#also put a little red miso paste in there too! hopefully it's not too salty

[vegancas]

made pumpkin soup, the easy way (pre-cut pumpkin, frozen onion, pre-minced garlic, veg stock, stick blender, forgot to add rosemary 😔)

[honeymoonjin]

A/N: This chapter is a little shorter, but I think I’m going to stop strictly writing every chapter of a story at 3k words, I’ve found it really restricting. It’s 2.4k. Also, keep sending in your thoughts of who you want the romantic relationship to be with in this story, I want to make sure I’m writing something that you guys are interested in reading.

LOST IN TRANSLATION ↳What do you do when you have no qualifications but want to see the world? You help teach English in a Korean primary school, apparently. ↳Principal!Jin, math teacher!Yoongi, PE teacher!Hoseok, English teacher!Namjoon, school nurse!Jimin, art teacher!Taehyung, and science teacher!Jungkook.

CHAPTER THREE ↳You prepare for your first day of actually teaching at the school, and are let in on a well-kept secret.

The nurse’s house was small and cozy, and you were sure one day in the near future you’d go around and explore all the nooks and crannies and details that made it special, but for now you were just trying not to fall asleep in your soup.

He had insisted pretty much the second you got in his car and went to thank him for letting you stay that you should call him Jimin, not Nurse Park, and that was fine with you. It felt more comfortable living with a ‘Jimin’ than a ‘Nurse’.

In fact, comfortable was certainly a word you were beginning to associate with him in general. He blasted the heaters the whole way home, spoke softly and slowly, introduced you to his cuddly cat Miso, sat you down on his couch with a blanket while he heated up some beef broth, and was now walking you through a welcome package he had prepared.

“My house doesn’t have very good heating, so I got you some bed socks and a heat pad. Heat pads are very popular here in Korea, do you know what they are?” You nod with a soft smile, a little overwhelmed with his thoughtfulness. “Oh, good! This one is for the microwave, too, so you can use it over and over again. Next I got you a SIM card, it’s got 500 texts a month and 1GB of data, hopefully that’s enough, and here is an adaptor, I googled what plugs they use in your country and got an adaptor so you can plug your stuff in to our walls, and then here’s some traditional Korean candy, I thought you might like to try some, this flavor is my favorite, actually, but the most popular one is…”

You could cry with how kind he’s being, and it sure is tempting, but you bury it down with a spoonful of salty, rich broth and resort to thanking him profusely every time he pauses to take a breath.

Once he collects up all the gifts into a little basket, he stands back up and holds a hand out to you. “You must be tired, I’ll show you around quickly and you can have a sleep if you want. I need to get back to work, I’m sorry.”

“Of course!” You put the empty bowl down on the table and take his hand with your non-sprained one, letting him tug you upright and lead you down the hall.

“Clearly, this is the living room, just across there is the kitchen and dining room, and let’s go down the hall, I’ll show you the rest. Okay, bathroom, toilet, laundry. I’m sorry, but I only have one bathroom, so we’ll need to share.”

“Oh, it’s fine! Thank you.”

He beams at you, cheeks puffing out, and places a hand on your back. “You don’t need to thank me. I’m very happy you’re here.”

You blush at that comment and allow him to point out his bedroom quickly before opening the door to your room, directly across the hallway from his.

“I know it’s not much, but I’ve put the heater in here and given you some extra blankets too. I bought a desk and bookcase from the secondhand store, so hopefully they should be okay. Let me know if you need anything else.”

You shake your head. “This is…very much. You are very nice, Jimin.”

He deflects the compliment with a laugh. “Don’t worry about it. I need to go back to the school now, but help yourself to anything in the kitchen, have a shower or a bath if you want, have a sleep. Wi-Fi password is written on the fridge.”

You expect him to take his leave and lock the door behind you since he was probably already missing more time than he should, but before he turned away, he pulled you into a quick hug.

He’s barely taller than you, and when he takes you in his arms his chin tucks into the side of your neck, so that you can feel the vibration in his throat on your skin. “I’m really glad you’re here, honestly.”

He pulls away, red-faced, and quickly dashes down the hallway, snatching his keys off the table and shutting the door firmly behind him.

You stand, still in your bedroom, bewildered. You didn’t realize Koreans were that quick to be so friendly, or maybe it was just him.

