pairing: STEM!nerdsung x psych!f!reader, established relationship
genre/tags: college au, brief explicit content, mostly fluff, stars Richard, features Minho the bsf, Soonie catches a stray im sorry
word count: 2.5k
synopsis: Social exchange theory is the psychosocial theory that individuals weigh relationships according to cost-benefit analyses, basing them on whether the aforementioned relationship is beneficial and/or fair over time.
Jisung has someone important he wants you to meet. Her name is Richard.
[a/n] very self-indulgent fic, i think js is so cute it's ridiculous.
also you and minho are friendly, i just like him snarky! my man is funny!
โหเฟ more nerdsung โ masterlist
You had finally caught up. No overdue assignments. No looming exams. No discussion posts hanging over your head like a guillotine. For the first time in weeks, your schedule belonged to you.
Naturally, you spent that freedom sprinting up four flights of stairs because the elevator in Jisung's apartment building had chosen to die. Your bag bounced against your hip as you climbed, the ridiculous collection of charms attached to it jingling loud enough to announce your arrival to the entire complex.
By the time you reached the landing, the apartment door was already open.
Minho leaned against the frame. โChrist," he said. "Do you ever walk anywhere?"
"No." Minho was Jisung's roommate and best friend. He was much too contradictory for your liking - aloof yet observant, serious yet deeply committed to nonsense, a man of few words who only seemed to chime in to inconvenience you - but you didnโt have permission to evaluate him.
"Thought so."
You slipped past him before he could continue.
"Use protection," he called after you.
"Get a job," you shot back. Then you were gone, slamming the door shut behind you.
Jisung barely had time to look up from his desk before you launched yourself at him.
"Hi."
The impact nearly sent his chair rolling backward. He laughed anyway, wrapping his arms around you automatically. "Hi."
Worth the stairs.
Pleasantries were exchanged first, of course. You'd missed him, and Jisung genuinely wanted to know how classes were going. But somewhere between the updates and the complaining, the conversation migrated to his bed, where talking became significantly less productive when you ended up on top of him.
Clothes had long since vanished. You smirked against his mouth, amused as your hands played with his hair. He was inseparable from your face and neck, kissing every inch of you. He chuckled little I miss youโs into your skin with each one, but he slowed down at some point, staying in one spot for a little too long. He wouldnโt leave your chest alone.
You leaned backwards, allowing him more access. He didnโt hesitate, humming gratefully before his scattered kisses got messier.
โAre the condoms still in the drawer?โ you asked, tone casual.
Jisung popped up, lips and cheeks a matching shade of magenta. He flashed a shy grin as he reached over to retrieve protection. You pulled it from his hand impatiently, giggling as you quickly got it on him.
Today wasnโt the day to act bashful, but neither of you were desperate either. He carefully lifted your hips and lowered you onto him, making you sigh contently at the stretch. You took him in quickly and well, your body having memorized his already.
You braced yourself with his shoulders and rose and fell with urgent rhythm. The sound of you bouncing off his thighs was mixed with his creaky bed and stifled groans. He tried his best to keep quiet, but he couldnโt help but squeak when you circled your hips just right.
โMissed you,โ he mumbled, buried in your neck. โDonโt leave me again.โ
His bangs tickled you as you quickened the pace. He could only grip you harder, letting you feel every inch of him tremor inside you. He was close and you felt kind enough to let him finish, so you grinded into him, hard and rough. He groaned, not expecting the force. He panted through it, voice high and strained as he thanked you. He sounded so delicate, even delighted, as you kept him there, using him until it was your turn.
Eventually, you collapsed on top of Jisung with a soft smack. He was sweaty and warm and breathed with the labor of a man who almost died. You sprawled out on his chest, getting comfortable.
Jisung let out a long, dramatic groan beneath you.
โAlive?โ you asked.
โโฆdebatable.โ
You giggled, nestling closer. His heartbeat thumped steadily beneath your cheek. Neither of you seemed particularly interested in moving anytime soon.
As your gaze wandered around his room - past the shelves of figurines and Legos - something unfamiliar caught your eye. There was a big glass box in the corner. You were a little embarrassed that you missed it on the way in earlier. It wasnโt a fish tank, exactly. It looked more elaborate than that, with branches, climbing structures, and serious looking equipment.
You frowned. That definitely hadn't been there last time.
โJi,โ you said, poking at his chest. โWhat's that?โ
โHuh?โ He turned his head like the motion required a sacrifice from his life source.
You pointed. Jisung followed your finger, squinting across the room. His glasses had long since disappeared somewhere into the abyss of his bedroom, forcing him to rely on pure intuition. Then his eyes widened.
โOh!" The reaction was immediate. Not merely excitement, exactly. More like activation. One second Jisung had been half-dead and incapable of movement. The next, he was sitting upright, forcing you to straddle him and gaze up into his now twinkling eyes.
You burst out laughing. "No way."
"What?"
"You weren't even conscious ten seconds ago."
"I'm conscious now."
"Because of the mystery tank?"
"Maybe."
"Jisung."
"Do you wanna see or not?"
You loved having a nerdy boyfriend. Not the aesthetic kind - not the people who carried books they never finished in tote bags from museums theyโve never been to. Despite his standoffish, slightly brooding exterior, he was a real one. Jisung collected hobbies like they were achievements all while maintaining a 4.0. He watched anime. He read manga and comics and then acted personally offended when you mixed the terms up. He treated competitive games like a second job despite complaining about them constantly. He could quote the Silmarillion and the Orange Catholic Bible. He could spend an hour explaining why two guitars that looked identical were completely different instruments in his humble opinion. Every few months, he discovered something new and immediately devoted his entire personality to it.
Which meant absolutely anything could be waiting inside that tank.
โWait here,โ he said, already scrambling off the bed. He clumsily redressed himself, passing you your shirt and underwear, as well.
After making yourself kind of presentable, you sat on the edge of the bed, kicking your feet while your imagination ran wild.
A turtle would be fine.
A snake would be manageable.
A tarantula would test the limits of your devotion.
The door opened before you could decide where exactly you drew the line. Jisung stepped inside with both hands raised dramatically, like a doctor preparing for surgery.
"Okay," he said. "Important question."
You cocked your head to the side.
"Are you gonna want to hold her?"
Her. Your curiosity doubled.
"Maybe?" You lied.
"Then you need to wash your hands first."
You wanted to hesitate; you wanted to interrogate a bit further. But his hair was a mess. His cheeks were still pink. There was a shine to his skin that made him look warm and impossibly pretty, and he was smiling at you with all the excitement of a little kid about to show off his favorite toy.
You folded immediately.
"Okay."
"Okay," he echoed, pleased.
You dutifully headed for the bathroom. On your way back, you passed through the living room. Minho was stretched across the couch, scrolling through his phone with one hand. One of his cats - the enormous orange one that seemed to gain mass every time you visited - was sprawled across his chest like a weighted blanket.
Without looking up, he said, "You'll be fine."
You paused.
"Hm?"
"Just don't freak out."
That did not inspire confidence.
"And call her cute."
Now you were even more concerned.
"It'll make him happy."
You stared at him. Minho finally glanced up.
"Trust me."
Considering Minho's definition of cute included an almost literal gang of mean, chunky cats, you weren't sure that helped very much.
When you returned to Jisung's room, he was standing in front of the tank with one arm inside. "Hey," he was saying softly. "Daddy wants to introduce you to somebody."
You opened your mouth and then closed it, not having the time to unpack that statement. A beat later, he carefully withdrew his hand. Something tiny clung to his fingers.
"Oh." Your heart immediately melted.
The lizard was adorable. It was mostly white, covered in soft brown patches that reminded you of a cow. It looked impossibly small perched against his hand - not even the size of a full palm, barely as long as the fingers its little toes were wrapped around. For a creature that looked like a miniature dinosaur, it was unbelievably cute.
"This is Richard," Jisung announced. The smile on his face could have powered a city. "She's a crested gecko. She's still a baby, so she's really little."
You looked from the gecko to Jisung. Then back to the gecko. Then back to Jisung.
"...She's a girl?"
"Yeah!"
"Why is her name Richard, then?"
A moment passed.
"Changbin named her."
That somehow explained everything and nothing.
"It's a pun," he continued bashfully.
You laughed. โOf course.โ
"But she likes it."
"She likes being named Richard?"
"Yeah!โ He said it with such conviction that you couldn't even argue.
Jisung stepped closer and gently held out his hand. Richard immediately turned her head toward you. You froze. The gecko stared. You stared back. She had huge, curious eyes. The kind that made it look like she was genuinely trying to figure you out.
"She's looking at you," Jisung said quietly.
"Yeah, I can see that."
"She's wondering who you are." The fondness in his voice nearly killed you. โShe's really only met me and Minho. She hid from my dad when he dropped her off."
You reached out carefully, wiggling a finger. Richard followed the movement with her entire head.
"Oh my God."
"I know," Jisung said immediately, proudly.
"How long have you had her?"
"A few weeks." The answer came instantly, but the follow-up was stammered a bit, like he was guilty. "I-I wanted to introduce you guys when you were less swamped and she was settled in first. I figured it'd take longer, but she's such a happy baby."
His entire face lit up. The gecko could not possibly understand what he was saying. That didn't stop him.
"She lets me hold her every morning before she goes to sleep. Sometimes she'll just sit with me in bed." He smiled down at Richard. "And she'll come out of her cave to stare at Minho and the cats."
"Just stare?"
"Just stare."
"Judgmentally?"
"A little. They deserve it.โ
You laughed. Jisung laughed too.
And for a moment, watching him gush over a tiny lizard named Richard, you found yourself thinking the same thing you'd been thinking for months now - somehow, every new thing he cared about became your favorite thing to hear about.
"Do you want to try holding her?" Jisung asked.
You nodded, truly excited. The smile that spread across his face was almost unfair.
"Okay." He adjusted his hands carefully. "Just hold your hand out like this.โ
You copied him.
โIf she wants to come over, she will. If she doesn't, that's okay too." His voice softened. "She might need more time. She still won't let Minho hold her."
The smug satisfaction that gave you was completely irrational.
You held your hand steady. The tiny gecko tilted her head as though she were conducting a very serious evaluation. For a moment, she simply watched you. Then, after what felt like an eternity, she leaned forward.
One foot. Then another. Slowly, she climbed from Jisung's hand onto yours. Your entire face lit up.
"Oh my God - I've been chosen."
"You have."
You bit your lip to stop yourself from squealing. She was even smaller up close, delicate. Ridiculously tiny compared to the hand she perched on. Richard blinked at you intently. There was something strangely self-satisfied about her expression, like she knew exactly how adorable she was.
"What a brave girl!" Jisung cooed. He was smiling so proudly it was embarrassing. "Daddy is so proud of you."
You paused, then slowly turned toward him, with a poorly hidden smirk.
"Daddy?"
Jisung looked back at you.
"Daddy," you repeated.
"Yeah?" The confusion on his face was genuine.
"You call yourself that?"
"Well..." He shrugged. "She's my daughter." The answer was delivered with complete sincerity.
You hummed. "I'll remember that."
The tips of his ears immediately turned pink.
Richard shifted on your hand, completely unaware that her father was currently being psychologically observed.
"Can I be her mommy?" you asked suddenly.
Jisung's eyes widened. "What?"
You lifted Richard slightly. "I think she likes me."
Richard chose that exact moment to climb farther onto your hand.
"See?" you said. "We're bonding."
Jisung looked between you and the gecko. Then, to your surprise, he smiled. "Of course."
Your heart did a stupid little flip. "Really?"
"Yeah." He reached over to gently scratch beneath Richard's chin. "She already has uncles."
You laughed, an airy, surprised sound. The domesticity of that sentence hit you far harder than it should have.
Richard: one.
Your ability to function: zero.
"Hm." You pretended to think. "Can I be yourโ"
"Absolutely not."
You burst out laughing. โYou don't even know what I was going to say."
"I do."
"You don't."
"You canโt joke like that in front of children!โ His face was red now.
Richard suddenly licked the tip of your finger. Both of you froze. Then Jisung pointed. "See? She agrees with me."
"That's not what happened."
"That's exactly what happened."
"Richard, blink twice if you support me."
Richard simply continued sitting there, unblinking, looking pleased with herself.
Traitor.
You lifted her closer to eye level. She watched you back. Tiny. Inquisitive. Completely content.
Honestly, you understood why Jisung was obsessed with her. Then again, you also understood why you were obsessed with Jisung.
Richard settled comfortably in your stretched hand, curling in on herself almost sleepily.
"I really do think she's adopted me," you whispered.
"Good."
"Good?"
Jisung nodded without hesitation. "Yeah."
"Why?"
He looked genuinely confused by the question. "Because I wanted her to like you."
Your heart immediately betrayed you. "Oh."
Jisung reached over to gently pat Richard's head. "You're important to me," he said simply. "I wanted you guys to get along."
Just like that. No grand declaration. No dramatic speech. Just a statement of fact. You looked down at Richard before he could see the ridiculous smile threatening to spread across your face.
Unfortunately, your boyfriend was observant.
"Why are you smiling like that?"
"No reason."
"There is absolutely a reason."
"Focus on your daughter."
"She's our daughter."
You turned around to hide your red face growing hotter and hotter by the second, startling Richard as she peered at her father judgingly. Jisung stood frozen, surprised by his own charm.
From somewhere in the apartment, Minho yelled, "I heard that one."
"Mind your business!" you shouted. Richard stretched forward in solidarity.
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or: you don't believe that spiderman is real. who would believe that a masked vigilante just popped out of nowhere, started shooting webs and swinging through Seoul saving people, in spandex?? and most of all, you wouldn't believe that said "spiderman" would have any correlation with han jisung, that's just a load of nonsense!
in other words..: look, in jisung's defense, he didnt mean to get bit by a genetically modified spider. but he did, so now he's stuck with the superhuman side effects, a superhero persona, and his roommates constantly covering for him. and hey, he doesn't mind a sprinkle of chaos into his life. he's actually glad he got this alter ego, a version of himself that does good for other people, y'know...saving the city, and one that he can maybe impress you with, since his original self is stuck being your academic rival that you can't stand even if you were paid.
warnings: academicrival!jisung x reader, college au, nerdsung + nerd!reader, slowburn, eventual smut (not in this chapter), 3racha as roommates, Yunjin as your bsf and roommate, references from multiple spiderman movies, innuendos, profanity, college slop, caffeine slop, group project slop, party slop, talks of biotech and robotics that are probably false (research was poorly done), some action scenes, some injuries and blood loss (not in this chapter), reader is an academic weapon and doesn't catch a break, cameos of other members, crack, fluff, banter, no angst at all because Im sensitive, probably a heck ton of typos.
wc: 14k
part ll
98%.
The number glared up at you from the paper.
it's a good grade, objectively a great one. but there had to be a mistake - youโd stayed up three nights straight reviewing every possible permutation of the material. Your notes had been immaculate. Youโd even rewritten them twice just to be sure.
Behind you, someone cleared their throat. you braced yourself for whatever annoying thing Jisung was about to say.
"Oof," Jisung said, leaning over your shoulder. "Ninety eight? I mean, close enough."
His own test fluttered into your peripheral vision, 100%. Of course.
"Better luck next time," he added. His voice was light, teasing - a tone heโd used since freshman year whenever he edged you out by fractions of a point.
You exhaled through your nose, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, you shoved your test into your bag, zipping it shut.
Jisung didnโt take the hint. He never did. He propped his hip against your desk, grinning as he watched you pack up.
"Donโt worry," Jisung continued, "Iโll let you copy my notes next time."
You finally looked up at him - his stupidly perfect face, his stupidly smug grin, stupidly big framed glasses.
"Like hell Iโd copy your chicken scratch," you muttered, shoving your chair back harder than necessary. making its legs screech against the floor.
Jisungโs grin widened. "y'know, if you actually got enough sleep instead of staying up all night-"
You stood up and stomped on his foot, hard.
He yelped, hopping backward with exaggerated agony. "Ow! What was that for?"
You didnโt dignify him with an answer. You slung your bag over your shoulder and walked off without a backward glance.
Behind you, Jisungโs dramatic whining faded into the background noise of the lecture hall, punctuated by a burst of laughter from somewhere near the exit. You didnโt need to look to know it was Changbin, doubled over with amusement while Chan stood beside him, hand resting on the strap of his bag, waiting patiently.
The three of them had been inseparable since their second year of high school, when Chan, already broad shouldered and responsible beyond his years, had stepped between a scrawny, loudmouthed Jisung who'd just learned curse words and a group of seniors looking for an easy target.
Changbin, whoโd been watching the confrontation from a nearby bench, had tossed a water bottle at the ringleaderโs head mid threat. The resulting chaos had somehow ended with all three of them in detention, and that was where their friendship formed.
By graduation, the three of them had already cemented their fate - Chan, Changbin, and Jisung were a package deal, an inseparable trio that had somehow survived four years of high school without murdering each other.
So when university acceptance letters rolled in, the decision was already made, theyโd stick together, signing a lease for a cramped apartment near campus before the ink on their diplomas had even dried.
And then there was you.
Orientation week had been the beginning of it all, though you hadnโt realized it at the time.
You hadnโt noticed Jisung at first during orientation. Not really. Heโd been just another face in the crowd, another overeager freshman with bad posture and a laugh too loud.
as for him though, he had a stupid, undeniable crush on you.
he tried to talk to you, youโd been too busy rearranging your schedule to register his existence - some mumbled joke about the professorโs hair that youโd brushed off with a polite smile before walking away.
Another time, still during orientation, heโd lingered near your seat after the icebreaker games, hovering like he expected you to acknowledge him. You hadnโt.
What had caught your attention was the first exam. Youโd walked out of that lecture hall certain youโd aced it, only to find your name one spot below his on the results board.
he'd realized then that you're probably a perfectionist, and that you did not like being in second place. you never were in second place, ever since high school.
he became your competition from then.
Jisung noticed the shift immediately. He couldโve backed off. He didnโt. Instead, he leaned into it.
It wasnโt that he wanted you to hate him. He just wanted you to look at him.
Don't get him wrong, he did try to befriend you, but when that ended in inevitable failure, he opted for his last option, the one thing guaranteed to make you react, relentless, obnoxious teasing. If you couldnโt stand him, at least youโd notice him.
It worked better than heโd expected.
three years later, and Han Jisung was still the single most irritating person you'd ever met.
~
The sound of the apartment door jolted Jisung awake. He blinked at the ceiling, groggy and disoriented, sunlight already painting stripes across his unmade bed.
His phone lay facedown on the floor where heโd tossed it last night. He fumbled for it, thumb smearing against the screen as he squinted at the time, 9:47 AM.
"Shit."
Jisung groaned, rubbing his face with both hands as the pieces clicked together - his snoozed alarm, the muffled knocking he'd sleepily batted away earlier, Chan had tried. Chan had definitely tried to wake him up.
Jisung rolled out of bed, scrambling upright, one hand already tugging his hoodie over his head while the other fumbled for his backpack.
He was not gonna be that late if he decided to take a short cut. And so he did.
Cutting through the science building was a gamble, technically off limits to non majors before noon, but Jisung had long since memorized the janitorโs schedule.
He ducked under a half raised security gate, sidestepping a cart of lab equipment as he beelined for the west exit. His footsteps echoed too loudly in the empty hallway, but he didnโt slow down - not until a sharp clang from an adjacent lab made him skid to a halt.
Jisung turned his head just in time to see a door marked 'BIOTECH RESEARCH - AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY' swing shut, the tail end of a lab coat disappearing behind it.
He hesitated for half a second, before the distant chime of the campus clock tower rang. He was so late.
Jisung shouldnโt have been there.
The lock mechanism whirred as he hovered near the entrance, the distant hum of machinery inside prickling at his ears. Curiosity had always been his fatal flaw.
He glanced over his shoulder. The hallway was empty.
The door hissed open with a nudge of his shoulder, just wide enough for him to slip through. The lab was a maze of steel tables and humming equipment, bathed in the sterile glow of overhead LEDs.
Glass tanks lined the far wall, their murky contents swirling with movement - something skittered behind the frosted glass, too fast to track. spiders.
"Cool," he muttered, stepping further inside.
Jisung's fingers hovered over the nearest microscope, its lens gleaming under the lab lights. The surface was cool to the touch. Before he could explore more, a sharp click from the far end of the room froze him mid reach. His breath hitched. The sound wasn't mechanical. It was footsteps.
He ducked behind a lab bench, his knee connecting painfully with a drawer handle. He bit his tongue to keep from swearing.
Through the gap between two beakers, he could just make out the silhouette of a researcher - tall, white coated, absorbed in a clipboard. The man moved methodically down the row of specimens, pausing occasionally to adjust dials or scribble notes.
When the researcher turned toward a computer terminal, Jisung seized his chance. He crab walked backward, keeping low, until his shoulder bumped into something decidedly not a lab table. it was one of the glass tanks from earlier.
The container wobbled. He lunged to steady the glass before it could shatter and give away his presence that was not allowed in this lab, but his palm slipped against the condensation slick surface. The lid shifted with a silent clink.
A spider the size of a quarter dropped onto his wrist.
Jisung's entire body locked up. The spider's legs were needle thin, its body an unnatural shade of iridescent blue that shimmered under the lab lights.
For a suspended second, neither of them moved - Jisung paralyzed by instinctive revulsion, the spider crouched like a coiled spring. Then it bit him.
The pain was sharp and sudden, Jisung clamped his free hand over his mouth to smother the yelp threatening to escape. The researcher's footsteps paused.
"Who's there?"
Jisung froze. His wrist burned where the spider's fangs had pierced his skin, the pain radiating up his arm in slow, crawling waves.
The spider twitched between his fingers, its iridescent body pulsing unnaturally as he pinched it. For a split second, he considered tossing it aside - but the memory of its bite made his stomach twist.
Without thinking, he squished it between his finger, killing it.
Jisung grimaced, wiping his hand against his pants as the researcher's footsteps grew louder. He ducked lower behind the lab bench. A clipboard clattered onto the table above him, followed by the metallic click of a pen. The researcher muttered something under his breath - numbers, maybe, or measurements - before his shoes squeaked against the floor, turning away.
Jisung exhaled silently through his nose. His wrist throbbed. The bite mark was already red, the skin around it blotchy and hot to the touch. He flexed his fingers experimentally, half expecting his hand to lock up, but aside from the sting, nothing seemed immediately wrong.
The researcher's footsteps faded toward the far end of the lab. Jisung waited ten seconds before risking a glance over the edge of the bench. The man's back was turned, his attention fixed on a row of specimen jars. Jisung didn't wait. He walked backward until his shoulders hit the wall, then slid along it toward the door, keeping low.
The door clicked open just enough for him to slip through. He didn't look back.
The hallway was still empty. Jisung broke into a sprint, rounding the corner just as the lab door groaned shut behind him.
By the time he burst through the science building's side exit, the pain in his wrist had dulled to a steady ache. The sunlight hit his face, momentarily blinding him. He blinked, disoriented, before his phone buzzed violently in his pocket.
Changbin's name flashed across the screen.
Jisung fumbled with his phone, nearly dropping it as Changbin's second call lit up the screen. He swiped to answer just as a cyclist swerved around him, yelling something unflattering about his lack of spatial awareness.
"Where the hell are you?" Changbin's voice crackled through the speaker.
He rolled his wrist experimentally, half expecting a jolt of pain, but only a dull ache remained. strange, but not alarming enough to mention.
"Chill, I'm literally two minutes away," Jisung huffed into the phone, sidestepping a group of freshmen clustered around a campus map.
Jisung skidded to a halt outside the lecture hall, his sneakers squeaking against the polished floor as he yanked the door open. Twenty pairs of eyes swiveled toward him - including yours, narrowed with undisguised irritation from the front row.
The professor paused mid sentence, her laser pointer flickering against the projection screen.
"Nice of you to join us, Mr. Han," she said dryly.
Jisung flashed her a grin "Traffic was brutal."
The professor arched an eyebrow. "You live on campus."
"Exactly."
Jisung collapsed into the empty seat next to you with a sigh. Conveniently, there were no other free seats.
The professor resumed her lecture, but Jisung wasn't listening. His fingers drummed restlessly against the desk, his knee bouncing so fast it blurred. You gritted your teeth.
"Would you stop?" you hissed under your breath, jabbing your pen toward his twitching leg.
Jisung blinked at you like he'd forgotten you were there. "Stop what?"
"That." You gestured pointedly at his knee, "You're shaking the entire row."
He glanced down, as if surprised by his own body. "Huh."
Jisung blinked again, his fingers stilling mid tap against the desk. "Oh. Sorry."
He stopped. His knee went still. His fingers curled into a loose fist against the desk. Even his breathing seemed to slow, like he was consciously holding himself in check.
The professor's lecture droned on, but you couldn't focus. Your peripheral vision kept catching on Jisung's unnaturally still form.
Then he sneezed.
The sound was sharp, explosive, and entirely too loud for the lecture hall. Half the class jumped. The professor paused mid sentence, her laser pointer flickering off the screen. Jisung sniffled, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand.
"Bless you," you muttered automatically.
Jisung turned his head so fast you heard his neck crack. "Thanks," he whispered back. His voice was hoarse, like he'd been yelling earlier - though you couldn't remember hearing him speak at all today.
The strangeness of it prickled at your neck. Jisung didn't whisper. He didn't apologize. And he certainly didn't stop fidgeting for twenty straight minutes.
weird
~
after lectures, you were supposed to be studying.
Keyword: supposed.
Currently, your textbook lay abandoned as Yunjin scrolled through her phone, legs kicked up onto the library table in direct violation of at least three campus rules.
"I swear to god," she muttered, stabbing her screen, "if Professor Kang assigns one more readingโ" she cut herself off with a sigh.
"I'll drop out," Yunjin announced, tossing her phone onto the table. "I'll move to a remote island. Raise goats. Never think about electron configurations again."
You snorted, flipping a page in your textbook without absorbing a single word. "You'd cry over the first goat that liked someone else better."
"Excuse you, I'm extremely likable-" Yunjin's protest cut off mid-sentence as she caught you glancing sideways for the third time in five minutes.
"Ohhhh. That's why you're failing to absorb basic chemistry. Distracted by your archnemesis over there."
You stiffened. "I don't know what you'reโ"
"Han Jisung," Yunjin sing songed, nodding toward the table where Jisung was slumped over a pile of notebooks, dead asleep.
His cheek was pressed against an open textbook, one arm dangling off the edge of the table, the side of his wrist adorned with what looked like a nasty bruise. A thin line of drool connected his mouth to a page. "You were staring at that."
"I was not staring," you hissed, slamming your textbook shut . Several students at nearby tables startled. Jisung didn't even twitch. "I was justโ"
"Admiring his scholarly dedication?" Yunjin smirked, kicking her feet down from the table. "Or maybe his impressive drool radius?"
"I was wondering how someone who sleeps through every lecture still manages to ace every exam."
