got to Woobin’s bedroom. The door was open, and you were alarmed for a moment when you didn’t see either boy anywhere on the floor playing. Until you recognized two lumps under the covers of his toddler bed, Woobin and Junyi looking like they were going to sleep for the next hundred years or so.

“Oh, god, I am so sorry,” Kun shook his head, seeming about to go in there and grab his son.

You were between him and the room, however, and quickly turned the lights off and shut the door. “It’s okay, Kun. They just tuckered themselves out. That’s good.”

Latching onto his elbow, you pulled him back towards the living room, catching a glance at the time on the microwave as you went through the kitchen.

“Damn, it’s not even Binnie’s normal bedtime yet,” you chuckled.

You didn’t let go of Kun until you had pulled him back down onto the couch, and then held his (second) glass of wine back out to him pointedly. He had a fond smile as he took it from you, and you happily accepted your victory as you picked yours back up too. You left your laptop on the coffee table, shifting to entirely face Kun as you raised your glass to your lips.

Kun took a sip.

You took a sip.

“Do you want to ask me something, Y/N?” Kun scratched the back of his neck.

“Mm, sorry,” you apologized with a chuckle. “I zoned out on your face there, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, a bit,” he laughed.

“I was thinking, though.”

“What about?”

“You’re a Director of Sales…”

“Supposedly.”

“Supposedly,” you repeatedly humorously before moving on with your question. “Do you think we’ve got a good chance at getting a donor for the preschool? If our proposal is approved by the PTA on Wednesday, of course.”

You had expected some kind of business musings, or serious answer from Kun, but instead you watched with concern as his brow furrowed, his fingers drummed along his knee, and he suddenly became fidgety, shifting around in his seat. He stayed quiet, once again scratching at the back of his neck, squinting one eye closed, then the other.

“Kun?” You said his name hesitantly.

“Sorry,” he shot you a familiar, frazzled smile that reminded you of when he was getting overwhelmed at the Bake Sale booth by himself. “I uhm, I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” you reassured him. “I was just curious, it’s not life or death that you know everything all the time.”

He didn’t even seem to hear you as he stood up, setting his wine glass down on the table. The dad began pacing back and forth in front of your couch, his hands laced together behind his neck.

“I’m good at my job.”

You would’ve sworn he wasn’t talking to you, except his wide, stressed eyes snapped up to you after he said that.

“I’m not your boss. You don’t need to convince me, Kun,” you said slowly.

“I know, just— with all this, it’s stuff that I should be good at, it’s right up my alley. But it’s for Junyi, and I want to be the best dad I can be for him that I just end up jumping into doing things without actually thinking about them first because other people are telling me that’s what I need to do to be a good dad. I know how to be a good Director of Sales. I don’t know how to be a good dad.”

“You don’t need to know everything,” you reiterated strongly, hoping he actually listened this time. “I don’t know all the secrets for being a good mom. I just know how to be Woobin’s mom. You don’t need to know all the secrets to being the best dad ever. The only thing you need to worry about is being Junyi’s dad. Does that seem a bit more manageable?”

Kun’s pacing slowed to a stop in front of you, “Well, I guess.”

“So, the next time somebody is trying to sell you on some ‘Dad Thing,’ stop, breathe, and think: Is this what I, Qian Kun, as Junyi’s dad, need to do, to be?”

“Okay…” he looked at you skeptically, closing his eyes for a moment. You watched as his shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath.

“…Are you doing it right now?”

“Well how else am I supposed to decide if this is a good thing to do or not?”

You let out a hearty laugh, “No, that’s perfect, Kun, go ahead.”

He closed his eyes again, and you watched with fond amusement as his eyebrows quirked up and down with his thoughts. You took another sip of your wine before he had finished, and he opened his eyes once more, giving you a firm nod, “Okay, yes, I think that’s a thing that Junyi would need me to do.”

“Great,” you smiled at him, tilting your wine glass out to him.

He picked his back up and clinked it to yours in a little cheers. You tipped the remainder of your drink back in one go.

“Oh, that was good,” you declared. “Thanks, Kun.”

“Of course, Y/N. Thank you for inviting us.”

“Like I said, Binnie and I were both really excited to host,” you took your empty glass into the kitchen to start cleaning up. “I don’t know if this is bad, but he hasn’t really had a lot of play dates that weren’t like his cousins or something.”

“Junyi neither,” Kun admitted.

“It’s hard, isn’t it?” You asked, starting to stack the plates. “Kid, and work, and family, and friends, and everything else. And then you’re supposed to be in charge of your kid’s social life too?”

You’d turned your back on him to bring the plates into the kitchen, expecting to hear his response to your question, but you were just met with silence. After depositing the dishes in the kitchen, you walked back out to the living room, alarmed to see that Kun had taken to pacing again.

Keeping a calm demeanor yourself, you kept going about your task, grabbing the charcuterie board, the last thing that needed to be tidied up. You had just started back towards the kitchen when Kun broke his silence.

“Junyi’s mother left us.”

You were so glad you had your back to Kun so he couldn’t see your rueful wince. Oh, you were so going to regret this.

Relaxing your features into a more sympathetic frown, you turned around to face him, “I’m very sorry to hear that, Kun.”

This was going to be a lot, you could sense it, so you set the charcuterie board back down on your breakfast bar.

“So just know that however hard it is for you and Woobin’s dad, it’s like ten times harder for me, and that’s why I’m always—”

You had stopped listening to him, however, your brain turning to white noise after the phrase ‘Woobin’s dad.’

“Wait, do you think I’m married?” You blurted out over him.

“Well, no, I can see that you don’t have a ring,” Kun gestured down to your hands. “But a boyfriend or another significant other. I’m doing this solo and—”

“I’m a single parent too!”

“What?” He seemed dumbfounded.

You couldn’t tell if you wanted to laugh or cry more at how ridiculous this was.

“Woobin’s dad was a one-night stand! I can’t remember the guy’s name, or what he looks like. Couldn’t find him if I wanted to. I don’t have a partner now, either. What on Earth made you think I was anything other than a single mom? You’re in my home!” You gestured around wildly to where there were multiple pictures of your family, of you and Woobin, but none of you, Woobin, and any man that could reasonably be considered his father.

“Well you’re just— you’ve got— at the meeting— you’re so put together,” Kun stammered out, his voice getting smaller and smaller. He ran a hand through his hair, “You’re not falling apart at the seams like I am.”

“Kun.” You grabbed him by the shoulders, stopping his frenzied pacing. “Look me in the eye.”

It wasn’t really like he had a choice, you were now holding his face just a couple inches from yours, but he still followed your command.

“Good,” you praised him, keeping your voice soothing. “I want you to take three deep breaths with me.”

He followed along as you inhaled, exhaled, inhaled, exhaled, inhaled, and finally exhaled again together.

“Alright, thank you,” your voice was still sweet and calm as you ran your hands back down to his shoulders. “Now… why the fuck do you think I am more put together than you, Qian Kun?”

“Everything,” he breathed out, hanging his head.

“God, Kun,” you sighed, seizing him by the wrist. “Come on.”

You led him into your dining room, where there was in fact a half-built LEGO set on your dining room table. But that wasn’t your goal. On the bookshelf in there, you grabbed a specific picture frame, and took it and Kun back to the living room.

Sitting down side-by-side with Kun on the couch, you held the picture out in front of the two of you. It was of you and Woobin just over three years ago now, the first night you came home from the hospital. Your mother had taken it. He was swaddled in his baby blue blanket, all chubby cheeks, and you looked dead tired, but an excited sparkle was still in your eyes as you grinned down at your son.

“Look, Kun. I used to feel like that too. All the time. Almost every day when I was pregnant,” you relayed to him.

“But not anymore?” He questioned hesitantly.

“Sometimes. But not like before. Because I realized that I’m not doing this by myself.”

“What do you mean?”

“I may be a single mom, but I’m not alone, I have Binnie. And isn’t that the whole point? To be there for them? To make sure they know they’re not doing it alone either?”

Kun was quiet, his eyes still focused on the picture.

You continued, “I’m lucky enough to have my parents as a good support system, and some friends I can call up in case of emergency too. But I remember when I found out I was going to have Woobin, and I decided to keep him, I was scared of doing it by myself. Terrified, might be a better word.”

“When I came home from the hospital with him, my mom stayed with us for the first couple weeks.” You tapped the frame. “And the first night after she left, when it really was just the two of us, I was expecting this overwhelming sense of loneliness, and instead I just felt… full. I know I had all those birthing hormones in me, oxytocin and whatnot, but I looked down at him and I realized I wasn’t alone, and I wasn’t ever going to be in all this because I have Binnie.”

“I’ve never thought about it like that,” Kun finally spoke again.

Thinking about your cousin’s approach to parenting, you guessed, “You’ve always thought about him as the adversary?”

“Not exactly. Junyi’s more like a tiny roommate that I have to dress and feed and keep from accidentally dying.”

“I’d love to see pizza and beer night at your place.” You joked, laughing when you managed to get a small smile out of Kun again. “Does Junyi get his in a sippy?”

“You jest, but I have poured myself two fingers of whiskey into a Winnie the Pooh sippy cup before because it was the only clean drinking vessel we had.” He rubbed at his temples, then clarified, “With the lid off.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.” You patted his back, reaching across him to set the frame down on the side table by another one that was displayed there.

