#and i forgot i had this in my askbox | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jensthwa · 2 months

Text

show & tell pt. 2 (SMG x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

After the… masterclass you gave Mingi the night before, you’re left anxious on what the future holds for you both. But there’s a pool party you promised you would attend and there’s not really time for you to figure your feelings out before your best friend shows up at your door to drive you to it. So maybe today is not the day to figure your feelings out, right? It’s just a pool party anyways, so nothing out of the ordinary is going to happen… right?

PAIRING: best friend!mingi x afab reader.

GENRE: childhood best friends (idiots) to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 11k.

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) anxiety attack, attempt !!! at comedy, wooyoung being a little shit part two ft jongho, a new oc being the voice of reason, reader is clueless and in denial i fear, jealousy, miscommunication, fighting so this part is just a tiny bit angsty :(, confessions, teasing, face sitting, hand job, car sex (don't do it in public people, it can get you arrested), pet names (love and baby), a plot line at the end none of you guys are going to get until my new wip drops but it's worth the wait!

NOTES: hey everyone! thank you so much for patiently waiting for this second and last part to drop. i think that, after this one, if you guys want to request any drabbles or if i come up with some scenarios for this couple i will post them but for now nothing is on the works. what is on the works is a wip that's part of the same universe as this one, so pay attention to the new characters i mention if you want any clues! this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: july 28th 2024.

TAGLIST (sorry if i forgot anyone, pls let me know!): @vannerriin / @mingtinysworld / @purple-bell / @bakepotatoman / @nxy3h / @taehyungmami / @nxcxllxsevens / @breadpuddingboys / @hotteokkay

masterlist.

When you wake the next morning, the consequences of restless sleep show up in your face as a reminder of what happened the night before.

It's not that you regret it, it's more the fact that you feel so unapologetic about messing with the perfect dynamic you have with Mingi that caused you to toss and turn so much.

Last night, after putting your duvet back on and then crashing into the mattress feeling all tingly and giddy, you asked yourself a thousand questions.

The main one being: What the fuck did you do?

The words kept repeating over and over in your head, your voice of reason (or your anxiety) screaming at you to get your phone and make it right before everything becomes a complicated, unresolvable mess.

You had a brief moment of panic and heavy breathing, your chest tight with unspoken emotion and your eyes filled with tears.

It was too much, so you forced yourself up and paced around for what felt like hours trying to get your feet back on the ground. Nothing was working, so you sat down at your desk and rested your forehead against it.

When you didn't feel the usual coolness of the wood, a comfort sensation for when your studies got the best out of you for the day, and instead felt a pen almost stab you in the eye, you -very confused- leaned back.

Mingi’s notebook and the pen he didn't put back on the pencil case seemed to stare back at you lovingly instead of mocking you for losing control over your own emotions.

A sense of peace washed over you when you flipped the pages and landed on the instructions he wrote down. Memories of the amazing years you have had by his side started crossing your mind, like recomforting flashes that allowed your heartbeat to go back to normal:

The first day you saw Mingi, chasing behind a worned out soccer ball and then kicking it so hard it landed on your lawn.

The first time you two hugged, when your dad scolded you for having bad grades until you cried in front of him.

The way he held your hand before heading inside to take the college admission exam, last year of highschool.

His kind eyes. His reassuring smile. The way he made you feel just a few hours back.

There's no getting rid of me either, love.

We'll figure it out.

Letting a few contained tears run down your cheeks, you nodded to yourself as if he was there in the room with you.

Yeah, you'll figure it out.

And then proceeded to, very much, not figure shit out for the rest of the night. You could still feel his hands everywhere and hear his voice against your ear whispering how much he knows you and pays attention to you.

You are fucked.

It's all you can think about when you get ready for the day. It's all you can think about when you help your dad with lunch and when you let your parents know at the table that you are going out that same afternoon.

“Mingi is driving you, right?”

“Yeah…” you whisper in response, eyes focused on one specific spot at the table and mind a million years away from the conversation.

“Good. He's such a good kid, Y/N, I'm glad he knows how to take care of you.”

Choking on air when your brain finally catches up to her words, you look back up at your mother in shock “W-what?”

“Yeah honey, what? Y/N can take care of herself,” your father chips in, unaware of your red cheeks or the honest expression of panic you're giving both of them “She's a big girl that carries around that, uh… What was it?— Ah, that pepper spray I gave her, right?”

“R-right.”

He lets out a satisfied see? at your answer, gives you a tiny smile and gets up from the table to take his finished plate over to the sink.

Your mom stays behind, giving you a look you can't quite read before her usual calm expression washes it away. Only then, you can take a proper, very needed, calming breath.

“I need to get ready. Thank you for the food.”

“You made it, dear.”

“I mean! For taking care of the, uh, plates,” you clumsily correct yourself right away, getting up from the table as well “Love you. Bye!”

You don't miss the confused giggle on your way to your room and when you're behind closed doors, you finally take into consideration that you might be, in fact, overreacting.

Not much, you think, but just enough to give your feelings away. And it's truly a shame, because you were planning on concealing and bottle everything up until it, inevitably, blows up in your face.

Maybe not the smartest option.

If you bang your head against the wall with enough force maybe, just maybe it’ll help—

Someone's texting you.

> gi: heeeeey > gi: just woke up lol > gi: had the best sleep ever tho > gi: how are you, love?

Okay. So normal texting it is. Maybe your initial plan of just pretending nothing happened is, coincidentally, Mingi’s plan as well.

So you type in it's literally almost one, ya lazy and let your thumb hover over the send button, eyebrows creased at a sudden realization.

The casual texting annoys you.

Sure, Mingi is used to keeping everything casual between him and the people he sleeps with, but you're not just anyone! You didn't sleep together, either!

Oh, maybe that's why.

But it ticks you off either way.

Is he not feeling the same way you do? Did it mean something different for him than it did to you? What did it even mean to you in the first place?

Why, after all the panic you felt the night before, did you have any sort of expectation for today?

It doesn't make any sense.

You hit send.

> gi: aaaaand? > gi: god forbid a man gets a good night's rest after being thrown off a bed.

Scoffing, your eyes roll before you can even control it and, to your demise, the giddiness returns. You respond with did you get hurt? awww and raise a hand to your blushed cheek before sending the message.

> gi: yeah wtf > gi: my butt is all bruised. > gi: kiss it better?

Oh.

Not casual texting. At. All.

Or maybe it is?

Ugh.

Blanking on everything Mingi has ever texted you before, you decide it's best to entertain yourself by getting all pretty to sit around the house party tonight and do nothing else instead of torturing your confused brain any longer.

Using the help of an emoji to flip him off and, hopefully, gather yourself together enough to get ready, you shoot him another text rushing him to do the same because you don't want to be late.

And he usually takes forever to get ready anyways.

Showering with very cold water, taking a good thirty minutes to decide whether to wear something comfy and fitting or sexy and fitting for the party do the job when it comes to taking your mind off him for, at least, the time being.

Yunho was insistent the day before in that you didn't need to bring a bathing suit if you didn't want to, but you pack one anyways because you can sense Wooyoung's and Jongho’s intentions even if the youngest couldn't make it to your impromptu gathering yesterday.

They know you hate when they get away with annoying you and throwing you into the nearest body of water -in this case, Yunho’s pool- in front of many people you don't know (therefore, you are not going to able to go insane mode on them) seems like the perfect opportunity to get away with it.

The last time they did it you weren't really able to scold them properly either, so they laughed and pointed at you until you threatened to kick their asses in a very dishonest but playful way.

Mingi, of course, did nothing but laugh along with everyone else and then kiss your forehead as an apology later that day.

That was last summer and since then both perpetrators have treated you to meals and buttered you up enough for you to forgive (as if you didn't do that the morning that followed the incident) but you never forget.

Maybe you should. It would make the sight of Mingi parking outside your house easier, you think.

You're sure he's parking outside just to give your dad, who comes out to greet him with a hug, some peace of mind. He's very protective of you and he trusts Mingi even if he gives him a hard time everytime he sleeps over or takes you somewhere.

Like now, you have a very clear view through your window of the sermon he's giving your best friend. You don't hear it but he's moving his hands in the air way too much for it not to be a clear step by step on what to do if you run into any trouble on the way to Yunho's.

Mingi likes step by step and he's good at following instructions, so you don't think it's going to be an issue.

God damnit, Y/N, get it together.

Sighing, you pick up your bag, check your outfit once in front of the mirror, and rush downstairs and out of the door.

“You do know how to change a tire, son?”

Mingi is standing in front of your dad with his hands behind his back and a tight smile.

“Yes sir, my dad taught me and then at the school they made sure I didn't forget about it.”

“And make sure to—”

“Could you let the guy breathe, dad?”

They both turn to, your dad wears a mocking smile and you see Mingi’s tight one breaks into a genuine one a second later. A grateful one, even.

He looks really good. Which is insane, considering that to you he looked like Chewbacca just yesterday morning.

Crazy what a good orgasm can do to a person. Or maybe it's the first time you ever let yourself see him in this light. Either way, he's wearing light wash jeans and a fitted t-shirt that clings to him just right and it's going to drive you insane, you can just feel it.

“I was just making sure that he—”

“Knows what to do,” you nod “He knows what he's doing, dad. Stop giving him a hard time,” you give your dad a quick kiss on the cheek and then rush to the passenger seat, giving Mingi a glance so he can get in the car as well.

“Alright. Love you, take care!”

“Love you too, Mr. L/N!” Mingi says, getting into his seat and giving your dad the opportunity to see when he fastens his seatbelt. He doesn't say anything else, even though he didn't tell Mingi specifically that he loved him and instead gives you both a nod of approval.

When Mingi finally drives off your street and into the main one, you sigh in relief.

“He's neeever going to trust me, huh?”

“He trusts you,” you say right away, cheek resting against the seat so you can take a proper look at him “I'm his only daughter and you're a man after all. Cut him some slack.”

“He never cuts me some slack!” he fights back but you just laugh and he can't help but join you “You look really good, by the way. A dress? Are you trying to impress someone?” The tone he uses sparks the remaining tension from the night before, like zero time has passed since he kissed you goodnight by your front door.

When you got into the car with Mingi, you didn't consider that you two would be alone for, at least, forty minutes before getting to your destination. Your mind skipped the fact that he has this new ability to fluster you by just existing near you and you curse it for not letting you prepare well enough for the way he's looking at you right now.

“Obviously,” you answer in a whisper, clearing your throat a second later “Wooyoung needs to be distracted so he doesn't tackle me into the pool the second we get there. Don't know if it's gonna work on Jongho, though.”

Mingi clicks his tongue, baring his teeth and pretending to really think about it “I don't think so, love. You'll have to bribe him into considering dropping their whole summer schtick for you.”

“You can help me with that.”

“Can I now?”

“Yeah. You can just… lock him up in a room and my dress can do the rest of the work.”

Your best friend laughs and then takes a hand off the steering wheel to roll the hem of your dress in between his thumb and index. His knuckles brush against your thigh and you almost -almost- make a noise at the sensation.

“It's not the dress, love… It's who's wearing it.”

A bit of silence passes within the both of you.

“Shut the fuck up, Song Mingi.”

Laughter fills the car and drowns out the honking on the other side of the street and you wonder why you were worried in the first place.

Nothing has changed.

Aside from the intention laced with the flirting, it feels the same way it ever did and you couldn't be more glad because now that you know Mingi doesn't hate you (like you thought for a brief moment last night) or wants to hard launch a relationship that doesn't exist to your friends the second he gets them all together in the same room, you can enjoy the car ride and the evening that's about to follow it.