As if on cue, Jisung shifted in his sleep, his dangling arm swinging. he nearly toppled him sideways out of his chair. Your body reacted before your brain could stop it, half standing, hand outstretched - only to freeze when he somehow righted himself without waking.
Yunjin's eyebrows shot up. "Wow."
"Wow what?" You dropped back into your seat, face burning.
"Nothing," she said, stretching the word into three syllables. "Just never realized you cared so much about Jisung's spinal health."
"I just didn't want to witness a concussion in the library."
Yunjin grinned, kicking you lightly under the table. "Uh huh. Sure. That's definitely why you looked ready to dive across three tables like a superhero." She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands. "You secretly like him."
You choked on air. "Like him? Are you insane? He'sโ" You gestured wildly toward Jisung's sleeping form. "โthat. That's what he is. A menace. A sleeping menace."
"Aw, but look how peaceful he is," Yunjin cooed, feigning innocence. "Like a little angel."
At that exact moment, Jisung snorted loudly in his sleep, mumbled something unintelligible, and promptly face planted directly onto his textbook. You winced. Yunjin burst out laughing.
He lifted his head blearily, blinked at the drool smeared page stuck to his cheek, then promptly slumped back down without a single coherent thought behind his eyes.
Yunjin wiped tears from her cheeks, still giggling. "Oh my god. He's adorable."
"You're delusional," you muttered, shoving your notebook into your backpack. The zipper caught on a loose page, and you yanked it free with a frustrated huff. "Let's get lunch before I have to listen to any more of this."
Yunjinโs eyes lit up suddenly, "Oh! Right," she said, snapping her fingers as you shoved the last of your notebooks into your bag. "Youโre coming with me to that party tonight."
You blinked. "What party?"
"The one hyunjinโs throwing at his apartment," she said, as if this were obvious. "The one I told you about last week."
"You absolutely did not."
She waved a hand dismissively. "Semantics. Anyway, after lunch, weโre going back to our dorm so you can try on at least three outfits before I approve one."
You groaned, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. "No way. I have actual responsibilities."
Yunjin stood, shoving her phone into her pocket "Nope. Youโve been holed up in the library for weeks. Youโre coming, and youโre going to socialize, and youโre going to like it." She paused, then added with a smirk, "Unless youโd rather stay here and stare at Jisung some more."
You nearly tripped over your own feet. "What? I wasnโtโ"
"Uh huh." She linked her arm through yours, steering you toward the library exit "lunch first, outfits second, party third. No arguments."
You dug your heels in halfway to the door. "What if I want to argue? - who the hell even hosts a party on a school night-"
Yunjin sighed dramatically, turning to face you with a look of exaggerated pity. "Sweet, naive, delusional you. When have your arguments ever worked on me?"
"...Never."
"Exactly." She patted your cheek. "Now move. Iโm starving."
You did end up going according to Yunjinโs plans - not that you had a choice, given sheโd physically dragged you out of the library, then out of your dorm.
to top it all off, you had to wait for her because if you didn't, there'd be no one to take her drunk ass home, and you'd end up finding her in a ditch somewhere next morning.
so you had to wait till the asscrack of the night to take her home because no matter how un enjoyable a party is, you were not a bad friend.
and you were gonna be so late tomorrow.
~
The blaring alarm tore Jisung from his sleep this time. He gasped awake, limbs tangled in sheets that felt suspiciously sticky - had he spilled something last night? His hand shot out blindly toward the nightstand, fingers slapping against anything but his phone.
The alarm continued shrieking. Jisung groaned, pawing at the edge of his nightstand until his fingertips brushed warm metal. He grabbed his phone and hit the screen repeatedly-
The screen cracked under Jisung's fingers with a pop when he swiped to turn off the alarm. not a full shatter, but a spiderweb of fractures radiating from his thumbprint.
He blinked at it, sleep fogged brain struggling to process why his phone screen suddenly broke just from a few taps of his finger.
The display still functioned beneath the damage, the time, 8:15AM, visible through the splintered glass. Jisung flexed his fingers. He hadn't pushed that hard. Had he?
Jisung frowned, pushing himself up onto his elbows. The cracked phone screen wasn't the only thing that felt off, his head throbbed like he'd pulled an all nighter.
He grabbed his glasses from the nightstand, fingers fumbling with the frames in his haste.
The moment he slid them on, the world tilted.
Everything blurred into a nauseating smear of colors and shapes - like someone had smeared Vaseline across his lenses.
Jisung ripped the glasses off his face. The world snapped into focus, he could see perfectly without his glasses. He blinked rapidly. His vision hadn't been this clear since elementary school.
"What the fuck," he whispered, turning his hands over in front of his face. The calluses on his fingertips stood out in stark relief, the whorls of his fingerprints unnervingly detailed.
He rubbed his eyes hard till he saw colors and shapes behind his eyelids, but when he opened them again, his dorm room remained horrifically, impossibly sharp.
Jisung exhaled slowly through his nose and tossed the glasses onto the nightstand - they landed with a clatter, one temple arm snapping off completely.
His wrist itched. The bite mark from yesterday was gone.
Jisung rolled out of bed, his feet hitting the floor with an audible thud that made the loose change on his nightstand rattle.
He stretched, arms arching high above his head - and froze mid yawn when he heard the distinctive rrrip of fabric.
His sleep addled brain registered two things at once, the sudden draft across his shoulders, and the fact that his favorite hoodie, the one heโd slept in last night, now had a gaping tear along the seam.
He blinked down at himself. The fabric clung to his torso in ways it never had before, stretched taut across shoulders that suddenly looked broader. His biceps pressed against the sleeves, the cuffs riding up his wrist like theyโd shrunk in the wash.
Jisung frowned and tugged at the hem. It didnโt budge.
his full length mirror confirmed it. His reflection stared back at him - same messy hair, same sleep creased cheek, but it was like he hit a second puberty overnight.
The hoodie that used to hang loose now hugged every contour of his torso, the fabric straining across his chest when he inhaled.
he took his hoodie off - since when did he have abs?? he was met with whole six pack. he even counted them.
he prodded at his own bicep experimentally, half expecting it, I don't know, deflate? It didnโt.
The bedroom door creaked open - Chan appearing at the doorway, "I swear to god, if you're still asleep-" His threat died halfway out of his mouth when he saw Jisung.
Jisung stood frozen in front of the mirror, shirtless and wide eyed, one hand still gripping the torn remains of his hoodie. The morning light caught the sharp new definition of his shoulders, the lean muscle coiled along his arms like he'd spent the last six months living in a gym.
"...Did you steal Changbin's protein shakes?"
Jisung whipped around "What? No! I just-" His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. "I woke up like this."
Chan stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind him with his heel. His gaze flickered over Jisung's torso - the previously soft lines of his stomach now taut, the faint shadows of ribs replaced by something decidedly more athletic.
Chan reached out and poked Jisung's bicep with two fingers. It felt like pressing against granite.
"Ow," Jisung lied automatically, then blinked. "Wait. That didn't actually hurt."
Chan's eyebrows raised. "You're telling me you went to bed and woke up as-" He gestured vaguely at Jisung's entire existence. "-whatever this is?"
A beat of silence. Then, from the hallway, "If you two are having a moment, I'm throwing myself off the window." Changbin's voice, muffled through the door.
Chan ignored him. "Did you take something? Experimental pre workout? Sketchy supplements from the gym bros?"
Jisung's fingers twitched toward his wrist - where the spider bite had been. The skin was smooth. "I might have... broken into the biotech lab yesterday."
Chan's expression grew even more confused. "okay...?"
The bedroom door slammed open before Jisung could answer. Changbin stood in the threshold, mouth already open to ask why the hell they were whispering with the door closed - then his eyes landed on Jisungโs bare torso. His eyebrows shot up. "Woah. What happened to you?"
Jisung threw his hands in the air, "I know! I woke up like - okay listen," he took a deep breath,
"yesterday I was late, like super late, so I took a shortcut through the science building even though Iโm technically banned from the biotech wing after the centrifuge incidentโ"
Changbin mouthed 'centrifuge incident?' at Chan, who pinched the bridge of his nose.
"-and then I heard this noise from the restricted lab, right? So obviously I had to check it out-"
"You didnโt have to," Chan groaned.
"and there was this spider, this huge freaky blue one, in a tank that I maybe knocked over-"
"You knocked over-"
"-and it bit me! Right here!" Jisung brandished his unmarked wrist, "It hurt like hell yesterday but now itโs gone and suddenly I can see everything without my glasses and I just ripped my favorite hoodie like it was tissue paper-" He demonstrated by grabbing the hem of his remaining sleeve and tugging. The fabric split with a sound like tearing paper.
Changbin's mouth dropped open. Chan's blinked in disbelief.
"Okay," Chan said very slowly, "So you're telling me a genetically modified spider bit you, and now you're..." He gestured vaguely at Jisung's new physique. "This?"
Jisung flexed his arms experimentally. His biceps jumped under his skin "I mean, when you say it like that-"
Changbin suddenly lunged forward and punched Jisung square in the stomach - or tried to. His fist connected with what felt like solid concrete instead of soft flesh.
Jisung didn't even flinch. Changbin yelped, shaking out his hand. "Holy shit, dude. That's not normal."
Jisung looked down at his own abdomen, prodding the spot Changbin had hit. "Didn't feel anything." His voice went unnervingly quiet. "Should I be freaking out?"
Chan grabbed Jisung's shoulders - or attempted to, before his fingers slipped off the unexpected slope of muscle. "You shouldn't be able to bench press a car after one spider bite!"
"Technically I haven't tried that yet-"
The alarm on Jisungโs shattered phone blared again, 8:45AM, and Chan visibly flinched. โShit. Class starts in fifteen.โ
Changbin was already halfway out the door, yelling over his shoulder, โIโm not getting marked absent because you two want to dissect Jisungโs sudden glow up!โ
Chan walked out of Jisung's room too, coming back after a moment,
"Here," Chan grunted, tossing a black hoodie at Jisung's face. It smelled faintly of fabric softener and Chan's inexplicably expensive cologne. "It's the biggest one I've got. Don't pop the seams."
~
Jisung reached campus a full minute before Chan and Changbin, his sneakers skidding to a halt outside the lecture hall with unnatural ease.
His lungs barely burned, just a pleasant warmth where there should have been heaving breaths.
He turned, bouncing on his toes while waiting for his roommates to catch up, when a sudden prickle raced down his spine. His scalp tingled.
Something was about to happen.
The prickle exploded into full body alarm a half second before the weight hit him.
Jisung spun without thinking - his hands snapping up just as you tripped. His palm connected with your shoulder an instant before you would have face planted into his chest.
The force should have sent both of you crashing to the ground, but Jisung didnโt budge an inch - just absorbed the impact like you weighed nothing.
Your coffee wasnโt so lucky, The cup slipped from your grip. Jisungโs free hand shot out, snatching it mere inches from the ground. Hot liquid sloshed against the inside of the lid but didnโt spill. He held it there, frozen, your shoulder still cradled in his other hand, both of you staring at each other in stunned silence.
Up close, you could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes - something youโd never noticed before.
โYou-โ you started.
โI-โ he interrupted at the same time.
His Adamโs apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. โUh. You okay?โ
โYeah,โ you said, too quickly. His hands were still there.
Jisung blinked like heโd just remembered they were attached to him, then jerked them away. The coffee wobbled dangerously in his grip. You grabbed it before it could spill .
โLate too?โ he asked, stuffing his hands into the pockets of Chanโs hoodie.
You nodded, adjusting your bag strap. โYeah.โ
You stared at him for a second too long, suddenly noticing how the hoodie strained across his shoulders - when had Han Jisung gotten broad? The absence of his usual thick framed glasses left his face strangely exposed, his cheekbones and dark lashes more pronounced than you remembered.
"Thanks," you muttered, brushing nonexistent lint off your sweater where his hands had been.
After a beat, you added, "Good reflexes," because it was true and you hated leaving truths unsaid, even for him.
Jisung blinked at you, momentarily stunned by the compliment - his mouth opened, closed, then opened again. A faint pink spread across his cheeks, "Uh," he managed. His fingers twitched toward his face, a habitual gesture to push up glasses that weren't there, before aborting the motion halfway.
"Uh, thanks," Jisung managed after an awkward pause, He cleared his throat "I mean - you're welcome. Obviously. Because I saved your life."
"You caught my coffee," you corrected flatly, lifting the cup slightly as evidence.
His grin returned, familiar. "Same difference." He rocked back on his heels, "You would've face planted on the pavement if I hadn't intervened. Tragic, really."
"I take it back. Never complimenting you again."
before he could retort, Changbin's voice cut through the courtyard "If you two are done flirting, we're gonna be late!" He stood at the lecture hall doors with Chan, who was rubbing his temples like he'd aged ten years in the past hour.
Jisung whipped around so fast his sneakers squeaked against the pavement. "We're not-!"
You walked past him before he could finish the sentence, shoulders brushing hard against his as you passed.
~
Jisung didn't plan to become a hero - it just sort of happened at 1:37 AM outside a convenience store three nights after The Bite.
He'd been pacing his dorm room, fingers twitching with pent up energy, when Chan threw a couch cushion his head and told him to "go climb a building or something, Jesus Christ."
So he did. Sort of. Mostly he just jumped fire escapes until his thighs burned and his lungs finally felt normal again, which is how he ended up perched on a rusty AC unit overlooking the 24 hour convenience store when the guy in the ski mask walked in waving a gun.
The gun glinted under the lights of the convenience store, its barrel wavering between the cashier and the racks of snacks. Jisung's body moved before his brain caught up, one second he was crouched on the AC unit, the next he was dropping through the open window like a damn action hero.
His sneakers hit the floor with barely a sound, knees bending to absorb the impact that should've shattered his ankles. The robber whirled around, gun swinging wildly. Time slowed. Jisung saw the trigger finger tense, saw the cashier duck behind the counter.
He lunged.
What happened next was equal parts luck and whatever the hell that spider had pumped into his veins. His palm smacked the gun sideways just as it discharged - the bullet embedding itself in a display of energy drinks with a sickening thunk.
Jisung's other hand grabbed the guy's wrist, twisting until the gun clattered to the floor. The would be robber screamed. Not from pain, Jisung realized, but from the sight of his own fingers bending the wrong way under Jisung's grip. He let go like he'd been burned. The guy bolted, leaving his ski mask behind in Jisung's fist.
Silence.
Jisung didnโt realize he was holding his breath until the cashier wheezed out a shaky "Holy shit." The gun lied abandoned on the floor between them, still warm from the misfired shot.
Jisung stared at it, then at his own hands - his bare hands, no gloves, no mask, just his stupidly recognizable face that was probably caught on camera. His stomach dropped.
Chan was going to murder him.
The cashier - a guy his age with a nametag reading 'jeongin' - slowly straightened from behind the counter, eyes darting between Jisung and the discarded ski mask. "...Are you gonna rob me too?"
"What? No!" Jisungโs voice cracked. He kicked the gun farther away for emphasis. "I just-" He gestured vaguely at the empty space where the robber had been. "-stopped that guy. Obviously."
The ski mask stared up at Jisung from the convenience store floor. He scooped it up, fingers brushing the rough knit fabric, still warm from the robber's panicked sweat.
The cashier was already dialing the police with shaking hands, but Jisung's feet were moving before his brain caught up. He bolted out the door like he was the criminal, the stolen mask crumpled in his fist.
His knees nearly buckled when he hit the pavement - the sudden realization that he'd just stopped an armed robbery barefaced hit him.
Jisung sprinted down three alleys and ducked behind a dumpster just as police sirens wailed past the mouth of the alley. His heart hammered against his ribs, not from fear, but from something far worse. exhilaration.
He lifted the ski mask toward his face, hesitating for just a second before remembering its previous owner had been sweating bullets into the fabric.
He tentatively sniffed it - then recoiled so hard his head smacked against the dumpster behind him.
"Yuck," a stench clung to it, absolutely not.
He sprinted home in record time, sneakers barely touching the pavement. His enhanced legs carried him up the fire escape in three leaps. The window to their apartment's living room was still cracked open from his earlier escape, curtains fluttering in the night breeze. Jisung slid inside, falling right onto his ass.
"Ow," Changbin deadpanned from his bed, not looking up from his phone.
Jisung scrambled upright, ski mask still clutched in one hand. His gaze flicked from Jisung's disheveled hair to the crumpled mask.
Chanโs eyebrow twitched. โSo. You robbed a robber.โ
Jisung flapped the ski mask like a surrender flag. โNo! I disarmed a robber. Then maybe borrowed his mask. Temporarily.โ
Changbin snorted "And you didnโt think to cover your face before playing hero?"
this rooted a bad, bad idea into jisungs head.
he spent the next morning hunched over Chanโs laptop, scrolling through fabric stores frantically. His fingers drummed against the keyboard, pausing only to zoom in on a breathable material that promised "enhanced mobility" and "sweat wicking technology."
The description sounded like something straight out of a superhero movie - which, he supposed, was exactly what he needed now.
Chan watched from the doorway, arms crossed. "You realize this is insane, right?"
Jisung didnโt look up. "Less insane than stopping another robbery barefaced."
his first attempt at making a suit for his superhero persona was a disaster.
Jisung had underestimated the complexity of sewing stretch fabric, resulting in a lopsided mess of seams that bunched uncomfortably around his shoulders.
The second attempt fared slightly better - until he tested its durability by scaling the dormโs exterior wall, only for the pants to split straight down the middle mid climb.
soon enough, Chan saw jisung's genuine dedication, and had taken pity on him. they spent late nights hunched over fabric scraps, Chanโs steady hands guiding the sewing machine - that chan bought from is own money earned from DJ gigs, mind you - while Jisung sketched designs in the margins of his notebooks.
The final prototype emerged from their shared efforts, a sleek red and blue suit with reinforced stitching and breathable mesh panels. The mask took another three attempts before achieving the perfect fit, complete with oversized white lenses that concealed his identity while enhancing his already unnaturally sharp vision.
Jisung examined himself in the dormโs full length mirror for the first time, twisting to check the fit. The suit hugged his new musculature without restricting movement, the fabric stretching effortlessly as he flexed. He rolled his shoulders experimentally - it was the most comfortable model so far.
Changbin tossed an empty soda can at Jisungโs head from across the room. Jisung caught it without looking, reflexes kicking in. The can crumpled further in his grip.
"Show off," Changbin muttered.
The mask was the final piece. Jisung hesitated before pulling it on, fingertips brushing the blank white lenses. Once these went on, it'd be an official embodiment of... whatever this was.
The fabric settled over his face. His breathing echoed strangely in the enclosed space, but his vision remained clear. He blinked, adjusting to the surreal sensation of seeing more while being seen less.
Chan exhaled sharply. "Well. That's... a look."
Jisung twisted to examine his reflection in the mirror. The suit clung to his new physique like a second skin, the red and blue panels accentuating rather than hiding the slope of his shoulders. with a spider logo stitched across the center of his chest.
"So. What now?" chan cleared his throat.
Jisung exhaled through the mask, watching the fabric flutter slightly with his breath. "Now I test it."
His fingers found purchase on the brickwork without thought, his body moving with an instinct he shouldn't possess. He scaled the dormitory wall in seconds. Below, Seoul sprawled in a grid of neon and shadow, its pulse thrumming through the pavement under his palms.
He jumped.
The world tilted. His stomach lurched from the sheer impossibility of what his body was doing. He arced over the alleyway, arms outstretched, fingertips brushing the opposite fire escape before his feet even registered the landing.
The impact should have shattered his knees. Instead, he rolled smoothly onto the grated metal platform, his pulse steady in his ears.
That was when he heard a scream.
It cut through the ambient city noise . Jisung's head snapped toward the sound. Four blocks northeast. A woman's scream. fear, urgent terror in her voice.
He moved.
His body propelled him forward before conscious thought could interfere. The city blurred around him as he swung from ledges, his shot web lines that shouldn't have held his weight. Yet they did.
The polymer strands stretched taut as he launched himself between buildings, and landed on the third story balcony of a love hotel just as the scene unfolded below, a man dragging a woman toward a waiting car, her heels scraping against pavement as she fought.
Jisung didn't think, he immediately droped down, landing between the assailant and the car with a thud. The man recoiled, dragging the woman tighter against him as a human shield. Up close, Jisung could see the knife glinting in his free hand, the woman's smudged mascara.
"Back off!" the man snarled, blade pressing into her side.
Jisung's hands came up instinctively, palms out. The woman's wide eyes locked onto his mask. "You're-" she gasped.
Then everything happened at once. The man lunged, knife flashing. Jisung's body moved - his hand shot out, catching the blade mid air. Metal screeched against reinforced fabric, but didn't pierce.
The man's eyes widened comically as Jisung twisted his wrist, sending the knife clattering to the ground.
The knife skittered across the pavement. Jisung didnโt wait for the guy to process what had just happened, he pivoted on his heel, using his own momentum to yank the woman free in one motion.
She stumbled forward, gasping, but Jisung was already stepping between them, his body angled to shield her completely.
โRun,โ he said. The word came out muffled and distorted through the mask, more like a growl than actual speech. The woman didnโt need to be told twice. She bolted, heels clicking against the sidewalk as she disappeared around the corner.
The would be attacker stared at Jisung, then at his own empty hand, then back at Jisung. โWhat the hell are you?โ
Jisung's breath hitched behind the mask - What was he? A broke college student who'd bitten off more than he could chew. A walking science experiment. Definitely not someone who should be standing between an armed assailant and certain doom at 3 AM on a Tuesday.
"Uh," he managed, voice cracking through the fabric. "spiderman?"
The man lunged. Jisung sidestepped on instinct, the guy's momentum carried him straight into a dumpster with a metallic clang that echoed down the alley. Jisung winced. That had to hurt.
Police sirens wailed in the distance, close enough to spook the would be kidnapper, who scrambled upright and bolted in the opposite direction.
Jisung let him go. Chasing him down would mean explaining why he was dressed like a rejected Power Ranger, and frankly, he'd already pushed his luck far enough for one night.
Jisung crouched on the rooftop ledge, peeling off the mask with a wet shluck sound - the fabric sticking stubbornly to his sweaty forehead.
Below, the woman he'd rescued was giving a statement to the police, gesturing wildly toward the rooftops. He ducked back before she could spot him.
His phone buzzed violently against his thigh. Chan's caller ID flashed across the cracked screen, followed immediately by Changbin's bombardment of texts
BRO
DID YOU JUST GO VIRAL ON TWITTER
THERES VIDEO OF YOU DOING A BACKFLIP OVER A CAR
Jisung groaned, flopping onto his back. Gravel dug into his shoulder blades through the suit. Above him, Seoul's light pollution drowned out the stars, leaving only a murky orange haze.
He held up his phone, squinting at the blurry footage someone had uploaded. there he was, mid backflip, his red and blue suit a neon smear against the night. The caption read
Spiderman??? In SEOUL????
The first tweet had thirty seven likes. By morning, it had seventeen thousand and counting.
Jisung woke to Changbin shoving his phone in his face, screen displaying a grainy video of someone in a red and blue suit flipping over a moving car. "Congratulations," Changbin said. "You're a meme now."
Chan was less amused. He paced their dorm room, pausing only to read the growing pile of news articles on his laptop:
SPIDERMAN IN SEOUL? SUPER-HERO OR SUPER-ZERO?
before rounding on Jisung. "This," he hissed, jabbing a finger at the screen, "is the opposite of keeping a low profile."
Jisung groaned into his pillow. "It was one car."
~
You'd seen the videos. Everyone had. Grainy footage of some idiot in red and blue flipping over cars and catching falling flowerpots like it was nothing. The internet had collectively lost its mind - #SpiderManSeoul was still trending and it's been a whole two weeks - but you refused to join the hype.
"Obviously fake," you muttered in the cafeteria, stabbing your chopsticks into a piece of kimchi. The table next to yours erupted into excited chatter about the latest clip, Spiderman allegedly stopping a truck from hitting a pedestrian near Hongdae.
Yunjin slammed her phone down on the cafeteria table hard enough to make your soup bowl rattle. "That's three robberies he's stopped this week," she hissed, scrolling through blurry footage. "How can you still think this is fake?"
You rolled your eyes, stirring your half cold soup. "Easy. Because physics don't work like that, and neither do people." You pointed your chopsticks at her phone screen where 'Spiderman' was currently doing something that should've snapped his spine in five places. "That's either CGI or a really dedicated performance artist with a death wish."
Across the table, Yunjin made a noise like a deflating balloon. "You're impossible." She flicked to another video, this one showing the vigilante webbing a purse snatcher to a lamppost mid sprint. "Explain that then,"
You leaned in, squinting at the pixelated mess. "Okay one, that 'web' looks suspiciously like industrial grade fishing line. Two-" you tapped the timestamp in the corner "-this was filmed at 2 AM near Hongdae. Everyone's either drunk or sleep deprived enough to hallucinate shit like this."
You snorted into your soup, watching Yunjin's face contort in frustration. "Honestly, anyone dumb enough to believe in 'Spiderman' probably thinks pigeons are government drones too." You waved a dismissive hand toward her phone. "He's probably just some adrenaline junkie with too much free time and a GoPro."
From the neighboring table, someone choked on their rice. You glanced over just in time to see Jisung wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Chan smacked him hard on his back, whether to help him breathe or silence him, you couldn't tell.
"Or," Jisung wheezed, voice still rough from coughing, "maybe he's actually helping people?" He twisted in his seat to face you fully, elbows propped on the table behind him. "Ever think of that, genius?"
Changbin groaned audibly and slid down in his chair.
You arched an eyebrow. "Didn't realize you were such a Spiderman fan, Han. Got a poster of him over your bed?"
Jisung's ears turned pink. "I'm just saying-" he jabbed a chopstick in your direction "-if someone's stopping crimes for free, maybe don't trash talk them while chewing with your mouth full."
Yunjin added "You're just jealous because you can't backflip over cars."
"I could if I wanted to," you shot back, knowing full well your athletic abilities peaked at speed walking to morning lectures.
Jisung snorted. "Sure, and I'm the queen of England."
Chan materialized between the tables. His palm hit Jisungโs shoulder with a dull thwack that knocked him forward into his bibimbap. โWeโre late,โ Chan announced, already dragging Jisung upright by the collar like a misbehaving kitten.
Jisung spluttered, chopsticks clattering to the tray. โLate for what?โ
โThe thing,โ Changbin interjected smoothly, sliding out of his seat โThe very important thing.โ
You watched as Chan dragged Jisung toward the exit, Jisung still craning his neck to shout over his shoulder, โAsk me about my queen of England autograph later!โ
Chanโs exasperated groan echoed down the hallway as the door swung shut behind them.
Left in their abrupt absence, you blinked at Yunjin. โWhat the hell was that about?โ
She shrugged, scrolling through more Spiderman footage. โDunno, but Han Jisung defending a vigilanteโs honor is weirder than you denying literal video evidence.โ
She paused the playback right as Spiderman executed a midair twist that defied every law of physics. โanyway, I think youโre just salty because Spiderman could probably out academic you and out athletic you.โ
well...he literally did.