“Thanks, Y/N.” Kun’s eyes followed you as you sat back down, suddenly much closer than you remembered being before. Or were you just more aware of your proximity?

He patted your knee. “Seriously, that made me feel a lot better.”

“Of—” You cleared your throat to get rid of the squeak that was now in your voice. “Of course.”

Your skin tingled. Holy shit, you’d only had two glasses of wine spread across several hours, there was no way you should even be remotely buzzed. Kun was still looking at you. Were his eyes always this dark, this inviting?

God, he really was handsome. You’d always known that, thought that, since the moment you saw him in the lobby of the preschool. But something about now, having him in your home, so close, alone, you felt like you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. He wet his lips seemingly instinctually, and for a moment your brain short-circuited.

“Daddy?” A small voice made both you and Kun jump in your seats. You bit your tongue in surprise, hissing in pain as you and the dad simultaneously scooted away from each other. Junyi was standing at the threshold of the living room, rubbing one of his eyes sleepily.

“Hey, buddy.” Kun waved his son over with a smile. “Is everything okay?”

Junyi walked over, stopping in front of his dad, a small pout on his face. “I woke up and didn’t see you...”

“Oh, buddy,” Kun rubbed the toddler’s back. “Sounds like it’s about time for us to go home, huh?”

You smiled at the both of them, hoping they couldn’t see how frazzled you felt through it. “Of course, it’s late. I think we’re uh, we’re all tired. Junyi, is Woobin awake?”

The boy shook his head no.

“Okay, thank you.” You stood up, grabbing the wine glasses as Kun picked his son up.

You sent them off with a quick goodbye at your front door, and let out a deep sigh of relief once you’d closed it behind them. There weren’t many dishes to take care of in the kitchen, but you still took your time scrubbing at them, then tiptoed down the hall to check in on your son. He was in fact sound asleep, and you quietly went to retire in your own room for the night.

Except once you were in your own bed, sleep didn’t find you easy. You still saw Kun whether your eyes were open or closed, and you could feel the ghost of his warm hand on your skin. You rolled over into the center of the empty expanse of your bed, burying your face in your pillow, and let out a groan. You so needed to get laid. That’s all this was, you had set aside your own needs for your family’s and as soon as you saw one attractive guy, you couldn’t function. There were more important things to focus on with Kun, like the fundraising.

And so you went to sleep with thoughts of spreadsheets, Kun’s dark eyes, numbers, Kun’s warm hands on you, fundraising pitches, and Qian Kun running through your mind.

The fundraising pitch was a hit. Yours and Kun’s PTA committee was approved at the very same meeting, and you two were made co-directors effective immediately.

Afterwards, you, Kun, Woobin, and Junyi all walked out together, and while Kun seemed to be basking in the exhilaration of success, you were shell-shocked with a harrowing realization.

“Y/N?” Kun gently touched your arm, voice tinged with concern.

You looked up at him, horrified. “I’m a PTA mom now, aren’t I?”

He seemed to be holding back his laughter as he patted your shoulder. “I think you are. My condolences. Please don’t kill me.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think I can dispose of my co-director so easily now.”

He was grinning at you. “Ah, didn’t realize that title came with such high protections.”

You rolled your eyes, but found your mood lifting anyway. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, you mentioned that you had something exciting, but only if we got approval?”

“Right!” Kun let go of Junyi’s hand to reach into the interior pocket of his suit jacket. He retrieved a crisp cream envelope, about the size of his hand. His name was embossed on the front of it in gold lettering.

You looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “You got a wedding invite?”

“Close.” He opened the envelope, holding out the contents to you. You set Woobin down, murmuring a quiet request for him to stay by you all so you could take the card in both your hands. The front of the card had an unfamiliar crest on it, and you opened it to read the inside.

‘The United Publishing Society is honored to invite Mr. Qian Kun and a guest to their 89th Annual Benefactor Gala’

And below that was the date, time, location, and dress code. Black tie formal.

“A fancy networking event?” You questioned, handing it back to him.

“No,” he shook his head very seriously. “These are all the old industry bigwigs who want to get together without all that schmoozy networking and ladder-climbing stuff going on. You and I are probably going to be the youngest ones there by a couple decades.”

“Wait you and me?”

“Yep. ‘Mr. Qian Kun and a guest.’” He recited off the invite. “You’re my guest.”

“Uhm...”

“I happen to know that one of the guys attending is also on the board of a non-profit that donates exclusively to children’s causes. Building pediatric cancer centers, juvenile intervention centers, the whole nine. I think he’ll be our best bet for a donor.”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. “But you just said they want to get together without networking and all that kind of stuff. Why would we be any different?”

“It’s a charity gala, they’re already there to write checks anyway. We’re not going to be asking him for a job.”

It’s not you were exactly overflowing with any options. “When was that again?”

“What do we think?” You did a spin for your small audience of Woobin and Sooyoung. “Good enough for black tie formal?”

Tonight was the night of the gala Kun was taking you along to, and you sort of felt like you were going to throw up. And pass out. In that order. First of all, you had never been to a gala, you couldn’t remember if you had ever gone to something with a black tie formal dress code (you literally had to go out and buy this outfit), not to mention that you felt awful for having to ask your friend to babysit. But unfortunately your parents were out of town and all of your normal babysitters were busy. Sooyoung had already let you (jokingly) know that this was under duress, and that you owed her—despite turning down the money you offered her.

Sooyoung wolf-whistled at you, and you gave her a pointed look. Not the example you wanted to set for your son. Woobin looked up from his toys at the sound, and clapped for you.

“You look great, Y/N!” Your friend reassured you, and you were thankful that she reigned her mouth in around your kid. Typically, you would’ve gotten a much more explicit compliment from her. “Should be good for black tie. I mean, it’s not like you have any other option, right?”

“Right...” You groaned, turning back towards your room. “Hold on, let me put the shoes on so you can see those.”

You were sitting on your bed pulling your shoes on when you heard your doorbell ring. Your stomach dropped as you looked over at the time on your bedside clock. Shit, Kun was early. You should’ve anticipated that from the last time he was here.

“Soo! Can you get the door? I’m still putting my shoes on!” You yelled out through the apartment.

“Yep!” She called back.

You could vaguely hear the muffled voices of Sooyoung and Kun—and even Woobin at one point—but you were too focused on tugging your goddamn shoes on to care much about what they were saying. Just as you were finally standing up and straightening out your outfit, Sooyoung speedwalked into your bedroom, Woobin in her arms.

She had a smile filled with devilish delight on her face as she leaned in to whisper conspiratorially to you, “That is Kun?”

“Huh? Yeah? Unless you let some strange man into my home that I don’t know,” you replied, bewildered. “Should I have asked you to ID him?”

“I take back everything I said, you stay out as long as you want tonight. All night even,” she suggested, gesturing wildly with one hand as the other kept your toddler propped up on her hip. She pinched his cheek fondly. “BinBin and I can have a sleepover, right, buddy?”

Your son’s face lit up with delight at the prospect. “Sleepover?!”

Well aware of what your friend was implying, you did your best to regulate your outer emotions and intonation as you addressed your kid. You kept your tone kind but firm, “No, Binnie, I’m sorry.” Focusing your gaze on your friend, you added pointedly, “Nobody’s having a sleepover tonight.”

“Y/N, come on. You’ve never denied yourself the finer things in life since becoming a mom. Why are you insisting on starting now?” Sooyoung sighed.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have a gala to attend. For the fundraising committee I’m on.”

Walking through your apartment, you grabbed your purse from your dining room and finally found Kun in the foyer just a few steps from the front door. He was looking at a photo you had up on the wall, his back to you, so all you could see was his brown hair and dark suit.

“Hi, Kun!” You hoped you didn’t sound out of breath as you entered the room. Judging by the sound of footsteps behind you, Sooyoung had followed you in to see you off for the night.

Kun turned around at his name, hands clasped behind his back. He was dressed rather handsomely for the night in a tux with his hair neatly parted away from his face. But it was the starstruck smile on his face that made your skin warm up as he stopped in his tracks, just looking at you.

“Kun? You good?” You coughed awkwardly, well aware of your spectators.

“Sorry, sorry. Hello, Y/N.” He blinked and shook his head, stepping forward all the way to stand in front of you.

“You’ve already met my friend Sooyoung. She’s watching Woobin tonight for me.” You gestured to the two of them.

“So you two can take as long as you need!” She piped up oh-so-helpfully.

You turned to look at her with wide, pointed eyes.

 “You know, chatting people up for your fundraising, or whatever,” she tacked on innocently.

“Thank you, SooSoo. I’ll see you later.” You pecked your son on the forehead. “Goodnight, Binnie. Remember, Mommy will be back late so Aunt SooSoo is going to put you to bed, and you and me are going to eat breakfast together, okay?”

“But Aunt SooSoo said I was having a sleepover with her?”

“Aunt SooSoo was just joking, baby. I’m sorry, no sleepovers tonight,” you informed him with a heavy heart. Sooyoung set him down, and he toddled off towards the living room. Your friend went to follow him, and you grabbed her elbow to lean in to hiss in her ear, “I hope you’re happy, you owe Binnie a sleepover now.”

