sungiebun - Tumblr blog

sungiebun · 13 days ago

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i literally died from cuteness don't talk to me until i find someone like this.

You got me cursing the daylight

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Minho X gn reader

Summary: Your boyfriend's morning fishing trip leads up to an entire cookout with the rest of the band.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 3k

Trigger warning: Mentions of filleting fish, blood, and nausea.

_ _ _

You took a deep breath in and let it out. In the backyard, your head laid against the side of a wooden swing. Soft creaking hit each time the swing swung back and forth on rust-soaked hinges.

Earlier this morning, you woke up to ruffled blankets and the imprint of where Minho’s head once laid in his pillow. His body was gone, but the sharp scent of pine still lingered. Some new body wash that he hadn’t cared for. On the other hand, you secretly hope he’d never change it.

Your own pillow slanted to the side. One leg poked out of messy blankets and another blanket curled around the hidden one. Sleepy sunlight poked through closed blinds and you groaned. Stretching limbs above your head, you shifted, trying to get up to find Minho.

You never found him. The text message he left behind announced he went to visit a friend for a session of morning fishing. How on earth he woke up this early and found the energy for manual labor, you had no idea. You threw your phone to the side, got dressed, brushed your teeth, and slipped out the back door.

A mid-morning sun greeted you, bright and only getting brighter as the hours stretched on. A brown squirrel darted along blades of mowed grass. Tiny hands scampered around, shoving clippings aside, trying to find some sort of food. Each jump was accompanied by a puffy brown tail. You watched him scampered further and further into the distance.

Bright beams of warmth filtered onto you. You shut your eyes, letting the hazy morning ignite the serotonin in your soul. So maybe Minho had it correct, getting up this early and getting ahead in your day, maybe it did make you feel a little better. Worries melted in the sunlight and the taste of green tea stuck to your teeth.

You sipped it with ice. In a ceramic mug beside you, specifically, one of the mugs that a fan gifted him at a fansign event. All three of his cats had been printed on it and it was your favorite. Sometimes he used it, but for the most part, you were the one that used it the most.

Minho would never admit it out loud. Not ever. However, the sight of you in the early morning, sunlight above your head as a halo, and sipping a beverage from that cup, it tugged at his heart. Loving you was a privilege he tried not to take for granted.

You wondered what he was doing now. Probably reeling in another fish, knowing him. He was pretty good at catching them, unlike you. Your fishing days were over, you reminded him every time he bugged you to go with him.

Your eyes cracked open at what could only be the sound of drilling. Across the way, hidden in the plethora of trees, a woodpecker chipped away at bark. Forging, nesting, and communicating, it was one of those reasons. You tried to ignore it and close your eyes, but the drilling never stopped.

With a sigh, you shoved yourself up. You’d enjoyed enough of the morning light. Minho would be home at some point. Chores didn’t rest on the weekends and neither did you. You stood up, but stopped when the back door flung open.

Minho appeared with a blue and white cooler hung in front of him. He groaned and slipped down, slamming it on the ground with a loud groan. Black rectangular sunglasses slipped down the edge of his nose. He jerked upright, pushing them back up and eyed you.

A smirk appeared on the side of his face. “Fancy seeing you here.��

“It’s our backyard.”

“What a catch.”

“The fish?”

“You.” He tugged off his sunglasses and threw them onto the swing. “I’m so good at fishing, you could call me a masterb–”

“No!” Your eyes widened. “Lee Minho, don’t you dare finish that sentence!”

He chuckled to himself and squatted back down to the cooler. You rubbed your face, totally unprepared for all his tomfoolery. “So did you catch any fish?” Your hands dropped, hoping he’d give you something straight-forward.

He shoved open the lid and pulled out a fish. “Fishy, fishy.” A murky green body shook. Tail flapping from the movement, your nose scrunched. His voice deepened. “Look at me, I’m a fish. I wanna be in your tummy and provide you with healthy nutrients, so you can grow big and strong.”

“For the love of god, that poor fish better be dead.”

He chuckled and placed it back in the cooler of ice. “Yeah, he is. I texted the guys earlier and asked if they wanted to come over for lunch. Do you wanna be the one to fillet the fish?”

“I think you’ve lost your damn mind if you’re asking me that. You want me to look into cold dead eyes while I try to skin it? Do you want me to die?”

“You’re just like Changbin. Last time I asked him to wash a chicken, he wouldn’t touch it. It’s part of the cycle of life. Chicken Little is in a better place, just like these wannabe Nemo fish. You’re scared of something lifeless.”

“Oh, so you know what Finding Nemo is? Do you know the saying ‘fish are friends, not food?’” Your arms crossed over your chest.

“I don’t hear you saying that when you dig into the fish I cook.” His voice changed to a higher pitch. “It’s always a ‘thank you, Minho. I love you, Minho. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Minho.’” His head tipped in your direction and he fluttered his eyelashes, mockingly.

“Asshole,” you grumbled.

“The biggest prolapse around. If I’m on fish duty, you’re on hamburger duty. They lack eyes and skin. No scales, so you’re safe from their empty eyes.”