At any rate, your jet-lagged brain was too filled with cotton to do anything but collapse on the single bed and fall into a deep sleep.

“Wake up, wake up!”

You groan at the cheery voice and let out a yawn, eyes still squeezed firmly shut. “No, not yet. Give me five more minutes.”

A pause. “Uh, I don’t understand what you said, but you should probably get up.”

Wait. Who was that? You huff slowly out your nose as the events of the past day catch up on you. The plane, the school, the other teachers. Jimin’s house.

Your eyes shoot open. “Oh, I’m sorry! Why- uh what, what time is it?”

You sit yourself up, rubbing at your eyes and squinting in the bright bedroom light. Jimin’s sitting on the edge of the bed looking down at you, wearing raggedy plaid pajamas. His hair is matted down on one side and sticking up on the other like he’s just woken up. He smiles serenely down at you. “It’s just after half past six, I thought you might need some time to get ready this morning. I usually leave home at 7:30.”

You sigh and it morphs into another yawn. You slept for over 12 hours? Jet lag really had it out for you. You went to reply but were cut off by the unmistakable sound of your stomach grumbling noisily.

Jimin grins cheekily at the way you blush. “I’ll make breakfast for us while you get dressed.”

“Yes, thank you.” You wait until he leaves the room, shutting the door softly behind him, before getting up to put some work-appropriate clothes on, still thudding around like a zombie.

One suede skirt and linen blouse later, you pad out to the kitchen, hearing more than one voice. Jimin has his back to you, stirring at a steaming pot on the stove, and a man you vaguely recognize from yesterday sitting at the table.

The young man glances up when you approach slowly and flashes you a toothy smile. “Ah, sleeping beauty! You ready to eat?”

You nod and laugh awkwardly, not wanting to admit you had forgotten his name. He scooted his chair over to give you room and you sat down. “Do you be here? Um, you live here?”

Jimin scoffed, beginning to plate up three bowls of a creamy looking porridge. “Basically.” He held a bowl in each hand, cradling the third against his chest, and joined them at the table. “Jungkook lives next door, but he’s always coming here for free food and a ride to the school,” he clarified.

You nodded. “Oh, I understand.” You let Jimin hand out the bowls, Jungkook taking his from Jimin and immediately digging in like an animal, and you giving Jimin an awkward little head-bow upon receiving yours.

The porridge is hot but thick, almost gelatinous, and it’s got a hint of something savory in it. Unlike anything you’ve tried before, but quite effective in warming and filling your stomach for the day. “You cook well, Jimin,” you compliment.

He blushes and fiddles with his spoon, eyes squinting into crescents. “Ah, thank you, Y/n, I’m glad someone appreciates me.” He throws Jungkook a playful glare. “I think I like her much better than you already, she’s so polite. You might have to find a new hyung if you don’t start being more grateful.”

Jungkook ignores him and leans over to you, stage-whispering conspiratorially. “I know you’re just being nice because he’s giving you a place to stay. If you get sick of him, you can always come over and stay with me.”

“This kid,” Jimin interjects, “he couldn’t take care of a dead frog long enough to dissect it! Don’t listen to him.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and rocks back on the legs of his chair. “For the last time, it was meant to turn that color! Basic biology, I wouldn’t expect you to know.”

“Jungkook, I went to medical school.”

“You didn’t go to medical school for frogs!”

Jimin finishes his bowl and chucks the spoon down with a dramatic shake of his head. “I fear for the children, Jung-ah, I really do.”

You clear your throat awkwardly. “Sorry, but it’s almost 7:30.”

In perfect time, their heads shot towards the clock on Jimin’s wall and they swore, rushing to the kitchen to dump their plates.

Apparently, on a Tuesday, there were three English classes, but the first period was free, so you were quickly herded to the staffroom, which you hadn’t seen earlier but was in the back of the reception room, by Jimin before he left to go start working.

The staffroom was basically a little kitchenette and a couple couches, but the heater was on blast and they had a little container of hot chocolate powder in the coffee and tea cabinet, so you were happy.

As you got yourself settled, you were prepared for forty-five minutes of sitting alone and doing nothing, but just as you took your first delightful sip of hot chocolate, the door opened and in walked one of the other teachers.

You remember him as the one who openly insulted your Korean level in front of his whole class and the principal, and he makes no effort to smile at you as he drearily makes himself a black coffee and slumps down on the couch opposite.