“And he’ll get one,” she whispered back. “As soon as you have one of your own.”

You shot her one final glare that she just retaliated with a wink, before letting her go and striding back over to Kun, who was waiting patiently by the front door.

“Everything okay?” He asked, concern on his features.

“Yeah, just making sure she knows Binnie's bedtime and to not give him any more juice.” You offered him a reassuring smile. “All good.”

“Good. You ready, then?”

“As I’ll ever be, I guess.”

You so were not ready, it turned out. Just a few minutes after arriving, milling around and taking in the grandeur of the ballroom with Kun, you were starting to feel dizzy. Kun had already seen a couple of people that he must have known, flashing them a charismatic smile and exchanging passing greetings. You, meanwhile, felt like a weight was pressing on your chest, and inhaled deeply through your nose to try to calm down.

“Woah, are you okay, Y/N?” Kun leaned in to ask you quietly.

“Yeah, fine,” you lied through your teeth. “Why?”

“You’ve got a death grip on my arm that you didn’t have thirty seconds ago.” He patted your hand that was on his upper arm.

Looking down, you saw that his suit jacket was crumpled in your fingers, and you consciously tried to loosen your grip, but couldn’t make yourself do it. Instead, you just stared at your locked hand.

“I’m a copy editor, Kun, I don’t really go to galas on the daily, so pardon me for being a little out of my element here,” you retorted, the words cutting through the air much harsher than you had intended. Taking another deep inhale and exhale, you added a whispered, “Sorry, sorry.”

“Come on, let’s get some air, hm?”

The gala had an outdoor area devoid of other guests, presumably due to the chilly nighttime air. Kun sat you down on a stone bench outside of the main courtyard area, out of sight from the large windows of the ballroom.

The pressure on your chest was gone, and with you breathing easier, the cynical, nervous thoughts could finally take center stage in your brain.

“God, this isn’t going to work! Why did we even come out here?” You cracked your knuckles anxiously. “How do we even ask for money without just sounding like children? ‘It’s not fair!’”

“If we find the right donor—and don’t use that tone of voice—that argument is actually going to be what resonates with them,” Kun responded calmly, standing in front of you with his hands in the pockets of his slacks. “Someone that cares about the kids, not about investing in an institution or whatever, will be moved by the fact that the preschool is being neglected financially.”

You chewed on the bottom of your lip. “Well damn, when you put it like that, I may just believe that you’re a Director of Sales, Qian Kun.”

“I thought the business card had convinced you.”

“Anybody can order a business card that says whatever they want.”

“That would’ve been extensive planning on my part.”

“Hey, you could’ve had it on hand to pick up women. There’s guys that do that.”

He seemed genuinely put-off and bewildered. “Wait really? That’s… That is just… loser behavior.”

“Though the fax number did point to it being real,” you continued, finally cracking a smile. “Dudes doing pick-up probably think it makes them look dorky.”

“What? People aren’t sexting via fax these days?” Kun joked, a grin tugging at his lips.

You were laughing too hard—and thus trying to quiet down your laughter—to respond to him, giving him the perfect leeway to continue. “What would you even call that? Saxing? Sexing?”

You were dizzy again, but this time it was light-headedness from laughing too hard, quite literally slapping your knee as you tried to calm yourself down.

Kun was chuckling as well, sliding in to sit next to you. “I take offense at the sentiment that fax machines are lame, by the way. I’ll have you know that’s my personal fax line on my business card. Not everyone gets their own.”

Finally having enough wits about you to form sentences again, you sat up straight to look him in the eye as you clarified, “Hey, I was saying that loser dudes who make fake business cards think that fax machines are lame. I think men with fax machines are sexy, especially personal fax lines.”

You went to nudge his shoulder teasingly, caught off-guard as you realized just how close he was to you. Even closer than the night on your couch, his dark eyes settling on your face, unabashedly drinking you in. Your breath hitched in your throat as you were suddenly surrounded by the intoxicating smell of his cologne. The cold air made the hair on your bare arms stand up—or maybe it was something else—and you found yourself pressing forward even closer towards Kun’s warmth.

“Y/N,” he murmured your name quietly. “Are you cold? We can go back inside.”

“No, just…” you took a deep breath, scooting in even closer to him, until you were pressed up side-to-side. “Stay right here? You’re warm.”

He uncertainly wrapped his arm around you. “Sure, sure. Of course.”

“And… Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, yeah.”

“I wasn’t crazy, right? On the couch the other night… Did you want to kiss me, too?”

“You-You wanted to kiss me?”

“I’m uh, a bit rusty at this kind of thing,” you admitted, your skin burning. “But I’m not completely imagining that there’s… something here, right, Kun?”

“You wanted to kiss me?” He repeated like a broken record.

You lightly snapped your fingers in front of his face. “Kun? My question? Or have I officially lost it, and this is like… going to make everything awkward for the fundraising committee?”

“No, no, I-I do—did want to kiss you. I thought I was making you uncomfortable,” he stumbled over his words sheepishly. “I’m uhm… also pretty rusty with this stuff.”

“You do want to kiss me? Or you did want to kiss me, past tense?” You clarified.

“Both! Uhm, I did, that night on the couch, and I still do, now…” He confessed weakly.

“Is there any reason that you shouldn’t? Like, is there somebody…?”

“No, there isn’t. Not at all.” Kun gulped. “What about you?”

“Nope, nobody, and Qian Kun, if you continue to talk about kissing me without actually doing anything, I might actually lose my mind,” you whispered, feeling hot, embarrassed, desperate tears pricking at the edges of your eyes.

“God, sorry.” He cupped your cheek, turning your head and tilting your chin to be able to perfectly slot his lips with yours. The arm that was already wrapped around you just pulled you closer to him, as one of your hands grabbed the lapel of his suit jacket. You let out an embarrassing whimper as soon as his mouth meshed with yours, and he murmured another hushed ‘sorry’ against your lips. If he hadn’t just told you that he was rusty, you wouldn’t have had any idea as your head spun, your heart beat out of your chest wildly like a cartoon, and you were definitely crying tears of relief into what you were seriously considering quite possibly your best kiss ever.

It was your turn to mutter an apology as your tears turned the kiss salty, but as you pulled back to do just that, you saw the glistening of Kun’s eyes in the champagne tinted light filtering out from the ballroom, turning his tears golden as they slipped down his cheeks. Instead, you just pressed your forehead to his in silent understanding, looping your arm around his neck to hold him even closer, if that was possible.

PART II: you got my heartbeat to play to your time

Spotting Kun in the lobby of the preschool, you immediately lit up and rushed to sit down beside him on one of the benches. He offered you a tired smile and peck on the cheek in greeting, scooting to make room for you.

“Brr, it’s fucking freezing out there,” you shuddered, grabbing his hand to press it against the cold tip of your nose. “That’s just from the 30-second walk from the parking lot to here! Are you two going to survive the walk home? You sure you don’t want me to drive you? Well, I don’t have another carseat for Junyi, but he could sit on your lap in the backseat, I think? Better than freezing to death, right?”

“We’ll be okay, Y/N,” Kun reassured you, patting your leg before resting his hand there. “Thank you though, love.”

The subject of the cold suddenly made you remember something else, and you perked up, “Oh, Woobin and I were at the store yesterday and he needed new gloves, and I saw that bun’s were getting a little worn out when we went out last weekend too—”

“Whose?” Kun asked, furrowing his brows.

“Junyi’s. Look.” You held up the pair that matched Woobin’s, save for the pattern, which had little bunnies on them instead of whales. “Aren’t they adorable? God, I just love their tiny hands. I’ll return them if this is weird and I overstepped a line though. I tried to call you to see if this was okay, but the store was just a dead zone, and I couldn’t get a signal.”

A sheepish smile punctuated the end of your nervous rambling. You and Kun hadn’t been dating for very long, just a few months, and you were still getting a feel for boundaries when it came to your relationship with each other and each other’s kids. You’d just started spending the night at each other’s houses with both kids there—already a big step, in your opinion. Taking the initiative on buying Junyi a new pair of gloves had seemed perfectly natural when the thought came to you, but you didn’t want it to feel like you were rushing things to Kun, or taking a place that wasn’t yours to take—and hadn’t been offered to you—in Junyi’s life.

“Oh, no, Y/N, these are perfect, thank you.” He accepted them, a genuine, grateful smile on his face as he tucked them away in his jacket pocket, then squeezed both of your hands. “Junyi will love them. He did need new gloves; I just hadn’t made it out to the store yet.”

“Then what is making you make that face?”

“Since when has Junyi been a bunny?”

“Were you not intentionally buying him a bunch of bunny-patterned stuff?” You questioned, tilting your head.

“Huh?”

“His backpack, his stuffie that he brings to school, his pajamas that he wore at my place last weekend, and I’ve seen him in like at least three different bunny t-shirts. I thought the theming was intentional.”

Kun took a long, slow blink. “Oh… it was not.”

“Kun… are bunnies your favorite animal?” You teased.

“No! I think…?”

“God, long day at work?” You surmised, stroking the back of his head soothingly.

He leaned into your touch, letting out a disgruntled groan, “Long week. Scratch that, long month.”

“Mm, anything I can do to help?”

“Unless you can clone me, or stop time…”

“Okay, new question: Anything I can do to make you more comfortable? Even just something small?”