So you flirt with him freely, listen and sing along to songs that just feel like summer summarized in three minutes of exquisite writing and roll your window down once Mingi takes a turn into an hill, trees replacing the buildings you're so used to seeing.

Your friend is rich rich. His family makes good money and his parents go on lots of business trips. That being said, it's the first time you actually attend one of his parties, and so when you get to Yunho’s house and ring the doorbell, you’re caught by surprise because you can already hear the loud music playing in the backyard and the blend of new and familiar voices through the thick door.

You expect him to open the door for you but Seonghwa’s smile is the first thing you see before you and Mingi both have the opportunity to step in.

“You made it!”

“It's pretty hard to miss this house, Hwa.”

Your older friend side-hugs you and stays by your side while Mingi takes it upon himself to put your bags for the day in the pile of other bags next to the door “How are you doing today?”

You're about to answer but when you look at him, you see him staring at Mingi, so you do too. He's staring at Hwa with a little smile “I'm doing good. I blocked her and everything and I can confidently say that…” he turns to you “My ego’s not bruised anymore.”

If Seonghwa caughts the spark between you and you best friend, he decides to ignore it “That's goo—”

“Mingi!”

What the hell is she doing here?

Not, not that bitch from yesterday but this girl who Mingi meets with sometimes. You don't really know her, you just know she's gorgeous and that her name starts with an h, maybe?

She's a fashion major and it shows in the way she's dressed up today. Truly, an enjoyable company whenever she's around at frat parties, a saving grace when you're tired of surrounding yourself with only men.

Right now? She's your worst nightmare.

Wrapping her arms around Mingi’s neck and getting on her tippy toes to kiss his cheek, she smiles like she knows she's getting laid tonight and your best friend does nothing to pull her away.

She doesn't even say hi to you before dragging him to the backyard! You and Seonghwa follow them and when she takes Mingi’s arm and pulls him over to -you assume- introduce him to her friends, you almost stomp your feet like a little kid.

Trying to get rid of the annoyed frown on your face, you turn to Hwa with a teasing smile and your eyebrows raised.

“Well fuck me, am I right?”

“I might!” Arms wrap around your waist and you feel Woo’s chin resting on you shoulder immediately after “That's a very nice dress, Y/N.”

If Mingi was next to you, like you want him to be, you would give him a I told you so glance. Instead, you just look at Seonghwa with absolute horror before he snickers and goes away.

“Right? And it looks horrible when it's drenched in nasty chlorine water.”

“You can't possibly know that.”

“I know a lot of things and— No! Woo, please don't,” you beg when he lifts you off the ground for a second. Behind you, you hear laughs and, even though you can't see them, you know it's San and Jongho “I just got here and I haven't even changed yet, please.”

He turns you around and hugs you properly this time before letting you go. You take the opportunity to punch him in the arm and then go over to San and Jongho to do the same.

“We'll let you get your swimsuit on this time.”

“You're so considerate, Jong. Seriously, they're going to give you the Nobel prize if you don't stop.” He mocks you, repeating what you just said in a higher pitched voice and you laugh as you sit next to Wooyoung’s ex-girlfriend, Gyuri.

San also has a girl sitting beside him with his arm around her, but you don't really know her so you just wave at her. They're all in their bathing suits already “See how he tried to flirt with me to try to get me with my guard down? He's a monster.”

“And in front of me, too? The nerve on this guy.” Gyuri, of course, backs you up immediately and you want to return her smile, but you can see Mingi from the corner of your eye and it's distracting.

“Oh, they're ganging up on me already,” Wooyoung whines, sitting down in front of you both and handing you a drink “It's like my worst nightmare.”

“He's enjoying it, don't let him convince you otherwise,” San says, getting up from his seat and taking his girl with him “Especially coming from you.” He points at Gyuri and you laugh.

“We're just friends now!”

“That's what you told me like three years ago before—”

Wooyoung gets up to chase after him and San lets go of the girl's hand to try to get away from him.

Turns out, you're not the one Woo tackles into the pool. This time, him and San crash down on the water hard and a few droplets of water wet your feet. Gyuri laughs and everyone else does too when they realize what's happening.

Jongho gets up and joins them in the water soon after to try and help (kinda, not really) San escape the wrath of his best friend.

You almost miss it, because you take the opportunity to look at your best friend and, when you do, he's already looking at you.

Breath catches on your throat and the lump that forms afterwards has a name and a reason: Mingi is looking at you with so much longing it physically hurts.

He looks like wants to drop everything and come and confuse your fragile mind even more, just like he did the night before.

Then why the fuck is he there with whatever her name is and her friends and not sitting right next to you?

You look away, grasping your drink for emotional support and convincing yourself you're starting to see things that are not actually there.

“Why the fuck are y'all fighting this time?!” Yunho comes from inside the house and it's the first time you see him today “No choking! No running! It's literally in the rules!”

“Wooyoung please let go of my boyfriend!”

Ah. So she is San’s girlfriend. Still, you turn to Gyuri to ask.

“Who is sh—”

“San’s new girlfriend, Kyungmi. We don't give a fuck about her or San right now, we're mad at them,” you want to ask who we is, because Wooyoung seems like he's just playing, but she interrupts you again “What the fuck is going on with you and Mingi?”

Huh?!

You make a quick mental review of your plan. Conceal? Clearly it didn't work. Bury your emotions deep so no one notices? You probably can't recover from the way you smile just dropped.

The only thing left on the list is pretend that you're insane, but you're not sure it'll work either. So you turn it on her: “Nothing much. He played Espresso like three times on a row on the way here and I almost kill him, but—”

“You can't bullshit me, Y/N.”

Great, that didn't work either.

“I saw that. Seonghwa did too but he got up before I could convince him to ambush you,” she dramatically sighs, chugging the rest of her drink down “So, what is going on?”

“Nothing,” that much is true “he's literally with a girl right now.”

“And she will never mean as much to him as you do. Next.”

“Gyuri… I really don't know what you want me to say.”

Squinting her eyes at you suspiciously, Gyuri takes her time before answering and you fidget in your seat a little. Wooyoung liked her for a reason, she's feisty and goes straight to the point and it's something you usually admire but right now it's not the time for her to do this.

“I just thought maybe it finally happened…” She whispers and shrugs the entire conversation off before getting up “Let's head inside. They're going to start grilling meat at any second and I also don't want to be near Wooyoung when he gets out of there.” She points at him and you laugh.

Jongho has him in a chokehold and Yunho is trying to separate them while San desperately swims towards his girl that's still waiting for him near the edge of the pool.

“Sure thing.”

You pretend you don't feel Mingi's eyes on you as you move.

This is not unusual. Whenever you all go to parties, hosted by someone inside of the friend group or not, you end up separating from Mingi.

He does his thing. He's outgoing and he likes dancing while you enjoy conversation and drinking away at the rest of the party, occasionally making out with someone and calling it a night when your social battery runs out.

So you hang out with Gyuri in the kitchen until the sun starts going down and when the last ray of it disappears you decide it's time to swim a bit before you're too tipsy for it to be safe.

Grabbing your bag and greeting some new people you don't know at the door, you head up to the bathroom you are told by the host himself it's upstairs.

When your tying up the strands of your swimsuit, the door slams open and you jump and cover yourself up with your hands because you're not able to finish the job, so the strands fall down and the only thing holding the top part of the fabric it's you.

“What the fuck, Mingi?”

Turning around, you're only able to look at him through the mirror.

“Lock the door next time! What if it was somebody else?”

“People usually knock!”

“I didn't mean to scare you, it's the door’s fault,” he makes a fool of himself trying to prove it “See? I— let me help you with that,” he closes the door again and, this time, he locks it before taking a short step and grabbing the strands of your top “It's the second time this week I scare you like that, huh? I’m sorry, love.” He ties the strands together with a secure knot and his apology finally allows your tense muscles to relax.

You remind yourself that there's no valid reason for you to be mad at him. You'll figure it out, he said it himself, and maybe today is not the day to do so.

But he's not stepping away once he's finished, he's not even saying anything else before his hands grab your waist and his chest collides to your back.

Looking at him through the mirror again, you silently ask him with your eyes what he thinks he's doing. He ignores you, bending down so the tip of his nose can trace the skin on the side of your neck.

“I missed you,” his voice sounds like honey when he says it and you, once again, curse the ability he has to make you crumble “and you disappeared like an hour ago.”

You let out a sigh.

“I was in the kitchen, Mingi, not missing and we were in the same space for at least twenty minutes before that and like… forty minutes in a car, together.” You remind him and he frowns “Besides, you were with Ha… Haneul?”

“Hanni,” he corrects and you huff out a whatever “and she was introducing me to some of her friends that are in the same major as me, just a year over.”

“Cool.”

He pecks your shoulder. You do your best to not melt completely into him and fix your hair in the mirror.

“Y/N…” he starts and you hum in acknowledgement “I missed you.”

It pisses you off for some reason. The mature thing to do is to let him know but the words that leave you are petty and laced with annoyance.

“I’m sure you did, buddy.”

He grins against your skin and you turn around to face him, eyebrow raising.

“What's so amusing?”

At your tone, he seems taken aback but his smile stays curving his lips upwards.

“I'm just really happy to have this moment with you,” he says, matter of factly, and you press your hands against his chest to regain some personal space. He doesn't budge an inch “What's going on?”

He's such a guy sometimes.

“You're here, kissing my neck, while a gorgeous girl who I'm sure is waiting for you downstairs is probably bragging to her friends about how she's going home with you tonight and—”

“Y/N, I'm literally taking you home.”

“I can easily take a car back— Mingi, seriously,” taking a deep breath, you stare at him with all the honesty you can gather “I don't want to do whatever this is if afterwards you're going downstairs to dance and flirt with Haneul or whatever her name is.”

He looks like he wants to correct you on it again, so you level him with a daring glance.

He keeps his mouth shut.

“And I also don't want you to hurt her feelings if you tell her you can't leave with her tonight, so—”

“I don't give a shit about her feelings, love.”

“Mingi, don't say that!”

“I don't! I wasn't flirting with her at all, either! Listen, it's…” he stops to chuckle for a few seconds “I mean, it's adorable that you're jealous but there's no reason for you to—”

“Shut the fuck up, Song Mingi.”

It's the second time today you have said those exact words to him. The first time, you also felt your heart bang with such force against your rib cage but for a completely different reason.

“I'm not one of the girls you fuck on the side when you're horny or bored out of your mind. Don't fucking treat me like one.” You warn and suddenly the image of you telling him that teaching him yesterday could mess you both up crosses your mind.

“I'm not, Y/N! I'm just saying that you look adorable when you're—”

“Jealous? Why would I be jealous when we are not together, Mingi? I'm literally looking out for the girl!”

“You don't even know her name, love.”

“That's not the fucking point!”

He finally takes a step away from you, closing his eyes and taking a calming breath, surely.

Now you're pissed off because he saw right through you and your words.

That disgusting weight on your chest you felt back by the pool while you kept staring at him from the corner of your eye? Jealousy.

Now that he brought it up, it makes sense.

You hate it.

You always hated being put in a position where you felt the need to compare yourself to others. Always hated how easy it is for anger to run through your blood and infiltrate every waking thought until it clouds your judgment.

Because you shouldn't be angry. He just said he didn't care about her feelings.

And yet, all you can think about is that he spent an hour with her instead of you.