~
your disbelief in spiderman came back and smacked you right in the face.
you were at the library after you finished your lectures for the day, the library was unusually quiet for midterm season, the usual chatter replaced by the frantic scratching of pens and the occasional sniffle from sleep deprived students. You rubbed your temples, staring at the same differential equations page for forty five minutes straight. At this rate, you'd be here until sunrise, again.
Outside, Seoul had long since plunged into darkness, the campus pathways illuminated only by streetlamps. You hesitated at the library doors - your dorm was a fifteen minute walk through the least lit part of campus, but the alternative was another all nighter hunched over textbooks.
You'd taken three steps onto the pavement when the first catcall sliced through the quiet.
A group of drunk frat boys loitered near the bus stop, their laughter too loud, eyes tracking your movement.
You tightened your grip on your backpack straps and picked up the pace. Their footsteps followed, uneven against the pavement.
"Hey sweetheart, why you walking so fast?"
Your pulse jackhammered against your ribs. The shortcut through the engineering building's side alley was suddenly a terrible idea โ too narrow, too dark, too isolated. You fumbled for your phone just as a hand grabbed your elbow.
Your elbow jerked instinctively, but the grip tightened. One of the drunk guys leaned in, his breath sour with soju as he slurred, "Don't be like that. We're just walking you home."
The others chuckled, closing ranks around you. Your phone slipped from your sweating fingers, clattering to the pavement.
You tried to say something, anything, but your voice came out shaky and thin, "Let go," you managed, but it sounded more like a question than a command.
The guy holding your elbow laughed, his grip tightening just enough to make your bones protest. His friends shuffled closer, their shadows swallowing the dim streetlight whole.
A second hand clamped onto your shoulder from behind. "Relax," someone slurred. "We're nice guys."
You twisted against the hold, but there were too many of them, too many hands, too many laughs, too many bodies boxing you in.
Then, movement. A flicker of red and blue in your peripheral vision. One of the drunk guys yelped as his hand was suddenly gone from your arm, yanked backward by an invisible force. The others barely had time to turn before something - someone - slammed into their midst like a human wrecking ball.
The drunk guy's hand vanished from your elbow with a wet thwip sound, followed by his startled scream as he was yanked backward into a dumpster.
His buddies whirled around - just in time to see a red and blue blur drop from the fire escape above, landing between them with a crouch.
"Hey guys," Spiderman said, tilting his head. The blank white lenses of his mask made his expression unreadable, "Didn't your moms teach you it's rude to grope strangers?"
One of the drunk guys lunged. Spiderman sidestepped without looking, webbing the guy's sneakers to the sidewalk mid swing. The dude faceplanted with a grunt, his friends gaping as he struggled against the sticky white strands now gluing his shoes to concrete.
"Oops," Spiderman said, tapping his chin. "Must've slipped."
Another guy charged. Spiderman flipped over him effortlessly, landing on the dumpster lid with a metallic clang. "Wow," he mused, watching the guy stumble past. "You're really bad at this. Like, impressively bad."
You stood frozen against the alley wall, watching Spiderman web the third guy's hands to his own jacket zipper. "There," he said, patting the stuck zipper. "Now you can't unzip or zip. Poetic, right?"
The last drunk guy made a break for it. Spiderman sighed dramatically. "Come on, man. Group project participation counts toward your final grade." A web shot out, snagging the runner's ankle mid stride.
He yelped as Spiderman reeled him in like a fish, depositing him neatly beside his webbed up friends.
Spiderman dusted off his gloves. "Alright, team huddle! Here's the deal-" he crouched to their eye level,
"-next time you think about cornering someone in a dark alley? Don't." He tapped the first guy's forehead with one finger. "Or I find you."
The drunk guys paled. Spiderman straightened, turning toward you then froze. His masked head tilted slightly, the lenses widening almost imperceptibly.
You realized three things at once
one, Your knees were shaking.
two, Spiderman was much shorter in person than the videos made him seem.
three, You'd dropped your phone and backpack during the scuffle, and your differential equations notes were now scattered across the alley like confetti.
Spiderman bent to gather your papers, his movements almost... familiar. He stacked them neatly and held them out. "You, uh. You okay?" His voice was softer now, the earlier bravado gone.
You took the notes with numb fingers. "Yeah. Thanks." The words came out hoarse.
Spiderman nodded awkwardly, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Cool. Coolcoolcool." He cleared his throat. "So. Should I web these guys to a lamppost for the cops, or...?"
One of the webbed up drunks whimpered.
You swallowed hard. "Lamppost's good."
Spiderman saluted. "Lamppost it is."
Spiderman made quick work of securing the drunk guys to the nearest lamppost, his webs forming a messy cocoon around their legs. One of them hiccuped pathetically as Spiderman gave the webbing an experimental tug. "There," he said cheerfully. "Now you can reflect on your mistakes while waiting for the cops."
You hugged your notes to your chest, still processing the fact that Spiderman, the same one you'd spent weeks insisting was fake, just saved you.
"You're... shorter than I expected," you blurted out before you could stop yourself.
Spiderman's head snapped up. For a second, the mask's lenses just... stared.
Then he pressed a hand to his chest. "Excuse you, I'm perfectly average height for a-" He cut himself off abruptly, clearing his throat. "Anyway. You're welcome for saving your life or whatever."
"You didn't save my life," you muttered, kneeling to gather the last of your scattered pens.
Spiderman made a noise between a laugh and a wheeze. "Right. Sorry for interrupting your very important... pen collecting."
You looked up at him, "I was handling it."
"Uh huh." He crossed his arms, the red fabric stretching taut over his shoulders. "Because saying 'let go' in a squeaky voice is totally handling it."
Your cheeks burned. "I wasn't squeaky."
Spiderman's mask tilted slightly, "Sure," he drawled, dragging the word out.
You opened your mouth to retort when a police siren wailed in the distance. Spiderman's head snapped toward the sound, his posture more alert. "Right. That's my cue." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Need a swing home?"
You blinked. "A what?"
Before you could protest, he'd already grabbed your wrist, his grip firm but careful, "Do you trust me?"
"No," you said immediately.
Spiderman grinned beneath his mask - you could hear it in his voice. "Perfect."
Then he yanked you forward before you could react, making you drop your bag in the process, his other hand shooting a web line to the nearest rooftop with a sharp thwip.
Your stomach lurched violently as your feet left the pavement, the ground dropping away beneath you with terrifying speed.
You shrieked, instinctively locking your arms around his neck in a death grip as the world tilted sideways. Buildings blurred past, wind howling in your ears loud enough to drown out your own panicked breathing.
Spiderman's arm banded around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as he swung into open air. "Relax!" he shouted over the rush of wind. "I've only dropped one person!"
"WHAT?!" You dug your fingers into his shoulders hard enough to bruise - if normal humans could bruise whatever weird super skin he had.
"Kidding!" He adjusted his grip slightly, angling his body to catch the updraft as he launched you both higher.
he released the web line, freefalling for one terrifying second before another thwip sent you arcing upward again. The city sprawled beneath you, the view would've been beautiful if you weren't convinced you were about to become sidewalk confetti.
"wait- you passed my dorm!" you yelled over the wind, nails digging into Spiderman's shoulders as another swing took your breath away. The familiar building of your residence hall flashed below - then vanished behind you .
Spiderman's grip tightened fractionally around your waist. "Yeah, well," he called back, voice strained from the wind and what sounded suspiciously like laughter, "you looked like you could use some fresh air!"
You tried to say something back, but your words dissolved into a startled squeak as the city tilted dizzyingly. Your fingers clawed at his shoulders, but somewhere between the fourth and fifth swing, you realized your death grip had eased slightly. Maybe it was the way his arm stayed locked around your waist like a seatbelt, or how he angled his body to shield you from the worst of the wind.
"See?" Spiderman's said, "Not so bad once you stop trying to strangle me." He flipped midair just to hear you yelp, catching another webline with practiced ease.
"You're insane!" you managed, but your arms relaxed incrementally as you adjusted to the rhythm of his swings. The initial terror dulled into adrenaline, mixed with reluctant awe as Seoul sprawled beneath you in glowing grids.
The Han River flashed between buildings, and for one insane second, you understood why people did extreme sports.
Then Spiderman corkscrewed sideways without warning, shooting a web toward a higher rooftop. "check out this view!"
Before you could protest, he backflipped off the webline, sending you both soaring over a pedestrian bridge in a wide arc. Your stomach dropped straight to your shoes.
and suddenly you let out a laugh at the sheer absurdity of everything. at the fact that you were saved by spiderman in an alley, at the fact that you were finally getting your first breath of fresh air after days of being cooped up in either your room, or the library, or the lecture Hall.
The sound burst out, bright and startled against the roar of wind. Spiderman's head snapped toward you so fast, then he laughed too, the sound muffled by the mask but real, bubbling up from somewhere deep in his chest as he swung you both higher.
you spent a minute or two like that. Spiderman took a sharper turn than intended, nearly clipping a Samsung billboard with his shoulder. "Shit, sorry!" he yelped, twisting midair to avoid impact.
The sudden jerk should have terrified you, but instead you just laughed harder, your fingers loosening their death grip on his shoulders as you clung to him more out of habit than panic now.
"Are you trying to kill me?" you shouted over the wind, a smile still on your face.
"Only a little!" he called back.
Your dorm building came into view far below, Spiderman slowed his swings gradually, letting momentum carry you both downward in gentler arcs until. He landed with surprising grace on the sidewalk out front, setting you down carefully - though your legs wobbled like jelly the second your sneakers hit concrete.
"Whoa there," he chuckled, steadying you with a hand on your elbow. You swayed slightly as your feet touched solid ground again, still dizzy from the swinging.
Spiderman's gloved hands lingered on your elbows, steadying you. "You good?" His voice was softer now .
"I'm-" You swallowed hard, willing your legs to stop shaking. "I'm alive. Which is... surprising."
The adrenaline was fading now, leaving you strangely lightheaded. "I... thanks. Really." The words came out quieter than you intended, but you meant them.
"Yeah. No problem. That's kind of... the whole point of the suit." He gestured vaguely at himself, the red fabric stretching with the movement.
You snorted despite yourself. "Yeah, well. You're still insufferable."
"Ouch. And here I was going to offer you a free ride anytime."
"Hard pass," you said immediately, but you were smiling, a small, reluctant thing.
Spiderman chuckled, the sound muffled by his mask. He rocked back on his heels slightly. For a second, neither of you spoke, just stood there in the quiet aftermath, the distant city sounds filling the space between you.
Then he straightened. "Right. Don't get kidnapped again."
you smiled. "I'll try."
Spiderman gave a two fingered salute, already backing toward the alley wall. "If you do get kidnapped again-" he shot a webline upward without looking, the *thwip* cutting through the night air "-I'll be there." He tugged the web experimentally before adding, "But try not to make it a habit, yeah? My web fluid's expensive."
Before you could retort, he launched himself upward with a sudden burst of movement, the red and blue blur disappearing over the rooftop edge before you even processed the motion.
You stood frozen on the sidewalk, staring at the empty space where he'd been, your brain still trying to reconcile the fact that Spiderman - the same Spiderman you'd spent days dismissing as fake - had just swung you across half of Seoul.
The walk up to your dorm felt surreal. Your legs were stilll shakey, and you were still slightly dizzy.
You collapsed onto your bed fully dressed, convinced you'd lie awake replaying the night's events - then promptly passed out the second your head hit the pillow.
outside, Spiderman nearly faceplanted into a building mid swing. Because he was smiling like an absolute idiot under his mask, cheeks aching from the stupid, unstoppable smile that had been plastered on his face since he'd heard you laugh mid air.
He landed on the fire escape of their building, still buzzing with adrenaline. Peeling off the mask felt like surfacing from underwater - cool air hitting his sweaty face, the sounds of the city rushing back in clearly.
he shoved the window open, tumbling into the living room. Chan and Changbin were sprawled on the couch when Jisung crashed through the window.
Changbin glanced up from his phone. "Oh good, you didn't die." He paused his game just long enough to take in Jisung's disheveled state, mask off, hair sticking up in wild directions, and that ridiculous grin still plastered across his face. "Wait. Why do you look like that?"
"guys, you won't believe what just happened"
Jisung was halfway through inhaling to launch into his story when he froze mid breath, his eyes widening comically. "Wait - shit, her bag" He scrambled to his feet so fast he nearly tripped over.
Chan blinked. "Whose-"
"Be right back!" Jisung yanked the mask back over his head, the lenses setteling into place as he lunged for the window. "Forgot something super important"
Changbin's shout of "What the hell-" was cut off by the sharp thwip of a web line as Jisung flung himself back into the night.
~
You woke to sunlight stabbing your eyelids and the distinct sensation of having been hit by a bus.
The events of last night rushed back in - drunk guys, Spiderman, swinging through Seoul.
You groaned into your pillow, half convinced it had all been some dream.
Then a gust of wind hit your face like a slap. You squinted against the sunlight, realizing with a start that your window was wide open, and you definitely hadnโt left it that way.
you scrambled out of bed and approached your window sil. There, dangling from a single strand of web, was your missing backpack.
The backpack swung slightly as you reached out, the web strand stretching oddly. You tugged it free with a disgusting schlorp sound, and you saw a folded square of notebook paper stuck to the fabric with another glob of web.
You peeled it off with two fingers, The note was written in messy, angular handwriting that looked familiar.
you dropped this. your phone is inside too, you're welcome.
also, you snore.
- s
you stared at it, brain short circuiting between he brought my bag back and he watched me sleep?! before settling on the most pressing question, how the hell had Spiderman even known which dorm was yours? You hadn't told him. You were certain of it.
but maybe he'd just checked every single window till he found you -which would be extremely creepy, but made sense.
"There you are," Yunjin's voice cut through your spinning thoughts. You spun around to find her leaning against your doorframe, hair still mussed from sleep, squinting at you. "I was worried sick - where the hell were you last night?"
You opened your mouth - then froze. The backpack in your hands suddenly felt like damning evidence. "Library," you blurted too quickly.
Yunjinโs eyes dropped to the backpack in your hands, then narrowed at the sticky web residue still clinging to the fabric. Her gaze flicked to the note in your hands, then back to you. "Library," she repeated flatly. "Right."
She padded into your room, plucking the note from your hand with two fingers, then reading it, "You do snore," she said laughed, squinting at the handwriting. "Also, who the hell wrote this, who's 's'?" She waved the note in your face, the web glue still tacky.
You snatched it back. "no one."
She pointed at the webs on your bag. "spider webs?" Her voice pitched higher. "Did you, oh my god. Did Spiderman bring you home last night?"
She planted herself on your bed, legs crossed. "Start talking. Now." Her eyes flicked to your window, then back to you "And donโt even think about leaving out the part where Spiderman apparently knows where you live."
You sighed, sitting infront of her, "Itโs not that dramatic. Some guys were being creeps last night, Spiderman showed up, webbed them to a lamppost, and then-" You hesitated, "And then he insisted on swinging me home."
Yunjinโs eyebrows shot up. "Swinging you home?" She grabbed your shoulders, shaking you slightly. "You swung through the city with spiderman?!"
"Yes! And it was terrifying!" You pried her hands off your shoulders. "And also... kind of amazing? But mostly terrifying. I almost threw up on him twice."
Yunjin's mouth fell open. "You- what" She grabbed your shoulders again, shaking you "You rode Spiderman?!"
"Swinging with Spiderman!" you corrected, cheeks flushing as you smacked her hands away.
Yunjin's grin turned positively feral as she flopped onto your bed, "Details. Now. How tall was he?"
"he's definitely shorter than you'd expect"
"Did he smell nice? Was he hot under the mask? Did he-"
"I didn't see his face. And you're disgusting," you hissed, chucking a pillow at her face.
"I'm invested," she corrected, hugging the pillow to her chest. "Also, I told you he was real."
You groaned, collapsing onto the bed beside her. "Okay, fine, he's real. Happy?"
"Ecstatic,"
safe to say, Yunjin wouldn't stop fangirling over this all afternoon.
~
Midterms came and went. You barely had time to process the fact that Spiderman had swung you across Seoul before exams swallowed your entire existence whole.
The only upside was that Jisung, for once, wasn't hovering around to gloat about his grades.
He seemed more busy, like he got a life or something, you'd catch him dozing off more than once, dark circles under his eyes like he hadn't slept in days.
Winter break arrived soon after. If not at some party with yunjin, you spent most of it holed up in your bedroom, halfheartedly scrolling through Spiderman footage.
The videos had multiplied exponentially, now there were compilations of him rescuing cats from trees, stopping bike thieves, even helping an old lady carry groceries up six flights of stairs when her building's elevator broke.
The comments sections were flooded with debates about whether he was a hero, a menace, or just some guy with too much time.
You never commented. But you watched.
When the new semester started, campus was buzzing with fresh Spiderman gossip. Someone claimed they'd seen him perched on the humanities building at 3 AM.
Another swore they'd spotted him buying convenience store ramen in full costume.
Yunjin, of course, had compiled an entire folder of sightings on her phone and updated you daily despite your protests.
Jisung stumbled into Professor Kim's lecture hall seventeen minutes late, face still puffy like he'd rolled straight out of bed, which, given the pillow crease still visible on his left cheek, he probably had.
he blinked blearily at the seating chart projected on the board before shuffling toward the only empty seat in the room- right next to you, of course.
"You're late," you muttered as he collapsed into the chair with a groan.
"Yeah, well," Jisung yawned so wide his jaw cracked, "tell that to the asshole who decided 9 am classes were a good idea."
His elbow slid off the desk mid sentence, nearly knocking over your water bottle before he caught it with reflexes that were still annoyingly precise despite his obvious exhaustion.
Dark circles bruised the skin beneath his eyes, deep enough to be visible even in the lecture hall's dim lighting. and when he reached for his notebook, you caught a glimpse of fresh scrapes across his knuckles.
You didn't think much of it - Professor Kim clears her throat, and announced the semester's major project.
"Partners are assigned randomly," she said, tapping her clipboard as murmurs rippled through the lecture hall. "No swaps, no complaints. You'll be working together for the next eight weeks."
You barely had time to dread the possibilities before the projector screen lit up with the pairings list. Your stomach dropped straight to your shoes when you saw your name right next to Han Jisung's.
"Aw, we're finally spending quality time together."
You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt, but didnโt protest. Because - annoyingly - Jisung would a good project partner if he bothered to focus.
โHere,โ you muttered, shoving your phone across the desk toward him โPut your number in before I change my mind.โ
Jisungโs eyebrows shot up, he just stared at your phone. Then his face split into that infuriating smile.
โAw,โ he cooed, snatching the phone before you could reconsider. โYou do care.โ His thumbs flew across the screen with alarming speed. โShould I put a heart next to my name? Or maybe-โ
โIf you put anything besides your name and number, i'll take Chan's number and all interactions will be through himโ
Jisung pouted before deleting the heart emoji he'd already typed, and then handed your phone back. "You're no fun,"
after class was over, you spotted Yunjin leaning against the courtyard railing, scrolling through her phone per usual.
The moment she caught sight of you, her eyebrows shot up, then immediately waggled suggestively as she took in your exhausted expression.
"Let me guess," she drawled, pocketing her phone with a smirk. "Spiderman swung by again? Or was it just Han Jisung being his usual pain-in-your-ass self?"
You groaned, dragging your hands down your face. "the latter." You paused, then sighed dramatically. "And also... we got paired for Kim's semester project."
Yunjin's eyes widened. "Oh my god. You're finally spending quality time together"
"You said the exact same thing he did," you groaned, "Word for word. I swear, both of you share the same overworked brain cell."
Yunjin snorted, "Girl, I wish I did share a brain cell with him, then maybe I'd actually be able to solve Kim's exams without wanting to yeet myself into the Han River."
you sighed, already drained from all the work you'd have to do this semester before it even started "then there's the university festival too"
"oh yea, what'cha planning to do for the big fair" yunjin said. "gonna work on something with han too?" she wiggled her eyebrows.
"absolutely not" you answered quickly, "I won't do anything, I'll just rest. yeah. I'll catch up on all the sleep I'm about to lose"
"aw, what a shame," yunjin said, then she leaned in, whispering, "Though honestly, if you really want to tap into that academic powerhouse, there are way more fun ways to-"
"Finish that thought and I'm throwing you into the Han River myself."
"I'm just sayin'," she said, dodging your attempt to push her, "both of you just need to have a good fuck for this rivalry to go away."
"Speaking of fucks," you said, leaning against the courtyard railing, "Iโll be working on the project at Jisungโs place most days. Which means our dorm will be delightfully empty."
You flicked a stray leaf off your sleeve "Feel free to bring your Tinder disasters over, just keep them away from my room, please"
Yunjin gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. "Excuse you," she said, tossing her hair over one shoulder with exaggerated offense. "My Tinder disasters are upstanding gentlemenโ"
"Who leave their boxers on your floor and eat my cereal," you deadpanned, "Just wash the sheets afterwards. And hide the good mugs."
~~~
when Jisung kicked the door open - a lethal combination of unwashed socks, stale ramen, and the faint metallic tang of something that might have been blood hit his face.
Chan looked up from his laptop just in time to see Jisung hurdle over the couch, skidding to a stop in front of the coffee table where changbin was demolishing a bag of chips.
"We have a problem," Jisung announced .
"You are the problem." changbin said.
Chan sighed, closing his laptop, "What did you break this time?"
"Nothing!" Jisung paused. "Well. Maybe the window latch. But thatโs not the point." he paused. "She is coming here. To work on the project."
Changbin froze mid chip. "Whoโs โsheโ-"
Chanโs eyes widened. "Oh no."
Jisung nodded frantically. "Oh yes."
Changbinโs eyes darted between them. "Wait. Are we talking about-"
"Yes," Chan groaned, already dragging a hand down his face.
Changbinโs chip bag hit the floor with a crunch. โOh, hell no.โ He scrambled up, scanning the apartment with mounting horror.
Medical supplies littered the kitchen counter, spare web cartridges rolled under the couch, and most damning jisungโs half finished suit upgrades dangled from a makeshift clothesline strung across the living room.
โWe have twenty minutes to make this place look like normal people live here.โ
Chan was already in motion, snatching stray web shooters off the coffee table. โJisung, hide your suit. Changbin, take the first aid kits.โ He paused mid step, โAnd for the love of god, air out this place. It smells like a rat died in here.โ
Jisung went to yank the prototype suit off the clothesline, "It's not that bad," he protested, bundling the fabric under his arms.
The apartment was almost presentable by the time you knocked.
You stood outside their door, knocking twice, when a crash echoed from inside followed by frantic whispering.
after a minute, the door opened, revealing Changbin "Heyyyyy," he drawled, voice pitched an octave too high. "You're early"
you blinked, pointing your thumb back towards the elevator, "I can come back in a bit if you guys are busy-"
Changbin waved a hand like he was shooing away smoke. "Nah, nah, weโre good!" he stepped aside,
โHome sweet home,โ Changbin announced, โIgnore the-โ He gestured vaguely at a suspicious lump under a blanket that was definitely not laundry. โDecorative choices.โ
You toed off your shoes at the entrance, noting with mild surprise that the apartment was cleaner than expected - though said suspicious lump under the blanket suggested they'd simply relocated the mess rather than actually cleaned it.
Chan looked up from his laptop, offering a casual salute as you stepped further into the apartment. "Hey," he said, "Jisung's in his room pretending he didn't just spend twenty minutes panic cleaning."
You snorted. "Sounds about right."
Jisung's bedroom door was slightly ajar, revealing a space that had clearly undergone a last minute excavation.
The floor was visible and his desk was suspiciously organized, textbooks stacked next to his laptop.
"Wow," you said, leaning against the doorframe. "I didn't know you owned a trash can."
Jisung spun around from where he'd been adjusting a poster that was still slightly crooked. "Shut up," he muttered, He gestured vaguely at the desk. "I set up already. Figured you'd want the, uh-" He waved his hands. "The workspace. Or whatever."
You walked in and over to the desk, project outline stared back at you from Jisung's laptop screen - neatly formatted, color-coded, and some parts were already done . You blinked. "You... started without me?"
Jisung shrugged, spinning a pen between his fingers, "Couldn't sleep last night." His knee bumped yours when you sat down, "Figured I'd get a head start before you could accuse me of slacking."
You stared at the spreadsheet he'd prepared, grudgingly impressed despite yourself. The formulas were flawless, the research sources ready, "Well. At least you're not completely useless."
"Wow. Wow. That might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me." he leaned closer, "Careful. Keep this up and people might think we like each other."
"get to work," you muttered, pulling your chair closer to his desk.
Jisung straightened, "Yes, ma'am."
You shook your head, but the corner of your mouth betrayed you with a twitch. He noticed instantly, and his grin widened like he'd won something.
You kicked his chair leg under the desk in retaliation, sending him wobbling sideways with a yelp.
Working with Jisung turned out to be - annoyingly - far less painful than youโd anticipated.
He had a way of cutting through your overthinking, dismantling problems youโd tangled into knots. When you got stuck on a statistical analysis, he spun his laptop around to show you a ridiculously simplified formula that somehow worked.
When he hit a dead end with the literature review, you pointed him toward three obscure sources heโd missed. It was infuriatingly efficient.
you'd also grew to realize that Jisung focused when it mattered.
Then there were the snacks. Jisung kept shoving food at you - convenience store food, but its the thought that counts โEat,โ heโd say, nudging a bar of chocolate toward you without looking up. โYour blood sugarโs crashing. I can hear your stomach growling from here.โ
Youโd protest, but he wouldn't hear any of it until you tore open the packaging begrudgingly.
and he actually remembered things. Tiny, insignificant details youโd mentioned in passing - your preference for blue pens over black, the way you organized your citations, the fact that you always forgot to save drafts until it was too late.
Halfway through typing, your laptop would ding with a message from him You didnโt save again, genius. Youโd glare at him, but heโd already be smirking at his own screen.
You didn't expect to bond with Chan and Changbin too, but somehow their apartment became your second home for the past 6 weeks.
you stayed past 10 pm once, Chan slid a takeout menu across the table. "Pick something," he said, "Jisung forgets to eat when he's focused, and you're worse than he is."
The takeout containers were long empty by the time you stretched your arms over your head, joints popping from hours hunched over textbooks.
"You should head back," His voice was casual, but his eyes flicked to the time on his phone, 11:47 PM, then back to your face. "It's late."
You sighed, gathering your notes into a pile. "I've walked home later than this."
"Yeah, and nearly got followed by drunk assholes," Jisung muttered under his breath.
"I'll be fine. It's like, twelve minutes max." You slung the strap over your shoulder.
"at least let me walk you home?" jisung asked.
"Relax. you don't have to act like my hero for the night, i'll be fine."
jisung heard the word "hero" and an idea popped into his mind. bingo
"Fine. Die in a dark alley. See if I care."
"You won't," you shot back, toeing on your shoes by the door.
"Night, guys," you called over your shoulder as you stepped into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind you.
Inside the apartment, Jisung was already running to put his suit on before Chan caught him by the hood. "Are you serious right now?"