“You aren’t teaching?” you offer up nervously when the awkward silence becomes too much for you.

He gives you a droll look. “Of course I’m teaching. That’s why I’m here instead of in my classroom.”

You pout into your hot chocolate. “Maybe that is why children hating math. Their teacher is so grumpy.”

His lip twitches and he pokes his tongue into the side of his mouth. “Maybe if I could understand what you were saying, I’d be able to respond to it.”

You huff petulantly. “You speak English and then you know it’s hard and not be mean.”

He raises a lazy eyebrow, taking a slow drag of his coffee. “Wow, what an inspiring lesson for the children. Learn English and you won’t be mean anymore. Unfortunately, it hasn’t worked for me.”

You close your mouth after it had been hanging open. “I agree. I think you are just the Grinch or Scrooge.”

You’re shocked when, instead of a glare, he laughs openly, exposing a surprisingly cute gummy smile. He composes himself quickly, levelling his dark eyebrows at you. “You should be nicer to your elders, you know. What if Principal Kim heard you speaking to me like that?”

“Principal Kim already knows,” you answer confidently, “he is agreeing with me about you.”

Teacher Min shakes his head one last time and stands up, finishing his coffee in two lazy gulps and leaves the dirty cup in the sink, ignoring the laminated sign that explicitly read ‘do not leave dirty dishes in the sink, use the dishwasher’.

He turns back to you with a cheeky glimmer in his eyes. “Do me a favor, ask the English teacher about Rap Monster.”

You frown. “What?”

He just taps the side of his nose. “He’ll know.”

Very shortly after the math teacher took his leave, the door was bursting open again, this time revealing the energetic phys ed teacher with a look of caution in his eyes. “Is he gone?”

“Who?”

“Teacher Min, has he left yet?”

You nod with a confused look on your face. “Yes. Why?”

His face relaxes and he grins at you as he makes his way over to the small fridge. “I have a bet with Seokjin.”

“What is this word, bet?”

His voice is muffled as he roots around in the fridge. “It’s like a challenge. If I do the challenge, I get a prize, but if I fail, Principal Kim gets the prize. Ah!” He emerges triumphantly holding a bulky plastic box with a padlock dangling from it.

“What is that?” you ask incredulously.

“Yoongi, sorry, teacher Min’s snack stash.”

“With that thing on it?”

“The lock?” Teacher Jung beams at you and produces a key. “Don’t worry, I found this in his desk in the math room.”

You bite your lip, watching him jimmy off the lock and open up the box to reveal a little lunchbox of leftovers, meat, vegetables, rice. “But why?”

Hoseok sifts through, pulling out some skewers of meat to begin chewing on, still cold. He talks through a mouthful. “If I eat Yoongi’s lunch every day for two weeks without him realizing who it is, Principal Kim is going to give me a raise.”

You watch him chow down on the math teacher’s lunch with a befuddled expression. “He is paying you more money for you steal food from another teacher?”

Teacher Jung swallowed. “Yes.”

“I think that is maybe a mean thing.”

He gives you a soft smile but wastes no time before diving into the next thing, a little tub of rice. “Don’t worry, I bring some food from home for him to have. It’s not about stealing his lunch, it’s about stealing his lunch without getting caught. It’s very exciting.”

He holds a pair of chopsticks out to you and you shake your head, although you are beginning to see the humor of it. “How long have you do this already?”

“Today is Day 7,” he declares proudly, “only three to go. Although, he is starting to get clever.” A thought occurs to him and he furrows his brows. “You can’t tell teacher Min! Nobody else knows except me, Seokjin, and you now. I’m trusting you.”

You nod dutifully. “I have your secret.”

He grins. “Good. Anyway, ho-”

He’s interrupted by the clanging of a far-off bell signaling the end of class. “You have English now, right?” he asked. “You should probably get going. Do you need me to take you there?”

You stand up and put your cup in the dishwasher. “I think I am good, thank you. Goodbye.”

He waves you off cheerily, attention already half-taken up by putting the padlock back on the box and returning it to the fridge completely empty. As you walked out the door, you saw him pull out a plain lunchbox with a post-it note on top that read ‘for Yoongi, got you again!’ in extremely careful, nondescript handwriting, shoving it in the fridge in front of the empty box.

You’re grinning to yourself all the way to your first class of the year.

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