When he turns to you, there's a storm in his eyes and you just don't want to hear it tonight.

“Save it, keep it, sleep on it and we'll talk tomorrow,” picking your dress from the spot on the floor it's been sitting all this time, you put the fabric on, take your bag and then unlock the door “I’m going home.”

You don't give him the opportunity to say anything else before getting out of the bathroom but you do hear a groan when you're rushing downstairs.

Yeosang and Yunho are just leaving the kitchen when you trip on the last step and the host jogs the few steps to you after laughing.

“There you are, Y/N. Listen, there's some meat already grilled back there but we're—”

“I'm actually going home, Yun,” you cut him short “I'm not feeling that well. My plan was to swim a little before leaving but I don't think I can do it.”

“Did something happen or…?”

What happened is coming downstairs as he asks.

“Nope. Nothing, I just think I'm catching a cold or something. Thank you so much for inviting me though!” You hug your friend quickly, kissing his cheek before pulling away.

“Always…” Yunho is very observant but, as you always do, he doesn't press you with questions about what's going on “He's taking you home?” Pointing behind you, you don't have to turn around to get what he means.

“Ye—”

“No. He's having a great time here, I don't want to get in the way,” you shrug “I'll just get an uber or something. Don't worry.”

Yunho frowns slightly, eyes moving from your face to over your shoulder.

Immature. Petty. Rude.

You're sure that's the way you’re coming off right now. But feeling anger bubbling behind the smile you give Yunho, you think it's better they make their assumptions instead of actually seeing you upset.

You move to hug Yeosang as well and he murmurs his farewell. When you turn around, Mingi is no longer there and you don’t spare a look towards the floor to ceiling glass windows that separate the living area from the backyard because you're sure he's sitting right beside that girl again.

As he should be.

You bolt for the door, giving your friends a tiny smile before going down the few steps and into the hill. It's already dark and you're sure no uber driver it's going up this hill for the tip you're able to offer them, so you figure your best shot is to go down and try to find a cab on the main street.

The light from your phone illuminates your scowl as you walk. Past the bushes and the trees and the lines of parallel parked cars where Mingi’s Lexus is.

You don't notice him there until he opens the backdoor to block your step.

“Get in the car, I'm taking you home.”

Closing the door he just opened to stop you, you shake your head.

“I told you I'm getting a ride and—”

“I don't give a fuck. Get in the car.” And then he's opening his door and closing it so fast it gives you no room for debating.

He's angry. Shit.

You can't even see him through the tinted window to assess how much damage you have done, so you look down the hill one more time and wonder if making the run for it is worth it.

When your phone lights up with a notification from Gyuri asking you if everything's okay and to make it home safe, you take it as a sign to round the car and get into the passenger side with an annoyed huff.

The engine comes to life. You're not looking at him but at the trees until the leaves start showing the building lights in-between them and soon you're on the main road.

You can't even ask him to turn the radio on. Stubborn, you refuse to let the anger inside of you dissipate in fear of shame taking over. It's better being angry than being ashamed, at least in this exact moment because you can practically feel Mingi's anger through the silent treatment.

But you need to say something. The silence is suffocating and the street is surprisingly empty so you can't distract yourself with anything.

“You shouldn't have bothered.”

“I am bothered. You bothered me.”

Clenching your jaw, you turn to him in disbelief “I told you to stay at the goddamn party so we can fix this tomorrow but I bothered you?”

“Did I stutter or something?”

“No, you're just not making any fucking sense!”

“Yeah, fuck this,” you see him look around, biting the inside of his cheek like he's holding his words in “We're fixing this right now.”

The car makes a harsh turn and you have to grab the door for support.

“Mingi!” He's not listening to you anymore. His hard gaze stays on the road, it feels like forever before he pulls into a somewhat empty parking lot and when the vehicle stops you go to open the door and get the fuck away from him before you two kill eachother inside this car.

That's an exaggeration but with the way he turns off the car and unbuckles his seatbelt, you know your pride doesn't stand a chance.

The summer breeze briefly hits your face before his hand is on yours, closing the door and preventing you from, once again, escaping the situation.

Frustrated, you let out a loud groan “What the fuck is your problem?!”

“I don't know, Y/N! But I'll tell you what your problem is, alright?” he chuckles. It's a humorless sound, his face painted in something you've never seen before “Your problem is that you assume you know what everyone else is feeling and you assume you're right. But intuition can only get you so far, love, so I need you to take your head out of your ass and think logically for a second.”

Flabbergasted, you think you murmur something in your defense but he cuts you short.

“No! You didn't let me get a word out back there so now you're going to shut up and listen,” he pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes “You assume you're smarter than everyone else but you're actually so dumb. Dumb, you're acting very dumb and reckless, Y/N! That back there?” he points out of the window to nothing but you know what he means “Leaving— Scratch that. Leaving me and not giving me a chance to say anything back? Trying to go down that hill alone and in the dark? Stupid.”

Staring back at him with watery eyes, you don't even know what to say back except a whispered excuse me?

“And usually I would beat up anyone who even dares to call you that but I guess all these years I've been wrong about you. Because if you were smart, you would've realized that Hanni means nothing to me and I mean nothing to her. There's nothing, she loves appearances and that's it.”

You knew that already, but you're not giving your stance up.

What even is your stance? Ah, right, he treated you like an envious no one back there and not like his best friend.

“Yeah, I can tell you mean nothing to her from the whiny tone and the hug and the dragging you to meet her friends, Mingi.” Scoffing at the memory, your lips press into a thin line.

“Well, she's a friendly girl!”

“She didn't even say hi to me!”

“So she doesn't like you, Y/N! Who cares!” you sure don't but, again, you just stare at him in disbelief and his open arms, palms to the sky “Do you care? Because I don't! And guess what? I doesn't fucking matter if she likes you or not or if she wants me or not because I like you!”

What?

“W-what?”

“I like you! And I'll choose you over her and everyone else again and again and again until you notice but fuck it's so tiring. You're so fixated on why I let her drag me to her friends that you completely ignored me the rest of the time we were there and maybe if you looked at me more than once you would've realized that I was staring back at you the whole afternoon!”

You let out an annoyed chuckle “So you were, Mingi.”

“I was! I was trying to get you to look at me and notice how bad I wanted you to come over, rescue me from that boring ass conversation, grab my hand and claim your place right beside me because—” he pauses, resting a hand on the steering wheel and looking at you like he can't believe he has to spell this out for you “Because I want nothing more than for her and everyone to know I’m yours! I'm sure everyone already fucking knows too, except you. So yeah, sometimes, you're pretty fucking dumb for such a smart woman, Y/N.”

Words escape you. They escape your mind, your reason and your pride shrinks until it disappears behind all the love you feel for Mingi.

So that's what you are feeling. That's what you felt yesterday night when the tiredness couldn't drown out your thoughts of him and all he meant to you.

Love, love, love. In all its forms, in all its possible scenarios. Your heart burns for it and you used to think that your hopeless romantic desires began and died with the movies you tend to see and the books you tend to read, that it was impossible to feel this way for anyone but there he is, chest heaving in the yellow interior light, waiting for you to say something back.

“And I realize that before yesterday I showed no interest in you but believe me when I say that I—”

Shakily, you interrupt him with whispered words, heart soaring and hands reaching out to cup his beautiful face “Shut the fuck up, Song Mingi.”

When you kiss him, you make sure to pour out everything you couldn't say a minute ago into it.

When he kisses you back with the same feeling, it crosses your mind that he already forgave you.

And when he grabs your waist and drags you over the break handle and the transmission to collide his chest against yours and drag his tongue along the seam of your bottom lip, you think that, for the first time ever, you have to tell him he's right.

You are stupid. Stupid for not realizing it sooner, stupid for confusing his longing stares for something platonic, stupid for thinking you could wait until tomorrow to tell him he has the right to see and be with anyone he wants to because this is it.

This. The way your entire body comes alive when he sighs into your mouth and groans at the way your knee opens up his legs to make room for you on his side of the car and partially on his lap. The way his thumbs run through your cheeks and dry the tears you didn't even feel falling down. The way your heart jumps frantically and the way its beats could get confused by his because you're so close.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, you can't recall a time Mingi didn't make you feel this exact same way. It's overwhelming, it expands through you like a fire and it knocks the remaining air out of your lungs enough for you to pull away and rest your forehead against his, shaky breaths tangling together and fingers grasping the neck of his shirt in an attempt to ground yourself.

You sniffle, incapable of not feeling emotional over his confession and your realization “I'm sorry, Mingi. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for treating you that way I was… I behaved like…”

“An ass.” He nods and you look at him with the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips.

“Yeah,” you nod as well “I was an ass. A jealous ass.”

“I know, love.” He whispers, eyes moving on your face before his lips are on yours again, briefly, sweetly, even if you don't feel like you deserve it “You tend to forget that I know you, hm? That I've seen you jealous before? You were an ass back then, too.”

“Okay! Okay, stop calling me an ass, I get it.”

“I'm sorry for waiting for you to do something when you didn't even… I guess you didn't know, right? The way I feel about you?”

“I know now,” you whisper back, nudging your nose against his and then putting some distance so you can see him better “I feel the same way, by the way. We're shit at communicating, apparently, so I'll just tell you now that—”

His lips are on yours again and he's giggling against them and shaking his head when he pulls away. Brown eyes search for yours and you're not sure what he's looking in them but he seems to find it, his muscles relaxing against the leather of his seat seconds later.

So you kiss him again. And again and again until your back starts hurting and the steering wheel is pressed uncomfortably against it, forcing you to shift on his hold.

“Let me… Wait.” He lets you go to pull his seat back and then closes his legs, forcing your knee to fall on his other side so you can fully straddle his lap “That's better. Now come here.” And then he’s grabbing the back of your neck and stealing your breath away again with another kiss.

The tension shifts right then. When he can fully feel you pressing up against him and when a noise escapes you once his hands drop and give your bare legs the attention you didn't even know you were craving.

You thought a second ago that the sweet kisses would stop once you were both sated with the sweet aftermath of all the yelling and confessing but now you don't want it to stop.

There's a lot to catch up on, a lot of missed time you need to make up for.

You still want to make him feel good. The sparks from yesterday come alive again and soon you're yanking the strands of dark hair with your fingers and letting your mouth explore the skin of his neck. When you sink your teeth into his skin, he lets out the same noise he did the night before and you smile against the mark you just made.

His lips find your shoulder and he breathes hard into it once your hips start moving at their own accord, slowly yet firmly, the pad of his fingers digging hard on your thighs until you break away from his neck to focus on his face again.

“This goddamn dress, love.”

Humming, you caress his red cheek with your lips “What about it?”

“Been thinking about it all day…”

“It worked, by the way.”

“Woo?”

“Mhm. Distracted him so he didn't throw me in the pool right away.”

“And Jongho?”

“Probably plotting against me right now.”

He laughs softly into your skin “Probably.”

Chuckling as well, you stop your movements and take in how he looks. Gone, a little too fucked up from just making out, lips swollen and eyes clouded with something you're getting too familiar with, too quick.

“Worked on you, too.”

He smiles and shrugs, letting his head drop into the headrest “You look good in everything, love. It doesn't really matter what you wear.”

“Oh?”

A firm hand trails up your body, slowly, from you leg to your hip, your waist to the side of your breasts and your until it cops your face with affection you never imagined you would experience.

“I have always thought you are the most beautiful girl to ever exist.”

This is it.