"I'm just gonna-" Jisung started.
"Follow her as Spiderman?" Changbin supplied, "Dude. That's creepy."
Jisung froze. "It's not creepy if I'm making sure she doesn't get murdered."
"It's extremely creepy."
"She literally said she didn't need an escort!" Changbin pointed out.
Jisung waved a hand. "She always says that."
"Because you always try to escort her!"
Jisung hesitated, just long enough for Chan to sigh and release his hood. "If you're gonna be an idiot, at least put the mask on first."
Changbin tossed a web shooter at Jisung's head. "And try not to get arrested for stalking."
Outside, you were halfway down the block when a shadow flickered across the streetlight above you. You glanced up just in time to see a blur of red and blue vanish behind a rooftop.
"Really?"
A thwip sounded overhead. Spiderman landed lightly on a lamppost ahead of you, "Fancy meeting you here," he said, voice dripping with faux surprise.
You crossed your arms. "Are you following me?"
Spiderman gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. "I'm patrolling. This is a coincidence."
"A coincidence," you deadpanned.
"Yep." He swung down to street level, falling into step beside you like this was completely normal. "Totally random."
You sighed. "I don't need an escort."
Spiderman tilted his head. "Says the person who nearly got jumped last time."
"That was one time-"
"And here I am," he said, spreading his arms wide, " not letting it happen again."
You glared at him. He smiled at you - or at least, the mask's eyes crinkled in a way that suggested a smile.
"Fine," you muttered, stomping ahead.
Spiderman matched your stomping pace, "So," he drawled, swinging around a lamppost to land directly in front of you, forcing you to halt mid step or you'd have walked straight into his chest. "What's a pretty girl like you doing out so late?"
Your ears burned "I was just coming back from a friendโs place," you muttered, sidestepping him to continue walking. "Working on a project. Unlike some people, I actually take my education seriously."
Oh the irony.
he fell into step beside you, his posture casual, "So this friend," he pressed, "What's their deal? Study buddy? Secret admirer?"
You shot him a glare. "None of your business."
Spiderman gasped, "Ouch. And here I thought we had something special." He swung ahead, landing lightly on a parked carโs roof just to force you to look up at him. "Come on, humor me. Tall? Short? cute?"
You stayed silent, refusing to dignify that with an answer. But Spiderman was nothing if not persistent, he dropped down directly in your path again, close enough that the lenses of his mask reflected your exasperated expression back at you.
"Han Jisung," you finally said, shoving past him. "My project partner. Happy?"
"Han Jisung," he repeated, "Wow. Sounds like a real catch. Bet heโs incredibly handsome and talented."
"Heโs annoying," you corrected, kicking a pebble harder than necessary. "And arrogant. And-"
"And?" Spiderman prompted, suddenly right beside you again.
"And none of your concern," you finished through gritted teeth.
Spiderman made a wounded noise, "Rude. Here I am, risking life and limb to escort you safely home-"
"You invited yourself," you corrected.
"-and you wonโt even indulge my harmless curiosity about your mysterious project partner." He swung ahead to perch upside down from a streetlight, "Tell me more about this Han Jisung character. Does he have any redeeming qualities? Or is he just tragically, devastatingly handsome?"
You scoffed, refusing to acknowledge how accurately that described Jisungโs stupid face. "Fine. Jisungโs... not completely terrible." You looked at the sidewalk. "He remembers stupid things. Like how I always forget to save my work, or that I hate when people highlight in yellow."
Spidermanโs mask tilted, the lenses narrowing slightly. "Wow," he said, his tone an exaggerated awe. "Truly, a monumental compliment. Does he also breathe air and occasionally blink?"
You kicked a pebble at him, which he caught mid air with a web before it could hit his chest.
"Shut up. Heโs..." You hesitated, then sighed. "Heโs weirdly considerate. Makes sure I eat when weโre studying. And his roommates are..." You gestured vaguely, as if that explained anything. "nice. more tolerable than him, actually. they insist on feeding me too"
Spiderman went suspiciously quiet. Then, in a voice devoid of sarcasm "They sound nice."
You snorted. "Theyโre menaces. But yeah. They... grew on me."
A beat of silence. Then Spider-Man dropped from the lamppost, landing softly beside you. "And Jisung?" he prompted, suddenly closer than before. "Whatโs his fatal flaw?"
You didnโt even have to think. "He's always right somehow. And he gloats about it. alot."
"Horrifying," he agreed solemnly. "Anything else?"
"Heโs always there," you muttered, more to yourself than to him. "Even when I wish he wasnโt."
The mask hid his expression, but his next words came out oddly soft. "Sounds like youโve got it pretty bad, genius."
The familiar nickname prickled at the back of your memory, but you couldn't place it, until Spiderman abruptly straightened, realizing his mistake, clearing his throat.
"So!" he said, "How much further to your dorm?"
You narrowed your eyes at the obvious subject change. "Why? Getting tired already?"
Spiderman scoffed, "Please. I could do this all night." then shrugged "Just making conversation."
"You were doing just fine until the nickname," you pointed out, watching his lenses widen fractionally.
"What nickname?" he asked, voice pitching slightly higher.
"Genius." You tilted your head, studying his frozen posture. "Jisung calls me that."
spiderman got into character again, "Jisung calls you that?" His voice was pitched an octave higher than usual, his hands fluttering in dramatic disbelief.
"Wow. What a coincidence." He leaned closer, "Maybe l'm Han Jisung. Ever think of that, genius?"
He lowkey regret what he said the second the words came out of his mouth. but hey, reverse psychology?
you stopped walking for a second, facing spiderman, genuinely considering what he just said.
"nah" you snorted, shaking your head. "Jisung can barely walk in a straight line without tripping over his own feet." You gestured vaguely at Spiderman's lithe posture. "No way that disaster could pull off... whatever this is."
"Ouch. That hurts. I'll have you know some people find my-" he gestured at himself, "this extremely charming."
"You mean annoying," you corrected.
"Charmingly annoying," Spiderman corrected, He swung lazily ahead, landing atop the lamppost outside your dorm building.
You stopped beneath the lamppost, glancing up at Spidermanโs silhouette squatting on top of it. "This your stop, genius?" he asked, voice lilting with amusement.
"Yes," you said flatly. "And don't call me that."
"Call you what? Genius?" He leaned forward, resting his chin in one gloved hand. "Or pretty girl?"
Your face heated instantly. "Both."
Spiderman laughed, a sound that you swear you heard before.
"Fine, fine. Wouldn't want to inflate your ego too much." He swung down from the lamppost.
He turned to leave, then hesitated, just long enough to glance over his shoulder and add, voice softer than before, "Sleep tight, pretty girl."
Then he was gone, vanishing into the night sky with a thwip of webbing before you could retaliate.
you stayed glued to the pavement for a minute as you watched spiderman's figure get smaller the more he swung away, face slowly heating up.
"Talking 'bout some pretty girl," you muttered under your breath, walking to the entrance of the building
who is this guy?
~
a/n: *takes in a big deep breath* I initially meant for this to be way shorter (10k ish words) but it kinda spiraled and now its more than double that so I had to split it into two parts ๐. the second part is ready just needs proofreading and a few tweaks. hope it doesn't disappoint because I put my entire coochie and butt into this.
Summary: He is the heir to an empire built on power and strategy.
You are the only thing in his life that was never meant to be strategic.
People know Seo Changbin as the young CEO who saved his fatherโs company before it fell.
They talk about his sharp mind. His discipline.
The way he walks into a room and somehow makes men twice his age nervous.
Headlines call him strategic, relentless, born for leadership.
They donโt see him when he forgets to eat because heโs waiting for you.
They donโt see the way his entire face softens the second you step into a room.
You met him two years ago at a charity art event.
You were there representing your own company, a small but growing creative studio you built from nothing but stubbornness and long nights. He was there because his family name was attached to half the sponsors in the building.
He had been standing near a sculpture, pretending to read the plaque, when you caught him staring at you instead.
โYou look like youโre planning to buy the whole exhibition,โ you had said.
He smiled, a little embarrassed.
โI donโt even understand half of it.โ
That was the beginning.
Now, on a quiet Tuesday evening, you stand in the lobby of Seo Holdings, waiting for the elevator to take you up to the top floor.
The building is entirely made of glass and steel.
Employees bow politely when they pass you. Some of them recognise you now. Some of them donโt.
But they all know who youโre here for.
When the elevator doors open, his secretary greets you with a warm smile.
โHeโs been checking the clock every five minutes,โ she whispers.
You laugh softly.
โDonโt tell him that.โ
You donโt knock when you reach his office. You never do.
Changbin is sitting at the long conference table, sleeves rolled up, glasses resting low on his nose as he reads a file. He looks serious.
Then he hears the door close.
He looks up.
And everything changes.
His shoulders drop. His mouth curves into the kind of smile he never gives to investors.
โYouโre late,โ he says, but thereโs no accusation in it.
โItโs been five minutes,โ you reply.
โThatโs five minutes too long.โ
He stands, crossing the room in a few easy steps. He doesnโt kiss you immediately. He just pulls you into him, arms wrapping around your waist like heโs been waiting all day to breathe properly.
For a moment, the company doesnโt exist.
Thereโs just his heartbeat under your ear.
โI missed you,โ he murmurs.
โYou saw me last night.โ
โThat was yesterday.โ
You pull back to look at him.
โYouโre dramatic.โ
He leans down and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.
โOnly about important things.โ
Dinner that night is takeout eaten straight from the containers on his couch. His tie is gone. His jacket is draped over the back of a chair. The city glows through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him.
He rests his head in your lap while you scroll through ideas on your tablet.
โYouโre not listening,โ you say.
โI am,โ he insists.
โYou just called my new concept โadorable.โโ
โIt is adorable.โ
โItโs a brand expansion strategy.โ
He smiles up at you.
โExactly.โ
You try to stay annoyed, but you canโt. He reaches up and catches your wrist, pressing a kiss to the inside of it.
His voice softens.
โIโm proud of you, you know.โ
Thatโs what makes it so hard to doubt him.
He doesnโt see you as someone smaller. He never has. He listens when you talk about your work. He asks questions. He invests in your ideas without trying to control them.
When you fall asleep on his couch sometimes, he carries you to his room. When heโs stressed, he buries his face in your shoulder like youโre the only place he can put down the weight.
It feels safe.
But the world around him is not gentle.
The first time you notice it clearly is at a company gala.
The ballroom is filled with crystal chandeliers and quiet, expensive laughter.
Women in silk dresses. Men in tailored suits who speak in low, confident tones about numbers large enough to change countries.
You stand beside Changbin, your hand lightly tucked into the crook of his arm.
He looks stunning in black. Calm. Commanding. Untouchable.
But when someone asks how long youโve been โworking with the company,โ you catch the subtle shift.
โI donโt,โ you say politely. โI run my own studio.โ
Thereโs a pause.
โOh,โ the woman says, smiling too tightly. โHowโฆ independent.โ
Later, near the champagne table, you overhear two board members speaking.
On the drive home, his hand stays wrapped around yours in the back seat.
โDonโt listen to them,โ he says quietly.
โI wasnโt.โ
He studies your face.
โYou were.โ
You look out the window at the city lights blurring past.
โDoes it bother you?โ
โWhat?โ
โThat they expect you to marry someoneโฆ useful.โ
He turns your hand over, threading his fingers through yours.
โYou are useful. Youโre the only person in my life who tells me when Iโm being an idiot.โ
You laugh, but your chest feels tight.
โIโm serious. I donโt need a merger. I need you.โ he says and places a kiss to the back of your hand.
You believe him.
Thatโs the dangerous part.
Changbin has never looked so nervous in his own house.
You notice it the moment he adjusts his cufflinks for the third time in the car.
โThey already like you,โ he says, more to himself than to you. โThey will love you.โ
You manage a small smile.
โYou sound like youโre about to introduce me to royalty.โ
โThey kind of are,โ he mutters, then reaches for your hand. โIโm serious. This is important to me.โ
That part softens you.
He isnโt doing this out of obligation. He isnโt being pressured. Heโs the one who asked for tonight. Heโs the one who told his parents that he wants them to meet the woman he plans to build his life with.
When he looks at you, there is nothing strategic in his eyes.
Just love.
And that makes you brave.
The estate looks even larger tonight, lights glowing warmly behind tall windows. The gates open slowly. The gravel crunches under the tires.
Your stomach twists, but Changbin squeezes your hand.
โDonโt be nervous,โ he says gently. โYouโre the best thing in my life.โ
You breathe out slowly.
Inside, his mother greets you with elegance and a perfectly measured smile. His father stands just behind her, hands clasped behind his back.
โWelcome,โ his mother says. โWeโre glad you could join us.โ
Dinner is beautiful. Immaculate. Carefully prepared.
Changbin talks more than usual. He tells stories about you. About your studio. About how you once stayed up all night redesigning a project because it didnโt feel right. About how you refused an investor who tried to control your creative direction.
He sounds proud.
You watch his parents as he speaks.
They are listening.
But they are calculating.
At one point, his father asks, โAnd your company. It is stable?โ
โYes,โ you answer calmly. โItโs growing.โ
โAnd funded independently?โ
โYes.โ
He nods once.
โThat is commendable.โ
There is something underneath the compliment.
After dessert, his mother suggests that Changbin help the staff bring in a bottle of wine from the cellar.
It feels casual.
It is not.
The moment he leaves the room, the air changes.
His fatherโs expression hardens, just slightly.
โYou care about our son,โ he says.
โI do.โ
โAnd he cares deeply for you.โ
โYes.โ
His mother folds her hands neatly in her lap.
โWhich is precisely the issue.โ
The words hit softly, but your spine straightens.
โAt this level,โ his father continues, โrelationships are not simply personal. They are public. Strategic.โ
You stay quiet, listening.
โThere are families who would align with us through marriage,โ he says. โPartnerships that would secure the company for decades.โ
You swallow. โIโm not asking him to give that up.โ
His motherโs gaze sharpens.
โBut he would.โ
Silence stretches between you.
โWe have observed the pattern,โ his father continues. โYou appear at events. His focus shifts. Investors notice.โ
Your pulse quickens.
โHe is young,โ his mother says. โHe confuses emotion with permanence.โ
There it is.
The dismissal.
โI donโt,โ you say quietly.
His father studies you.
โYou are intelligent. Ambitious. But you are not from our world.โ
โI never claimed to be.โ
His motherโs voice remains smooth.
โWe are concerned that your interest in him may not be entirelyโฆ sentimental.โ
For a second, you donโt understand.
Then you do.
Your chest burns.
โWith respect,โ you say carefully, choosing every word, โI built my company before I ever met your son.โ
His father does not blink.
โAnd yet his name elevates you.โ
You sit up straighter.
โI have never used his name for anything.โ
His mother tilts her head slightly.
โPerhaps not intentionally.โ
It is an accusation.
You inhale slowly, grounding yourself.
โI love your son,โ you say, your voice steady despite the shaking in your hands. โNot his position. Not his company. Him.โ
That is the only sentence you allow yourself.
It hangs in the room.
His fatherโs expression does not change.
โLove is rarely enough.โ
His mother reaches for a small envelope on the side table and places it in front of you.
โWe would prefer this to end quietly.โ
The world feels very far away.
โIf you step away now, there will be no scandal. No unnecessary pressure. You will both move forward.โ
You look at the envelope but do not touch it.
โYou believe Iโm with him for money,โ you say softly.
His mother meets your gaze.
โWe believe that if you truly care for him, you will let him fulfill his potential.โ
Itโs not screaming.
Itโs not cruel.
Itโs worse.
Itโs controlled.
Because deep down, you know they are right about one thing.
If pushed, Changbin would choose you.
And that choice would burn everything. And you couldn't live knowing he lost everything he worked so hard for just because of you.
Footsteps echo down the hallway.
You slide the envelope toward yourself just as he reenters the room, smiling.
โWhat did I miss?โ
You force a smile back.
โJust tea.โ
He looks between you and his parents, unaware of the storm that just passed through.
The drive home is quiet.
โI think it went well,โ he says, glancing at you. โThey just need time.โ
You stare out the window at the city lights.
โYeah,โ you smile. โTime.โ
That night, you sit on your couch thinking.
Somewhere in the distance, a car alarm goes off. The world keeps moving.
Your phone buzzes.
Changbin: Are you okay?
You type back: Yes.
Another message appears almost instantly.
Iโm glad they finally met the love of my life.
Your vision blurs as your tears begin to fall.
You put the phone down.
The next evening, you ask him to come over.
He arrives with that familiar softness in his eyes. No jacket. Just a sweater you bought him.
โYou sounded serious on the phone,โ he says gently.
You nod.
Thereโs music playing faintly from your speaker.
Some slow, sad ballad you didnโt realise you had put on repeat.
He notices the tension immediately.
โWhatโs wrong?โ
You donโt look at him.
โIโve been thinking.โ
โThatโs never good,โ he jokes softly.
You donโt smile.
His expression changes.
โHey,โ he says, stepping closer. โTalk to me.โ
You grip your hands together to stop them from shaking.
โThis isnโt going to work.โ
The words feel foreign in your mouth.
He freezes.
โWhat?โ
โWeโre too different.โ
โDifferent how?โ
โI donโt belong in your world.โ
His brows draw together.
โWho told you that?โ
โNo one.โ
He steps closer.
โDid my parents say something?โ
You shake your head quickly.
โThis isnโt about them.โ
โThen what is it about?โ
You force yourself to look at him.
โIโm tired of trying to keep up. Of pretending I fit into rooms where I donโt.โ
โYou donโt have to fit,โ he says. โYou just have to be you.โ
Your throat tightens.
โI donโt love you the way you love me.โ
The second the words leave your mouth, you want to take them back.
He stares at you like youโve hit him.
โThatโs not true.โ
โIt is.โ
โNo,โ he says, his voice breaking slightly. โNo, donโt do this.โ
Tears burn behind your eyes.
โIf this keeps going, weโre both going to get hurt.โ
โWeโre fine. Weโre good.โ
You shake your head.
โWeโre not.โ
He runs a hand through his hair, frustration creeping in.
โIs this because of one dinner? Tell me what they said.โ
โStop,โ you whisper.
โDid they threaten you?โ
โNo.โ
โThen why?โ
Because I love you too much to ruin your life.
But you donโt say that.
Instead, you step back.
โI just donโt see a future.โ
The silence that follows is unbearable.
He looks at you like heโs trying to memorise your face.
โWas any of it real?โ he asks quietly.
That question nearly breaks you.
โYes,โ you whisper. โIt was.โ
โThen why are you giving up?โ
Because someone has to.
But you donโt say that either.
You walk toward the door and open it.
His face falls.
โSo thatโs it?โ he asks.
You nod.
He stands there for a long moment, like heโs waiting for you to change your mind.
You donโt.
Finally, he steps past you.
When he reaches the hallway, he turns once more.
โI would have chosen you,โ he says.
The door closes before he can see you fall apart.
The second it shuts, you slide down against it, hands over your mouth to muffle the sobs that escape.
On the other side, you hear his footsteps retreat down the corridor.
Slow.
Heavy.
Each one sounds like something breaking.
The sad song on your speaker keeps playing and you sit there on the floor, crying against the door, while the man you love walks away believing you never loved him enough.
-
You avoid places you know he might be.
The cafรฉ near his office.
The restaurant where he once insisted on ordering for you because โyou overthink menus.โ
Even the street outside Seo Holdings.
Itโs easier that way.
Your apartment feels quieter now.
The music still plays at night, but you donโt let it get loud anymore.
You throw yourself into work instead.
Meetings. Deadlines. Revisions.
Anything that keeps your mind from wandering back to him standing in your doorway, asking if any of it was real.
You tell yourself this is strength.
It feels more like survival.
Three weeks after the breakup, your assistant rushes into your office holding her tablet.
โHave you seen this?โ
You look up, confused.
She turns the screen toward you.
A headline.
SEO HOLDINGS CEO ANNOUNCES PRESS BRIEFING ON CORPORATE RESTRUCTURE
Your stomach drops.
โHe never does surprise briefings,โ she says. โThis is huge.โ
You stare at the time.
Itโs live in ten minutes.
You donโt mean to watch it.
You do anyway.
The broadcast shows a familiar conference room. Long table. Reporters seated in rows.
Changbin walks in.
He looks thinner. Sharper somehow. His expression calm but distant.
He bows slightly before taking his seat.
โI will keep this brief,โ he says into the microphone.
His voice is steady.
โEffective immediately, Seo Holdings will restructure its governance. Personal decisions regarding my life will not be subject to board approval or family oversight.โ
The room changes.
Cameras flash.
One reporter raises a hand.
โIs this in response to recent speculation about your personal relationships?โ
โYes. I built this company with my own work,โ he continues. โI respect my parents deeply. But my personal life is not a merger. It is not a strategy.โ
Your eyes blur.
โIf any partnership depends on controlling who I am allowed to love, then it is not a partnership I require.โ
Silence fills the room.
He bows again.
And walks out.
You donโt realise youโre crying until your assistant gently closes your office door behind her.
That evening, there is a knock on your apartment door.
You freeze.
It happens again.
Slower this time.
You already know.
When you open it, heโs standing there in a simple black coat, hands in his pockets.
He looks exhausted but determined.
โCan I come in?โ he asks quietly.
You step aside.
He walks in like heโs memorizing the space all over again.
For a moment, neither of you speaks.
โI saw the briefing,โ you say finally.
โI know.โ
โWhy did you do that?โ you ask.
He looks at you like the answer is obvious.
โBecause you were right.โ
Your chest tightens.
โYou shouldnโt have to choose, but you didnโt give me that chance.โ
You swallow.
โThey asked me to end it.โ
The words hang in the air.
His brows knit together. โWhat?โ
โThey said investors were watching. That you would sacrifice too much.โ
His jaw tightens.
โThey said if I loved you, I would step aside.โ
His hands curl into fists at his sides.
โAnd you listened?โ
โI didnโt want you to hate them, or resent me.โ
His voice rises, just slightly.
โSo you let me think you didnโt love me?โ
Tears spill over.
โI thought it would be easier if you believed I left.โ
โYou donโt get to decide what I can handle.โ
โI didnโt want to stand between you and your family, I didnโt want you to choose.โ
He stops in front of you.
โI already did. I chose you the night I asked them to meet you,โ he says. โI chose you when I imagined my future. You werenโt an option. You were the plan.โ
Your legs feel weak.
โI thought I was protecting you,โ you whisper.
โI donโt need protection from loving you.โ
He steps closer, slower this time.
โI went to them after the briefing,โ he says.
Your head lifts.
โAnd?โ
โThey were angry at first.โ
You can imagine it. His fatherโs controlled tone. His motherโs disappointed silence.
โBut then I told them everything.โ
His voice softens.
โI told them you walked away because you were trying to protect me. That you never used my name. That you built everything you have on your own.โ
Your heart pounds.
โMy mother asked one question.โ
โWhat?โ
โShe asked if you make me happy. I said youโre the only person who makes this life feel like mine.โ
Your vision blurs again.
โThey didnโt know you took the blame. They thought you were chasing security.โ
A tear slips down your cheek.
โAnd when they realised you gave me up so I wouldnโt lose themโฆ They understood.โ
You stare at him.
โMy mother wants to see you. Not to negotiate, but to apologize.โ
You canโt process that.
โThey were wrong about you. And they know it.โ
The weight youโve been carrying for weeks cracks open.
โI never wanted to fight them,โ you whisper.
โYou didnโt. You fought for me.โ
He reaches for your hands.
You donโt pull away.
โI donโt want a future built on fear. I want one built with you.โ
You start crying again, properly this time. Not the quiet tears youโve been swallowing back for weeks. Your shoulders shake. Your breath stutters.
He pulls you to him.
You cling to his coat like youโre afraid heโll disappear.
โIโm sorry,โ you sob into his chest. โIโm so sorry.โ
โStop apologising for loving me,โ he murmurs against your hair.
You both stand there in the middle of your apartment, holding each other like youโve been under water and just found air.
When you finally pull back, he cups your face.
โIโm not asking you to sacrifice yourself again, Iโm asking you to stand next to me.โ
You nod, tears still falling.
โYes.โ
Itโs barely a whisper.
But itโs enough.
"I love you, Changbin." you say and he smiles.
"I love you too."
Oh, just how you love his smile.
-
A week later, you return to the Seo estate.
Your hands shake slightly, but Changbinโs fingers are intertwined with yours.
His mother meets you at the door.
She bows slightly.
โI owe you an apology,โ she says.
You blink, startled.
โWe misjudged you. We saw risk where there was devotion.โ
His father steps forward.
โFew people would walk away from power for someone else,โ he says. โYou did.โ
You swallow.
โI never wanted his position, I only wanted him.โ
His motherโs expression finally softens completely.
โThat is precisely why you are worthy of standing beside him.โ
It isnโt dramatic.
But it feels like a door opening.
That night, back in your apartment, Changbin pulls you onto the couch.
โNo more noble sacrifices,โ he says, brushing your hair back.
โNo more secrets,โ you reply.
He smiles, the soft one you fell in love with.
โYou and me,โ he says.
You lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder.
You almost lost him.
He almost lost you.
But love, messy and imperfect and stubborn, survived.
And this time, no one is standing in the doorway.
A/N: I love kdrama clichรฉ, so, I was like, why not?
All photos used on this blog are from Pinterest I do not own them, credit goes to their owner!
โ Warnings: Anxiety/panic attacks, pregnancy, premature birth/complications, NICU descriptions
โ Request: Commissioned by @leeknow143iluvchuu
โ Characters: Han, Y/N, (Stray Kids + Fam)
โ Word Count: 15.1k
โ Synopsis: Han and Y/N give birth to their second baby
Y/N didn't know whether she wanted to burst into emotional tears or crack up with peels of laughter when she entered her living room; her husband was curled up into the shape of a cocoon on the length of the sofa, their sleepy baby mirroring his position perfectly atop his warm chest. The pair of them displayed the same facial expression too - lips in the form of duck pouts, cheek squished up comically to the side as they both stared at the TV in front of them.ย
โYou can definitely tell who she takes after,โ Y/N giggled as she took in their synced appearances.
Jisung lifted his head ever so slightly when he heard his wife's voice. He propped it up by using the arm that was folded behind his head, and his face broke into a content smile, his eyes almost disappearing into his face with escalating joy.ย
โSame position, same sleeping habits, same eating habits โฆ Ji come on, you even have chocolate on your face.โย
โOops,โ Jisung hastily swiped the back of his fingers over his lips in mild embarrassment. โAccident.โ
โYou always have chocolate on your face,โ Y/N grinned mischievously. โSurprised she's chocolate free today,โ she said, nodding towards Coco as she sat down beside her husband and daughter on the sofa.ย
Coco was only seven months old - and yet those mere seven months had seemed like a lifetime and a half m for both Jisung and Y/N. For one reason, and one reason only - neither of them could settle on a name for the child. They hadn't expected the task to be so difficult, and in the meantime, the parents had started calling their daughter various variants of Bean instead. Little Bean โฆ Bean Sprout โฆ Beany Bean. Nothing seemed to suit their family dynamic - all the names they came across either seeming wildly unremarkable or completely over the top. They didn't particularly want anything serious either - Jisung and Y/N were one of the least serious couples out of their friends and family, their relationship built on a playful, teasing friendship.ย
They had spent the length of Y/N's pregnancy scouring every corner of the Internet as well as their friend's perplexed minds - they even sifted through food packaging labels at one significantly delirious moment in the middle of the night, in hopes of somehow being enlightened.ย
And yet, still nothing stood out in the way the parents had wanted it to.