“Can you and Woobin come over tonight? I know we weren’t planning on it, but—”

“Yes, Kun, we can come over tonight,” you agreed, using your free hand to grab one of his.

“Thank you,” he sighed, squeezing your hand back.

The door to the boys’ classroom opened then, and you nudged Kun’s shoulder with yours. He nodded, the two of you standing up together. As soon as you stepped foot into the classroom, your shins were knocked into by one small body, then another.

“Oh, hey bun! Hey bubbles!” You greeted the kids, wobbling a bit as they had each latched onto one of your legs.

Kun, who had caught you by the elbow to steady you, was looking at the three of you with that same tired but heartfelt smile, “Guys, am I just chopped liver?”

Junyi squinted up at his dad curiously, “What’s liver?”

“Yeah, what’s liver, Mr. Kun?” Woobin echoed.

“He means he wants a hug too, boys,” you explained. “And he’s been working really hard, so I think he should get a really big one.”

They immediately detached themselves from you to throw their little arms around Kun’s legs instead.

“You should ask for one next time, Mr. Kun!”

“Yeah, Daddy! Instead of talkin’ about liver and stuff.”

“Yeah, Mr. Kun, just ask for one next time,” you repeated teasingly.

Kun looked at the two kids with that same fond, resigned smile. “Right, my bad, boys. I will just ask for one when I need one next time.”

As the kids hug-attacked Kun, you went over to their forgotten cubbies to pick up their respective whale and bunny backpacks, giving Ms. Xu and Mrs. Chen friendly waves of acknowledgement. When you returned, Kun had managed to get a kid under each arm, both toddlers giggling as they were held like sacks of potatoes.

“Are you carrying them out like that?” You asked with a tilted head.

“Maybe,” Kun joked. “It’s a good arm workout.”

“Yeah, for all three of you,” you referred to how the boys were clinging onto his forearms against gravity as well.

“Mm, the idea of buff three-year-olds terrifies me,” he declared, lowering the kids. “Alright, time to let go, guys.”

You reached into Junyi’s backpack to secure the little tiny puffer jacket that was inside, “It’s a bit chilly out, bun-bun, and you and your dad are walking home, so come on, you’re putting your coat on.”

“Okay,” he stuck his arms out for you to help put it on him.

“Oh,” Kun pulled the new pair of gloves out of his own pocket, showing them off to his son. “Look, buddy. Ms. Y/N got you a new pair of gloves.”

“Oh wow, thank you!” He beamed up at you.

“You’re welcome,” you grinned back, kneeling down in front of him to zip up the jacket for him. “Woobin has a pair just like it but with whales, so you two can match next time he wears his.”

Woobin looked down at his bare hands with a thoughtful frown. “Where are my gloves, Mommy?”

“They’re probably in your backpack, baby. You and I are driving home so you don’t have to put them on if you don’t want to, because your hands won’t be getting cold outside like Junyi’s.”

“Oh. I want to put them on, please.”

“Here, I’ll get them,” Kun unzipped the backpack that was on your shoulder and began rooting through it.

“Thank you.” You murmured. As he got the gloves and helped Woobin put them on, you went over the plans for the rest of the night with your son, “We’re going to go home and get a few things, and then we’re going to Mr. Kun and Junyi’s house for a sleepover, okay?”

“Okay!”

Kun had finished tugging on the gloves then, “There you go, Bin.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kun!” Woobin chirped, then reached out for the other toddler. “Junyi, we match!”

“We match!” Junyi giggled back, grabbing Woobin's whale-patterned hand with his own bunny-patterned one.

You stood up, covering your mouth in delight as you whispered to Kun, “I’m literally going to cry.”

“Way ahead of you,” he whispered back, and when you looked over, you did in fact see a single tear rolling down one of his cheeks.

“Oh, oh my God, Kun.” You wiped it away with your thumb. “What’s—”

“Talk later?”

“Okay, yeah,” you nodded, looking around at the fact that you were still very much in the boys’ classroom, and had other things to do. “Right, of course. Talk later.”

Kun reached up to grab your hand that had wiped the tear away, squeezing it and offering you a smile. He dried his eyes with the sleeve of his other hand, then called for the kids, “Come on, boys. We’ve got to go. You’ll see each other in just a bit.”

Getting Woobin packed up to spend the night at Kun and Junyi’s was easy, and so was getting the two of them fed once you were there. The difficult part was getting even a single second of semi-private time with Kun to actually talk. The two boys wanted to include both of you in every single thing they did tonight, which was typically endearing, but the exhaustion that plagued Kun’s features the while time still concerned you. It wasn’t until they were finally asleep in Junyi’s room, and you and Kun had cleaned up from dinner, that you finally had an opportunity.

He pulled you over to the couch, and you sat down, expecting one of your normal grown-up, mature, face-to-face talks to happen now. You’d had a few already, about your expectations when you started dating, about the first time you spent the night at the other’s house like this, whenever there was any need to clear the air. Both you and Kun agreed that you were both at the point in your life where you couldn’t deal with the kind of tip-toeing uncertainty of young relationships, you needed something serious, with open, honest communication, especially around the kids.

But instead, Kun practically collapsed on top of you, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your middle. You cradled his head close to you, running a hand through his hair and stroking a thumb over his cheekbone.

“What’s wrong, Kun?” You murmured. “You seem… drained.”

“I am,” he admitted plainly, defeat in his tone. “Just absolutely… fucking dead.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, love,” you replied quietly.

“But you were such a big help today, thank you.”

“I don’t know how bringing another toddler into your home helped with that, but okay,” you said skeptically, still playing with his hair.

“Having a second set of hands to help with dinnertime, and play time, and bathtime, and bedtime…” His chest heaved with another big sigh. “And just having you around… makes everything easier.”

He reached up to grab one of your hands, lacing his fingers with yours. The grip he had made you think he wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon. “I don’t want you to leave, Y/N.”

“Kun, I’ll stay for as long as you need me to,” you promised. “A couple nights, a week, whatever you need. Life is hard, especially trying to do everything on your own. Tomorrow’s Saturday, so how about you take the boys out and I’ll tidy up around here, okay?”

“Forever?”

“What?”

“Will you stay forever?”

You stared down at your interlocked hands, the one in his hair stilling. “Are you asking…”

“You said you’d stay however long I need you to. I always need you with me, Y/N. Will you two move in with us?” Kun asked, placing a couple of long kisses to your hand. “Or we can get a new place. I just… can’t imagine having to do this without you. Both of you. All four of us.”

You hummed, your hand resuming its ministrations in his locks. “We’ll probably need a new place… but yes, Kun. We’ll move in with you.”

He quickly kissed his way up your arm to your neck and face, until he was hovering above you, a breathless smile on his features. “Really?”

“I’ll need to talk to Binnie…” You warned. “And like I just said, we’ll probably need to look for a new place, since the boys are used to having their own rooms and we can afford it combined. It won’t be instantaneous, but yes… we can start planning it.”

Then Kun was showering your face in kisses, and you giggled, cupping his face fondly.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you too, Kun,” you pulled him into a soft peck, before his raining kisses started going even lower, below your jaw, your neck, your collarbones. When his hand slipped under your shirt, you looked at him suspiciously. “Hey… I thought you were absolutely fucking dead?”

“Mysterious second wind,” his words were muffled against your skin, but you could feel the sly smirk on his lips.

“Alright, well do you think this second wind can at least be moved into your bedroom?”

“Y/N, five weeks?!” Kun exclaimed, making you immediately slap a hand over his mouth and look over your shoulder at the two freshly-washed four-year-old boys sitting down to enjoy their post-bathtime show.

“Keep your voice down!” You chastised him in a harsh whisper. The living room was open to the kitchen in your new place, where you and Kun were huddled having your fervent back and forth at the moment. You’d just so very casually dropped the fact that your period had been five weeks late, at perhaps not the most opportune time, washing the dishes, but really you hadn’t meant for it to be a huge deal.

After you took your hand off his mouth, he replied back much more quietly, “Sorry, I’m not upset with you, love, I’m surprised. Why haven’t you taken a test?”

“With work and both the boys’ birthdays, then them starting VPK, I just haven’t had time to go get one.”

“Let’s go get one now then.”

“What, a family trip to the corner store to buy a pregnancy test?” You snorted at the idea, holding a dry plate out to Kun to put away.

He didn’t take the plate, staring at you as he repeated, “Family?”

“You know what I meant…” You whined, putting the dish down on the counter and covering your face in embarrassment. That was the first time either of you had referred to the four of you as one family unit.

He wrapped his arms around you, letting you bury your face in his chest. “I don’t think you even know what you meant, lovey.”

“Ugh, you’re right.” Your brain was way too scrambled at the moment, preoccupied with trying extremely hard to not think about what being late could possibly mean, what a test could possibly say.

“I’m serious, come on. We’ll buy the boys some ice cream, they’ll be none the wiser.”

“Fine, I need to put some real pants on,” you pushed off his chest, gesturing to the dingy sleep shorts were you in. “Can you—”

“Get the boys’ shoes on. On it.” He nodded firmly.

“Thank you, my love.”

“Kun, I can’t pee with you grinning at me like that. It’s weird.”