You perked up slightly. “You’re trusting me with the grill this time?”

“Uh, no. I’m trusting myself to be in the area, so you don’t burn down the backyard and our house.”

“Harsh, but understandable.”

You winced, thinking about the last time you tried to use the propane grill. Starving and eager to eat the hot dogs you layered on the grill, you cranked the knobs all the way up and shut the lid. Minho distracted you and by the time you reopened the grate, you were met with a roar of flames.

You shrieked and jumped back. In a panic, you reached out, frantically trying to turn the knobs the right direction. Heat hit your face and you were certain you burnt off your eyebrows.

“What the hell are you doing?” Minho came running. He heard your scream from inside and rushed out to check on you. “Fix it! Turn it off!”

A pop and a few clicks. The propane source cut out. Flames lowered and you shoved the lid back down. Your heart knocked against your chest wildly and you nervously glanced over. “Hey, I fixed it.”

“Fixed it?” He walked over, leaned an arm around you, and peered beneath the lid. “You basically sacrificed them to the fire gods!”

“I was trying to cook them quicker!”

“And blow us both up in the process?”

The entire thing led to a grill ban. You were banned from using the propane grill until now. Minho didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t multitask between preparing the fish, cooking them, and keeping an eye on the hamburgers.

Your hot dogs turned charred. Wrapped in black brittle skin, they were inedible. Hard as a rock and no longer pink, he’d never let you live it down, but that was then. This was your one time chance at redemption.

“Can I wear your kiss the cook apron?” You asked, a little too eagerly. You practically bounced on your feet.

“Depends on if you’re going to burn the burgers, or not.”

“I won’t, I promise! I’ll let you set the right temperature and I won’t touch it.”

He hummed and stood up. With his pinkie finger, he clicked on his Apple Watch. “Okay, so we have a little time to work. There’s hamburgers in the fridge. The fish need to be prepped. I should give them a beer batter coating.”

“What about everything else? There’s seven other guys and I don’t think we’re prepared for that. Buns? Sides? Snacks?”

“You underestimate my ability to force people into bringing their own buns.”

“Oh.”

“So do you want to watch me prepare the fish?”

“No! Are you crazy?” Your eyes widened. Your head shook wildly and he laughed again. “I wasn’t going to make you. Your reactions are always so funny.”

“Jerk.”

“My apron is hooked on the back of the closet door.”

You huffed and disappeared inside.

~ ~ ~

One eye oogled up at Minho with judgement. He stared at the fish for a moment and pulled out his fillet knife. “It was nice knowing you.” He reached up to start scaling the fish.

Your stomach churned and you turned away. “Ew,” you mumbled. “Don’t talk to it like that, it’s a corpse.”

“You talk to your dinosaur nuggets.”

“That’s entirely different.”

“Nuh-uh.”

Scales floated like confetti. You glanced up, catching one glimmering in the sunlight on his cheek. “Do you think the grill is hot enough yet?”

“Probably. You know how long to cook them for, right?”

“Mhm.”

“If you need anything, I’ll be here.”

You wandered into the distance, heading to the grill. Cling-wrapped burgers sat waiting for you. It felt easier to prepare them. Yeah, it sucked that you were cooking cows, but at least, there weren’t eyes and skin in sight.

Minho’s black apron hugged your waist and the back string tied in a bow. His collection of grill accessories sat on one of the sides of the large grill. You took your time unwrapping the patties and carefully setting them onto the silver rack.

When you finished, you disappeared inside to wash your hands. Back outside, Minho’s head bobbed as he worked. Some unknown tune fell beneath his mouth. You cautiously approached him and stopped.

“How can you do that without throwing up? Minho, you’re making a mess.”

“You’re interrupting the world’s best chef.”

“You look nothing like Gordon Ramsey.”

“You’re going to be the next idiot sandwich.”

A fishy scent mixed with decay. A pool of bright red made dark spots dance in your field of vision. Another thud as he shifted the fish and sent his knife plunging behind a gill. You mumbled his name and stepped further away.

“What is it now?”

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Not anywhere near my fish!” He waved his knife, ushering you towards the wooden swing. “Stay over there and go back to drinking your tea. I still have quite a few of these to fillet.”

You sucked in deep breaths, trying to erase the fishy scent and muddle it with fresh cut grass. In and out, you repeated the breaths. As much as your iced tea sounded nice, your stomach felt too nauseous to even make an attempt.

Back by the grill, the sizzling and seasoned burgers waved your way. Thin rolls of smoke fluttered through a layered vent in the back. Such a better scent than that of the fish.

You wanted to watch Minho work. The deep furrow of concentrated brows and narrowed dark eyes. The way his angular face shifted and the breeze cupped his hair back, like the way his mother brushed his hair back long ago. Unfortunately, you couldn’t stand the sight of his bloody knife. Precise cuts, he’d been filleting fish for quite a few years now. He scaled and gutted them without issue. Slapping fresh hunks of pale meat into an aluminium tray that he’d take inside to fry up.