Until yesterday. The family of three had been spending the day at Felixs's house along with the rest of their friends. Cluttered around the man's spacious kitchen, the large group brimmed with laughter as they fought over who was to be the first one to eat the freshly baked goods Felix had pulled out of the oven. Caught up in their heated debate, Y/N and Jisung hadn't noticed when their baby had disappeared from their sight until Felix's excitable exclamations caught their attention.ย
โCocoa powder?โ Y/N shrieked with laughter as she rushed over to the counter Felix was standing behind. โOut of everything you could have your hands in, it's cocoa powder?โ
Almost as if she was responding, the baby looked up at her from her hold; Felix was holding the baby in one arm, his other hand clutching a wet cloth with which he gently dabbed at the baby's cheeks. They were covered in a cocoa powder slurry, as were her hands, and after a quick inspection Y/N was relieved to see none of it had made its way into her mouth.ย
โMaybe she likes the smell of it,โ Jisung suggested amidst his manic laughter from behind his wife. โCocoa child.โ
Y/N suddenly gasped as an incredulous realisation made its way to the forefront of her mind. โChocolate was my pregnancy craving! Maybe the smell of it is familiar to her?โย
She lifted the baby up from Felix's arms as the man went to wash his hands, and she smiled widely. โDo you like chocolate, Bean? Do you like the scent of cocoa just like your daddy?โ
The baby blinked wide-eyed at Y/N a second time.
โCocoa?โ Felix laughed in question as he leaned against the sink. โCocoa โฆ Bean? Cocoa bean!โ
The baby turned her head and stared up at Felix. A second later Jisung started jumping manically up and down in the kitchen as a metaphoric light bulb exploded inside of his brain.ย
โCoco!โ Jisung squealed. โWe can call her Coco!โย
โBut Ji, that's โฆ โ Y/N rubbed her temples as she watched their daughter turn to look at Jisung, who was still yelling โCoco!โ at the top of his lungs.ย
She couldn't help it when a large smile spread across her face, despite thinking that the name was one of the least conventional names Jisung could have landed on.ย
โ โฆ Really cute,โ she finished.ย
Now, Jisung smiled goofily as he looked down at the baby on his chest. โOur Han Coco.โ
His hand was the most gentle of touches as he slowly caressed Coco's head, the wide eyed baby turning to look up at him at the gesture. โHey โฆ If we have another baby we should name it after your next pregnancy cravings.โย
Y/N abruptly choked on the water she was trying to drink. She set the glass down on the table. โAnother baby? Already?โย
โNo, not yet,โ Jisung said hurriedly, his cheeks turning pink . โWay too early. But โฆ next time.โย
โWay to give me a heart attack, Ji,โ Y/N sighed, sinking back into the sofa. โI don't know how we'd manage two babies. We can barely even manage ourselves, let alone Coco.โ
Jisung started to chuckle. โI know. But โฆ she's so cute. It makes up for it.โย
He looked down at Coco again, tickling the underside of her chin. โDo you want another food for a sibling?โ
Grinning, Y/N shook her head. โI don't know, Ji. What if I end up craving something weird like pickles? Don't want to name a baby Han Pickle.โย
โHan Pickle,โ a distorted wheeze left Jisung's mouth and it quickly turned into a loud guffaw at the name. Cocoโs face crumpled with the sudden earthquake below her, and Jisung hastily stilled his erratic movements as he resumed patting her head. โSorry baby. It's okay. There, there.โย
His placating didn't seem to work. A minute later Coco started crying loudly, and Y/N quickly reached over to scoop the baby up from her husband's chest.ย
โMeal time,โ Y/N sighed with a smile, leaning back into the sofa. โThere, there, little one โฆ โย
Filled with ever present curiosity, Jisung sat up and leaned close to his wife. He watched curiously as Y/N slipped the loose neckline of her top down, and the man was once again awed at how quickly Coco latched on to his wife's breast.
โI could even end up craving coal,โ Y/N continued their previous conversation. โSome pregnant women do, you know.โ
โCoal?โ Jisung's eyes flew open so wide that they looked as though they would fall out of his sockets in the next few seconds.ย
โIt's called pica,โ Y/N giggled. โGetting cravings for weird stuff โฆ coal, chalk, soap โฆ it's a type of eating disorder.โ
Jisung stared at his wife. He blinked slowly, the same way Coco was as she fed. โSuddenly pickles sound way better.โ
Y/N shook her head. โYeah.โย
Jisung grew silent for a while, his round eyes fixed on Y/N and Coco. He had his legs crossed in a way that made him appear much smaller than he actually was, and he rested his face on his hands, his glasses being pushed up his face with his cheeks. He cocked his head to the side when he spoke again, the words that came out of his mouth making Y/N nearly drop the baby with her sudden outburst of laughter.ย
โWhy isn't it chocolate milk?โ Jisung asked, steepling his fingertips under his chin. โYou ate so much chocolate when you were pregnant โฆ you should have chocolate milk, not vanilla milk. Cocoa milk. For Coco.โย
Y/N snorted with silent laughter, her hand braced on their baby's back to quell the movement. โJi โฆ honestly. Where do you even get your thoughts from? You're so weird.โย
Jisung's face broke into a wide smile. โTell me you haven't thought about it too?โ
Y/N's lips twitched. โI hadn't thought about it โฆ but I'm thinking about it now.โ
โSee? It doesn't make sense,โ Jisung flopped back onto his back.ย
โYou don't make sense,โ Y/N giggled, playfully shoving his legs with her free hand. โIt's not even vanilla milk. It's โฆ plain breast milk.โ
โI know,โ Jisung chuckled. โWatch this documentary with me?โย
โLike I've got a choice,โ Y/N said mischievously. โGonna be sitting here for the next half an hour anyway.โย
For a large part of their afternoon, Y/N and Jisung spent their time watching documentary after documentary; Jisung was curled up into a tiny ball with his knees up to his chest as his gaze remained glued to the screen, his head a warm weight against Y/N's arm. Coco warped in and out of a light doze, her placid position on Y/N's lap primarily remaining the same.ย
Y/N, meanwhile, had begun to develop a headache. She tried to ignore it at first, channelling her attention to the animals on the TV. But the pain gradually increased to the point where she couldn't ignore it anymore, and she was soon wincing from the glare of the television.ย
โBaby?โ Jisung's voice was soft. โWhat's wrong?โย
โJust a headache,โ Y/N shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. She slipped her fingers into Jisung's hand and squeezed it gently. โProbably lack of sleep.โย
Jisung puffed his cheeks up like a squirrel in response. He reached over and gently took a sleeping Coco from his wife's hold, and - very carefully so as not to disturb her - slid off of the sofa. He padded to the space a few feet away before lowering Coco down into her cushioned basket that rested at the side of the sofa.
He then returned to his seat and wrapped his arms around his wife. Y/N gratefully leaned into his welcome warmth, and she smiled when the man started to tickle her gently on her stomach.
โStop that,โ Y/N giggled, patting his hand. โGot a bit of a tummy ache too.โ
At that, Jisung frowned. โAre you coming down with something? Are you sick?โย
โI hope not,โ Y/N sighed against his chest. โIt'd be very inconvenient if I was. I've got things to do. Babies to feed. Husbands to tease.โย
Jisung chuckled. โIs it ever a convenient time to be sick?โ
โNope.โย
โAnd also? Babies? Husbands? Plural? Are you hiding a secret family from me?โ
Y/N grinned. โMaybe, maybe not.โ
Laughing quietly, Jisung snuggled closer to his wife and pressed a kiss to her cheek.ย
*โ*โ*
โAre you still sick?โ Jisung asked in surprise with wide eyes.ย
Y/N had been cleaning around the kitchen; she now leaned against a cold counter top, her hands gripping the sides as her head spun and her stomach churned with nausea. โBaby?โย
โI'm โฆ fine,โ Y/N managed. She wiped the back of her hand over her forehead - it came away damp, perspiration beading her skin. โI need to finish this.โย
Jisung pried the cloth out from her warm hand and set it down on the counter. โYou're not fine. Go sit down โฆ I'll finish this. Baby โฆ you look terrible. Really terrible.โ
โUgly terrible?โ Y/N asked in a joking manner.ย
Jisung smiled widely. He cupped the woman's feverish face in his hands and blinked slowly at her like a friendly cat. โYou could never be ugly. Except for right now.โ
His response made Y/N crack up with laughter. A second later another rush of queasiness came over her and her face crumpled, Jisung's expression becoming a mirror of her own.
โOkay, go sit down,โ Jisung said with worry. He pressed a loving kiss to his wife's lips before turning her around and pushing her towards the living room. โGet some rest. I'll clean and I'll cook and I'll feed Coco.โย
Y/N smiled. โOh yeah? You have milk, do you?โ
Jisung peered down at himself. He patted his chest. โWell โฆ no. But, I do have something else.โ
He turned and pointed to a fat tub on the kitchen counter. โFormula!โย
Giggling, Y/N leaned over and kissed the man on his cheek. โIt's okay. I can feed Coco. Leave the formula for emergencies.โย
โThis is an emergency,โ Jisung whined, setting Y/N down onto their sofa. โBaby I love you, but you look so bad. Like you're on the verge of becoming a zombie. If you go outside, people are gonna scream and run away, and -ย โ
โOkay, that's enough, Han Jisung,โ Y/N snorted with more laughter. โSuch kind words from my loving husband.โย
โYou know I love you,โ Jisung laughed, kissing her temple. โStay here. I'll bring you food.โย
โYou're cooking?โ Y/N raised an eyebrow.ย
Jisung grinned. โI am.โย
โGood luck to the kitchen!โ
โHey! I'm good at cooking now,โ Jisung huffed. โI didn't take those lessons with Minho for nothing.โ
Smiling, Y/N reached over the back of the sofa and pulled up a thick blanket. โThat's true. But I wouldn't say you're good at it. Yet.โย
It turned out that Jisung's cooking skills extended to garnishing a steaming bowl of instant ramen with a barely cooked egg and a generous handful of grated cheese. He proudly carried the large bowl over to his wife, and he set it down on the table with an extravagant flourish that made Y/N erupt into a fit of giggles.ย
โFair play, Han Jisung,โ Y/N grinned as she sat up. She wasn't one to ever be opposed to instant ramen, especially on a cold, autumnal evening such as this one. It would always be one of her comfort foods, no matter how many new extravagant foods she encountered. With her face over the bowl and the savoury aroma warming her nose, Y/N already felt as though she was miles better. โDo you want some?โย
As if on cue, Jisung whipped out another large bowl and set it down on the table beside hers. โWanna eat ramen together?โ He wiggled his eyebrows.ย
Y/N stirred the noodles around with her chopsticks, her stomach grumbling loudly. โAre you talking dirty to me, Mr Han?โ
โMaybe, maybe not,โ Jisung said before shovelling a heaping mouthful of the steaming ramen into his mouth. He immediately regretted his action a moment later, and he started blowing in and out with rapid speed as the heat from the food singed his tongue and the roof of his mouth. โMaybe not. Ow.โ
โYou never learn,โ Y/N giggled, delicately blowing on her ramen in contrast to her ravenous husband. โYou do this every. Single. Time.โ
Jisung gulped down the nearest glass of water, his tongue hanging out of his mouth like an exhausted puppy. โI forget.โย
With amicable chatter, the couple made their way through their bowls of ramen with gusto. Both her head and stomach feeling a little better now that her appetite had been satiated, Y/N had begun to feel drowsy instead, and her eyes drooped as she pushed her empty bowl away. She curled up on the sofa under the fluffy blanket with Jisung's instruction and promptly allowed herself to doze off, and Jisung cleared away their bowls before finishing cleaning the rest of the kitchen.
Three days passed, and still Y/N was feeling under the weather, if not more so. Her stomach continued to fill her with a tumultuous feeling as if she was out at sea, and her head throbbed in a fluctuating pattern around the perimeter of her skull. She was permanently glued to the sofa, despite attempting to convince Jisung that she was okay, and it was secretly amusing watching the man stumble around the house with Coco tucked up in his arms.
โI'm making you a doctor's appointment,โ Jisung proclaimed loudly on the fifth day. โYou're not well, baby.โ
โBut I'm fine,โ Y/N insisted.ย
โNo, you're a liar,โ Jisung said as he dialled a number into his phone.ย
That was how Y/N found herself staring wide-eyed and shaking into a mirror in the doctor's bathroom. The past ten minutes in her general practitionerโs office had passed by in a distorted blur, and now her chest was constricting with heightening levels of premature anxiety the longer she stared into her own eyes.ย
Pregnant?ย
She couldn't be.
It โฆ wasn't possible.ย
She had only given birth seven months ago.ย
This wasn't how things were supposed to go โฆ at all
*โ*โ*ย
She couldn't focus.ย
On anything.ย
She hadn't told him yet either.
โWhat did the doctor say?โ Jisung asked cheerfully as he tugged harshly at the netting of a bag of clementines. It was a clumsy attempt to open up the packaging; the net split, and the man yelped loudly as his oranges spilled out and rolled across the floor.ย
He scrambled up to his feet from his place on the floor and ran after the flying fruit. โBaby?โย
Y/N blinked. She had been staring into complete space ever since she got home. โHm?โย
โThe doctor,โ Jisung laughed. His arms were full of the clementines as he made his way back to her. โWhat did she say?โย
Y/N swallowed thickly. Her throat was sore, and before she knew it, her eyes burned in a way she couldn't prevent. Tears began to spill over her cheeks.
Jisung's eyes widened. He dropped the clementines onto the floor again in his urge to get to his wife, and he knelt down in front of Y/N before reaching out to slowly hold her trembling hands.ย
โBaby? What's wrong, what did she say?โย
His eyes were as round and brown as chocolate truffles when Y/N looked at him. The man appeared both surprised and worried, though his face still radiated the same warmth that it always did when he gazed upon his wife. Jisung's tender expression only made Y/N cry harder; she was silent as her body shook, and completely bewildered, Jisung moved his hands from her hands to her face. He smoothed his fingers over her wet cheeks and wiped away her relentless tears. โYou're worrying me now, baby. Tell me what happened before I start crying too.โย
His words usually would have made the woman splutter with laughter. But this time they only made her eyes blur all over again, and she rubbed her own hand over her face.ย
โJi โฆ โ her voice wobbled when she spoke. She looked down at her lap. โJiI'mpregnant.โย
Jisung blinked. He laughed suddenly in minute disbelief, sure he misheard her. โWhat?โย
โI'm โฆ pregnant,โ Y/N repeated a little more slowly. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, and she clenched her eyes shut. โI'm. Pregnant.โ
She watched as the confused smile on Jisung's face dissolved. His face closed in on itself and he let go of his wife's hands as he fell away from her, sitting back on the floor with a sharp inhale.ย
โP โฆ โ Jisung ran his fingers through his hair, his hands cupping the top of his head. โPregnant? No โฆ you can't be pregnant โฆ โย
That was exactly what Y/N had thought when she had found out.ย
โBut โฆ you โฆ we - โ Jisung's shoulders begun to shake; his words trailed off as his breathing took on an uneven, hurried pace. He laughed incredulously, the sounds and the upcoming words that escaped his lips leaving in feeble wheezes. โYou're not pregnant. You're not. This is a joke, right?โย
โIt's not a joke, baby,โ Y/N whispered. โThe doctor made me take a test. It's why I've been feeling so sick lately.โ
Jisung laughed.ย
He laughed again.ย
His face crumpled and his hand closed over his heart, his fingers closing in on his t-shirt in such a tight grip that the tanned skin of his knuckles turned porcelain .ย
โBut we just had Coco,โ Jisung gasped. He felt like his heart was being squeezed slowly by the enclosure of his ribs. โWe โฆ we aren't ready. How are we going to raise two babies at the same time? I โฆ can't โฆ fuck. Shit. Fuck!โย
In and out, in and out, in and out. Jisung's entire body pulsed with difficulty as his breaths took on a sharp form, piercing his insides with needle-like pain. A mixture of laboured breathing and nausea and disbelieving laughter overwhelmed his body, and Y/N watched as he began rocking back and forth, his lips moving slowly.ย
โFuck, fuck, fuck โฆ โ Jisung chanted under his breath.ย
โJi,โ Y/N reached out and placed a hand on her husband's shoulder despite her own internal turmoil. โJi โฆ you're sounding like thirteen year old Jisung again.โ
โI feel like I'm thirteen!โ Jisung exclaimed in a small voice. He was as anxious as he had ever been, but Y/N's light touch immediately decreased the level of anxiety inside of him, and he looked up at her with a little more clarity. โA thirteen year old can't raise a child!โย
โJi, we already have a child,โ in spite of the stress she was feeling, Y/N couldn't help but start to giggle. She leaned closer to him and placed her other hand on his cheek. โWe've had a child for seven months. Her name is Coco.โย
Jisung furrowed his eyebrows. He grew quiet as he processed her words. And then, โThat's not the point.โ
โWhat is your point?โย
โ โฆ I don't know. I'm stressed.โ
โMe too.โย
Looking each other in the eye, Y/N and Jisung burst into frenzied laughter. Jisung dropped his face into his hands as Y/N slid off of the sofa, settling herself on the floor before wrapping her arms around him.ย
โThe timing is terrible,โ She murmured against the soft skin of his neck as her hand slid up and down his back. โBut โฆ we can do this. We can. I don't think the universe would give us another child if we couldn't handle it.โย
โI think the universe is fucking with us,โ Jisung declared simply, though he curled his own arms around her wife's shoulders and kissed her temple. โI think it should back off before I fight it.โย
Y/N giggled. She pulled back a little, surveying Jisung's tired yet determined face. โOh yeah? How are you gonna do that, Ji?โ
Jisung slowly raised his fists. He waved them around aggressively, his hair bobbing up and down in fluffy clumps with the movement.ย
โOkay, okay, don't hurt yourself,โ Y/N smiled as she placed her hands over his and dropped her head against her shoulder. โYou'd never win.โย
Jisung smiled at her words. He tilted his head to the side and rested it against Y/N's.ย
โI'm scared,โ Jisung whispered a moment later.ย
โSo am I,โ Y/N murmured. โWe already don't get enough sleep as it is.โย ย
โI get more than you.โย
โStop bragging.โย
Giggling again, the couple sighed and squeezed each other a little tighter. Their racing hearts soon slowed down, and it wasn't long before Y/N started to feel sleepy with the steady drum of her husband's heartbeat against her fingers.ย
โI'm happy,โ Jisung hummed suddenly, his fingers carding through Y/N's hair. โJust in case I forgot to say it before.โ
Y/N spluttered against his neck.
โI'm being serious,โ Jisung laughed. โI am really grateful. And happy. And grateful.โย
โReally?โ Y/N pulled back again.
โReally,โ Jisung nodded. โOf course I am. Why wouldn't I be?โ
Y/N tilted her head to the side with a knowing glance.
โStop that,โ Jisung chuckled. He planted an adoring kiss on the woman's cheek. โWe're gonna be parents!โย
โJi, we're already parents.โย
Jisung's lips twitched. โWe're gonna be parents again!โย
Smiling at her husband, Y/N leaned forward and brushed her lips against his. In doing so, she caught sight of the little bursts of orange dotted around the floor. She nodded to the spilled fruit over his shoulder with a smile. โThose clementines are gonna be so bruised.โย
It turned out that the clementines did indeed suffer substantial bruising from the force of which Jisung had repeatedly dropped them at. To prevent them from becoming even worse, Jisung attempted to quickly peel the slightly squishy fruits so they could eat them together. His clumsy yet admirable efforts resulted in orange juice squirting in his eyes more than three times even though his glasses should have shielded them, as well as the remains of it running down his veiny forearms before dripping off of his elbows.ย
โGive them to me,โ Y/N snorted with laughter for the umpteenth time as Jisung battled with his sixth clementine. She watched the soft fruit explode over his fingers in a pulpy mess, and Jisung yelled in the process as more giggles bubbled inside of his wife. โJi. Let me do it.โ
โNo baby,โ Jisung was as adamant as he was dramatic. โI'm doing it, baby. I'm doing it for you, baby. Give me a chance, baby.โย
Laughing at his response, Y/N couldn't do anything but shake her head at him. โYou're making a massive mess.โย
โIt's a mess made with love though,โ Jisung grinned widely. He finally managed to peel another orange with ease, and he segmented the abnormally neat orange before placing it into his wife's hands. โEat.โย
And so she did just that. Being the back end of autumn, the oranges were sweet and fragrant; Y/N couldn't remember the last time she had enjoyed the fruit as much as she currently was, and before she knew it, the couple deftly made their way through the three bags of the clementines Jisung had purchased the previous morning.
โAren't there any more?โ Y/N huffed as she finished her last segment.ย
โMore?โ Jisung laughed in surprise. โNope. I only bought three bags.โย
โI want more โฆ โ Y/N whined. She clutched at her husband's arm, shaking him slightly. โJi, get me more.โย
Chuckling at Y/N's expression, Jisung squished his wife's cheeks with his soft hands. โI'll get you some more tomorrow.โ
Y/N pouted. โPromise?โย
โI promise,โ Jisung grinned. โThis time I won't drop them on the floor.โย
*โ*โ*ย
โI'm gonna be a dad,โ Jisung kept repeating in what resembled a worrying chant as his body slid further and further down his friend's sofa. โI'm gonna be. A. Dad.โย
โYou already are a dad, Han,โ Chan laughed for the third time at the extravagant look upon Jisung's face. The older man's one year old daughter wriggled around in his lap, and she looked up at Chan with red cheeks as though she was listening to his voice. Chan smiled warmly and lightly tickled the underside of Sky's nose with the tip of his index finger. โYou have been for a while.โย
Jisung sighed loudly. โThat's what Y/N said.โย
โIt's not that surprising, idiot โฆ it's a fact. A very well known fact,โ Changbin rolled his eyes. He was huddled in a cosy corner with Noah, the six year old's eyebrows furrowed as he turned a page of his book. His cheek was pressed up against Changbin's bicep, and Changbin was unable to keep the soft smile off of his face at the affection from the little boy.
โYou're so annoying, Seo Changbin,โ Jisung scowled. โI wasn't talking to you.โย
โHey, hey, hey,โ Chan tutted once as Jisung made to pick up one of the large cushions on the sofa, clearly intending to throw it at Changbin's head. โBehave. The kids are watching.โย
Noah giggled over the top of his book. โUncle Jiji always throws things at Uncle Binnie when you're not looking, daddy.โ
Chan swivelled his face slowly to Jisung, and gave him a long, hard, pointed look.ย
โYour uncle is just demonstrating his emotions in a very unethical way,โ Chan said to Noah with a smile. โDon't follow his example. You don't wanna turn out like him.โย
โOkay,โ Noah said simply, his eyes sparkling. And then, โUncle Jiji, you're bad.โย
โYou're pitting him against me!โ Jisung exclaimed melodramatically, just as Chan cracked up with teasing laughter. โI came here for support and you're being very rude, Mr Bang Chan.โย
โOkay, okay, sorry Hannie,โ Chan chuckled, leaning over to squeeze his friend's arm. โI was kidding.โย
Jisung stuck his tongue out at him in a very childish way.ย
โWhat's on your mind?โ Chan asked him in a softer, less playful tone as he played with the fat buttons on Sky's cardigan. โDo you not want another kid?โ
โNo,โ Jisung said a second later.ย
Both Chan and Changbin turned their slightly startled gazes towards him.
โNo, I mean, it's not that,โ Jisung said hurriedly, his hands waving in the air in mild panic. โI didn't mean I don't want another kid. I do want another kid. But โฆ we only just had Coco, and Y/N is exhausted, and I don't want her to be more exhausted, and I still can't believe I'm actually a dad, and I don't think I'm going to be a good one, and - โย
Chan reached out and gently patted Jisung on his head. โDeep breath.โ
Jisung's cheeks puffed up considerably as he did what his older friend told him to do. Resembling a balloon, Jisung inhaled a few times before flopping against Chan's broad frame. He absent mindedly traced his fingertip over Sky's palm, and the toddler flopped into Jisung's lap like a fish with a large smile.ย
โYou already are a good dad, Uncle Jijiโ Noah said in his quiet voice. โKy thinks so too.โย
Chan smiled fondly at his son, the richness of his eyes melting further as he regarded him wordlessly. He watched as Changbin slid an arm around Noah, the man pulling the six year old closer to him in a warm hug.
Jisung resisted the urge to burst into tears at the boy's simple, gentle comment. He knew just as much as anyone that children were often the most honest of people. โThanks Noey.โ
He started to giggle as Sky rolled around on his legs without a care in the world. โShe has so much energy.โย
โBecause she likes you,โ Chan said with a smile. โBecause she thinks you're a good uncle.โ
Jisung's lips curled up at the corners as he curled his fingers gently around Sky's. โDo you think so, Ky-Ky?โย
Sky smiled again. She squeezed Jisung's hands, making the man sniff loudly.
*โ*โ*
Jisung had only dumped new bags of clementines onto the coffee table ten minutes ago. He watched in fascination as Y/N attacked them like a starving animal.
โBaby โฆ baby slow down,โ Jisung was perplexed as Y/N ripped open another bag of clementines. โYou're gonna choke.โย
Y/N ignored him. โI have never had anything as tasty as these clementines. I don't want to eat anything else ever again. I want them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.โย
Jisung stole a glance at Coco. She was looking back at him with the same gormless expression as though she shared his bafflement, and it made him chuckle.