With Woobin and Junyi preoccupied with their character popsicles and a movie in the living room, you and Kun were in the small hallway bathroom closest to the living room. It also happened to be the boys’ shared bathroom, the walls covered in vinyl, removable stickers of cartoon characters smiling down at you as unnervingly as Kun was currently. It was far too many eyes for what you were doing, peeing on a drugstore pregnancy test.

“Sorry, sorry,” your boyfriend apologized, diverting his eyes and covering his mouth, though he was clearly still beaming into his hand.

Finally done with that part of the test, you set it atop the box that was sitting on the bathroom counter, washing your hands and dropping back down onto the toilet seat.

“And now we wait,” you declared with a heavy chest.

“Okay.” Kun nodded resolutely, allowing his eyes to return to you now that you’d spoken again, still absolutely glittering in the harsh fluorescents.

“Now would be a good time to talk, about if that’s a plus. You’re still grinning like a maniac, so I have a guess as to what you’re about to say.”

He sighed almost dreamily as he looked up at you, resting his cheek in his hand. “You’re just… the most beautiful woman in the world to me, right now. And I love you, so much.”

“This, me sitting on the toilet in our tiny hallway bathroom, having just peed on a stick in front of you,” you pointed between the two of you, “is one of the least romantic situations I think we’ve ever been in. But, I love you too, you weirdo.”

“That wasn’t my answer, by the way. You go first, you’d be the one carrying any baby of ours, after all.”

“After Woobin, I told myself that if I had another, I’d do it…” You trailed off as you fumbled around for the right word.

“Right?” Kun supplemented hesitantly.

“No, no, I don’t think Woobin was wrong. That’s one thesaurus entry away from ‘mistake,’ as cheesy as that might sound. But, I told myself that I’d do my next one different. I’d be married to someone, we’d have planned the pregnancy over multiple conversations, talked about kids before we even got married in the first place, I’d have talked to Binnie about it, made sure he had the emotional space for a little sibling, too.”

“And we haven’t even talked about getting married…” He breathed out in realization.

You narrowed your eyes. “Qian Kun, do you think for even a second, that I would be with you if I didn’t think that I could marry you one day? After everything you’ve learned about me? After that whole toilet bowl confessional I just gave literally ten seconds ago? Consider this the marriage talk warning. It’s coming, and when it does, I expect you to bring notes.”

“Good point, I’m sorry for doubting you, lovey. I eagerly await the marriage talks, and I’ll make sure to do my research ahead of time.”

“Good.”

“So that’s how you want to do it. What about if that test is positive? Right now?” He returned you to the present, his voice gentle, as you were reminded of the very real, very possible, tangible now that you were being faced with.

You let your head drop forward into your hands as you tried to pick apart the tangled ball that was your thoughts and feelings. Thinking back to when you were doing this by yourself the first time in your workplace bathroom, when you found out you were pregnant with Binnie… you distantly remembered how you felt when you saw that double line, that positive result. There was definitely anxiety, yes, but more than that you remembered an excitement bubbling up and overflowing on top of that the longer that it registered.

This time, you weren’t feeling any of that. Not because you didn’t love the idea of having a child with Kun, but… it just wouldn’t be the right time. The two of you had only recently moved in together, you were still getting used to enmeshing your two—or, four—separate lives into one, you hadn’t even been together for a year, Woobin and Junyi hadn’t been consulted whatsoever, not to mention they had just started VPK and would be going into primary school next year; Kun had just gotten a promotion at work, yes, but you had your eye on your own possible promotion, too. It just… wasn’t right. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you finally looked up at Kun sitting across from you in the narrow space of the hallway bathroom. You could feel the tears gathering in your eyes, his image immediately swimming in your vision.

“Oh, hey, come here, lovey,” he gently ushered you down from your perch on the toilet seat cover onto the ground with him. He settled you in between his legs, wrapping his arms around you, “Sad cry or scary cry?”

You had the urge to smack his arm for treating you like one of the kids, but unfortunately, it was a really good communication tool.

“Goddamn,” you wept against his shirt, clinging onto him. “I don’t know, Kun. I don’t fucking know. It’s not a happy cry, though. And I don’t think that any kid should be brought into the world if their mom isn’t happy at the thought of them.”

He rubbed a hand up and down your back, not faltering for a moment as you spoke. When you were done, he started, “Look, Y/N. I’ll admit, the idea of having a baby with you kind of sent me to the stratosphere there for a second. But, I think that a baby is something that needs to be two enthusiastic yeses, or it’s a no. And you…” he pulled your face out of the crook of his neck to be able to look you in the eye. “Are clearly not enthusiastic nor a yes. So I’m not either. Okay?”

You sniffled, “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated, wiping at your tears. “Now, I think it’s been plenty of time. Are you ready to look at the test?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Kun stretched his arm out, fumbling along the top of the bathroom counter until he had secured the test in his hand. You turned in his arms, fully leaned against him, your back to his chest as he flipped the stick over for you two to read the results together.

Negative.

And you were crying again, but this time you knew that they were tears of relief.

“Oh, thank God,” you whispered, holding a hand over your mouth. “Oh… oh my God.”

“There we go,” Kun murmured, holding you to him by an arm slung over your waist. “Now, call me crazy, but I think we just manifested that negative pregnancy test result.”

You let out a choked laugh, “Would it be manifesting a negative or un-manifesting a positive?”

“Good question.”

He held a foot out until he could reach the step opener of the trash can, tossing the test into it. You sat there with him for who knows how much longer, until the cold of the tile finally seeped through your clothes, and your joints were aching from being curled up on your bathroom floor for so long.

“Oh shit, the boys are all by themselves in the living room,” you mumbled, beginning to detangle yourself from Kun.

“I’ll clean up in here. You get into some pajamas and then go see them, okay? They’ve been the normal amount of quiet, I think the movie’s got them sufficiently occupied, so take your time. I’ll be right behind you.” He reassured you, standing up after you did, and keeping a hand on the small of your back as you went to wash your hands again.

The remnants of the pregnancy test packaging were on the counter, not to mention the general disarray from your breakdown, and the fact that you hadn’t tidied up from the boys’ bathtime earlier that night either. When you looked at yourself in the mirror, you could see that you weren’t in much better shape than the bathroom.

“Okay, yeah. Thank you, Kun.” Your voice wasn’t any louder than a whisper, and it didn’t need to be in the small, quiet space.

He pressed a long kiss to your temple before you left for your bedroom to change out of the clothes that you’d gone to the convenience store in. Putting on the comfiest pajamas you could find, you then shuffled out to the living room, which you were glad to see was in one piece. Tension you didn’t even realize you were carrying released from your shoulders when your eyes fell on the two kids sat on the couch, their attention glued to the screen.

You weren’t sure how long you had been standing there before Woobin finally turned his head to look at you. “Oh hi Mommy!”

“Hi, Ms. Y/N!”

“Hi, boys, can I join you?” You asked.

“Well, yeah!” Junyi said in the most ‘duh!’ tone you’d ever heard a four-year-old imitate. He patted the open space between the two of them. “We saved you a spot here.”

“Oh, thank you.” You sat down exactly where he had gestured, tucking your feet underneath you. Woobin immediately clambered onto your lap, and Junyi scooted in to snuggle into your other side.

“And when Daddy gets here, his spot is over here,” Junyi pointed to the remaining space between him and the arm of the couch. “And he can put the blanket on all of us.”

“Right, of course, bun,” you nodded, wrapping your arms around the two boys to hold them even closer to you.

Woobin touched a hand to your cheek, “Mommy, you’re crying. Sad cry, scary cry, or boo-boo cry?”

“Oh, no, baby, it's a happy cry,” you assured him, wiping at the couple of tears that had eked out again with your sleeve. “It’s because I love you all so much.”

“Happy cry,” he repeated, as if committing the term to memory.

Kun joined the three of you a few minutes later, sliding into his assigned seat and pulling a blanket over the four of you. Mindful of the child in between you two, you rested your head on his shoulder.

Against your instincts, you shut the front door quietly behind you as you came home that night. You’d gotten caught up at work with a deadline suddenly being moved up. You plopped your purse onto the kitchen table next to the huge LEGO set that you’d started with the boys last weekend as Kun got up from the couch to greet you. He was already in his pajamas, a stark contrast to the office wear you were still in.

“Hey, lovey,” he pecked your cheek, letting you snake both your arms around his waist and hold him closer. “How was work?”

You let out a low, exhausted groan into his shoulder. “Long. If I ever have to read another word again in my life, it’ll be too soon.”

“Then you’ll be very happy to hear that I already read the boys a bedtime story.”

“Shit, am I that late?” You sighed. “I know I told you I’d probably miss dinner but I didn’t mean for you to do bedtime all by yourself, too.”

“It’s okay, I know you would’ve been here if you could. The three of us managed for one night.”

“How was everything? Were they good for you?”

“Absolute angels.”

You lifted your head up to shoot him a disbelieving look. “Our sons? Are you sure you’ve got the right kids in there?”

Kun chuckled, planting a kiss on your lips this time. “You know us too well. Only convinced them to get in bed with bribery.”

“Great, what did you promise them? Extra hour of TV this weekend? Kun, please do not tell me you promised a new toy or—”

“Woah, woah, who do you think I am?” He snorted, clearly offended. “I just had to promise that you’d give them their goodnight kiss when you got home. They were very concerned about going to sleep without one.”