Leaning into his touch, your lips connect to the palm of the hand holding you before you lean forward again.

“I love you, Mingi.”

He doesn't seem surprised by your confession and you're glad he knows. It doesn't really matter if its too soon, if you even mean it in a romantic way or not, the love you have for him transcends all labels.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

And his does too.

You kiss him until it hurts.

He kisses you until you're gasping and your body is pleading for more.

The both of you kiss each other until you're sure nothing else will replace the taste of one another, that it will linger forever even if your paths stop crossing at any point in time.

It feels like you're trapped somewhere where the clock doesn't tick at all, where you can take your time exploring him with your mouth and your hands.

And then it doesn't.

The fabric of the dress starts bothering you, his tight shirt is suddenly not tight enough and the hardness steadily growing and pressing into your core is screaming for attention you can't give him with all these clothes on the way.

He feels it too, fingers tracing the hem of your dress for the second time today and then they're under it, pulling at the fabric up until it bunches on your waist.

You're still wearing the swimsuit he helped you put on earlier but it does little to conceal how affected you are. Looking down, you're not even ashamed of it when he follows your eyes and let his linger on the patch of wetness darkening the color of the bottoms.

Still, he moves his hands upwards again and soon you're struggling to get the dress off, considering you're almost bumping the roof of the car when you straighten your spine to do so.

“Wanna know what crossed my mind when I saw you in the bathroom?”

When it's finally off, he immediately goes for it: His index tracing your collarbone and slowly descending, his short nail dragging against your skin before the rest of his fingers join, right in between your breasts, where there's fabric holding together the top of the swimsuit.

He could easily tug on it if he wanted to. Instead, he ignores it and presses the heel of his hand against it, forcing you to lean back and almost bump into the steering wheel again.

Unable to speak and panting, you only nod as a reply to his question.

“How easy it would be to get on my knees and eat you out. I thought: What if I just…” Using his other hand to mess with the knots that keep the left bottom part of the swimsuit together, he demonstrates what he means without actually doing it, his eyes following the motions “Undo these, get on my knees and make her come all over my face?”

“Fuck, Mingi…”

“You would like that, wouldn't you?” He smirks without actually looking at you, the hand on your sternum traveling down against your skin before joining the other one, teasing the knots on the right.

“Y-yes.”

Maybe he can see it on your face, the sudden nervousness at the scene he painted before you, because he grabs one of your hands and brings them to his lips before drawing you close again “Please tell me your idiot ex-boyfriend ate you out when you were together.”

Blush darkening, you make a face that gives the answer away.

He groans “He's worse than I thought, fuck. Come here.” And without any warning, the back of his seat goes down until it touches the backseat with it.

Bracing yourself against his chest, because you went down with him as well, you huff out a surprised laugh “Go where?”

“Up here. Let me teach you something tonight.”

“Mingi…”

“First, you need to make sure your hands are clean—”

“Stop,” laughing, you interrupt his bad attempt at teasing you with the same words you used on him yesterday “There's no real support for me if we do this, where do I even—”

“Knees here,” he motions the backseat and you could actually do it, but you would have to sit on his face instead of hovering like you imagine it would be more comfortable for him “hands here” he points to the grab handle and the headrest of the passenger seat and then straightens his spine a little, bringing his face closer to you so he can whisper right into your worn out lips “Turn the light off, I'll do the rest.”

He looks like he's going to kiss you but then he falls back onto the seat with an excited smile curving his lips.

What a tease.

So of course you turn off the light and prop yourself up into the position he wants to. It's challenging, the car is not that small but it feels like it is and you very much would rather do this on a bed, spare his back and yours in the process, but excitement also runs through your body and your brain stops making up excuses for why should deny yourself of the pleasure of Mingi using his mouth to make you see stars the second his fingers undo the knots and peel the bottom half of your swimsuit off your body with ease.

Lips trailing up your inner thighs and hands on each side of them, holding you in a secure position, Mingi doesn't tease you much before attaching his mouth to your heat and your subconsciousness flies out the window when his tongue flicks your clit.

You look down at him and the sight of him enjoying himself has you beaming, the warmth spreads through you and the zeroes on your pussy. You don't even try to quiet down your moans, completely forgetting that you're in a public parking lot that can fill up at any second.

But paying no mind to it either, Mingi also moans encouragingly into your wet folds when your hips move a little, chasing that high.

He shifts his focus to your entrance, his tongue working itself into you and when you move your hips again at the feeling, his nose bumps into your clit in a way that has you grasping the headrest for support, right hand slipping down and resting on the window while your mouth hangs open and your eyes shut close.

“Mingi… Baby, fuck, I'll—” he adds his thumb into his ministrations, pressing it against your clit the way he did yesterday and it only takes a few side to side movements for you to come undone on his mouth.

And again, the intensity of your orgasm takes you by surprise. It's obviously not as intense as yesterday's but it still got you trembling so you want to curse him out for being that good at what he does.

He eases you into it, slowing his mouth and you only register that it leaves you completely when your thighs are being kissed tenderly.

Breathless, you look down at him and catch his smile before his teeth are sinking into your skin and forcing you to hiss out a laugh “Good?”

“Yeah,” you smile, climbing down from your position and hovering over his lap in an attempt to not ruin his jeans. It's very obvious he enjoyed it too, his crotch holding the evidence tight and probably painfully against the fabric there “Really, really good.”

You want to get on your knees and return the favor, make him squirm in pleasure, but the space is not working in your favor. So even though your thighs are hurting and sweat is dripping down your neck, you start working on the button and zipper of his jeans before he sits up.

He wants to say something, but your tongue is touching his and tasting yourself on it before he gets the chance. Clumsily, a little too far gone for your liking as well, you are able to get through the layers of clothes and let your hand hang over his dick “Are you gonna make me beg for it today?”

“You don't have to, love.”

“Beg?” you ask with a smile that he reciprocates “Or touch you?” your free hand brushes the hair out of his face, sliding down until you're propping his chin up with it, thumb tracing his bottom lip softly “Because I want to touch you. I want to make you feel so, so good, baby. Please.”

He kisses the pad of your thumb and then takes it into his mouth, tongue caressing the tip of it until you're panting again and then nods.

That's all the permission you need before taking him with your hand and pulling him out of his boxers. Taking your hand out briefly, you gather up saliva and spit right into it.

Mingi lets out a noise at that. Interesting.

Starting slow, you focus on his expression. Testing the waters, taking note of what he likes because, unlike him, you probably pushed to the corner of your mind every sexual conversation you two had before yesterday. You take a second to look down at it, the size is no surprise but your mouth waters at the image of you taking him into the heat of it.

Maybe another time. For now, you focus on making him feel good with the little you can offer him in the enclosed space of his car.

He mouths at your neck, choked up sobs vibrate through the skin on your collarbone and your top gets moved to the side so he can mark the side of your boobs as he pleases. It sets the fire inside of you alive again, your folds getting wetter when he rolls his tongue around your nipple and then throws his head back when you twist your hand in a motion he seems to really enjoy.

“Just like that, love.”

To your delight, he's not quiet. He's loud, he's grabby, taking the opportunity to hold onto your ass and press down on the skin when you tease his slit and gather his precum on your fingers so you can spread it around his cock and your hand can slide easier.

Movements get sloppy once he's close, he's no longer paying attention to you and you welcome it as a great sign, his hips bucking into your hand and he moves you forward until you're sitting on his lap again.

The only thing preventing your pussy and his dick to touch being your hand.

You glance at him and he looks back, probably the same idea popping up into his mind so you nod once.

The car moves as you two move around, to the back seat, the spine of his seat up and the entire thing moving forward to make space for him next to you, over you, on top of you once he kicks his jeans and boxers off to the floor.

You reach out to him in a silent plea and he bends down to kiss you soft and moist and hot and breathy, sensually, with sweet sounds escaping both of you when you reach under his shirt and lift it up until he gets what you want. Discarding it with the rest of his clothes, your top follows it and the contentment you feel when his naked chest touches yours is unmeasurable.

There's no real room to move around and there's not really any patience left within both of you, so when he apologizes when he moves his hips where he shouldn't and his tip brushes your entrance, you pull back from his bruising mouth.

“Condom. Now.”

He obliges right away, searching on his jeans for a minute or so and when he comes back he's smirking like he can't believe you “When I told you we needed to raincheck I didn't mean it to be like this. Bossy.”

Even if you're punching him on his chest and giggling at his breathy words, you take the teasing with pride “You started it, Mingi!”

Putting the condom on skilled and fast, he's soon resting his forehead against yours and kissing you softly again “I wanted you on my bed…” his lips trail down and the giggles die on your throat as he's kissing it, a moan escaping you “On your back or knees or riding me…” he continues in a whisper going down and down and down, giving your nipples attention before going back up and taking your mouth in his again “Making a mess on my cock…”

He takes the opportunity to enter you slowly and you gasp at the stretch, wet enough so it doesn't hurt you but you're unfamiliar with him, with his size splitting you open deliciously.

“F-fuck, Y/N.” Mingi leans back to watch you take him in and you whine again. Tilting your head back, you let him work himself in and you moan loudly when he almost bottoms out “Look at you…”

You don't. You can't. He's pressing his thumb on your clit again to ease you through the stretch and it makes the heat pool in your belly like you didn't come in his mouth a few minutes ago.

Slowly but surely it gets easier for him to rock his hips into you, mouth parting in pleasure when you remind yourself to look at him. His abdomen tenses when you run your nails against the skin there, softly, until you're detouring them into his back and sinking them in just enough to have him whining at the feeling.

“Baby… Harder.”

“Yeah?”

Hips bucking up to meet his at a particularly hard trust, you reach up to him so he can rest his body weight on yours. Close like this, with the pace picking up, the knot on your lower half tightens and threatens to break.

“You take me so well, love. Fuck, always knew you would,” you know he can feel your walls tightening around him at the praise, because he smiles and kisses you once before continuing “My pretty, pretty girl… Taking my cock so well…” he punctuates his words with the roll of his hips and you cry out, holding his face in between your hands, his eyes never leaving yours.

In this position, his lower abdomen bumps into your clit and it's soon tipping you over the edge.

“So good, so good, oh— Oh, God.” You're mumbling incoherently while Mingi keeps whispering sweet nothings and then the tension on your belly breaks. It takes three seconds of your walls pulsating around him for him to groan loudly into your mouth and come undone as well.

The only thing you can hear is breathing, all you can feel is breathing. His against your chin, yours blowing on his hair when you rest your cheek on his temple.

It takes a second to gather yourself again and when you do, you tilt your head back to give him a chaste kiss that he returns.

“That was so good, baby.” You tell him and he smiles, nodding in agreement “I am sticking to the fucking seat though.”

Mingi snorts and just like that the energy shifts back to the usual you. Only this time, you come back to it knowing that no one’s ever going to have you the way he does.

He slips out of you, doing his thing with the condom and you sit up, looking through the windows and becoming aware of your surroundings for the first time since you got there.

There's a car parked far away from you that's empty and the rest of the cars that were near it have left. You wonder how long this all took, because you lost track of time the second he told you he likes you.

Chest still heaving and boxers now on, Mingi rests his back on the door and takes your hand in his “Is it dumb of me to assume you're my girlfriend now, love?”

“Is it dumb that I assumed that's what I was when you said you like me?”

“No,” he answers right away “not dumb at all.”

Smiling, you nod “Then I'm your girlfriend, Mingi.”

He beams at that and then he's crowding you again “Say it again.”