โEven Coco is shocked,โ Jisung pointed out. โLook at her. She's never seen her mummy eat so many oranges in her life.โย
โNo, Coco is impressed,โ Y/N corrected, peeling another clementine. โShe wants to be like mummy when she grows up.โ
Jisung burst into affectionate laughter. โWhat, a clementine monster?โย
Y/N looked thoughtful. โYes.โย
โDo you want to be a clementine monster, baby?โ Jisung cooed towards Coco.ย
Coco blinked at him. She flopped forwards on the sofa, a rogue clementine caught beneath her.ย
โThat was a yes,โ Y/N shrieked with laughter as she gently pried the fruit away from their seven month old. She kissed Coco on the top of her head before going back to her clementines. โDo you want some?โ
Jisung responded by leaning close to his wife, his mouth dropping open widely. He clamped his lips shut after Y/N placed two segments into his mouth, and he chewed joyously on the fruit before suddenly bursting into laughter.ย
โYou know,โ Jisung laughed to himself, covering his mouth as he spoke. โIf we have another girl we should name her Clementine. Good thing you're not craving pickles like you said the other day.โ
Y/N's stomach lurched at the idea of pickles. In her current state, she never wanted to think about a pickle again.ย
โThink about it,โ Jisung said as he opened his mouth again, waiting for more fruit. โWe named Coco Coco technically because you craved so much chocolate in your first pregnancy. Now you're craving clementines โฆ so it'd make sense if we call our second baby Clementine.โ
Y/N stared at her husband when she realised he wasn't joking. โYou were actually being serious?โ
โYeah.โย
Blinking slowly, Y/N looked to Coco. The baby was already looking up at her with round eyes, and Y/N couldn't help but start to laugh.ย
โYu-Ja for her Korean name?โ Jisung continued helpfully. โYou know โฆ like โฆ yuzu lemons.โ
โYuzu?โ Y/N repeated with another giggle. โTalk about a very citrusy child. What if it's not a girl?โ
โIt will be,โ Jisung was adamant. โI know it will be. If not โฆ we can still name a boy Clementine.โย
Y/N bit her lip at Jisung's suggestion. A large smile spread across her face, and she gently patted her stomach. โHey, Clementine.โย
As if on cue, a second later Coco started to giggle energetically. She flopped onto Y/N, her hand landing over the top of her mother's.ย
โCoco approves too,โ Jisung hummed, translating their child's movements. He reached for Coco and immediately snuggled his nose against her cheek. โMy little Cocoa Bean. Do you like the name Clementine?โ
Coco giggled again. She reached out and gently patted Jisung's forehead with her tiny fingers.
The parents beamed. They took her reaction as a positive one, and so the name Clementine took place in their minds much faster than the name had materialised for their first child.ย
*โ*โ*ย
True to the friend group's nature, the garden was soon the picture of utter chaos.ย
โHannie โฆ Coco is in the chocolate fountain โฆ again,โ Chan called across the garden as he jogged to the other side, his curly hair flying in the wind. He hurriedly scooped the child up from the small food table before she could consume the entirety of its contents. โNo, no, no โฆ that's not for you, yeah?โย
Chan started to chuckle as Coco looked up at him with round, innocent eyes, her fingers smeared with the melted chocolate; a second later his affectionate laughter morphed into an expression of shock as Coco promptly stamped her hands onto Chan's t-shirt.
Chan sighed as he looked down at the two brown handprints staring up at him against the white material. There also appeared to be a drip of chocolate on the thigh of his blue jeans, though how it got there, the man had no idea. He shook his head at Coco with a smile. โCheers, little one. Really thoughtful of you.โย
โAw, she thinks you're her canvas,โ Astra came up behind her husband with a wad of wet tissues in her hands. She gently took a hold of Cocoโs hands as the baby settled down in Chan's grip, and the woman started to clean the chocolate off of the baby's fingers.ย ย
โSounds like you,โ Chan said wryly. It made Y/N laugh, and she kissed the man's cheek before wiping down his clothes quickly and making her way to toss the dirty tissues into a bin.
โWoah, cool shirt,โ Jisung suddenly appeared in front of Chan. He flipped his thumbs up at his friend, and Chan shook his head again in mild disbelief.ย
He hoisted Coco a little higher in his muscular arms, his hand soft against her back. โYour child won't stop eating the chocolate. She's just like you.โย
Jisung grinned widely. He too had a smear of chocolate on the side of his lips, and Chan started to chuckle as he reached into his pocket and threw a tissue at him.ย
On the other side of the garden, Yumi and Minho were trying their hardest to situate a large black balloon onto the grass. Despite the heavy stopper at the bottom of it that was supposed to hold it down, the balloon kept swaying to the left and the right as well as into the fence behind it due to the cold breeze. Minho was becoming increasingly agitated at its inability to stay still.
โWho's idea was the balloon?โ Minho asked in annoyance after he'd got the balloon's ribbon for the seventh time.ย
Yumi grinned. โYours!โย
โIt wasn't!โ Minho was defiant. And then, โOh wait, it was. Oops.โ
Laughing as Minho's face broke into a shy smile, Yumi moved towards him and playfully ruffled his hair. Minho sagged under her touch, his cheeks flushing pink.ย
โWhy don't we tape it to the fence? You won't really be able to see It in pictures.โย
Minho pursed his lips.ย
โWe could dig a hole and bury the stopper in there?โ Yumi said mischievously.ย
Minho started to laugh devilishly. โI like that idea better.โ
โWhat idea?โ Y/N suddenly asked as she emerged from their house. She was wearing a knee length dress, and it swayed in the wind as she moved towards her friends. She looked up at the large balloon with a smile. โWhere'd you get such a big balloon from? I don't think Ji is gonna be able to reach that.โย
โI think I'm being spoken about,โ Jisung suddenly popped up beside his wife. โI think I'm being ridiculed. I can sense it.โย
โNo,โ Minho said innocently. โWe're just talking about you being short and not being able to pop the balloon.โ
โHey!โ Jisung was aghast. He lashed out, his elbow connecting with Minho's side, and the man burst into high pitched cackles.
โMaybe we should bury the stopper in the ground after all,โ Yumi said.
Minho and Yumi high fived each other around the string of the balloon.ย
โCan we dig this?โ Minho asked, toeing the grass. โI'm gonna dig it anyway even if you say no.โย
โYou can,โ Y/N grinned as she rested her hands on the small of her back. โGo crazy.โ
Y/N and Jisung stood together, watching as their friends situated themselves in various levels of mayhem; the balloon Minho and Yumi had brought along with them was filled with either pink or blue confetti, the colour of which would be unknown to Y/N and Jisung until a little while later when they'd pop the balloon together. To accompany the small gender reveal gathering, Felix had brought along a couple of large boxes, in which he had neatly stacked individual cheesecakes. Unassuming on the outside, Felix had secretly filled each one of them with a filling to match the innards of the black balloon floating around in the wind. Only himself and Minho knew the baby's gender, the rest of the group left in the dark.
โMama?โ Noah gently pulled on Astra's sleeve. He was sitting on a small chair, Sky for once completely calm as she rested on his lap. She was slowly chewing on tiny pieces of strawberry that Astra had cut up for her, her fingers stained with red juice.
Astra leaned down and gently caressed Noah's freckled face. โYes baby?โย
โWhen are they popping the balloon?โ Noah asked his mother.ย
โHmm โฆ soon, I think?โ Y/N smiled as she tucked her trousers beneath her and sat beside him. She nudged his shoulder amicably. โWhenever uncle Minho stops stomping on the ground, I'm guessing.โ
The two of them watched with growing smiles as Minho finally buried the balloon's stopper under the grass. Dusting damp dirt off of his fingers, the man stood up proudly and pointed to his handiwork with a single finger.
โDone,โ Minho called simply. โPopping time. Baby time.โย
From beside his wife, Chan burst into amused chuckles as his mind took an obscure turn upon hearing his friend's peculiar way of phrasing things.
โWhat's funny?โ Noah asked curiously.ย
โNothing,โ Chan cleared his throat just as Astra slid her knowing gaze towards him. โJust โฆ uncle Minho is a really funny person sometimes.โ
โEither that, or someone has a really inappropriate mind,โ Astra murmured to him, leaning towards her husband so only he could hear her words.
It only made Chan grin wider. He placed a warm hand on her knee, shuffling a little closer to her as he watched his family.
โTime to be enlightened!โ Jisung exclaimed, running haphazardly towards the balloon. Y/N was already there with Coco in her arms, and she handed him a long pin, twin to her own.ย
She looked down at Coco, kissing her temple. โYour daddy is the silliest man I've ever met,โ she said, making their friends laugh. โLet's hope uncle Seungmin takes some really silly photos of him for you to see when you're older, hmm?โย
Face splitting into a soft smile, Seungmin raised his small camera in response. It was covered with holographic stickers in all shapes and sizes, the man privately too fond of Noah to say no when the boy asked if he could decorate it with his expansive sticker collection.ย
โOkay, are we all ready?โ Y/N asked as sheย turned towards Jisung.ย
โAre you both ready?โ Changbin responded from beside Jeongin.ย
โWhat do you think it is?โ Hyunjin asked curiously as he shook his hair back with his slender fingers. โI think it's a girl.โ
Jeongin slapped Hyunjin on the back of his head, a frazzled look blooming on Hyunjin's face. โIdiot! You can't say that first, you have to let them decide. They're the parents.โย
โOops,โ Hyunjin burst into laughter. He raised his hand. โI think it's a boy!โย
โI think it's a baby,โ Jisung proclaimed loudly over their chatter. It caused them all to crack up with laughter, and Coco joined in by giggling against Y/N's chest.ย
โWhat do you want it to be, Coco?โ Y/N asked the girl. โA little sister, or a little brother?โย
Coco gurgled in response. It was a funny sound, and Jisung couldn't help but gently grab her face and plaster with kisses.
โCoco is indifferent,โ Jisung chuckled. โOkay โฆ time for the balloon? I want those cheesecakes.โ
โI hope they actually taste good,โ Felix suddenly looked anxious, his fingers pulling down his tanned cheeks as he side eyed his desserts. โI worked really hard on them.โ
โThey're cheesecakes. They'll be perfect,โ Jisung grinned at his friend. โWho's counting down?โย
โWe'll all count down,โ Chan said. He looked around at his friends. โReady? Seungmin, camera ready? Hyunjin, are you seated? You're not gonna accidentally trip and fall onto the balloon first, right?โย
Noah giggled at his father's question and smiled brightly at a flabbergasted Hyunjin. The man refrained from retorting and smiled back at Noah instead as he shook his head lightly.ย
โOkay then โฆ count of three?โ
Everyone nodded in approval.ย
โThree,โ
โTwo,โย
โOne!โย
โAhh!โย
Jisung yelled loudly just as Y/N pierced her side of the balloon; Jisung had aimed to stab his side with the pin at the same time, but true to his nature, the man tripped over the long ribbon that was attached to the balloon, and he stumbled forwards instead. The pin dropped from his hand onto the grass with a thud as he fell onto his face with an even louder thud, just as an explosion of pink fell around him.ย
โOh boy,โ Chan wheezed through a sudden bout of laughter. Sky looked up at him and followed suit, suddenly shrieking with laughter - though why she was laughing, she had no idea.ย ย
โI can't find the pin!โ Jisung cried in distress as he scrambled around on the grass. โOh my gosh โฆ we're having a girl! Minho โฆ why is everything pink?โย
From the side, Minho let out a loud guffaw. Being the pranksters of the group, both Yumi and he had made sure the high pressure balloon was filled with just the right amount of pink powder, glitter, and confetti. The combined substances now covered everything from the grass, to Coco, who looked as utterly bewildered as a one year old could.ย
โYou're such an idiot,โ Minho giggled as he watched Jisung's round glasses fall off of his nose with the intensity at which he was searching the ground. โIt's pink because you're having a girl.โ
โNo I know that, but โฆ โ Jisung's voice trailed off as he banged his head against the fence. He yelled again and sat up in indignation, wiping glitter from his eyes with muddy hands.ย
From beside him, Y/N couldn't breathe. She had placed Coco down in Yumiโs lap before she could drop her, and she braced her hands on her knees as her entire body shook with silent laughter. Tears of mirth dripped from her eyes as pink continued to fall around them all, and she finally fell onto the grass beside her husband as the force of her laughter cracked her at last.ย
From amongst the mingled laughter and chaos as his uncles rolled around the floor, Noah got up from his seat. He diligently walked towards the heart and root cause of the pandemonium, and he crouched down onto the floor a foot away from Jisung before deftly picking up the lost pin. It had been winking at him from a distance, the metal shining under the cold sun.
โHere, uncle Jiji,โ Noah held it out to the wide eyed man. โYou can pop it now too.โ
Relief washed through Jisung from the pin being found before it could hurt anyone . He set it down on the table beside him so he wouldn't drop it again, and he scooped Noah into a warm hug.
โYou're a hero, Little Bang,โ Jisung whined. โWhat would we do without you? I'd say you get it from your daddy but I don't want to flatter him.โย
โOi! I can hear you,โ Chan called with a chuckle.ย
Jisung grinned at him. He then stood up again and very belatedly stabbed the rest of the balloon for himself, his friends laughing around the couple.
โSee, I told you it was a girl!โ Jisung squealed as he returned his glasses onto his nose and jumped onto his wife. He plastered numerous fat kisses to her cheeks, her forehead, her nose, and then finally her lips. โOur little Clementine!โ
Y/N rubbed her wet eyes before returning the man's big hug. She squeezed him as tightly as her growing bump would allow her to, and she kissed the side of his head. โYou did. You're also hands down the most chaotic dad out there.โย
Jisung pulled away, blushing with embarrassment. He rubbed the nape of his flushed neck. โI hope at least one of the babies takes after you.โย
โOh, I don't know โฆ I wouldn't complain if they're both like you,โ Y/N smiled. โMore fun that way.โ
Grinning widely, Jisung then turned his gaze to their daughter. She was sitting demurely in Yumiโs lap, and the woman was gently dusting the pink out of her dark hair.ย
โCoco!โ Jisung laughed incredulously, dropping to his knees again. โMy little Bean โฆ you're all pink!โย
Coco giggled at her father. โPik!โ
โYes, pink,โ Jisung laughed as he caressed his fingers over her glittery cheek. His face crumpled at how adorable she looked, and he cupped her face before dropping his own face into his hands. โGod you're so cute. Why are you so cute, baby? Did I really have to give you all of my cute genes?โย
From beside him, Minho and Seungmin both groaned in disgust.ย
โEw,โ Seungmin drawled.ย
โCan we eat the cheesecakes yet?โ Hyunjin asked loudly from the chocolate fountain; he was busy dunking fat strawberries into the chocolate, sneaking some to Sky in the process, and his face contorted with increasing joy with every berry he ate.ย
โCheesecake!โ Jisung gasped, his face lighting up. โI want some!โย
โI made loads,โ Felix grinned as he gestured to the food table. โThere's more in the fridge if you want them later.โ
Reaching for one of the small desserts, Jisung bit into it with eager anticipation. He pulled it away to reveal the strawberry centre pooling out of his generous sized bite, and his eyes widneed.
โIt's pink!โ Jisung yelled, shoving it into his neighbour's - who happened to be Jeongin - face. โIt's pink!โย
โYeah because you're having a girl,โ Jeongin rolled his eyes mildly. โWe already know that.โ
โYeah, but it's pink!โ Jisung repeated excitedly. โLix โฆ bro how did you do that?โ
Felix looked shy all of a sudden. โI just made a separate batter and spooned it into the middle.โ
Jisung offered the rest of his cheesecake to Y/N. โI don't know what that means but I love it. Make me more, bro. I want them everyday, every week, every month โฆ โย
*โ*โ*ย
Jisung shivered as he reclined back onto the sofa; the depth of winter had slowly but surely graced the city in the form of grey clouds and biting winds, and despite the heating and heavy blankets covering most parts of the house, there was a persistent chill that managed to find its way into every room. It hugged Jisung in an unwelcome manner, and the man sighed fondly as he looked over at his sleeping child.
โYou're lucky,โ he said in a quiet tone, smoothing the back of his finger over her flushed cheek. โI bet you're all warm and toasty under that blanket.โ
Earlier on in the day, Astra had brought over two bundles of something soft and warm to Jisung and Y/N's home. As soon as the couple had disclosed the information to their family at their gender reveal that they were naming their new baby Clementine, Chan's wife put her mind to work and had had the idea of making two themed gifts for Jisung and Y/N's children in the form of matching baby blankets.ย
Coco was peacefully huddled under hers; hazelnut coloured yarn with chocolate brown fringing and accents, the patchwork blanket sported motifs of cocoa beans, squirrels, and autumnal leaves. It was as neatly made as it was beautiful, and Y/N couldn't stop stroking her hands in wonder over Clementine's blanket that was in her lap.ย
โShe's insane,โ Y/N kept saying, her fingers running down the stitches. This blanket was the softest of baby pink's, and flat renditions of clementines dotted the entire fabric. โThe gender reveal wasn't even that long ago โฆ how did she have the time to make these?โย
โI don't know bro,โ Jisung hummed in admiration of his own as he played with Coco's blanket. โThat entire family is insane. I think they're supernatural beings. Nothing they ever do makes sense.โ
Giggling at her husband, Y/N carefully folded up Clementine's blanket and set it to the side, excited for the day her new child could use it. A second later, Coco started rustling around, and her eyes slowly opened.
โDinner time?โ Y/N asked the baby in a silly tone. Coco kicked around, her clothed feet creating mounds in her blanket as she stared at her mother. โDinner time it is.โย
As she lifted Coco into her arms, a sharp twinge spread across Y/N's lower back. She inhaled abruptly and her body jerked at the feeling, lifting her a little off of the sofa.ย
Jisung's eyes widened. โBaby? Are you okay?โ
โYeah, I'm fine,โ Y/N breathed heavily as she sat back down again. She cradled a sleepily blinking Coco to her chest. โJust a bit of back pain.โ
โBack pain?โ Jisung's eyebrows shot into his hair. โIs that normal?โย
Y/N waited for Coco to latch onto her, and she leaned her head back onto the sofa as the small of her back continued to pulsate in a dull fashion. โYes. It's fine Ji, don't worry.โย
The creases between Jisung's brows softened slightly at her words, though he still looked a little worried as he watched her. โI'll give you a massage once you've finished feeding Coco.โ
โA massage? But I'm fine,โ Y/N smiled, not wanting to inconvenience her husband. But seeing the pure, loving expression in Jisung's eyes, she nodded at him slowly and gently kissed his cheek. โOkay.โย
โI win,โ Jisung grinned in victory. Wanting something to do - anything he could do to be helpful -ย the man reached over a second later to the table and picked up a clementine. They had accumulated an ever-present stash since Y/N's cravings had kicked in at full force. Jisung carefully peeled the fruit, and, with no plate nearby, the man deftly rested both the peels and the fruit on top of Y/N's bump.
โJi!โ Y/N snorted with sudden laughter, and she clamped a hand over her mouth. The sight was so bizarre in that moment that it took all of her strength and willpower to not shake with laughter as Coco continued to feed.
โTable,โ Jisung wiggled his fingers in satisfaction towards the clementine. โAnd, hey, look โฆ Clementine in the belly, clementine on the belly.โย
Fearing she would choke with the way she was trying to not laugh too much, Y/N gently slapped the man's arm. โAt least save the joking for when I'm done with Coco. I don't wanna give her an earthquake.โ
โOkay,โ Jisung raised his hand to his forehead in the form of an obedient salute.ย
He then reached for the peeled clementine on Y/N's stomach and separated its segments. โSay โahโ.โ
โAhh โฆ โ Y/N's voice trailed off into more giggles before Jisung placed the clementine piece into her mouth. โYou better move those peels before I accidentally move and they go all over the floor.โ
โOh no that would not be a good idea,โ Jisung said in a robotic voice as he quickly scrambled around and picked up the clementine peel. He slid off of the sofa and placed the peels into the bin. โGone.โ
Giggling at him, Y/N gently patted his vacated seat as she realised she immediately missed his presence. โCome sit back down.โ
Only too happy to oblige, Jisung zoomed over to the sofa again, his hair flopping in animated waves over his ears. He sat down in his seat, and, making sure Coco was still firm in her grip, Y/N stretched her legs out in front of her before leaning her head onto her husband's shoulder.ย
Jisung was quick to slide his arm tenderly around her waist. He turned his head to the side and rested his cheek against Y/N's head, a soft smile spreading over his face as he did so.
โDo you think Clementeeny Tiny is in the same position you are?โ Jisung hummed in question after a while, breaking their quiet.
Y/N grinned. โWhat, bent at an angle?โ
โWell, yeah,โ Jisung chuckled. He looked down at her. โI used to think when a woman is pregnant the baby has the exactly same position inside โฆ standing, sleeping, sitting โฆ โ
Spluttering at her husband's words, Y/N lifted her head and stared at him in bewilderment.
โI'm being serious,โ Jisung was embarrassed, flustered laughter escaping him. โI didn't know.โ
โWow,โ Y/N said dryly. โYou never fail to impress me, Han Jisung.โย
Just then, the woman's back struck her with pain again; she gasped, and she used a hand to rub at her body in perplexity.
โOw,โ Y/N tutted to herself. โClementine is being a menace.โย
Jisung waggled his index finger at Y/N's baby bump in a joking manner. โNow listen here, Clementeeny Tiny. Stop causing your mother so much pain.โย
Cracking up with giggles again at Jisung's words, Y/N dropped her head against his arm once the pain had settled down. โJi, I love you.โย
โI love you too, baby,โ Jisung said in a dramatic voice. And then, โBut which baby am I talking to?โ
Coco looked up at him with wide eyes, just as the baby inside of Y/N's stomach kicked out against her.ย
โShe kicked!โ Jisung said, hand suddenly on his wife's stomach. โI saw that.โ
โAnd I felt it,โ Y/N groaned, placing her own fingers over her husband's. โShe's crazy in there. Already kicks so much more than Coco did.โ
She leaned down and nuzzled her nose against Coco's cheek. โIs Clem-Clem going to be a crazy baby? Are you both going to be silly babies together?โ
Coco giggled at her mother's voice. She pointed slowly to the woman's bump. โC โฆ Cem?โย
Both Y/N and Jisung gasped, their eyes widening in shock at their daughter's sudden comprehension.
โThat's right! Little Clem-Clem is in here,โ Y/N smiled widely, patting her stomach.ย
Coco turned around in her mother's arms with frantic eyes, her head facing the small table in front of them. She pointed to the pile of rolling clementines on the table. โCem?โ
โWoah โฆ she's so smart already,โ Jisung was stunned, his wide-eyed expression matching his daughter's perfectly. โYes baby. They're clementines!โ
As she slowly registered her father's response, Cocoโs face started to crumple. She whipped her head back to Y/N with teary eyes and her hands begun waving around like the flapping of bird wings.ย
โNono โฆ no eat โฆ Cem,โ Coco pointed repeatedly in a worried fashion to Y/N's stomach. โCem!โย
Y/N blinked at her daughter, and it took her a few moments to realise what she was saying.
โBaby, I didn't eat your sister,โ Y/N laughed quietly as she shook her head at Coco. โShe's growing in here until it's time for her to be born. She's safe, I promise. Your mama didnt eat her, okay?โ
Cocoโs lower lip wobbled. But her brows smoothed out a moment later and she wriggled around on Y/N's lap before curling up against her stomach again.
Jisung, on the other hand, was sporting an overly emotional face. His eyes crinkled into the shape of crescent moons as he looked down at Coco, unshed tears of his own glistening at the base of his lashes.
โShe thought you ate her sister,โ Jisung whimpered. โShe's so โฆ cute.โ
โAnd she definitely takes after you,โ Y/N commented, making her husband giggle. โNext thing you know, she's going to start asking if babies have the same positions too.โ
Her words made Jisung burst into laughter, his nose turning the colour of a ripe tomato. โDon't repeat that. To anyone. They're gonna think I'm stupid.โย
Y/N smirked at him.
โYeah okay, I know they already think I'm stupid. They're gonna think I'm stupider.โ
โ โฆ Stupider isn't a word.โย
โ โฆ I'm the stupidest.โ
*โ*โ*
Over the next few weeks, the pain in Y/N's back had spread. It progressed to her pelvis, her thighs, her hips, and the entirety of her baby bump. Deep cramps stretched across the width of her stomach, and it felt as though the pain was rooted in her skin, her tissue, her organs and her bones. It was everywhere, casting a blanket of fatigue over her, and soon Y/N couldn't do anything but lay down on the sofa despite attempting to ignore the pain as much as she could.ย
Thirty two weeks pregnant, Y/N had been anticipating a little bit of discomfort here and there. She knew she still had a while to go, and her body was preparing for the end stages of her privacy; but at the same time, in the back of her mind she couldn't help but feel as though perhaps her current situation wasn't entirely as it should be. She couldn't remember feeling this way when she was pregnant with Coco. The situation she was in had even resulted in the woman bursting into tears whenever she was alone; when her husband wasn't at home, when she was in the bathroom, late at night when she couldn't sleep.ย
At first she had thought it was just the hormones getting to her.
Later she realised in the back of her mind that deep down, she still wasn't ready for another baby.ย
Feeding Coco every few hours was tiring her enough as it was. Her breasts were constantly sore, her clothes wet with milk even when she wasn't feeding. The rest of her body ached from carrying their second baby. And on top of that, her panic and anxiety were at an all time high; she could feel the same emotions flooding through her husband from time to time too, when he thought she wasn't paying attention. Knowing that they both felt as anxious as each other should have been a mild comfort. But in this case, it wasn't. It filled her brain with more worrisome thoughts, and soon Y/N couldn't stop thinking about everything that could go wrong with the birth.ย
But she couldn't tell her husband. She didn't want him to suffer from the consequences of her own untamed brain.ย
โIt's okay, this is normal,โ Y/N constantly reassured Jisung - and herself - with laboured breathing whenever a wave of pain struck her and tried to rob her entirely of her breath. She was sitting beside Coco, the toddler perfectly calm and occupied as she watched the montage of sharks swimming around on the TV. โI'm pretty sure it was like this last time.โย
Jisung filled up a glass with cold water for her. โBaby, it was not this bad last time.โ
โNo โฆ but it's fine,โ Y/N huffed. โMaybe a tiny bit worse, but honestly Ji, I'm fine. I can handle it.โ
She extended her hand to reach for the glass of water Jisung was holding; but Jisung stumbled, and the water sloshed up the rim before splashing over both Y/N and Coco.ย
Coco blinked in surprise at the sudden chilly shower. She looked up at her father just as Y/N burst into a hormonal fit of tears.ย
โNo โฆ โ Jisung sobbed with annoyance aimed at himself and regret for his family having to witness his silly behaviour as he reached for a wad of tissues. โMy babies โฆ I'm so sorry.โย
โJi โฆ โ Y/N sniffed hard before suddenly bursting into quiet laughter. It came over her just as quick as the tears had, and Jisung stopped himself from staring at her. โJi, you're a menace to society.โ
โI know,โ Jisung continued to sob as he dropped a tissue onto Coco's head. It floated down onto her hair like a flat hat, and the baby sneezed as it brushed against her nose.