Relief immediately flooded your system, along with a warm fondness. “Oh, good. I’ll go hold up our end, then.”

“Before you do,” Kun held you by the waist to keep you from walking away yet. He lowered his voice, tone turning serious. “Woobin was asking for you before lights-out. Not just for his goodnight kiss, but he wouldn’t tell me what was going on. I have a feeling he might still be up when you go in.”

You nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, I’ll pop into his room second. Thanks for the heads-up.”

With a final pat on the cheek, you left Kun’s warm embrace and treaded down the hall that contained the boys’ bedrooms and shared bathroom. You slowly opened the door to Junyi’s room first. The room was pitch black save for the dwindling light from his glow-in-the-dark ceiling stars, and you crept up to his bedside. Just able to see the faint outline of him under his covers, you gently brushed away some of his hair and laid a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Night, bun-bun,” you murmured, then kissed his pudgy little cheek one more time before standing up. He didn’t stir, his breathing remained peaceful and as you ducked back out you closed the door even more quietly than you had opened it.

As soon as you pushed the door to Woobin’s room open, you knew he was awake. He was in a phase of sleeping with a night-light on, meaning that you could immediately see his eyes staring at you.

“Hi, Mommy,” he deadpanned, hands folded together over his stomach.

You entered the room, shutting the door behind you. “Hi, baby. What are you still doing up?”

He squirmed a little under the covers, refusing to meet your eyes as you came to sit on his mattress next to him. “Waiting for my goodnight kiss.”

“Oh, you could’ve gone to sleep,” you reassured him, moving his bangs out of the way of his forehead. “Mommy would’ve still come and given you your goodnight kiss.”

He was silent as you leaned down to smooch his forehead. Pulling back, you asked, “Is that all, Binnie?”

Woobin mumbled something that you couldn’t quite make out.

“I’m sorry, could you say that again for me? I couldn’t hear you.”

“I want to say something, but it’s after my bedtime…”

“Don’t worry, baby. I want to hear what you have to say. You can say it now.”

“I don’t want Junyi to be mad at me.”

“Why do you think Junyi would be mad at you?”

“You can’t tell them!” He suddenly exclaimed, pleading and desperate.

“Tell who? Junyi and Mr. Kun?” You asked, brow furrowing with confusion.

He nodded fervently, panic on his features.

“You remember our rules about sharing things?”

“If it’s about safety or respect, we all have to know,” he recited mournfully. “It’s not! I promise! I think…”

“How about you tell me, and I’ll tell you if it’s something we should tell everyone. I won’t get mad, and you and me can talk about it for as long as you want first. Does that sound okay?”

“Okay…”

“Whenever you’re ready,” you said soothingly, watching him take a few deep breaths to calm himself down.

“I-I want to call Mr. Kun ‘Daddy.’”

You couldn’t help but smile widely at him, taking your son’s hand in yours. “That’s wonderful, baby. I think it would make Mr. Kun really happy that you want to.”

“But that’s what Junyi calls him…”

“And you think it would upset Junyi if you called him the same thing?”

“Yeah,” he sniffled.

“That’s very considerate, Binnie,” you told him proudly.

“Are you going to tell them?”

“No, not if you don’t want me to,” you shook your head. “But I think that it would be a good idea for you, Junyi, and Mr. Kun to all talk about this together. When you’re ready.”

Woobin sniffled again, and you leaned over to hug your boy. He immediately threw his arms around your neck, burying his wet face in the collar of your blouse.

When you finally left his room after watching him fall asleep with your own two eyes, you found Kun reclined in your bed, bedside lamp on as he read a book.

“Is Woobin alright?” Kun flipped his book shut and set it aside.

You shimmied out of your work clothes. “Yeah, he’s okay. Just… needed Mom before bed.”

He nodded, watching as you pulled sleep clothes on and shuffled over to the bathroom. “Mm, of course. Mr. Kun wasn’t enough…” He sighed dramatically, making you lean your head back out to glare at him, toothbrush hanging out of your mouth.

“Shut up,” you grumbled after spitting your toothpaste out and flicking the bathroom light off. You plopped into bed, snuggling up to your pillow and closing your eyes. “He loves you, you know that.”

The sound of the bedside lamp clicking off rang through your room before you felt the sheets shift around and Kun scoot closer to you.

“I know, I’m just not ‘Mom,’” he mused, grabbing your hands to tug you toward him.

You obliged, rolling over to face him and rest your head on his shoulder. He kissed your forehead, still holding your hands against his chest.

“Goodnight, my love,” you breathed out, “Thank you again for handling them alone tonight.”

“Goodnight, lovey.” He rubbed soothing circles into the palm of your hand with his thumb.

As you watched Kun alternate between pushing Woobin and Junyi on the swingset, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. It was peaceful afternoons like these that you treasured the most. You recognized a few more figures that were approaching the playground, waving to Johnny and Jaehyun in the distance as Mark and Sungchan immediately ran up to your two boys. The three dads all chatted as the four kids took off from the swingset at full speed towards the slides. You were on a bench a little further from the playset, and had no qualms about sitting and resting when you got the chance.

The playground was within walking distance of yours and Kun’s house, and right by the school, so it wasn’t a total shock to see some of your kids’ classmates there. You watched with amusement as all three of the adults perked up like meerkats towards the kids, who were now lined up at the monkey bars. Mark was first up, and must have been asking for help, as Johnny yelled out a ‘just a sec, champ!’ before gesturing between the three dads and all the kids clambering for their turn.

Apparently, Johnny and Jaehyun had decided it was their turn to help all four kids with the bars, as Kun lumbered over to plop down next to you at the picnic table.

“Thank God they showed up, I don’t know if I have it left in me to carry them back and forth across the monkey bars for the next hour,” Kun grunted, dropping his head down to rest on your shoulder.

You snickered, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as you watched all the children play. Woobin was the littlest, needing Jaehyun’s help all the way across the bars. The dad still gave him as enthusiastic of a double high-five as he gave Junyi after him, who was able to do a couple by himself after getting hoisted up there.

“Woobin wants to call you Dad, you know,” you blurted out in the quietness that had fallen between you and Kun.

Kun lifted his head up to look at you with wide eyes. “He does?”

“Yeah, he told me the other day. But he thinks Junyi will be mad at him.”

“Ohh…” He breathed out, nodding slowly.

“I would’ve said something to you, but he asked me not to tell you and Junyi at first. We had another conversation about it this morning, and he finally agreed that I could talk to you about it at least,” you explained. “I told him that you three should all talk. I think he’s really, really scared of making Junyi upset. They’re such good friends, you know?”

You looked on with fondness as the gaggle of kids around the monkey bars took off at a run away from Johnny and Jaehyun, apparently playing some kind of tag or hide and seek now. Woobin and Junyi were running off together hand-in-hand, giggling and cackling with laughter as Johnny mimicked chasing after them.

Kun ran a knuckle up and down your arm, trailing his hand down until he could lace his fingers with yours. “I know, sometimes I look at them and I think it’s like they’re… brothers.”

“Mm, yeah,” you hummed noncommittally. Finally taking your eyes off the playground, you turned to face him fully, covering his hand with both of yours. “Kun, with all this… it makes me really happy, you and Junyi make me really happy, and all four of us being together. But, I don’t— I’m not trying to replace Junyi’s mom. Despite what she did, he’s already had one, whatever memories he’s got of her. I want to be whatever he wants me to be. So, I’m perfectly content to be ‘Ms. Y/N’ for the rest of my life.”

“I asked him the other day, if he remembered his mom at all,” he admitted quietly.

“W-Why?”

“Morbid curiosity, I guess. He was so young, I wasn’t sure if he would. Funny thing was, he told me yes. So I asked what he remembered about her. And he just looked at me with the most confused expression I think I’ve ever seen him have and he goes ‘She picked me up from school today.’”

“Oh, oh my God,” you let out a choked chuckle, a lump growing in your throat.

“You picked him up from school that day, Y/N,” Kun said pointedly, poking you in the arm for emphasis.

“Yeah, I had guessed that,” you spluttered out, a wide, beaming smile on your face as you replayed those words in your mind over and over again.

“So it seems like, to me, you’re the only one with hang-ups about this, lovey.”

“I’m gonna fucking cry— no, scratch that, I already am,” you sniffled, wiping at your eyes with one of your hands.

“Sad cry, scary cry, boo-boo cry, or happy cry?” Kun asked teasingly, thumb wiping away one of your tears.

“Happy cry,” you answered, despite the fact that he definitely already knew. “So happy. I love you so much, both of you.”

“Junyi!” The distant voice of Johnny called out, chastising.

Both you and Kun snapped your heads up to look, only to see said child running at you full-speed.

“Woobin! Let your parents…” Jaehyun trailed off in defeat as a second small body hurtled towards you. “Sorry! We tried to let you guys have a moment…”

“It’s alright!” Kun called back to them as the two boys finally made it to you.

You lifted Junyi up onto the bench next to you with no hesitation, and Kun plopped Woobin onto his lap, his little legs reaching into yours. Junyi sat himself down on one of your legs, facing you with the most worried, intense gaze on his face.

“Are you okay, Ms. Y/N?!” He wiped at your wet cheeks. “What happened?”