“I'm your girlfriend.” you repeat, enunciating each word and giggling when he nuzzles his nose into the crimson on your cheek “I’m yours, baby.”

Resting his forehead against yours, he hums in contempt “Good, because I've always been yours too.”

“There's no way! You two... together? Guys… See, that would be me if I didn't saw it coming but I'm smarter and cooler than everyone here so I did.”

Wooyoung's over the top reaction has Mingi throwing his head back in a silent laugh and you staring at the black haired guy, unamused and a little offended.

It's two days later and, as usual, you're at Wooyoung's and San’s apartment hanging out.

After putting your clothes back on and going for some well deserved food, Mingi took you home, kissed you goodnight and showed up the next day after class to break the news to your parents.

Your mom almost cried. Your dad too, but for a completely different reason.

In the end, they both agreed they saw it coming and when you told Mingi’s parents, they said the same thing and invited yours to have celebratory dinner without you.

What happened in Mingi’s room after was worth missing dinner anyways.

Mingi and you decided to break the news when most of the group showed up for movie night and you were nervous to see their reactions.

But everyone seems unaffected by it.

“I knew you guys liked each other the second I met you. Ask Gyuri, she agrees with me.”

“Sadly, I do.” Wooyoung's ex looks at you from her spot by the door, where she's getting her shoes on.

She winks at you and you fake a gasp, falling into your boyfriend's lap with an annoyed huff.

“And no one told us?!”

“Sorry, Y/N. We didn't want to get in the way.” Hwa is apologetic and Yeosang nods alongside Hongjoong but you gape at them like they betrayed your trust.

“To be fair we didn't know till’ last week, love.”

“She didn't know.” Gyuri corrects him and now you turn to her to give her the betrayed look “You were pining over it for six months already.”

“I say it was more like nine but…” Hwa shrugs and sips his cup, giving the man holding you close a knowing smile.

Oh, they definitely talked about it, huh?

“Nine months and no one cared to fill me in, huh?”

“I’m sure Mingi did—”

“Wooyoung!”

“Well I didn't notice.” Yunho interferes with a shrug and gives you a recomforting smile that doesn't work at all.

San laughs “That's because you're a puppy that can't even tell when someone likes you.”

“Am not!”

Everyone, including you and Mingi, make a noise in agreement with San.

“You're one to talk, though, leave the puppy alone.” Gyuri tells her ex's best friend and Wooyoung laughs at him when his smile drops.

There's some story there you don't know.

“Guys… Does someone like me right now? Be honest.”

Yeosang is about to tell him something but Jongho interrupts.

“Enough with the love talk! Can we start the movie?” But he's pressing play already, so the answer doesn't really matter.

Gyuri laughs once and Wooyoung makes his way over to her to give her a hug that she enjoys for one second tops before pushing him away.

“Enjoy everyone! I'm so happy for you two, by the way, not that these neanderthals would tell you to your face but I'm sure they're too.”

“Thank you, Gyuri.” Mingi murmurs from behind you and you mouth a thank you as well before she leaves for the night.

Something about her best friend having a boy crisis.

You don't miss the way San’s eyes follow her until she leaves or the way he looks at Woo, something clearly worrying him.

His best friend ignores him, though, so you confirm that might just be a little pissed off at him after all.

“Tell her to text you what happens.” San asks Woo once she leaves and he rolls his eyes.

“Mhm. I’ll tell her to stop calling us neanderthals too.”

You smile “Well, she's right.”

“Nuh-uh!”

Jongho has to stop the movie and you see him sulk while everyone else is arguing. Some of them, like Hwa and Yeo, are siding with you and Gyuri. And the rest of them, like your boyfriend, are telling them off.

When you turn to face him, his argument dies mid-sentence because he stops to smile at you. He takes your face in his hand and kisses you for the first time ever in front of everyone else. The group stops the argument to tease you both and you laugh into his mouth.

A cushion is thrown at you and Jongho gets up to separate your faces before sitting beside you with a pout on his lips.

“Can we watch the goddamn movie?!”

You're the happiest you've ever been.

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

#ateez #ateez x reader #song mingi #song mingi x reader #mingi #mingi x reader #mingi smut #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez hard hours #ateez hard thoughts #mingi hard thoughts #mingi hard hours #AAAAAAAAAAAA i don't think this is as good as the first part was but i hope you enjoy it ! let me know #askbox is open as usual <3 thanks!#fic; s&t

1K notes · View notes

jiminrings · 2 months

Text

four seven eight, phase 3 (2)

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 9k

glimpse: you’re pushed to the edge after eunsu’s stunt, and it makes jungkook realize that he’s no longer secure when it comes to being a husband and a dad.

alternatively, jungkook goes back to square one with you, but especially with hwayoung.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale — complete series masterlist, from phase 1 to 3 ]

[ angst, fluff, the double-edged desire of wanting more n Being More despite having almost everything, hwayoung being the universe, mentions of eunsu breaking in into jk's hotel room, jus eunsu being a weirdo in general, 478 couple goes old school YIPPEEEE, yoongi as his own warning, eventual redemption ]

notes: heh... i did say it wud get a little worse before everything gets better!!! :O

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Hwayoung keeps staring at Jungkook’s empty spot on the dining table.

“Where’s appa?”

She looks like a spitting image of Jungkook with the way her brows are furrowed and her bottom lip pouted, clearly confused to why her carbon copy still isn’t here. Hwayoung’s heard your explanation a dozen of times already, yet she asks you again — not because she forgot already, but because she’s in disbelief.

“He’s working, Young-ie,” you smile tightly, cutting up her pancakes once again to redirect her into eating instead of asking where Jungkook is. She eats, even if you don’t slice the pancakes the way Jungkook does (he cuts them up to look like a window with four, almost-perfectly divided slices) and in the same breath, you try not to pull out your phone to ask if he’s already had dinner.

Loving Hwayoung is extremely easy, even if you get choked up from time to time trying to internalize the fact that she’s yours and Jungkook’s. There’s a continuous beep in your chest that rivals the volume of what pedestrian crossings sound like when they turn green; it’s been ringing ever since you found out you were pregnant with Hwayoung and came to the realization that you owe everything (if the world happens to not be enough) to her.

Hwayoung may be a curious, bubbly child, but the extent of her questioning only stops when you tell her that Jungkook’s working. She doesn’t prod any further than that, settling for a generic answer you’d expand on if only you could find the heart to.

Hwayoung doesn’t ask why you hold her a lot more closely than you’d usually do when you’re asleep or why her oversized sleep shirts lately belong to you and not Jungkook, not because she doesn’t care about the sudden absence of her dad, but because the abundance of you almost makes her forget about her new routine.

Almost.

She goes down from her seat (just like how Jungkook taught her with both hands and extreme care) wordlessly, strolling off with a determined gait, only to return with your cat in her arms like it’s a normal occurrence at seven in the morning.

“What are you doing with Miso, Young-ie?” you question playfully, getting your answer soon enough when she carries Miso up to where Jungkook’s plate would be.

Your daughter seems pleased about the situation altogether, nevermind the fact that the too-chunky-for-her-age cat she’s been spoiling with treats is at the head of the table instead of Jungkook.

Hwayoung’s young. She’s young enough to the point that you can withhold entire truths from her without having to clarify your words. Even more, she’s young to the point that you can’t even tell if she’ll remember this point in her childhood for the years to come.

You can’t tell if Hwayoung will even remember the chunk of time wherein Jungkook’s nowhere to be found and she’s upset about it, nor if she’ll even recall in the future about the way you’re looking at her with so much fondness and desperation at this exact moment — but nevertheless, you want Hwayoung to be young in the same way you want to be honest.

Neither you and Jungkook can withhold anything from her if it means making her happy; even if it means she won’t do something as futile as making a cat a placeholder for her dad.

“Do you miss him, baby?” you hum, feeling for your phone in your pocket as you rub the ridges of its case over and over again while deep in thought. You can’t even tell why you asked that because you know the answer already, regardless of your daughter beaming and nodding her head fervently.

“Do you wanna go on a trip?” you whisper to her ear as if it’s a secret, immediately getting her giddy. You comb through her hair with your fingers as she basically bounces on her seat, already clapping her hands because she knows the word and everything fun that it entailed. “Let’s surprise your appa, hm?”

It’ll just be a last-minute airline ticket purchase, which would happen to be Hwayoung’s first-ever plane ride that Jungkook won’t be there to see because the whole trip’s purpose is to get to him. It’ll just be a rest day or two that you have to coordinate and apologize for over and over again for the potential inconveniences you’ll create. It’ll just be a blip in Hwayoung’s memory soon enough, one you’re uncertain if she’ll even remember, but you figure that it’ll be worth it.

It’ll be worth it because it’s Jungkook, you think as you cram yours and Hwayoung’s belongings into a single backpack with no other luggage in tow.

It’ll be worth it because it’s Jungkook, you rethink while contemplating about how it’s rare for you to be impulsive, but at your fate, with respect to Jungkook, you completely surrender.

It’ll be worth it because it’s Jungkook, you mutter under your breath as you hastily plan with Jimin on the phone about your temporary quick leave, if he can look after Miso, and how to get to the airport without being noticed and most importantly, without Hwayoung being pictured at all.

Your daughter doesn’t know any better about how you and Jungkook go to extreme lengths to protect her, or how the straps of your backpack are digging into your shoulders, or how you’re nervous because it’s her first plane ride and you don’t know how she’ll take it, or how you’re ready to bolt immediately with her in your arms because she’s only yours and Jungkook’s and no one else’s.

You’re not the world-famous and critically acclaimed actress in this long-haul flight; you’re a mom to Hwayoung trying to get her to yawn repeatedly so her ears wouldn’t get clogged, you’re a mom hanging her head down in apology when it’s the fourth flight attendant to approach you asking for a picture, and you’re a mom who just happens to be extremely desperate and humble to beg said flight attendants to help you deplane first so nobody else would look at your or your daughter.

For a split second, or even for as long as you hold Hwayoung and beyond that, you forget the trophies and plaques attached to your name.

You no longer want to be the best when in your arms, Hwayoung’s jet-lagged and fighting through said fatigue, because you’ve convinced not only her but yourself, that it’ll all be worth it because it’s Jungkook.

( ♡ )

Hwayoung sleeps in your arms the whole time.

You figure that she’s out cold because you’re wearing Jungkook’s hoodie, knowing better than anyone about how your baby gets completely placated whenever she’s held. It’s heartwarming to see her this way even in such odd circumstances, the fist that’s curled up on your shirt reminding you when things used to be a little more simple.

The stress that’s been accumulating inside your temples threaten to burst and you fear that you’ll be set off by the most miniscule thing while you’re on your way to Jungkook. You’re sleepless and you’re bubbling inside with annoyance and it takes an absurd amount of energy from you to try and contain yourself.

Coordinating with Jimin through the phone makes your nostils flare, even if he’s trying his best to be helpful. Seeing people on the street in large groups, without even knowing the reason why, makes your jaw clench. Even the driver who keeps looking at you on the rearview mirror in concern makes you want to rip your hair out.

You’re frustrated and angry, even if you try convince yourself that Jungkook is worth all the fuss.

“Young-ie,” you whisper, shaking her awake gently. Your free hand’s already gripping your backpack even if you’re still minutes away; if only you had the remaining patience (maybe even optimism) to look at yourself, you’ll see the irony of you being the equivalent of overeager dads you hate on airplanes that immediately stand upon landing, even when the connecting tube to the terminal hasn’t been attached yet. “Wake up, baby. We’re getting closer.”