Y/N took a hold of the tissue and gently patted Coco's hair dry. โThanks for the water.โ
โYou're welcome,โ Jisung replied as he pressed tissues into the water seat. โI hope it was refreshing.โ
He dodged the wet tissue that Y/N threw at him with a chuckle before picking up the empty glass. โI'll go refill it.โ
โTry not to drop it this time,โ Y/N said. She sighed and cuddled Coco to her, ignoring her spinning headache as she did so. โYour daddy is crazy, isn't he?โ
Coco dropped her head against Y/N's bump, her fingers like a starfish on her stomach. โSill dada.โ
โSilly daddy,โ Y/N agreed with a giggle. Jisung appeared again and a smile turned up the corners of his lips at his daughter's words. He extended his arm again and he managed to hand Y/N her water without dropping it.ย
He then frowned as he noted the sheen of perspiration that was glowing just below Y/N's hairline. โAre you okay?โ
โI'm okay, Ji,โ Y/N laughed. โI've said I'm fine so many times. Stop worrying.โ
โAre you sure? We can go to the doctor if you're not โฆ I can drive,โ Jisung said.ย
โJi,โ Y/N placed a hand on the man's arm, her eyes soft as she looked into his. โI promise. I'm fine. If I feel worse I'll tell you. Okay?โ
โOkay โฆ โ Jisung hummed, though he didn't look convinced.ย
Jisung spent the rest of the day cleaning around the house as best as he could, as well as gathering multiple items that were written down on Y/N's baby bag list before he packed them all away for her. He knew there was still a while to go until his wife's due date, but he still wanted to make sure they were completely ready beforehand. He even tucked in a few tiny outfits he had bought for their new baby as a little surprise, and the sight of them continually filled Y/N's eyes with tears when he held them up to show her.ย
He was diligent - even if he was a little slow - in his tasks. Though he was a clumsy man most of the time, dropping things here and there, (including himself on more than a couple of occasions) once Jisung had set his mind to something, he was able to accomplish anything that he wanted to. He washed the dishes when required, he ran around the house vacuuming the floors, he picked up the inevitable mess that every home seemed to accumulate โฆ and, most of all, he made sure Y/N never got up from her seat on the sofa unless she absolutely had to. Such as when nature was calling - which was quite frequent, Jisung had soon come to realise.ย
Not wanting his wife to lift a finger in any way, Jisung eventually called Minho over so they could cook together - even though he would have liked to do everything by himself, Jisung did have his limits too. He didn't want to feed Y/N ramen everyday, no matter how much she claimed to like it. Y/N was only slightly better at cooking than he was โฆ and he decided that drastic measures definitely needed to be taken in order for her to stay healthy during the last portion of her pregnancy.ย
With Minho's much needed help and guidance, soon both the fridge and the freezer were packed with meals the couple could easily warm up when both Y/N and Jisung were too busy - or didn't want to - cook. Tubs of freshly prepared kimchi sat in the back of the fridge to ferment, and numerous tupperware containers of various side dishes kept their inventory bursting at the seams.ย
Jisung had reserved a generous quantity of the food and for the next few days, he filled up a large bowl of the steaming meals before spoon feeding his exhausted wife.ย
One night, Y/N couldn't sleep. She was claustrophobic and suffocated in her bedsheets; she tossed and turned as sharp twinges bloomed across the lower half of her body, and unable to take it any longer, the woman kicked the sheets off and slid out of bed with enormous difficulty.ย
Just as her feet touched the cold ground, Y/N felt a rush of something hot trickle down the inside of her legs. Her eyes widened and she looked down; her eyes widened further when she saw not only the signs of amniotic fluid on the floor, but that it was tinged a light green.
โJi,โ Y/N inhaled sharply, her heart suddenly beating a hundred times a minute against her tightening chest. Now that she was standing, the pain in her lower back increased from her hips to her upper stomach, and she groaned as she pressed a hand into her side table to hold herself up. โOw โฆ Ji.โย
โBaby?โ Jisung rolled around in bed and sat up, his eyes nearly glued shut and his hair a frizzy mess over them. He rubbed his eyes and pushed his hair back. Seeing the woman's uncomfortable stance at the edge of the bed, his eyes rounded and he immediately sat up a little straighter. โWhat's wrong? Are you okay?โย
โJi โฆ I think โฆ I think my waters have broken โฆ ow,โ Y/N grimaced, tears making her vision swim. โAnd it hurts โฆ so bad โฆ โย ย
Jisung stuttered, reaching for his glasses before crawling towards her. โWhat? Are you sure? You can't be โฆ you're only thirty three weeks!โย
โI know,โ Y/N cried, panic flooding through her at a rapid pace. โJi โฆ Ji there's โฆ I think there's meconium.โย
โWhat is that?โ Jisung shot out of his bed immediately at the foreign word and helped Y/N to sit down. He looked down at the patch on the floor. He gulped, all of a sudden very anxious, and very queasy with his acknowledgement of the substance.
Jisung forcefully dragged his gaze away. His own conflicting feelings could wait โฆ he had to be strong for his wife. The little bit of sickness he was feeling was nothing compared to what Y/N was probably going through.
โThe baby's first poop,โ Y/N was gasping, her words sticking against her dry throat. โIt's dangerous โฆ Ji โฆ if the baby inhales it โฆ she might not be able to breathe properly โฆ ow โฆ โย
Jisung's stomach churned violently until he felt as though it had dropped to his feet. His mind drummed uncomfortably as a whirlwind of thoughts flew at him; he didn't know much when it came to birth and labour despite them already having a child. But even Jisung knew that Y/N was definitely already in labour. He also knew that it was entirely too early for their baby to be born โฆ and along with that, everything else his wife was continuing to say filled him with an overwhelming sense of dread.ย
He ran his trembling hands through his hair, his hands clutching his head as he shut his eyes to collect his swimming thoughts.
โOkay โฆ โ Jisung swallowed, dropping his hands before going to cup them around Y/N's red face. He looked into her eyes, willing his gaze to help calm her down a little. โWe need to go to the hospital. We need to go to the hospital now. I'll call Chan, he can drive us โฆ I don't think I should drive.โ
Y/N nodded at his simple plan. Even though she was panicking and her heart felt as though it was about to explode, she smiled faintly and placed a hand over Jisung's shaking one. โI don't think you should drive either.โย
Chuckling nervously, Jisung softly kissed Y/N's clammy forehead before scrambling around for his phone. His wobbling fingers caused him to drop the device multiple times; by the time he had picked it up again, he was gripping it extremely tightly as he clicked on his emergency contact list.ย
The man was incredibly thankful when Chan picked up his call within a few seconds despite the late hour. He was even more grateful for the short distance between their homes when Chan arrived at their door a mere five minutes later, the sight of the older man alone filling Jisung with a wave of relief.ย
โI brought Astra,โ Chan said on the doorstep of Jisung's home. โThought she'd be able to help Y/N a bit. Are you guys okay?โย
โYes. No. I don't know,โ Jisung's eyes immediately teared up his gaze landed on his older friend. He looked down at the floor, and Chan smiled softly as he stepped up towards him.
He placed a tender hand on Jisung's shoulder. โHey. It's gonna be okay, yeah? Everything is going to be completely fine.โย
Jisung nodded, rubbing the back of his hand across his nose. He didn't trust himself to speak; in truth, he was more terrified than he had ever been in his life.ย
The feeling alone scared him even further.ย
Chan moved closer to him before gently curling his arms around Jisung's frame. He reassuringly patted his back, his chin on Jisung's shoulder. โCome on. Let's get you guys to the hospital. Where's Y/N? Coco?โ
โIn there,โ Jisung pointed to the room behind him just as Astra stepped up behind her husband. โCoco's still asleep โฆ I think Y/N's strapping her into the carrier.โ
โI brought some stuff,โ Astra said in a soft voice to Jisung, holding up a bag. โIs Y/N okay? Are you okay?โ
โYes. No. Yes,โ Jisung nodded and shook his head at the same time. His face crumpled, and he dropped his face into a hand as tears spilled over his fingers. His voice broke when he spoke. โI don't know what I'd do if I lost either of them. I can't lose them. I โฆ can't.โย
โHey, don't think like that,โ Chan was firm, yet kind. โBaby's just a little early, yeah? Babies are born early all the time and they make it โฆ both of your girls are gonna be completely fine.โย
Jisung nodded. He sniffed hard and rubbed his hand over his face before plastering on a brave smile.ย
โGo sit in the car with Chris,โ Astra was gentle, placing a soft hand on Jisung's arm. โI'll go get Y/N and Coco.โย
โI should get her โฆ โ Jisung rubbed the nape of his neck.ย
โIt's okay, I'll get her,โ Astra said. โI've got a few things I need to give her anyway.โย
Nodding gratefully at Astra, Jisung let himself be led by Chan to the car as Astra made her way into his house. She found Y/N struggling with the clasp of Coco's carrier, and Y/N burst into a fresh set of tears upon seeing her friend.
โAw โฆ โ Astra immediately hugged Y/N, her hands soft against her hair. โIt's all gonna be okay. You've done this before โฆ you're gonna be a pro now.โย
Y/N sobbed against Astra's shoulder as she clutched onto her shirt. โIt wasn't like this before. Everything feels wrong. It hurts so badly โฆ I can't breathe, and I can't move, and I can't even get Coco into her carrier โฆ who's going to look after her?โย
โShh,โ Astra murmured, soothing the distressed woman as best as she could. โDon't worry about Coco, Chris and I will look after her. Let me get you some water and then we can go to the car โฆ where's your hospital bag?โย
After buckling Coco into place and helping Y/N to calm down a little, Astra helped the woman to her Chan's car while carrying Coco's carrier in her other hand. She sat beside Y/N in the back of the car, her hand rubbing circles over Y/N's back as Jisung mentally gave himself a pep talk beside Chan in the front of the car.ย
โHow are you feeling, baby?โ Jisung turned and asked his wife once they were halfway to the hospital.ย
Y/N had one hand clasped in Astra's, her other hand on the car seat as her back arched forward. Her face would have been comical in any other situation, but now, it just filled Jisung with more worry. โTrying my hardest to not give birth on the seat,โ she grunted out as a contraction squeezed her stomach.
Jisung visibly blanched. โBaby, please don't give birth in Chan's car.โ
From the driver's seat, Chan smiled a little worriedly. โAs long as everyone is safe and healthy, I don't mind.โย
โHe's just being polite,โ Jisung said, making Y/N smile through the pain. โDon't do it.โย
Chan chuckled as another contraction washed over Y/N. She breathed heavily, her face scrunching up as she tightened her fingers on Astra's hand.ย
โThere we go โฆ breathe slowly,โ Astra murmured, continuing to rub Y/N's back. โWe're nearly there.โย
Soon Jisung had his arm around Y/N's shoulders, his grip on her soft yet strong as they entered the hospital. Chan and Astra followed, Coco still fast asleep in the carrier that Chan was holding. It wasn't long before Y/N was attended to in the triage room, and after being told she was nearly fully dilated, she was ushered swiftly onto the labour ward.ย
โJi โฆ Ji don't leave me,โ by this time, Y/N was in hysterics; tears dripped down her red cheeks, her eyes frantic and bloodshot with worry. Even though she had been reassured multiple times by the midwives and the nurses that everything would be fine, Y/N couldn't shake the panic that had its claws hooked on her body. Everything that could potentially go wrong with both the labour and their baby echoed repeatedly in her head โฆ it didn't help that there were now multiple midwives in the room, their hurried movements and brisk speech raising her alarm further.ย
โWe'll wait out there,โ Chan touched Jisung's elbow softly. โGive us a call whenever you need anything, yeah?โ
Jisung nodded at him with wide eyes. Both Chan and Astra left the room with Coco, and once they had gone, Jisung swiftly moved to the side of Y/N's bed.ย
He reached for her hands and firmly clasped them in his own. For once, there was a steadiness and a calmness in his eyes, warmth and love and overflowing affection spilling out of his face as he looked down at his wife. The look on his face made Y/N's heart soar for the first time that night, and she looked up into his familiar face for comfort.ย
โI'm not going anywhere,โ Jisung murmured in a low tone, kissing her knuckles. โI'm staying here, right by your side.โ
The tears wouldn't stop gushing out of Y/N's eyes. The monitor she was hooked up to bleeped faster and faster as her heart rate escalated, and Jisung bit his lip.
โListen to me,โ Jisung said in the same level tone, his hands travelling to Y/N's cheeks. He cupped them firmly, his eyes even steadier than before. โYou're going to be fine. You're safe now โฆ all these people in here, they're here for you. They know what they're doing. And I'm here โฆ I'm not going to leave you, baby.โย
โI don't care about me,โ Y/N's chest rose and fell quickly. โClementine โฆ โ
โ โฆ Will be fine,โ Jisung said. โI promise she'll be fine. Take some deep breaths โฆ the more you worry, the more Clem will panic too.โ
Y/N nodded at that, suddenly realising her husband was right. She shut her eyes and focused on her breaths; with Jisung's hands tucked around hers, she gradually found a glimmer of hope to cling onto, and she inhaled slowly through her nose.ย
She exhaled, and then inhaled again โฆ the monitor stopped bleeping as chaotically as it had been doing previously, and Jisung smiled down at her with pride in his eyes.ย
โI feel like a terrible mother,โ Y/N whispered after a while. She couldn't keep her thoughts inside her any longer; too tired to do anything, her words tumbled out of her in a jumbled, rapid pace. โI feel like you deserve a better wife.โ
At that, Jisung's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. โWhat are you saying, baby?โ
โI โฆ this isn't how this is supposed to go,โ Y/N breathed, eyes clouding over again. โI'm supposed to be better than this. But I'm having our baby too early, and the baby is distressed, and - โย
โDon't say that,โ Jisung said, hand going to sweep Y/N's limp hair away from her sweaty forehead. โThis isn't your fault, baby. You can't control this.โ
โBut I should be able to,โ Y/N said. โI have one job and I can't even do that properly.โย
โNo,โ Jisung said firmly. โNo matter what happens, you've done your job more than properly, baby, and I am so proud of you. I'm always going to be proud of you no matter what happens. You can't control everything โฆ you're perfect to me, baby. Don't say things like that โฆ you're a perfect mother and a perfect wife. I wouldn't want anyone else to be by my side. Only you.โย
Y/N's eyes filled with tears all over again. She squeezed Jisung's hand. โReally?โ
โReally, really, really,โ Jisung kissed her forehead. โForever and always.โย
Mind temporarily satiated, Y/N's body finally started to relax. She hadn't realised just how tense she had been for the past few hours, and the relaxation of her body immediately resulted in her finally fully dilating. A moment later, the room was filled with nurses, paediatricians, and midwives.ย
โBaby is in distress. We need to get her out now.โ
The next stage of Y/N's labour felt like a blur. Whereas her birth with Coco had been slow and virtually a textbook pregnancy and labour, Clementine's birth progressed alarmingly quickly; one minute Y/N was pushing extensively, the next the room was filled with feeble cries. Every one of her minutes were coated in fire like agony, her body burning with fatigue and stress. She felt as though she had barely seen Clementine's face when she was suddenly bundled up into a paediatricianโs arms, the faintest sliver of yellowed skin visible before she was being taken away.ย
โWhere is she going?โ Y/N attempted to sit up; her head felt as though a rubber band was being snapped against the inside of her skull, and she had no strength to hold her body up. She sagged against the pillow, words around her mushing together as she felt fatigue press down onto her chest.ย
Y/N couldn't stay conscious any longer. The last thing she saw was Jisung's worried face before her eyes fell shut.
*โ*โ*ย
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.ย
Jisung's eyes were sore and red as he continued to stare at his baby. Clementine was fast asleep, her small body hooked up to multiple thin tubes that weaved their way out of the incubator she was being kept in. Her skin was still the colour of mustard, and Jisung sighed softly as he leaned his head against the walls of the incubator.ย
He pulled down the tiny latch in the side and gently reached for Clementine's fingers. Even though she was sleeping, the baby's delicate fingers immediately wrapped around Jisung's index finger and he sniffed.
It had been an extremely long day. Y/N had given birth in the early morning; being born six weeks early, Clementine was much smaller than Coco had been, and since she was the second child, labour had been swift. After a few initial checks on the baby, it had appeared that Clementine suffered from Meconium Aspiration Syndrome. The meconium she had inhaled had clogged her lungs, making it difficult for her to breathe, and after clearing her airways, the paediatricians rushed her to the NICU.ย
Hooked up to oxygen, milk, and exposed to light therapy to cure her touch of Jaundice, the NICU nurses were certain when they told Jisung Clementine would recover completely.ย
โYou're so โฆ tiny,โ Jisung breathed, unable to tear his gaze away from his daughter. โAnd โฆ orange. Like a - โ
โLike a clementine.โย
Jisung whipped his head around to see his tired wife being wheeled towards him in a wheelchair. Though there was a ghostly pallor to her skin, she was smiling in the way she always did when she looked at her husband. It made Jisung's heart swell, and his face suddenly lIt up with joy.ย
Y/N had suffered a partial haemorrhage after giving birth to Clementine. She had lost a substantial amount of blood, though not enough to warrant a transfusion. The nurses assured her she would be completely fine in a few days - though still weak, she was instructed to rest entirely.
She had however managed to convince them to take her to the NICU to see her baby.ย
โYeah,โ Jisung laughed under his breath once the nurse who had brought her in walked away. โClementeeny is literally the perfect name for her.โย
He reached out and slid his hand into Y/N's. He didn't know what to say; so much was going through his head, and most of it brought him to tears if he lingered on it. He had already spent so much time crying when Y/N was asleep earlier on in the day โฆ he decided to push all of his thoughts away for a while, and instead tried to crack a joke.
โYou ate so many clementines that she looks like one,โ Jisung said, caressing Clementine's fingers. โSmall and orange. Maybe Coco was right. Maybe you did eat her.โย
Y/N burst into quiet laughter. She leaned her cheek against her husband's comforting arm, and curled her hands around his bicep and she relished the familiar warmth of him. โCoco knows everything.โ
A moment later, Y/N sighed. โPoor baby. She suffered so much because of me.โ
Jisung turned his gaze onto her in question.
โTeeny,โ Y/N said, nodding towards the incubator. โI was stressed and anxious for almost the entire pregnancy. They said high amounts of stress and high blood pressure can cause premature birth. I was worried so much the entire time about what could go wrong that I ended up being the reason why things did go wrong.โ
โWhy didn't you tell me?โ Jisung asked her quietly.ย
Y/N shrugged against him. โI knew you were already anxious. Didn't want to make it worse.โย
Jisung groaned. He squeezed her hand. โSilly baby.โ
Such simple words, and yet, they made Y/N laugh. She snuggled further into him, grateful to have him at her side.ย
Jisung smiled. He turned his head and dropped a loving kiss to the top of Y/N's head. โWhere is Coco anyway? Is she okay?โย
โShe's with Chris and Astra โฆ and I think Hannah is there too,โ Y/N hummed. โI told them to go home. Neither of them got any sleep last night either.โ
At that, Jisung looked wistful. โI'm so grateful that we all live so close together. Wouldn't have been able to get through this without them.โ
โI know,โ Y/N hummed. โYou'd probably have crashed our car. I love you, Ji, but you were a nervous wreck last night.โ
Aghast at his wife's words, Jisungs mouth fell open. โCan you blame me? I was so scared. I thought โฆ for a moment I thought I'd lose you. Both.โ
Y/N's eyes widened. โWhat?โย
Jisung shrugged. He then shook his head, his body shivering with the memories of the previous hours. โI'm just thankful it's all over and you're both okay. I can't live without you guys. You're my everything. I love you so much.โย
โJi โฆ โ Y/N's eyes shone brightly. She leaned over and kissed his cheek softly before dropping her head against Jisung's shoulder. โI love you too.โ
*โ*โ*
Four weeks later
โGift,โ Minho said simply. He nestled a tiny kitten plushie beside Clementine's head, the orange toy soft against her skin. โLook after it. You have to have it when you're twenty.โย
Clementine's eyes resembled that of round saucers as she looked up at Minho. She stretched her hand out and settled it over the plushie.
Minho's lips twitched. He looked away, concealing the affectionate and shy smile exploding over his face.ย
โShe's so cute,โ Both Hyunjin and Felix cooed; they were kneeling on the floor in front of Y/N, their eyes glued to the baby in her arms. โShe looks like Hannie โฆ but actually cute.โ
โHey, I am cute,โ Jisung protested, pushing his glasses up his nose with his middle finger. The gesture made Chan snort with laughter. โBut โฆ yeah she's cuter than me.โย
โWay cuter,โ Hyunjin rolled his eyes. His face was one of bubbly happiness and he ever so slightly tapped Clementine's nose with the tip of his finger. โAren't you?โย
โYes!โ Y/N answered in a silly voice, hiding behind Clementine. It made everyone in the room laugh, and Jisung beamed.ย
Clementine had stayed in the NICU for a little over three weeks. Over the days her jaundice had died down, and her chubby cheeks were now a rosy pink that matched her father's.ย
The couple had brought her home for the first time two days ago. Coco had immediately formed a precious connection with her younger sibling; she spent her time curled up beside Clementine as much as she could, and the sight warmed both Jisung and Y/N's hearts more than they had ever anticipated.ย
Upon their arrival, they had been greeted with their friends huddled in their garden. It wasn't surprising, considering they often invited themselves over; they had all been standing around one spot on the grass where Minho and Jeongin were kneeling on the ground.
โIt was there!โ Seungmin grumbled, toeing an uneven patch of grass with his shoe. โAre you blind? You can see it so clearly.โ
โNo, it's there,โ Minho pointed to a patch a millimetre away. He looked up at Seungmin with a smirk, and the other man rolled his eyes.
Jeongin's fingers were covered in wet dirt. โCan you hurry up and decide where you want to put it? My fingers are going to smell like soil for life.โ
โWell, no one told you to hold it the entire time,โ Changbin cackled. โJust put it down.โ
Jeongin pursed his lips. โNo.โย
Clutching a small clementine tree, Jeongin waited patiently for Minho to dig a hole into the ground. It was in the same place he had placed the balloon stopper for his friendsโ gender reveal months ago, the idea of tying the two things together incredibly appealing to all of them.
โOkay, put it in,โ Minho said to Jeongin, waving his shovel around. โDon't break the branches.โ
Jeongin narrowed his eyes. โDo you want to do it?โ
โGood job, Yenie,โ Minho grinned instead, chuckling to himself as the younger man lowered the trunkโs roots into the soil.ย
Now, Y/N nuzzled her nose against Clementine's cheek. โDo you like the tree your uncles got you?โย
Clementine waved her hands up and down in an energetic way in response. It made Y/N smile. โI think that was a yes.โย
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๐ทoyfie!han's new lizard might be the death of you (โโธ โ)
๐ญ :: 1O15 fluff established relationship
"close your eyes. no peeking, i mean it," jisung whispered, his hands gently guiding you by the shoulders into his dorm room.
you laughed, letting him lead you forward. "jisung, if i trip over one of minho's random shoes on the floor, i'm hitting you."
"you won't trip, i got you. okay, stop right here," he said, his voice buzzing with that pure, chaotic excitement he got whenever he bought a new piece of music gear or found a really good lyrics notebook. "ready? three, two, one... open!"
you blinked your eyes open, expecting maybe a giant plushie, a rare vinyl, or even a ridiculously oversized hoodie.
instead, you were looking directly into two tiny, unblinking bug eyes.
about two inches from your nose, sitting right on jisungโs open palm, was a small, tan, slightly bumpy creature. it had tiny webbed toes, a wide, flat head, and a little row of spikes that looked like eyelashes above its eyes. it just stared at you, completely still, occasionally licking its own eyeball with a pink tongue.
you froze. every muscle in your body went completely rigid.
"surprise!" jisung beamed, his face practically glowing with pride. "isn't she beautiful?"
"oh," you squeaked. your brain was screaming at you to run out the door, down the hall, and entirely out of the building, but your feet were glued to the carpet. "that's... so... cute."
it was not cute. it was a reptile. you hated reptiles. lizards, snakes, frogsโanything cold-blooded and scaly made your skin crawl. you were absolutely terrified of them.
"i knew you'd love her," jisung said, completely missing the sheer panic in your voice because he was too busy admiring the little thing. "she's a crested gecko. look at her little eyelashes! she doesn't even have eyelids, she just licks her eyes to clean them. watch, maybe she'll do it again."
"fascinating," you muttered, slowly taking half a step back to put some much-needed distance between your face and the lizard. "where did you... why do you have this, sungie?"
"well, i went out with changbin hyung yesterday, and we passed this pet store. i saw her in the window and just felt this instant connection, you know? like, she looked as stressed as i do when i'm trying to write a bridge," he explained, holding her up a little higher. "so i bought the whole setup. she's a girl."
"a girl," you repeated, trying to keep your voice level. "nice. does she have a name?"
"yeah! changbin hyung named her richard."
you blinked. "richard. for a girl gecko."
"yeah, he said she looked like a richard. i didn't want to argue with him, he was really passionate about it," jisung shrugged, looking down at richard with pure affection. "here, you want to hold her? she's super soft, i promise. she feels like a little piece of velvet."
he started to move his hand closer to yours, and panic shot through you.
"no! no, that's okay!" you said a little too quickly, putting your hands behind your back. "i don't want to... disrupt her. she's transitioning into a new environment. she needs her space, jisung. structural stability."
jisung paused, finally looking up from the lizard to scan your face. he noticed the way your eyes were wide, your shoulders were hitched up to your ears, and how you were practically leaning your entire weight away from him.
a slow, amused grin spread across his face. "wait. are you scared of her?"
"i'm not scared," you lied, keeping your eyes glued to richard, who chose that exact moment to do a tiny, uncoordinated head-tilt. "i just have a healthy respect for prehistoric creatures."
"she's harmless, baby. she doesn't even have teeth, she eats fruit puree," jisung teased, taking a step closer to you.
"jisung, i swear to god, if you bring richard any closer to me, our relationship is on pause," you warned, pointing a finger at him from behind your back.
he let out a loud, dramatic laugh, his shoulders shaking. "oh my god, you're terrified. i had no idea. i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i won't make you hold her."
he carefully walked over to the desk, where a brand new glass terrarium was sitting under a warm light, filled with fake plants and little branches. he gently let richard crawl off his hand onto a large green leaf. as soon as she was safe inside the glass, you finally let out a massive breath you didn't realize you were holding, your shoulders dropping.
jisung closed the screen lid of the tank, turned around, and immediately walked over to wrap his arms around your waist. he was still giggling, burying his face in your shoulder.
"you're awful," you mumbled, though you couldn't help but wrap your arms around his neck, finally feeling safe now that the tiny dinosaur was behind glass.
"i'm not awful, i'm a proud pet dad," he mumbled into your skin, kissing your shoulder. "but really, are you okay? i didn't mean to freak you out. if you really hate her, i can keep the tank strictly on my side of the dorm and cover it when you come over."
you looked past his shoulder at the tank. richard was currently hanging upside down from a plastic vine, looking incredibly goofy and not at all threatening now that she was contained.
you sighed, running a hand through jisung's messy hair. "no, no, it's fine. she can stay. she's actually kind of funny looking. i mean... i'll get used to her."
"she gets her looks from me," jisung joked, pulling back to look at you with a grin. "so... you'll help me feed her? she eats stuff that looks like baby food."
"absolutely not," you said instantly. "that is a hundred percent a dad job. i am strictly the cool aunt who visits and stays on the other side of the room."
"fair enough," jisung laughed, leaning down to press a quick, sweet kiss to your lips. "come on, let's go get some food. richard needs her rest anyway. she's had a big day terrifying my girlfriend."