“Nothing, hunny-bun,” you promised, holding both of his little hands and dropping loud smooches to them. “Happy tears, they’re happy tears. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“Because you love us so much?” Woobin asked, supplying the last reason you’d given him for your happy tears.

“Yeah, always, bubbles,” you grabbed his head to be able to press a kiss to his forehead. “Always love you guys so much.”

“Why does it make you cry?”

“Because I have so much love inside me for all of you that sometimes it feels like I could just… burst!” You said with enough of a sing-song-y inflection that it made the two kids giggle, especially when you mimicked an explosion with your hands. “So instead of spontaneously exploding, it comes out as tears sometimes. Tears aren’t bad, Binnie, remember?”

“I know, Mommy,” he nodded dutifully.

Kun spoke up then, “I think we should all talk about what was making your mom so happy this time, boys.”

Junyi looked at his dad with alarm. “What? Bin and I didn’t do anything! We’re not in trouble, right?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Woobin pouted. “Junyi—”

“No, you’re not in trouble,” Kun hushed them gently. “I just said it was making your mom happy. What about you two getting in trouble would make your mom happy?”

“Oh.”

“I mean, it’s about what you two want to call us.”

You were still cradling Woobin’s head, and stroked over his hair reassuringly. “It’s okay, Binnie. Tell them what you told me.”

“I-I want to call Mr. Kun ‘Daddy,’” he mumbled, looking down intently at his lap. “But I don’t have to if it’s going to make you sad, Junyi!”

Junyi listened to Woobin, face turning entirely confused. “But he is your dad! Why wouldn’t you call him that?” He turned his bewildered look to you next. “And you’re our mom, right?!”

“Of course I am, bun-bun,” you smiled at him. “Binnie just needs to know if it’s going to make you upset for both of you to call your dad the same thing.”

“No, Bin, s’not gonna make me sad,” Junyi said strongly. “Will it make you sad if we call her the same thing?”

Woobin sniffled and looked up, finally displaying his teary eyes to everybody. He shook his head, and you felt relief blossom out through every part of you. Kun squeezed him tightly.

“Bub, sad cry, scary cry, or happy cry?” Kun asked him.

The child took several deep breaths before he finally answered. “I-I think it was scary first, but now it’s a happy cry, Daddy. Like Mommy does.”

Kun let out a strangled chuckle as he hugged Woobin even tighter to him, planting a kiss to his temple. “That’s okay, bub. Look at you, big kid with big feelings.”

“Daddy’s crying too!” Junyi gasped. “Is it happy crying, Daddy?”

“Yeah, buddy, it is,” he confirmed, cheeks noticeably damp.

Junyi felt at his own dry eyes. “Why am I not happy crying? Mommy, why am I not happy crying? ‘M happy! I am!”

“Oh, bunny, it’s okay,” you couldn’t help but laugh, rubbing his back affectionately. “You don’t have to cry to be really happy. Sometimes you’ll be really, really happy, the happiest you’ve ever been, and you won’t cry. Everybody’s different.”

“I do.”

“I do!” Sooyoung squealed.

The officiant’s remaining words were drowned out by the crowd erupting into cheers as Sooyoung was dipped into a kiss by her now-wife. You clapped from your place behind her as her maid-of-honor, your cheeks already hurting from all the smiling you’d been doing that day.

As they practically ran back down the aisle together, giddy, you were left standing at the arch, holding SooSoo’s wedding bouquet that she’d forgotten in her excitement. The music swelled again, your cue for the wedding party to file out as well. You fell in beside Ahrin’s best man, taking a more reasonable pace down the walkway. Looking into the guests that had stood up, you caught Kun’s eye from one of the middle rows, a familiar wide, overjoyed grin on his face. He was in the stratosphere again.

You met up with Kun at your table at the reception, the wedding party table. While he wasn’t in the party, he was your plus one, and your friend of course made sure he was seated with you. After the obligatory speeches—including one that you had to give—everyone could start eating. Kids were allowed at the wedding, but you wanted to make sure that you could put all your focus on making this the best day ever for your friend and didn’t want to have the boys out too late either, so they were at home with a babysitter. After the food was the couple’s first dance, and you watched fondly from your table as Sooyoung and Ahrin swayed together, clearly in their own world, exchanging words and giggles and laughs that you couldn’t hear.

Kun’s hand and yours were entwined on your lap, and when the DJ asked for the wedding party and their plus-ones to join the newlyweds, you pulled him to floor by that hand. As Kun’s other hand settled on your hip, you affectionately smoothed down the lapel of his suit jacket before resting yours on the curve where his neck met his shoulder.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he beamed at you.

“Hi, handsome,” you replied back humorously. “So, what’s on your mind?”

“You mean there could possibly be anything on my mind other than the fact that I’m dancing with the love of my life?”

“You’ve got that look on your face.”

“What look?”

“The ‘I’ve been launched into the stratosphere picturing our future together’ look,” you said frankly, but still with the same fond smirk on your lips. “So? What are you thinking about?”

His eyes widened minutely before he chuckled. “I’m having a good time with you, lovey. Is a guy not allowed to smile about that?”

“You are…”

“That’s all I was thinking about.” He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Always in the stratosphere when I’m with you.”

Despite his sweet words, you felt a twinge of disappointment in your chest, resting your cheek on his shoulder so he couldn’t see the contemplative frown on your face. The two of you were living together before Sooyoung and Ahrin had even met, you were raising two kids together right now, and had already discussed getting married—binders, spreadsheets, all your joint expectations for what you wanted out of a hypothetical future partnership like that. Why was he shying away from the subject now? Was seeing you actually at a wedding making him have second thoughts? Did it suddenly all seem too real? As if the binders and spreadsheets weren’t real enough?

Those weren’t questions to ask him now at your best friend’s wedding, so you bit your tongue, continuing to let him sway the two of you across the dance floor.

Later in the night, after your feet had gotten tired, Kun excused himself to use the restroom. You took the opportunity to catch your breath at the wedding party’s table. You’d been darting around the venue the whole time, either greeting friends of friends, dancing with people you knew, or stopping mishaps before they mis-happened. Some guests had started going home, so you felt somewhat comfortable taking a short rest.

You weren’t expecting one of the brides herself to sit down beside you, however.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Sooyoung asked knowingly.

You tried to perk up, slapping on a smile. “It’s nothing, SooSoo. My feet are tired. Why aren’t you with Ahrin?”

“We’re about to be together for the rest of our lives. I think she can piss by herself right now,” she replied.

“Oh, right.”

“And, it’s also my wedding, and I don’t want my best friend all sad and alone at my wedding. I know you’ve been fixing all my problems all day and all night. So will you let me help you with one of yours?”

You looked around to see if you could spot Kun anywhere, then leaned in towards her with a sigh. “Kun’s been acting weird today.”

“How?”

“We always talk about getting married pretty openly. But like, now that we’re at a wedding, it feels like he’s avoiding the topic.”

“Why haven’t you guys gotten married? You practically act like it anyway.”

“He still wants to surprise me with the proposal,” you said. “I told him no public proposals, no proposing on birthdays or holidays, and no proposing at other people’s weddings. But other than that…”

“When was that conversation? About getting married and engaged?”

You took a sip of your drink as you thought. “Mm… almost a year ago? Maybe ten months? It was a few conversations.”

“So Ahrin proposed like right after that,” she surmised. “He’s probably waiting for the right time. Making sure you weren’t too stressed with the kids, then the holidays, and being my maid-of-honor. Both of you are very thoughtful and also over-plan everything.”

“That’s true,” you sighed. “And also a bit less salient of a point coming from the poster child of U-Haul lesbians.”

Sooyoung wrapped an arm around your shoulders and rubbed your upper arm. “We’re different people in different relationships in different places in life, Y/N. You’ve got a really good guy who is head over heels for you and loves your kid as much as he loves you. Don’t forget all that in one night.”

“You’re right, SooSoo,” you leaned your head against hers. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” She pecked your hair.

“Is everything okay?” Kun’s voice came from behind you, sounding very concerned.

“Oh, yeah, Y/N’s getting a little warm in here,” SooSoo informed him brightly, letting you go and standing back up. “Why don’t you take her outside, Kun? There’s a nice little garden walkway, I think there’s some benches out there.”

“Yeah, of course. Thanks, Sooyoung.”

Your friend gave you one last squeeze of your arm before taking back off into the crowd. Kun ushered you to your feet and guided you out of the main reception hall and into the much cooler nighttime air. Sooyoung was right, it was way less hot and stuffy out here, and there was a short walkway leading to a garden with some benches. Kun sat you down again there, rubbing your back as you stared listlessly out at the fountain in front of you. The fountain wasn’t on, the water inside of it still, and the air around you quiet and empty. In the distance, you could hear the music from the wedding venue, the thumping bass, and above you, a few stars dotted the sky next to a silver crescent moon.

“Is this better?” Kun asked you quietly.

“Yeah, thanks, Kun,” you replied shortly, still unable to shake the discomfort you felt from earlier. Despite your conversation with Sooyoung making sense in the moment, now that you were back with Kun, that uncertainty crept back into your mind.

“It was a lovely ceremony.”

“Yeah. SooSoo’s dress is beautiful on her.”