Everything feels a little heavy. The weight of your backpack is not the problem, and neither is Hwayoung who’s glued to you by the hip.

You have the terrifying idea in the back of your head, locked and loaded for anyone (read: Jungkook) to see if they take the additional second to ask you, that you’ll have to suffer all over again; that you’ll have to establish an ultimatum with a time limit of sorts, just so you can nullify the vacancy in you by pushing Jungkook away again.

Even now, a part of you wonders about Sora.

She’s no longer a part of your husband’s life, for good this time, yet she occupies your mind every once in a while as if she’s a bad meal on a bad day you have to stomach over and over again. You want to vomit her out completely and rid yourself of the taste of being inferior to who came before you, and yet, she lingers like a stray who knows its home.

You wonder if she’s happy with her life and how it turned out, even if Jungkook’s no longer in it despite being each other’s first for everything. You wonder if she ever thinks about Jungkook whenever it’s April 23 or when she walks past tent bars; if she’s ever married now and has a family like you and her first love do.

You wonder about Sora from time to time because if Jungkook really loved her, you fear that a little bit of it would always linger.

In the same way that you had really loved a multitude of things growing up, little bits of them would always linger even if you’ve sworn off them.

Your old obsession with tiny bottles of perfume you could only buy from boutiques (and never from malls) resurfaces whenever you visit your parents and magically, they always have a box filled up with your childhood shirts they’ve spared for Hwayoung to wear, imbued with a scent you can place to a memory, but not replicate.

The old fixation you had on patchwork blankets lingers whenever you head to the stockroom to store a PR package you could justify keeping for future purposes, only to see the unopened stacks of shirts you’ve gotten from numerous workshops, countries, and tapings as mementos throughout the years. They sit there in the dust, waiting patiently for you to take notice, but you avert your eyes as to not start a project you can’t bring yourself to finish.

The old liking you had towards the color orange stains on your fingers whenever you peel tangerines for Hwayoung, training a keen eye on her as she holds it for herself while slicing the portions you have at hand for her to eat safely.

You wonder about Sora and if she ever holds the regret of letting go of Jungkook for someone like you.

You wonder if Jungkook’s love for her, although dissolved and voided already, lingers through the existence of Eunsu — someone who’s much, much different than you, just like Sora was.

Love is not supposed to feel heavy and you stand by it, because holding Hwayoung while carrying the backpack that’s meant to sustain the both of you in a foreign country, just because you don’t want any excess baggage as you surprise Jungkook out of nowhere, has never felt lighter in your heart.

Love is not supposed to feel heavy, even if you wonder why the door to Jungkook’s hotel room is open by itself without needing a key.

Love is not supposed to feel heavy, even if you meet several pairs of eyes that either locks or avoids your own, all for a multitude of reasons.

“Jungkook,” you whisper, pupils shaking as you instinctively turn Hwayoung’s head away from the sight before you. “What’s going on?”

Your husband, who’s evidently rattled for more reasons than one and is dressed in his pajamas, stares at you head-on with his bottom lip trembling.

His staff members, some of which you recognize, avoid your gaze whilst one of them continues talking on the phone with an apologetic bow.

The members of hotel security, both of which are a little lost in what’s happening because they’ve only been suddenly called to the room of a husband to a celebrity they didn’t catch the name of in a hurry, gasp in realization when they recognize you instantly.

Eunsu, who’s clad in only a silky nightgown that leaves almost nothing to the imagination as she’s restrained to a chair by hotel security, scoffs at your presence.

“It’s not what it looks like, I swear,” Jungkook repeatedly mumbles to you, even if he only catches a shadow of you lingering somewhere as you bounce in between places trying to sort everything out.

“I-I didn’t do anything. We didn’t do anything. I never wanted things to go like this in the first place,” he says to you over and over again, even if you’re on the phone with Jimin to get ahead of damage control if the news ever breaks out.

“I’d never.. I-I’d never cheat on you, Y/N. I’ll never hurt you,” your husband whispers to you like a broken record, running his thumb over your knuckles to try and get you to calm down as if you’ve lost your cool for the past two hours.

The whole thing’s been foiled.

Neither you, Jungkook, or even the staff can even think about the short film’s immediate downfall without it even being released yet because from the get-go, it had already been a raging wildfire with Eunsu in it.

There’s no talk about the film.

There’s no talk about the hours, efforts, and even money wasted on it because all that you could think about— all that everyone who knew of the situation just now could think about, is how Eunsu broke into Jungkook’s hotel room to seduce him.

There's no talk about the unspoken rule in between the staff to tiptoe around their executive producer’s wife, and most especially his daughter. It’s no secret that the two of you dropped in unannounced (they recall Jungkook being miserable so they knew there was no way he could predict his family was about to surprise him), and yet with the way they give you space and nothing but humility, you’d mistaken them for devoted fans.

There’s only hushed, cordial conversations between everyone to keeps things up to date and under wraps. There’s only gratitude, pity, and assurance thrown your way about how they never liked Eunsu in the first place and how you were such a good, filial wife and mother to clean up the mess attached to Jungkook’s name whilst keeping Hwayoung close to you the entire time.

“She’s detained by the police now. I’ve already called up lawyers back at home. We’re pressing charges,” you say, finally standing in one place. “I have Jimin drafting everything in place in case word gets out.

You’ve been going back and forth trying to sort everything and everyone from the police, to the hotel security, and even Jungkook’s staff — even if you’ve already vacated Jungkook’s room for the three of you to be transferred to a different room in a different hotel entirely, not once have you set Hwayoung down.

You haven’t even let him hold her once since landing here.

Jungkook’s shaking in anger, or atleast whatever it is that drowns him whole even if his head is only submerged in between his knees as he tries to breathe. He’s spoken perfectly and concisely when he was asked for his statement. He’s spoken without a hitch when asked for his honesty, and he hasn’t even faltered once when he asked for the footage of Eunsu seducing a receptionist to break into his room to support his rock-solid testimony.

Jungkook even cussed Eunsu without stuttering as she basically confesses her crime (while cursing you, who didn’t want to look at her, in the process) whilst being dragged away by the cops.

Ironically, the only people who had everything going on for him whom he momentarily tried to distance himself from, are the first people to his rescue. The bed in the new room is more than massive, yet you don’t even lay Hwayoung on it; she’s still in your arms that are screaming to give out, and the backpack you’ve packed for the both of you is yet to be opened, sitting on the opposite side of the room to Jungkook’s massive luggage.

Everything has failed and collapsed around Jungkook, yet it’s you who cleans up after him.

You only let Hwayoung sleep on the bed once you needed to book separate flight tickets.

“It’s not a problem for me. We’ll be less recognizable together,” Jungkook answers quickly when you question him if he could take Hwayoung back while you get on a later flight.

He’s snappy this way, trying to ignore the raging pounding on his head that you’re upset with him; that perhaps not only were you disgusted with him, but you were also exhausted of him entirely.

There’s a massive knot in Jungkook’s throat that doesn’t want to untangle in the slightest. He feels like he’s about to choke on nothing because he rethinks that he has no right to feel tired; that he has no right to close his eyes for even a second because you haven’t slept for a day and even longer, and that he has no right to feel this low when he’s dragged you down even lower.

You only nod quietly at his answer, clicking on your phone without meeting his eyes as you blow money on last-minute flights without even flinching.

“You okay?”

You ask softly, the bags under your eyes more evident under the warm lighting. You’re sitting on a chair at the corner of the room like you’re a complete stranger while Jungkook’s sitting on the edge of the bed like he’s only a familiar guest.

It’s only Hwayoung in this room who’s acting as if she belongs here.

Right now, it’s only your daughter serving as the common denominator that you have with Jungkook — with her asleep, your husband can’t even tell if he’s on the same ground with you.

“Did she touch you anywhere?” you add, slouching on your knees. You’ve never laid back since you’ve gotten here, the fear that something bad would happen to you or anyone in your family if you took your eye off the ball for the slightest second overtaking you.

Even after you’ve cleaned up Jungkook’s mess, it’s you who tries to reach out; it’s you who tries to keep everything and everyone together, even if it’s by the thinnest thread that incessantly digs into the palm of your hands, even tighter than how your wedding ring could.

“No, no. She didn’t even get close. I just… I immediately yelled so the staff nearby heard,” Jungkook answers truthfully, shaking his head slowly in the process.

You say that it’s a relief nothing else happened, and reiterate that you and Jimin have all exits covered.

You say that you’re sorry that it happened to him, and reiterate that you’re pressing charges.

You say that you’re there in case he wants to talk about it more, and reiterate that he has to wake up early so he and Hwayoung could go on the first flight back home.

Jungkook feels extraordinarily guilty. He feels so much regret in his stomach that he wants to throw up because your contained frustration for him is unbearable to the point that it brings him to tears.

"Give it to me," he inhales sharply, shoulders trembling as he buries his face in his hands. "Just give it to me."

“What are you talking about?”

"Why won't you yell at me?!” Jungkook sobs painfully, his own hand slapping down on his mouth as he tries to keep his volume down so Hwayoung could keep sleeping. He feels as if he’s tethering over the edge the longer that you look at him stoically, his fingernails digging to his palms roughly to the point that he draws blood. ”Why won't you tell me I told you so? Why can't you tell me that I had it coming?"

Everything and everyone except you is falling apart around Jungkook, and it brings him to his knees.

“Do you want me to punish you? Is that it?” you ask, clenching your jaw until it aches.

Jungkook looks miserable this way. He looks like a devastated sinner awaiting judgement from a god whom he once lost his faith to. He looks like your husband begging, not for forgiveness, but for something more painful for as long as you feel compensated for what he’s caused you.

“You want me where to hit you where it hurts, Jungkook?” you laugh dryly, making him raise his head up as he nods slowly yet definitively, the tears on his face not close to stopping.

You say nothing while Jungkook expects everything, your husband unable to decode what you say under your breath as you turn your back on him to go shower.

You get out of the bathroom eventually, finally seeing that he doesn’t have his forehead touching the carpet.

Instead, Jungkook’s passed out from crying and has himself curled up into a little ball on the same chair you’ve sat on just awhile ago, with your clean change of clothes pressed on the bed right next to your daughter.

( ♡ )

Jungkook looks for you in everybody but he finds you in no one.

He woke up far earlier than his alarm (not that he had been in a deep slumber anyway) and the perpetual ache all over his body reminds him of that, his eyes glazing over you as if it’s the last he’ll see of you for decades.

Hwayoung stirs awake at the same time that he does, and for a moment, Jungkook thinks that everything’s okay.

For a split second, he mistakes today as one of your workdays wherein he wakes up early to prepare you your breakfast and it just happens that Hwayoung wanted to be a joey to a first-time kangaroo mother. He mistakes your little family in this hotel room to be a perfect one, wherein his only biggest hurdle in life is to keep his daughter inside his do-it-yourself sling while trying not to overcook your fried rice.

Apparently, Jungkook mistakes everything and everyone to be in favor of you, of him, to the point that he had deliberately ignored your plea to work with Eunsu all this time ago, and that decision of his has majorly, if not completely, undone everything you tried to work on for your family.

He tries to find you in the elderly lady who looks at him in pity as Hwayoung cries while they’re in first class seats, the shallow breaths he tries to ground himself to (so he wouldn’t panic and text you in fear of bothering you) doing nothing in the long run.

Your husband tries to find you in the foreign flight attendant who despite not knowing him or whom he’s married to, offers to hold Hwayoung as she explained that she’s a mother and also has a toddler at home.