When the timing was right, you stood up and flipped the burgers again. You seasoned both sides, making sure the flavor could seep into the grease-filled meat. Just as you finished, a loud groan floated your way.

You glanced over to find Minho using his arm to wipe at his eye. “You stupid thing! That’s why you’re dead!” He whined and wiped at his eye again. Your lips curled as you tried not to laugh.

“What happened?”

“A scale flew into my eye.”

“That’s what you get for mocking the deceased,” you mumbled beneath your breath.

“What did you just say?”

“I said you should wash your hands and get it out!”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.” He dropped the knife and stood up. He jerked his shirt up and wiped his eyes once more. Naturally, your gaze went to his golden stomach. Butterflies swirled in the pit of your own stomach.

He dropped it back down and headed to the back door. “Let me inside, please. I’ve gotta wash my hands and disinfect my eyeballs. The fish are dead and still fighting back.”

You opened the door and let him slip inside without complaint.

~ ~ ~

Bubbling batter brewed in grease. Encapsulating fish in golden armor, the beer batter curled around the fillets and clung tight. Minho flipped them and you snuck up behind him. Metal tongs clicked together in his hands. He hummed, unaware of the chaos about to ensue.

You crept forward with your hands outstretched. Closer and closer to his sides. Hands curved around his sides. Your fingers caught his skin in a sudden pinch and he shrieked, nearly jumping a foot into the air.

“Hey! I’m trying to cook!” He whirled around, grabbing at you with batter-drizzled tongs. You laughed and took off running to the back door. “Get back here! Come here!”

You rushed outside, circling around the grill, spilling with giggles. He darted to the left and when you dived right, he rushed after you. Shrieks of anticipation left your throat. You plowed through the air, trying to dodge his grasp.

He lunged and you stumbled back. His fingers looped in the apron’s bow and he yanked. You yelped, tripping, and landing in strong arms. He hoisted you against him, letting his arms tighten around your waist.

“Minho!”

He spun around in a circle. Your legs came up, whirling around with gravity. You laughed as the two of you spun around and around. The wind danced between your legs, tugging your hair out of your face.

When his strength weakened, he let you stand back onto the ground. Not before he dropped down, grabbing the back of your shirt, and tugging you with him to the ground. Piles of mowed grass poked your skin. You tried to leave, but he refused to let go.

“Minho, you’re getting me all dirty!”

“Like you’ve never gotten dirty before in your life, you freak!” His fingers curled into the skin of your stomach. You cried out, jerked away, but the frantic fingers followed. The ticklish feeling made panic rise inside, but you couldn’t stop laughing.

You curled inward, trying to protect yourself. It only made him try to tickle you harder. When he got you where he wanted you, he reached around you and squeezed your ass. You swatted his chest, trying to pull away. He cut your attempt off with a messy kiss.

Against the back door, Seungmin’s nose scrunched. “This feels illegal to see.”

“Because we’ve never seen him so affectionate with his loved one?” Jeongin asked.

“It’s cute,” Felix added. He gripped the pan of brownies in his hand and headed back to the kitchen. “We should leave them alone. Han, stop sulking in the corner.”

“That should be me.”

“You big baby, come here.” Changbin’s arm opened up and Han slipped against him. Han’s head fell into Changbin’s shoulder, causing Changbin to pat his side.

Over the stove, Chan grabbed the forgotten tongs and tended to the fish that Minho left behind. “I think we showed up just in time. These–” He flipped them and the battered fish sizzled louder. “These are almost done. I’d hate to see fresh fish burnt.”

“Oh, what’s this?” Hyunjin stepped closer to the trash can, taking notice of something glimmering.

Chan looked over. “Why are you going through their trash? That’s so–”

A loud shriek caused you and Minho to break apart. Your eyes widened and Minho rushed towards the house. Grass fell from his body and you hurried after him. The two of you were unaware the guys let themselves in.

A fish head left Hyunjin’s hands and was tossed at Felix. He gagged and threw it at Han. Han screeched at the top of his lungs, jerking back, and slipping onto the floor. When the slimy texture cupped Changbin’s hand, he chucked it in Seungmin and Jeongin’s direction.

The pair parted quickly to the side, just in time for it to hit Minho’s chest and bounce off. He blinked a few times, trying to understand what happened. On your tiptoes, you peered over his shoulder.

In the kitchen, Hyunjin gagged and flailed his hands around. “It touched me! It touched me! It touched me! The dead fish touched me!”

“I told you not to get in their trash,” Chan spoke up, trying not to laugh.

Realizing that nobody was injured, just traumatized victims of the fish, you burst into laughter. Loud footsteps rushed past you as Hyunjin ran into the bathroom with his hands above his head. Seungmin’s snort and Jeongin’s loud burst of giggles followed.

Changbin’s head shook and he headed for the kitchen sink. Felix glanced up. “Hi, hyung. Sorry about the mess. I made brownies and the guys brought a bunch of other stuff.”

“You’re all so lucky I love you and consider you friends.”

Needless to say, after that incident, your burgers won the popularity competition; you’d never let Minho forget it, either.

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