“Do you want to go home? If you’re not feeling—”

You suddenly straightened up to look Kun in the eye. “We’re going to get married, right? You do want to marry me, right, Kun?”

“Wh—” He scrambled to grab your hands in his, holding them tight. “Of course, love. Yes, of course I want to marry you, Y/N. Why would you think I didn’t?”

“I know we talk about it but… you haven’t proposed. And you’ve been acting weird tonight. And by weird, I mean normal. Like, not talking about marriage. We’ll be buying groceries, and you’ll somehow bring up us getting married, but now we’re at an actual wedding and you haven’t talked about us having one of our own at all…” The dam broke, all of your anxious rambles coming forth at once. “Nothing about if we should do this or that at ours, what flowers you might want, or even— You saw me at an altar holding a bouquet and are acting like it’s no big deal! You see our future in everything, but not today, and it’s been making me think that maybe you don’t see a future anymore.”

Oh god, you were fucking crying now. This was not how you wanted this conversation to go. Tears spilled down your cheeks, and you pushed them away with the back of your hand as you sniffled and tried to calm yourself down.

“Y/N, lovey, I am so sorry,” Kun’s voice was wavering too, and you knew he was holding back his own tears. “I do want to marry you, and I never wanted to make you think that I didn’t. You were right earlier, I’ve been in the fucking stratosphere all day, and I’ve been going crazy trying not to say every single thing that pops into my head about marrying you because I’ve got your ring and everything planned out for the proposal and it was going to be soon, I just wanted it to be a surprise for you and I didn’t want to accidentally spoil anything for you. But I never meant to hurt you, and I am so, so sorry that I did. God, I love you so much, it felt like my heart was going to give out when I saw you at the altar with a wedding bouquet, and then dancing after the first dance—”

You crushed your lips against his, letting go of one of his hands to wrap a hand around the back of his neck. He cupped your cheek softly, even as you kissed him like you hadn’t seen him in decades, and like you might never again, feverishly, past the point where you were out of oxygen and your head started spinning. Kun pulled back to pick up your left hand, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a kiss on your ring finger.

“If I had it with me, I’d put your ring on you right now,” he promised, pressing another kiss to the empty knuckle. “Hell, we could elope tonight, find a drive-thru chapel.”

“The boys might feel left out,” you chuckled, pulling his mouth back to yours.

He hummed appreciatively against your lips, adding in between kisses, “Good— point. Pick them up on the way?”

“It’s past their bedtime.” You kissed him again. “They’d be cranky if we woke them up now.”

“Foiled again by two five-year-olds’ bedtime,” he sighed dramatically, leaning his forehead against yours.

“So how were you going to do it?”

“Do what?”

“Propose to me.”

“I’m still going to?”

“Well, I feel like I just ruined your surprise.”

“Me telling you what it’s going to be, would be ruining the surprise,” he scoffed and pulled back to let you see his indignant features. “Which I’m not going to do.”

You laughed, pecking his cheek. “I’m looking forward to it, my love.”

“And I’m looking forward to marrying you, and spending the rest of my life with you,” Kun sighed dreamily, pulling you in closer and resting his head against yours again. “I meant it when I said I’m always in the stratosphere with you, you know.”

“Me too, Kun.” You looped an arm around his back and under his suit jacket.

A few beats of peaceful silence went by, neither you nor Kun speaking, just the distant sounds of the music from the wedding, your own synchronized breathing, and a far-off train horn. You looked from the fountain up at the glowing half-moon above you.

“Thank you, lovey,” Kun broke the quiet, and you shifted your gaze to him, raising a curious eyebrow.

“You’re welcome?” You replied with slight amusement. “For what, love?”

“Somebody once told me that the whole point of being a parent was letting our kids know that they’re not alone in all this,” he began, rubbing his thumb over your shoulder where his hand rested.

“Who said that?”

“You did, lovey.”

“I did? Ooh, I’m smart,” you chuckled, patting his thigh. “You picked well, Qian Kun.”

He smiled at you fondly. “I know.”

“When did I say that?”

“Before we were even dating, you had invited Junyi and me to your apartment for a charcuterie night. When we were making that pitch for the preschool fundraising committee.”

“Oh, oh, oh, right.” You nodded quickly as the memories of that came flooding back to you. “You remember me saying that?”

“Of course. You completely changed my view on parenting that night.”

“Glad it was so life-changing for you.”

“It was also the moment I knew I was going to fall in love with you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh maybe a little too hard, “Oh, Kun.”

“What’s that laugh for?” He chuckled lightly despite his obvious confusion.

“I’m just remembering how I was totally going to jump your bones that night and then Junyi walked in. Meanwhile you are just… so sweet, as always,” you admitted, stroking his cheek with the back of your fingers.

Kun’s eyes crinkled as he laughed and keeled forward a little. You let him laugh into your neck, cradling the back of his head as his shoulders continued to shake.

“I—” He coughed into his elbow as he righted himself and tried to compose himself again. His eyes were sparkling with tears from how hard he’d laughed as he looked at you now, and you affectionately touched the crinkles around his eye as a couple more giggles escaped him. Once he’d finally sobered up enough, he tried again, “You’ve also helped me realize that’s not just what being a parent is about, though. That’s what being a partner is, too. Making sure your person knows they’re not doing it alone. And I hope that’s how I make you feel, too.”

“Qian Kun, love of my life that you are—” you shook your head and grabbed his face with two hands. “Of course you do, and it’s taking everything in me not to squish your head right now because of how much I love you.”

Kun just laughed again, covering your hands with his and slotting your lips together.

⤷ masterlist

All My Love || j.w.w.

Summary: He's cool, smart, attractive... and completely out of your league. But that won't stop you from falling head over heels for him.

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!Reader

Genre: High School AU, fluff

A/N: this one goes out to all the book nerds i did this for us besties. this was loosely based on an anime i watched, but in the end it was not really like it lol. I've worked on this for months now so please show a lot of love!

updates every saturday! want to join the taglist? send an ask!

masterlist

table of contents under the cut!

I. the gentle indifference of the world II. if you want to keep a secret III. so this is my life IV. a truth universally acknowledged V. more myself than i am VI. all this happened... more or less VII. we interrupt this program... VIII. if you want to keep a secret IX. i like you (first, second, and third) X. and so with the sunshine

forgiveness (i would redo it all if i could)

❛ sure, the joy you exhibit is at his expense, but he can’t bring himself to care. jaemin would walk on burning hot coal if you asked him to. ❜

word count | 7.0k (7,009) genre | fluff with slight angst, humour, pining, idiots 2 lovers lol ━ fratboy!jaemin

the five times jaemin begs for forgiveness apologizes — and the one time you get a taste of your own medicine.

★ warnings | vomiting, humiliation (? not really but), alcohol consumption, and characters jumping to conclusions ★ author’s note | i wrote this instead of studying and it initially started as a drabble but the moment i finished the first part i realized i would just have to keep going. so i did. hope u enjoy this monster ❤️‍🩹

one.

The air reeks of hard liquor. You feel it stick to your skin the moment you step inside the frat house, trailing behind Lia as she zigzags her way through the crowd and into the kitchen. She’s a creature of habit, always following a routine, so it doesn’t surprise you when her first order of business is getting the both of you a drink.

Still, the vodka does nothing to contain your nerves. Bitterly, you eye Lia from the corner of your eye as she makes chit-chat with some friends from her Psychology class; she promised this party would put you out of your misery, but you have been here for all of three minutes and your misery has yet to be put out.

You had hoped — prayed — the trashy EDM and stench of sweat mixed with booze would have a quick effect on your aching heart, that it would snap you out of the wallowing you’ve been doing for the past two days, that it would make you forget about the 25 text messages and 10 missed calls you’ve left unanswered.

But, alas, here you are.

Keep reading

☁︎ — CLOUD 9

dictionary — (uncountable) (idiomatic) often in the phrase on cloud nine: a state of bliss, elation or happiness.

summary !! after years of constant pining after his best friend’s sister, yn finally takes notice of sohee and sohee swears he’s on cloud 9. or in other words, loser sohee finally gets the girl.

pairing !! sohee x f!reader

genre !! fluff, humor, angst, smau

warnings !! swearing, suggestive jokes, dying jokes + sohee is referred to as a ‘loser’ like a lot 😭

updating schedule !! wednesdays AND fridays

TAGLIST IS CLOSED

જ⁀➴ PROFILES 1 | PROFILES 2

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 1 — HAPPY MONDAY

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 2 — SO NONCHALANT

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 3 — STUDY BREAK

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 4 — NO GAME

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 5 — YN’S FUTURE BF

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 6 — CHOCOLATE BAR ✎

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 7 — ME OR HER.

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 8 — MY SNICKERS

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 9 — BEST MAN

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 10 — BEANIES <333

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 11 — CRAZY EYES

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 12 — ANGEL

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 13 — WELCOME YN

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 14 — SOHEE’S BEST FRIEND ✎

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 15 — TEXT ME BACK

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 16 — I’M AN EMPATH

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 17 — GASLIGHTING

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 18 — PRETTY BOY

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 19 — COFFEE SHOP ✎

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 20 — FUCK SEUNGHAN

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 21 — PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE ✎

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 22 — YN + SOHEE = NO.

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 23 — HOT TAMALES