Jungkook tries to find you in the remnants of your perfume on his daughter’s shirt. Hwayoung’s already stopped crying after some time of being cradled by the flight attendant, and the sight of his daughter calming down because of a stranger (who is obviously better than him) makes him want to be ground to a fine powder for everyone to walk over.

He feels ashamed in a way that he can’t even put into words. Jungkook feels far too inadequate, far too undeserving, and far, far pathetic that he fears not even his constant apologies to you would ever be enough.

Jungkook feels ashamed even when you take the last flight home and you go through the door like nothing’s wrong between the two of you, simply because Hwayoung’s watching. He feels like a dog fetching you your house slippers automatically but he wants to be reduced to something more filial; something a little more loyal to the point that it’s pathetic.

Your husband is ashamed even when you’re not awake and he can’t see your eyes avoiding his whenever your daughter’s not around.

Jungkook holds you tighter in his sleep, going so far as to kneel by the side of your bed instead of reaching across you, so Hwayoung wouldn't be caught in the middle — even if she’s already been since the start.

( ♡ )

Outside of you and Jungkook, only Jimin and Yoongi know about what happened.

You have your pride holding you back from telling your parents because in the back of your mind, there still lies the instinct of wanting to protect Jungkook, your own family, from the family that raised you.

You have no one to confide to except for your manager, who’s technically obligated to know what’s been going on with you when you suddenly call him up to tell that you’re surprising Jungkook in the US, only for your next call to consist of you asking for his help in a terse manner– and your best friend, who’s the first person Jimin calls whenever you’re in need of serious assistance.

There’s been no headlines of Eunsu breaking in and entering Jungkook’s hotel room, along with the follow-up details of how you and your daughter (whose existence is known but her privacy maintained to the highest level you can maintain) arrived as a surprise, only to be confounded by the very scene of your rival in a nightgown, held back by guards.

You know it’s going to come eventually.

You know the telltale dread that fills you up when something far bigger and beyond you is on its path to overtake you. The articles, the scrutiny, and the discourses haven’t even entered the stage yet you already feel sick because this time, it’s not only your name that’s going to be dragged into a situation you never thought would happen.

It’s also your daughter’s.

“We need to talk about Hwayoung,” you approach Jungkook as soon as you come home after your overtime, stilling in your tracks when you see Hwayoung sleeping in her pen.

Jungkook’s eyes linger on her before looking at you properly this time, the knot on his throat loosening at the prospect of what’s been bothering his mind repeatedly, but with the promise of a solution that he hasn’t arrived at, yet is bound to hurt him nonetheless.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

You sit on the far end of the baby blue floor couch as if you and Jungkook don’t share a home together.

“We look okay to her now but still,” you pause, looking down on your feet that are bruising from the heels you’ve been filming with all day and night. “I don’t want to put her in the middle of… everything that thisis.”

Jungkook nods, not only because he understands, but because he’s aware of everything, all the way from the guilt of being a husband to the guilt of being a dad.

“She’s bound to ask questions too, and even if she’s not asking them now, I feel bad having to keep her in the dark.”

“She’s still young, Jungkook. I never thought I’d say this, but I mean,” you sigh, shrugging defeatedly as you try to look for the right words. “If we keep including her in situations that she shouldn’t be a part of, we’re only bringing her closer to harm. For all we know, someone somewhere has a picture of her during the trip.”

“I-I tried my best. I moved as fast as I-…”

“I know. I also tried my best when we took the trip to you,” you exhale heavily, trying to wrap your head around the complexity of the past week alone; you can’t even understand why you pushed yourself to go back to work immediately after going back home. “I’m not saying that Hwayoung’s known already. I’m just considering the possibility because we could never be too sure.”

Jungkook knows you’re trying to get rid of the guilt that forms in him for that matter, but for everything else, he knows better than to assume of you.

“Do you…” he swallows. “Do you also think that Hwayoung needs a breather from us? Not the other way around, of course, but you know-…”

“I know what you mean,” you nod your head, the guilt of being a mom to a Hwayoung coming easily these days. “It’ll be good for her to be around other people. To be away from what we have going on.”

You and Jungkook share a guilt that’s only unique to having Hwayoung under your circumstances, and it’s a burden you want to get rid of without ever hurting her in the process.

“We can’t have my parents babysit. They read me easily and I don’t want them to know,” you confide, making your husband hang his head in shame even if it wasn’t your intention.

“My parents can’t either. They went on a cruise.”

“I don’t trust nannies,” you add, making Jungkook nod deliberately.

“Who can we trust then?” he sighs, rubbing his hand all over his face as he tries to scour his brain for people. “Who do we have in our lives that Hwayoung trusts too?”

Your head tilts after a few seconds in realization, and Jungkook’s mind drifts to his daughter’s godfather whether he likes it or not.

You and your husband have the same idea in mind, with one being less fond of it than the other.

“I’ll call Yoongi.”

( ♡ )

“I want to be your personal assistant.”

Jungkook says in one breath, right in the middle of making your lunchbox.

You woke up early in the first place because you neither thought nor expected for him to do it for you, but with the way he’s nearly done and making more than necessary, you’re clearly due to be corrected.

Without Hwayoung to tend to, Jungkook itches to have a purpose. He wants to be needed even if he isn’t and the thought always springs up on him whenever his girls are by themselves. The use of him, although not always necessary, is what keeps Jungkook up on his feet these days, nevermind the excruciating guilt and desperation of wanting to make it up to you.

He almost always came to accompany you to your shootings before Hwayoung came around and he’s reminded of it as he packages your meal, his shaking pupils meeting your own that are only begging for any sort of explanation.

It’s not that you don’t want Jungkook to try — it just happens that it’s been awhile since it was only, truly the two of you.

“Why?"

“Because I want to,” he merely shrugs, and when he steps out of the kitchen, you only keep your frown to yourself as you realize that he’s already dressed for the day.

Jungkook doesn’t invade your space like he usually does but he sits close enough to you on the drive to your shooting location; enough for you to feel the warmth that radiates from him without being overwhelmed.

It’s been more than a long time since this happened that you’ve practically forgotten what it felt going to work with Jungkook.

You forgot how your husband steps out of the car first to hold all of your things in one hand with the other reaching out to help you down.

You forgot how he has a natural scowl on his face and how despite your staff knowing that you’re already married (and to him specifically), they can’t believe the sight of the two of you together.

You forgot how Jungkook likes to hang around you as if he’s a dog with only one owner in any place he can call home as long as he’s with you, that you forget to tell Jimin that you haven’t told your husband about the upcoming press conference at all.

Without even trying, Jungkook overhears Jimin (who’s giving him the cold shoulder) going through your schedule for the next two weeks, his jaw grinding at the particular event that he already knows is important without any explanation—

Without any heads-up from you at all, it seems like.

Jimin’s already left your trailer several minutes ago but Jungkook’s eyes are still fixated on the chair he sat on, his eyes looking past the flooring and deeper into the ground that he wants to be one with out of disbelief– out of shame, even.

You always told him about your schedule and you didn’t leave anything out — it’s only now when it dawns on him that you haven’t been telling him about your work at all.

“Do you not want me there?” he asks, his voice thick with confusion. “Are you embarrassed of me or something?”

“It’s not like that, Jungkook.”

“Then make me understand,” he pleads with the hint of despair, the disbelief that coats his tone all throughout being entirely transparent.

You didn’t plan on how to break the news to him. You didn’t plan on letting Jungkook know about the media event at all.

There’s no other response that springs up to your throat except for the one that only exists since he’s had that drunken fight with you.

“Because I don’t want you to ruin it again for me, okay?” you lick your lips, going more and more breathless the more that Jungkook mirrors how you looked back then when you begged him all those years ago. “Because the last time that I had a big press conference like this, you ruined it for me too.”

The thought of Sora, and then Eunsu, and then Jungkook himself come hand in hand, and you wonder when will you stop suffering from the though process that haunts you whenever you’re reminded of press conferences — of your entire work in general.

“I don’t want to be reminded that you hate the life I gave you.”

Jungkook feels the urge to tuck his head in between his knees again, but he doesn’t want to run away this time.

“I said I’m sorry,” he surrenders as he lacks the words he had been telling you in numerous variations for the past days and weeks.

He didn’t think it had hurt this bad the last time around.

"And I only forgave you because it seemed right at the time," you clench your jaw, your exhale being more shaky than you expected. “I only forgave you because I had Hwayoung in my mind."

( ♡ )

Jungkook’s getting back into the groove of being by your side at work.

You’re still not fully adjusted to the sight of Jungkook during tapings, all while he moves about like it’s always been in his nature to assist you. He’s overeager in a lot of things, so much so that his presence practically attracts more attention than you do on set.

It was just yesterday when Jungkook hollered and clapped his hands loudly after you say a long, emotional line before the director said cut and before your co-star could even say her line next, which led to you having to re-do the scene.

It was just two days before when he audibly groaned when an extra had to whistle at you for a scene and literally walked right into the set with his fists clenched, forgetting entirely that you were filming and that a random guy just didn’t catcall his wife in front of him.

It was just two minutes ago, when you ban Jungkook completely from watching you act.

“I’ll do it,” he perks up at the stylist as if he hadn’t been sulking to you just two minutes ago, his hands already fixing themselves on your arms to get you to stand up.

“Jungkook-…”

“But Mr. Jeon-“ she squeaks, about to say her thrice-rehearsed piece of doing her job (everyone on set has been warned about your husband making them jobless) when Jungkook basically carries you to your dressing room.

“No, no, I said I’ll do it!” he practically squeaks, setting you down wordlessly with a giddy smile on his face.

Jungkook’s too good at getting back into the groove of being by your side, you almost forget that the two of you aren’t entirely okay.

He gets you into your gown with utmost care (albeit a little confusion along the way), his hands caressing you with the familiarity that only he carries. Jungkook carries a weight with him that settles when he touches you in any which way, the weariness of his fingers dispersing as soon as you give him the slightest attention.

He may have looked stupid pretending he didn’t know how corsets worked or how petticoats are worn first before the actual gown, but his denseness had atleast bought a little more time from you.

A little more warmth.

Jungkook looks at you intimately, not in the way that’s begging for you to want to jump his bones, but in the way that he knows who you hated throughout the workday while having his warm hands work on your calves.

He knows every inch of you, which may be the reason his hands feel warmer on you than you recall, all the way to the tips of your toes that feel trapped all of a sudden.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I think they’re gonna swap out my shoes anyway because they won’t be seen,” you murmur, trying to avoid the heels and the pain they bring but not until he hushes you.

“I’m not putting on your heels. I’m putting on your socks.”

“I don’t need socks.”

“Your cold dogs keep rubbing up on my legs at night whenever you forget to put them on,” he snickers out of nowhere and it brings out a sudden snort from you, the brief and unorthodox moment hanging over you whilst the two of you gloss over the fact that not only have you not been intimate for so long, but you’ve also not cuddled despite sleeping in the same bed.

Jungkook walks you to your set with his hands raised in surrender, already murmuring to your worried director that he’ll stay out this time as soon as he finishes taking you.

“Wait,” he squeaks before turning back to you, making everyone else hold their breaths to see if they could retain their jobs today. Jungkook carefully removes your wedding ring that you forgot to stash, wearing it snugly on his pinky instead. “Just for safekeeping.”

( ♡ )

Jungkook’s not fond of the rain.

He’s not fond of it especially when your job requires you to stand under it.

“Your hazard pay should be ginormous for the work they’re making you go through,” he mutters, holding up an umbrella for you as some stylists make quick work of already pre-soaking you before the scene starts.

“It’s just a little rain,” you roll your eyes, about to shove your hands in your pockets because it’s getting a little cold already yet Jungkook notices before you even could, holding both of them with just one massive hand as he leans the umbrella more to your side.

“They should cancel the filming today. It’s pouring,” he continues like he’s never heard you, even if the rain isn’t terrifyingly bad. The weather’s only fitting because the scene calls for it, but even so, Jungkook feels hesitant.

He lets go of your hands for a brief second to retrieve the handkerchief that’s tucked to the waistband of his pants, already unraveling it for you in waiting.

“Blow.”

“What?” you narrow your eyes at him, looking down on the fabric until it finally hits you in realization.

“Blow your nose,” he nudges you, nodding his head to it but it only makes you shake your head even more.

“No way!”

“Just blow your nose now so you wouldn’t feel stuffy later.”

“I’m not gonna feel stuffy later. It’s just a little rain,” you roll your eyes, crossing your arms together as you beg internally for the lighting to be fixed so you could shoo your husband away.

“Blow your nose while I’m still asking.”

“Ew, no. I’ll look like a child in front of — Jungkook!”

Before you could even comprehend it, Jungkook’s already pinching your nose with the handkerchief, forcibly making you blow your nose, uncaring of the swooning and oddly endeared eyes trained on the two of you.

“Just a little rain. Heh,” he mocks, folding the handkerchief back up with one hand to tuck back into his waistband. Jungkook moves on like it’s nothing, begrudgingly leaving you alone without an umbrella, but not without raising his voice enough for the other staff to hear. “I’ll try to scare your management into raising your hazard pay.”

( ♡ )

Jungkook likes peeling fruits for you and Hwayoung.

He doesn’t like the sticky residue nor the lasting smell that gets stuck underneath his fingernails, but he manages. He’d only eat your leftovers and he wouldn’t do it for himself anyway, even if he knows you always get a little irked by the fact.

It’s his habit now to cut fruits for you in the most Hwayoung-tolerable slices possible, the bowl of tinily-cut tangerines underneath your hands as you skim through your script making him uncharacteristically silent; if he wasn’t apologizing to you, you would be talking each other’s ear off about Hwayoung.

He tries not to make a big deal out of brushing your hair because it’s been a while since the last time, instead reading your script along with you so he’ll be distracted. Jungkook doesn’t know if he can focus as hard as you do or remain like so for even longer, but at the moment, there’s only one line on the script that stands out to him.

It stands out, not because it’s long nor vulgar, but because the line belongs to him.

“That scene — will it be filmed today?” Jungkook asks, breaking the silence as he traces the words with his finger.

“Huh? This one?” you follow to where he points, shaking his head as you try to remember. “No. It’ll be next week, I think. I’m just memorizing in advance.”

Jungkook hums but it’s not out of interest, the sound that comes from him instead bordering on a wince. There’s a terse look on his face that you could only liken to jealousy, the thought of it unexpectedly making you snicker.

“Calm down, Jungkook. It’s not a kissing scene.”

“But you say I love you to him, though.”

“That’s worse?”

“Maybe. Probably,” he shrugs, the uncalled-for thought about what he’d feel if there’s a scene where you have to have (read: acting to have) sex making his throat close up painfully. “I can’t tell.”

The thought crosses your mind too, but you’d rather not dwell on it.

“How do I look like when I say I love you?”

Jungkook purses his lips, pausing from brushing out the section of hair he’s passed through more than ten times out of distraction (read: devastation).

You look like love itself if it had been personified.

You look like an unexplainable feeling in an interrupted dream he had been born with, and his sole mission in life is to seek you.

You look like what miracles do and he’s the first witness each and every time until you’re canonized by everyone, except he always wants to place himself at your feet as your first devotee.

“I know exactly what you look like when you tell me you love me,” Jungkook answers. “But I don’t want to tell you.”

“Why not?” you laugh at his defensiveness, replacing your gaze on him through the mirror just to crane your neck up at him so you could see his reaction more closely.

“Because you only have to act it out,” he shrugs, eventually laughing along with you even if he means every word. “I want to be the only one that knows what you look like when you’re saying the truth.”

( ♡ )

It’s your first good day in a week and a half.

It’s actually the first day wherein you and Jungkook talked simply because you wanted to; the first day wherein your conversations didn’t revolve around Hwayoung and pestering Yoongi to send more pictures of her, and the first day wherein Jungkook didn’t try apologizing.

You hum in content as you sit on the couch as soon as you come home, your husband following suit and sitting next to you instead of giving you space.

There’s only a centimeter worth of distance between your hands placed on the couch, and if Jungkook only twitched in faux accident, his pinky (the one that still wore your wedding band) would be brushing yours already.

“It’s like we’re kids again,” you smile to yourself, looking around the entire house. You remember how your ceilings didn’t used to be this high and how your space didn’t used to be this wide — you remember how you and Jungkook weren’t always like this.

“We are kids,” he emphasizes, playfully rolling his eyes.

“Aren’t we pushing thirty?”

“I don’t wanna go into details right now,” he murmurs, slouching further into the couch and nearer to you, his hair that’s growing past his ears lightly brushing against your shoulder.

Jungkook looks around the house too, his eyes glazing past Hwayoung’s playpen, the laundry of a family of three that he’s yet to fold, and the toys of a cat who hates him that he has to sort out soon enough.

Jungkook’s life wasn’t always this way and although he appreciates the fact, he’s terrified by the possibility that it’ll be this double-edged sword that’s waiting to happen.

In the same way that worship is optional but devotion is necessary, Jungkook tries to hold you as tightly as he could without pushing you away.

“Baby,” he rasps out, chewing on his bottom lip as he tries to make sense of the ache that blooms in his chest. “What if…”

“What’s in your head, Kook?”

In the same way that devotion is necessary but worship is optional, Jungkook toes the line with a question that he has no telling what the answer is to.

“If you had the option to have Hwayoung with someone who isn’t me,” he clears his throat, trying to get rid of the immediate pang in his heart that follows.“Would you still have her?”

You think for a second and answer immediately, even if Jungkook wanted you to stay silent for longer because he’s afraid of what you would say.

“That’s not Hwayoung then.”

“No but I mean hypothetically, if you could have Hwayoung-…”

“I got what you meant the first time,” you interrupt him, gently shrugging him to get up from your shoulder so he’d look at you without running away. “That’s not Hwayoung,” you mumble, trying to keep up with the myriad of thoughts that he had opened up. “Hwayoung’s only Hwayoung because she’s part me and part you.”

Jungkook nods, except he doesn’t understand. You could say your piece over and over again, but Jungkook still wouldn’t understand because he doesn’t know what he wants to hear from you either.

“But what if she has all of you and you could pick someone else to be her dad,” he croaks, looking down on the floor with a grief that belongs only to him. “Would you still want her?”

“I want Hwayoung because she’s my daughter with you, Jungkook,” you sigh. “I could pick someone to be her dad and that someone is you. I already chose you — what’s hard to understand about that?”

You hear Jungkook asking you the question over and over again, even if his mouth is already shut. You see him looking at you with tears in his eyes even if they’re downcast on the floor in reality.

You feel yourself wavering even if you’re definite about your answer.

“You made me a mom and I made you a dad.”

“But I doomed us into this,” Jungkook weakly counters. “If only… i-if only I changed my ways earlier, if I — if I could’ve been just content with this perfect life you built for us, t-then we wouldn’t be-…”

Jungkook inhales sharply, the choke that soon follows ringing in your ears to the point that it pricks tears from your eyes.

“We wouldn’t be in this situation, Y/N. I turned us into this,” he sobs. “If only I could’ve been s-satisfied, Hwayoung would be in my arms at this time while we wait for you to come home,” Jungkook shakes his head painfully, the clench of his fists evident even when you’re only looking at him from the corner of your eye. “If only I thought everything you— you spoon-fed me was enough, then Yoongi, of all people, wouldn’t be babysitting our daughter right now,” he pauses. “Why can’t I be in your press conference?”

You don’t have to look anywhere in the house to realize that Hwayoung’s playpen is empty.

You don’t have to tune anything out to realize that Hwayoung isn’t here in between the two of you, talking and giggling as you go about your day while you’re still wearing your outside clothes; while she’s still in her pajamas because she wanted to wait for you to come home.

The gravity of everything hits you all at once, making you hiccup in tears.

“You were really mean, Jungkook.”

In the same way that worship is optional but devotion is necessary, Jungkook listens to you even if it’s you cursing him.

“I’m not the best mom there is because I’ve missed so much milestones. I… I-I’ve missed so much trying to secure everything for you, for Hwayoung, f-for us because I don’t know how much more I could take,” you sob, burying your face in your hands. “Do you know how hard it is for me? Do you know how hard it is for me to work alone while knowing that my husband and daughter have each other at home? That I don’t have someone while I put myself out there?”

There’s a strain of grief in your heart that only you carry, and Jungkook can’t do anything about it.

“I feel so, so, s-so fucking guilty, Jungkook!” you shriek, your cheeks turning blotchy the more that you cry. “I-I… I had to pick up this child— this child actor— over and over again because my fake role is to be his mother,” you strain a laugh humorlessly, trying to screw your eyes shut so you wouldn’t see Hwayoung’s laundry from the corner of your eye. “Meanwhile, I can’t even hold my own child because her appa’s already taking good care of her at home.”

In the same way that devotion is necessary but worship is optional, Jungkook takes it, takes you, should this be his punishment.

“Jungkook, if you envy me, then you don’t know how much I envy you more,” you exhale in defeat, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “If only I could, do you think I wouldn’t drop everything just to stay at home with you and Hwayoung?”

“You could be mad at me all you want, Jungkook, but I still don’t want you to go to the press con.”

“It’s different now, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers, his eyes rubbed red and raw as he pleads with you silently because no word, no litany can save him now.

“But how different is now from then? It’s like we’re kids again, Jungkook,” you whisper. “If you were the one in my place, would you drop everything if I asked you to?” you add, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Can you drop everything if I asked you to?”

( ♡ )

In a dream Jungkook doesn’t tell anyone, he’s never met Sora, and you happen to be his first everything.

In a dream your husband doesn’t tell anyone, he doesn’t know of Eunsu’s existence, and if he were to know about her, he only happens to think about her as your rival and nothing more.

In a dream he doesn’t tell anyone, he didn’t wake up late in your bed, and he most certainly heard Yoongi ringing the bell eagerly because he wanted to take Hwayoung home to see the both of you before you go to your press conference.

Jungkook bounds down the stairs so quickly that he almost trips on the way down. His hair is still unkempt and his shirt remains askew, yet he still goes down anyway with a speed you can’t even decipher because he’s already heard his daughter cheerful screaming.

"Up, up!" Hwayoung claps her hands, looking at Jungkook’s direction but not at him — instead, she’s looking at Yoongi who’s emerging from the kitchen.

In a dream Jungkook doesn’t tell anyone, Hwayoung doesn’t know anyone except for you and him.

“Up, appa! Up!”

In a nightmare that Jungkook’s experiencing in real time, Hwayoung mistakes Yoongi as her dad.

#HEHHHHHH how r we feeling citizens!!! pls report back i am So Sorry :O #jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook series #jungkook angst #jungkook angst imagine #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook au #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook x reader

661 notes · View notes