โคท part of the weight of love: eight ways to STAY series
jisung knows how to turn emotions into music, but becoming a father is different from writing songs he can endlessly perfect. as your pregnancy makes the future feel frighteningly real, his excitement begins tangling with fears about whether he can truly become someone your baby can depend on, forcing both of you to realize that love was never meant to be flawless to be enough.
pairing producer!jisung x school teacher!reader
genre established relationship ; expecting parents ; fluff
rating mature, 18+
word count 11k
warnings themes of anxiety ; fear of inadequacy ; societal expectations ; graphic & detailed smut ; oral (f&m receiving) ; p in v sex
๐ฒ hannieeeeee! i gotta stop saying 'i loved writing this one' on every note because i literally say it every time. with that being said, i loved writing this hannie fic. in my bones i feel like he would be this dad and it makes me want to curl up and sob because ohmygod i love him. also your girl does research on every fic usually, and this one is no different. cacophony? never heard that one in music class. anyway! so excited to hear you guys' thoughts. as always, enjoy hunnies <3
m a s t e r l i s t .แ i n b o x .แ
Jisung is sitting cross-legged on the linoleum floor of your classroom with a plastic tambourine balanced on his head, three glitter stickers on his cheek, and twenty-two elementary school students staring at him with a mixture of excitement and confusion.
You stand near your desk with one hand braced against the edge, your other hand resting lightly over the soft curve of your stomach, trying very hard not to laugh loud enough to disrupt what he clearly thinks is a serious artistic demonstration. His expression says focus. His posture says professional. The bright green sticker stuck to the corner of his mouth says otherwise.
โOkay,โ he announces, lifting both hands like he is conducting an orchestra inside a very tiny, very chaotic concert hall. โWho can tell me what rhythm is?โ
Several hands shoot into the air at once.
โItโs when music goesโ!โ Minseo shouts, standing up mid-sentence to bounce around.
โItโs when the song has feet!โ Joon adds, completely confident.
โItโs when Mr. Han makes that face because weโre clapping wrong,โ Jiwoo offers, which sends half the class into immediate giggles.
Jisung looks betrayed, one hand flying to his chest as if a seven-year-old has just wounded him beyond repair. โThat face is called passion, actually. Some people pay good money to see this face in a studio.โ
โThey would ask for a refund,โ you say sweetly.
His head snaps toward you, eyes wide with theatrical offense. โBabe.โ
The entire class explodes.
โOoooooh, Miss Y/N is his babe!โ
โYou said babe!โ
โAre you married?โ
โIs Mr. Han your husband?โ
โIs the baby going to have your big cheeks?โ
Jisungโs mouth opens, closes, and opens again, but nothing comes out except a tiny sound that might have been a plea for help. His face burns so red so quickly that you almost feel bad for him, though not enough to rescue him right away. This is what he gets for trying to be casual in a room full of children whose entire purpose in life is apparently to detect any form of weakness and weaponize it.
You clap twice, smooth and practiced, and the class settles almost instantly, though several of them are still vibrating with the joy of having witnessed adult embarrassment in the wild.
โAlright, musicians,โ you say, giving Jisung one merciful glance as he peels the tambourine off his head with as much dignity as possible. โMr. Han is here to help us with our spring showcase song, not answer questions about my personal life.โ
โBut is he your husband?โ Sora asks, blinking at you with the innocent ruthlessness of a child who knows exactly what she is doing.
Jisung suddenly becomes deeply invested in organizing a pile of rhythm sticks that were already organized.
You smile, warm but firm. โHe is very important to me.โ
That answer, somehow, satisfies them more than any proper label would have. A few of the girls sigh like you have given them the ending to a drama. One of the boys mutters that his dad calls his mom โbabeโ only when he is in trouble. Jisungโs shoulders shake with silent laughter, and when he glances up at you, there is something soft tucked under the amusement, something that still catches in your chest even after years of knowing him.
He is not your husband.
He is not anything that could be explained neatly on a family tree or in the blank spaces of a school emergency contact form, though his name had started appearing in the practical parts of your life long before either of you said it out loud. He was the person who knew which grocery store brand of strawberries you hated, the person who tucked your cold feet between his calves even while complaining that you were trying to freeze him from the inside out, the person who could turn a bad day into a story so ridiculous you forgot where the ache had started.
He was your boyfriend, yes, but the title no longer seemed big enough to hold everything he had become to you.
You met him in this same classroom, though back then he had been less glitter-sticker-covered and more visibly terrified.
The school had been running a small arts enrichment program that year, one of those underfunded miracles built out of donated supplies, teacher overtime, and the fierce belief that children deserved beautiful things even when budgets forgot them. Someone had known someone who knew Jisung, a music producer with a soft spot for community projects and an unfortunate inability to say no when kids were involved.
So Jisung had shown up one Tuesday afternoon wearing an oversized hoodie, carrying a backpack full of cables, portable speakers, and three kinds of panic. He had bowed too deeply to the principal, nearly tripped over a bucket of crayons, and introduced himself to your students with a voice that cracked on the word โproducer.โ
You had liked him immediately.
Not because he was smooth, because he absolutely was not. Not because he knew what he was doing, because during the first session, a seven-year-old had asked him if bass was โthe sound that makes your tummy dance,โ and he had looked at you like he needed professional backup. You liked him because, once the initial awkwardness settled, he became gentle in a way he did not seem aware of. He crouched to speak to the quieter kids. He listened seriously to nonsense lyrics about dinosaurs eating noodles. He made every small idea feel worth building into something.
You watched him turn a classroom full of noisy children into collaborators, not by controlling them, but by making them feel heard.
He watched you manage twenty-two small storms without losing your calm, redirecting tears, tying shoelaces, finding missing pencils, soothing hurt feelings, catching lies with a single raised brow, and somehow remembering which child needed praise privately because attention embarrassed them. Later, he told you that the first time he saw you handle a paint spill, a nosebleed, and a friendship breakup within the same seven minutes, he thought you might actually be a government-trained crisis negotiator disguised as an elementary school teacher.
โI was scared of you,โ he had confessed over coffee after the third week of the program, his hands playing with the crumpled paper left over from your straw.
โYou were scared of me?โ
โYou smiled while commanding children,โ he said, eyes round and earnest. โThat is power. Ancient power. Village elder power.โ
โYouโre ridiculous.โ
โMaybe,โ he conceded, then took one sip of his drink and burned his tongue badly enough to yelp.
You fell in love with him slowly, which is maybe why it lasted. There was no lightning strike, no dramatic confession spoken under rain, no orchestra swelling at the exact right moment. It was smaller than that, and because it was smaller, it became harder to ignore. It was Jisung staying after the program ended to help you stack chairs. It was him bringing extra snacks for the kids who always forgot theirs, pretending he had โaccidentallyโ packed too many. It was the way he started lingering in your classroom after everyone else left.
By the time he asked you out, the students had been whispering about it for weeks.
By the time you said yes, you already knew how he took his coffee, which songs he hummed when he was thinking, and that he got shy when complimented sincerely but would accept harsh feedback as a challenge to improve.
Months passed the way ordinary life does, not in grand chapters but in collected evidence. A toothbrush at his apartment. His hoodie on your chair. Your lesson plans spread across his coffee table while he edited vocals beside you. His phone charger permanently living on your side of the bed because, according to him, you committed battery crimes. Your name in his emergency contacts. His hand finding yours in grocery store aisles without either of you looking.
Moving in together had not been a dramatic decision so much as a gradual realization. His things settled beside yours in careful little stages until the apartment no longer belonged to one person or the other. Then one lease came close to ending, someone finally said what both of you had been circling for months, and suddenly it made more sense to split rent than keep pretending you still lived in two different places. After that, home became something shaped by shared routines, late nights, forgotten mugs, tangled laundry, and the quiet intimacy of building a life beside someone day after day.
You were not married, and for a while, neither of you felt the need to be.
It was not avoidance. It was not fear. It was just that love had already made itself at home in every practical corner of your lives, and neither of you had rushed to name what was already being lived. You had chosen each other in sick days and late nights, in tough conversations and family dinners, in hard weeks and gentle mornings. Marriage was a possible someday, maybe even a wanted someday, but it had never been the proof.
The proof was Jisung now, sitting on your classroom floor, laughing because a group of children had just decided he was legally obligated to marry you.
โMr. Han,โ one of your students says, holding up a triangle instrument with great seriousness, โif the baby cries, you can just make music and then they will stop.โ
Jisung considers this with the gravity of a man receiving sacred wisdom. โThat is actually an excellent plan. You may have just saved my future sleep schedule.โ
You snort. โThat is not how babies work.โ
He points at you without looking away from the child. โSee, this is why I need consultants. Your teacher is very smart, but sometimes she crushes dreams.โ
โYour baby will like your songs,โ Sora says, softer this time.
Something shifts in his face. It is quick, almost hidden under the practiced brightness he uses when emotion comes too close in public, but you see it. You always see it. His mouth curves, but his eyes go glassy for one vulnerable second before he blinks it away and taps the rhythm sticks together.
โYou think so?โ he asks.
Sora nods. โBabies know.โ
Jisung looks at you then, and his smile is smaller this time, less performance and more wonder.
Your baby kicks. Just a small flutter beneath your palm, quiet and familiar now, though it still has the power to steal the breath from your lungs every time. You draw in a quiet breath, and Jisung catches that too, because for all his spiraling and distractedness and dramatic complaints about having the attention span of a squirrel at a firework show, he notices you with painful precision.
His eyes drop to your stomach.
You nod once.
The class keeps chattering, the fluorescent lights keep humming, the world keeps behaving like nothing enormous has happened, but Jisungโs expression softens into something so open that it makes your throat tighten. He does not move toward you because he is still surrounded by children and instruments and the fragile structure of your lesson plan, but his hand lifts slightly from his knee, instinctive and unfinished, like he has to stop himself from reaching for both of you.
You save him from becoming emotional in front of twenty-two tiny investigators by clearing your throat.
โAlright,โ you say, though your voice comes out warmer than you intend. โBack to rhythm.โ
Jisung nods too quickly and picks up the tambourine again. โYes. Rhythm. Excellent.โ
And just like that, the moment folds itself into the day, tucked away beneath noise and glitter and the steady pulse of a future that is becoming harder to imagine without trembling.
Later, when the classroom empties and the last student is collected by a parent running ten minutes late, you find Jisung at the sink trying to scrub glitter glue from his fingers with the grim determination of a man who has learned too late that elementary school crafts operate by the same laws as curses.
โYou know,โ you say, leaning against the counter, โyou donโt have to volunteer every showcase season.โ
He looks at you through the mirror, appalled. โAnd abandon my fans?โ
โYour fans asked if your cheeks are genetic.โ
โThey are also interested in science.โ
โThey also asked if you were my husband.โ
He goes quiet in that rare way of his, not uncomfortable exactly, but careful. The water runs between you for a moment before he shuts it off, drying his hands slowly on a paper towel that immediately sticks to the glitter he failed to remove.
โI mean,โ he says, trying for casual and landing somewhere more fragile, โIโm not.โ
โNo,โ you agree softly. โYouโre not.โ
He turns to face you, his shoulder brushing the cabinet, the classroom around him suddenly too bright and too ordinary for the tenderness gathering in his face. โDoes that bother you?โ
The question does not surprise you, not entirely. Pregnancy has a way of inviting other peopleโs assumptions into places they were not asked to enter. Since the first ultrasound photo appeared on your fridge, people had begun speaking as if a proposal were the next logical symptom. Some asked sweetly. Some asked with judgment dressed as curiosity. Some looked at your bare ring finger before they looked at your face, as if your child needed a legal sequence to be loved properly.
You push away from the counter and step closer, taking his glitter-specked hand in yours.
โNo,โ you say, because you mean it. โI donโt need us to be married for me to know youโre committed to me.โ
He stays silent, watching you.
โYouโre already here,โ you continue, thumb brushing over the back of his hand. โYouโve been here. That matters more to me than doing things in an order that makes other people comfortable.โ
Jisung swallows, and for once he does not make a joke quickly enough to hide behind it. โYouโre all I ever want.โ
โI know.โ
โAnd the baby.โ
โI know.โ
โI want to be the dad who forgets pickup time or burns instant noodles or teaches our child that cereal counts as soup.โ
You blink. โCereal does not count as soup.โ
โI know that now,โ he says solemnly. โGrowth.โ
You laugh, and he grins, relieved by the sound in a way that makes you want to kiss him right there in your classroom between the sink and the drying rack of tempera paint masterpieces. So you do. His mouth meets yours softly at first, smiling too much to make it clean, one hand coming up to cradle the side of your face while the other settles carefully over your stomach.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours.
โI love you,โ he says, so quiet it sounds like a secret.
โI love you too.โ
Your baby moves again beneath his palm, and this time Jisung feels it.
He freezes. Every ounce of humor drains from his face, replaced by awe so unguarded it nearly hurts to look at. His fingers spread gently, as if he is afraid to startle the tiny life inside you, and his eyes shine before he can stop them.
โHi, Baby,โ he whispers.
You cover his hand with yours.
He laughs once, breathless and watery, and looks down at your stomach like the world has just answered him in a language he is still learning. This was not the first time heโs felt a kick from his unborn baby, but he acts like it is every single time.
โOur baby is going to be a genius just like me, donโt you think?โ
โYou called cereal soup.โ
โAnd I will overcome that for my family.โ
You laugh again, but his hand stays where it is, warm and careful, long after the joke fades.
That is how Jisung loves you these days, with laughter first, then wonder close behind.
And sometimes, when you see him standing in your classroom with glitter on his skin and one hand over the place where your child grows, it is impossible not to remember the night everything began, though at the time neither of you knew it had begun at all.
It had been raining in a steady and inconvenient way that made the whole city smell like wet pavement and laundry left too long in the machine. Jisung had come home late from the studio, hair flattened by his cap, cheeks flushed from the cold, carrying takeout in one hand and a small paper bag in the other.
โFor you,โ he had said, dropping the takeout on the counter with suspicious casualness.
Inside the bag was a pack of your favorite pens, the expensive kind you only bought when you were feeling reckless, and a little keychain shaped like a cartoon squirrel because, according to him, it looked โdetermined despite its anxietyโ which was apparently a compliment.
You had been grading spelling tests at the kitchen table, wearing one of his hoodies and your most exhausted expression, and something about the sight of him standing there with damp hair and nervous eyes made the room feel smaller, softer, strangely suspended. He had been overworked. You had been tired. Neither of you had said much at first, but the quiet had not felt empty.
He sat beside you, stealing fries from the container he claimed he bought for both of you, and you pressed your cold feet under his thigh just to hear him complain. He did, loudly, accusing you of trying to kill him. You laughed until your stomach hurt. He watched you like he wanted to memorize the sound.
Later, when the rain thickened against the windows and your papers were abandoned in a crooked stack, he kissed you in the dim light of the kitchen with one hand at your waist and the other still smudged in ink from the pen he had tested for you. Love, familiar and easy, tipping into hunger because the night was quiet and he was warm and his mouth kept smiling against yours.
You remember thinking, briefly, that your life already felt full.
You did not know it was making room.
His hands were already under your shirt, your bra already unhooked, the air in your kitchen cool against your suddenly bare skin. Jisungโs mouth was on yours, hungry, and all you could taste was the need and exhaustion you both carried.ย
โFuck, I missed you,โ he mumbled against your lips, his voice a low, tired rasp that vibrated right into your bones.
Your fingers were in his hair, pulling him closer. โMissed you too. Missed this.โ Your own words were slurred with fatigue and want.
Your shirt hit the floor. His followed. The tangle of clothes was a testament to the haste, the desperation. His belt buckle clattered against the tile. You stepped back, just enough to give him room to kick his jeans away, and your own leggings were already halfway down your thighs. You helped them the rest of the way, kicking them into the dim corner near the fridge.
You stood there, naked in the warm yellow glow of the kitchen lighting, the only light left on in the whole apartment. Jisung looked at you, his eyes dark, his chest heaving with a breath that wasnโt just from exertion. It was from relief. From finding home.
โCome here,โ he said, his voice firmer now. It wasnโt a request.
You went to him. He caught you, his hands sliding around your waist, lifting you with a grunt of effort that was pure male satisfaction. He carried you to the kitchen counter, the cold granite meeting the backs of your thighs as he set you down. The contrastโhis hot palms, the cool stoneโmade you gasp.
โOpen for me,โ he whispered, his head already dipping between your legs.
You leaned back, your elbows finding purchase on the hard surface, and you let your knees fall to either side of him. The exposure was immediate, total. The kitchen, usually a place of mundane routine, transformed into a stage for this raw, private thing.
Jisung didnโt hesitate. His mouth found you, not with a gentle kiss, but with a firm, wet press of his lips directly against your center. His nose nudged your pubic bone. His breath, hot and sharp, washed over you.
โGod, you smell good,โ he growled, the words muffled by your flesh. โLike youโve been thinking about me all day.โ
You hadnโt, not reallyโyouโd been thinking about spelling tests and snack timeโbut the way he said it made it true. Made your whole afternoon feel like a slow-build foreplay to this moment. You moaned, a sound that started low in your throat and broke free into the quiet room.
His tongue found your slit. He traced it, a slow, deliberate stripe from bottom to top, collecting the moisture that had already gathered there. He licked, a broad, flat stroke that made your hips jerk. Then he focused. His tongue narrowed, became a point, and he pushed it into you, just a little, just enough to tease the entrance. You cried out, your head falling back.
โYeah,โ he said, pulling back to speak. โYeah, you like that. Youโre so wet for me already. Dripping, baby.โ
He went back in. This time, his technique changed. He used the flat of his tongue again, but he pressed harder, rubbing you with a firm, rhythmic pressure that built a steady thrum of pleasure right at the core of you. His hands came up, gripping your thighs, holding you open, his thumbs digging into the soft inner flesh. He owned the space.
Then he found your clit. He didnโt toy with it. He zeroed in on it like a target. His tongue circled it, fast and tight, a dizzying orbit that sent sparks shooting up your spine. You were panting now, your breaths short and ragged. One of your hands flew to his head, gripping his hair.
โJisungโฆfuckโฆright thereโฆโ
โRight here?โ he asked, his voice a dirty, knowing murmur. He sucked. He pulled your clit into his mouth and sucked on it, hard, the pressure exquisite and almost too much. Your whole body tightened, a wire pulled taut. You arched off the counter, your back bowing.
He released it with a pop of his lips. โTell me,โ he commanded, his tongue still flicking against the swollen nerve. โTell me what you want.โ
โI wantโฆโ You were gasping. โI want you to fucking eat me. Make me come on your tongue.โ
โThatโs what Iโm doing,โ he said, and his tone was almost arrogant, almost proud. He dove back in.
His mouth was a messy, wonderful instrument. He licked, he sucked, he probed. He used his lips to massage you. He used his teeth to graze you, so lightly it was more a threat of sensation than the sensation itself. The wet sounds were obscene in the quiet kitchen. The slide of his tongue, the slick noise of your own arousal, his hungry grunts. It was a symphony of filth.
The pleasure was coiling in your belly, a tight, hot knot that was winding tighter with every stroke of his tongue. Your thighs began to shake in his hands. Your moans became continuous, a low, desperate hum that broke into sharper cries when he did something particularly goodโwhen he dragged his tongue over your clit in a long, slow pull, or when he pushed two fingers into you alongside his tongue, filling you suddenly.
โOh, god!โ you shouted, your voice echoing off the cabinets.
He fucked you with his fingers, a steady, deep rhythm that matched the frantic circles his tongue was making on your clit. The dual sensationโthe invasion inside, the focused torment outsideโwas unbearable. It was perfect. Your vision blurred. The world narrowed to the feeling of his mouth, his fingers, the cold counter under your ass, and the impending explosion in your nerves.
โCome on,โ he urged, his voice thick and wet. โCome on my face. I want to taste it.โ
It was the permission you needed. The command.
The knot snapped. Pleasure erupted out of you, a white-hot wave that crashed through your entire body. You convulsed against his mouth, your hips bucking uncontrollably. A sharp, broken scream tore from your lips. He kept his mouth on you, kept licking, kept sucking, drawing out the climax until you were whimpering, until your body was slack and trembling against the counter.
He finally pulled back, his lips glistening, his chin wet. He looked up at you, his eyes blazing with a satisfied fire. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a slow, deliberate motion that was unbearably sexy.
โGood?โ he asked, a small grin playing on his lips.
You could only nod, your body still pulsing with aftershocks.
He stood up, his own nakedness fully presented to you now. He was hard, his cock standing upright from his body, thick and flushed and demanding attention. He put his hands on your hips and pulled you forward on the counter, until you were sitting right at the edge.
โNeed your mouth,โ he said, his voice dropping to a gravelly promise.
He didnโt need to say more. You slid off the counter, your legs still shaky, and you knelt on the kitchen floor. The tile was hard under your knees. You looked up at him. He was towering over you, his cock at eye level. You reached for him, your hands wrapping around the base. He was hot, almost feverish, the skin smooth and tight over the hard shaft.
You leaned forward and kissed the tip, a soft, reverent press of your lips. Then you opened your mouth and took him in.
The first inch was a surrender. You let your jaw relax, let your throat open, and you slid him into your mouth. His taste was musky, male. You moaned around him, the vibration making him groan.
โFuck, yes,โ he hissed, his hands coming to rest on your head, not pushing, just holding.
You began to move. You pulled back until just the tip remained between your lips, and then you pushed forward again, taking him deeper. You set a rhythm, slow at first, a deep, sucking pull each time you went down. Your tongue worked against the underside of his shaft, pressing and swirling as you moved.
His breaths became heavier. His fingers tightened in your hair. โYouโre so good at this,โ he muttered. โYour mouth is fucking perfect.โ
You took the praise and used it. You sped up. Your head bobbed faster, your lips sealing tightly around him, your suction increasing. You could feel him swelling in your mouth, getting harder, thicker. The little choked sounds he made above you were fuel. You wanted to hear more.
You pulled back all the way, letting him pop out of your mouth with a slick sound. You looked up at him, your lips wet. โTell me,โ you said, echoing his earlier command. โTell me what you want.โ
His eyes were hooded, his face tense with pleasure. โI want you to deep throat me. Take it all. I want to feel your throat around my cock. Please, baby.โ
You nodded, a flush of heat spreading through you at the dirty instruction. You opened your mouth wide, tilted your head back, and let him guide himself. He didnโt thrust. He let you take control. You leaned forward, swallowing him down, down, until the head of his cock bumped against the entrance to your throat. You paused, let your muscles relax, and then you pushed past it.
He slid into your throat. The feeling was intenseโa deep, full pressure that made your eyes water. You held him there, your throat working around him, and then you pulled back, dragging him through the tight channel again.
โOh, god, fuck,โ Jisung groaned, his whole body shuddering. โJust like that. Donโt stop.โ
You didnโt. You found a rhythm that worked, a deep, throaty fuck with your mouth. Each time you took him deep, you could feel his hips twitch, could feel the raw want in his body. Your own arousal was building again, a secondary fire kindling low in your belly. The subjugation, the act of serving him like this, was turning you on just as much as the physical sensation.
You used your hands too. While your mouth worked on the top half of his cock, your hand wrapped around the base, pumping in tandem with your bobbing head. You twisted your wrist, squeezed gently, matched the pace. It was a full-service blowjob, messy and thorough and completely devoted to his pleasure.
You could taste the pre-come now, a slick, slightly bitter fluid that seeped from him. You swallowed it, let it coat your throat, and the act made him curse again.
โYouโre going to make me come,โ he warned, his voice strained. โYou want that?โ
You pulled off again, your lips leaving him with a wet smear. You looked up, your eyes locked with his. โYes,โ you said, your voice husky. โI want to taste all of you.โ
A savage grin split his face. He pushed your head back toward his cock, guiding you. โThen finish me.โ
You obeyed. You took him back into your mouth, and this time you went for the end. Your rhythm became frantic, desperate. You sucked him hard, your throat constricting around him on each downstroke. Your hand pumped his base vigorously. The sounds were loudโyour gagging breaths, his ragged moans, the wet slap of your lips against his skin.
He was close. You could feel it in the way his muscles tightened, in the way his cock seemed to swell to its absolute limit in your mouth. His breathing was a staccato rhythm of sharp inhales and shuddering exhales.
โFuck, fuck, Iโmโโ he started, but the sentence was cut off by a deep, guttural groan.
Then it happened. A hot, sudden flood filled your mouth. It was thick, copious, and the taste was stronger now, more potent. He was coming, his hips jerking forward, his hands clamping on your head to hold you in place. You kept sucking, kept swallowing, drawing every drop out of him until his shuddering stopped, until his body went slack.
You finally released him, your mouth empty, your lips sore. You stayed on your knees, looking up at him as he caught his breath. He was glorious in his aftermathโsweaty, spent, his eyes half-closed in satisfaction.
He reached down and cupped your cheek. โYouโre incredible,โ he said, his voice soft now, almost awed.
You smiled, wiping your mouth with your hand. The floor was hard under your knees, but you didnโt care.
He didnโt let you stay there long. He bent down, his arms hooking under yours, and he lifted you back up to your feet. Your legs were unsteady, but he held you.
โNow I want you,โ he said, his desire clearly not sated, just redirected. His cock was already hardening again, the resilience of a young, hungry man.
He turned you around, your back to his front, and pushed you gently toward the counter. Your palms flattened against the cold granite. He positioned himself behind you, his hands grabbing your hips, pulling you back until your ass was pressed against his renewed erection.
โRemember how I fucked you last week?โ he whispered into your ear, his breath hot. โFrom behind, while you held onto the headboard?โ
You remembered. The memory made a fresh wave of heat wash through you. โYes.โ
โIโm going to do it again. But harder. Iโm going to fuck you so hard you feel it tomorrow when youโre passing those graded papers back.โ
The promise was vulgar and perfect. You nodded, your head dropping forward. โPlease.โ
He didnโt need more encouragement. One hand stayed on your hip, the other reached between your legs, finding your wetness, slicking his fingers with it. He brought those fingers to his cock, stroking himself with your own arousal, getting himself fully hard and ready. Then he positioned himself.
The head of his cock pressed against your entrance. He didnโt push in slowly. He pushed in with a single, solid thrust that buried him halfway inside you in one motion.
You cried out, a sharp sound of pleasure and shock. The fullness was immediate, breathtaking. He was big, and he filled you completely, stretching you in a way that was almost painful in its intensity.
โFuck, youโre so tight,โ he groaned, his voice strained with the effort of holding still. โEven after you come. Itโs like youโre sucking me in.โ
He began to move. He pulled back, almost all the way out, and then thrust forward again, deeper this time. The slide was smooth, wet, and obscenely easy. Your body accepted him, welcomed him, clenched around him.
He set a pace, brutal and beautiful. Each thrust was a deliberate, powerful drive that pushed you forward against the counter, then pulled you back with his retreat. Your palms slid on the granite. Your breasts pressed against the cold surface. Your head hung down, your hair swinging with the motion of his fucking.
The sound of it was raw. The slap of his hips against your ass, the wet, rhythmic noise of his cock moving inside you, his grunts, your moans. It was a cacophony of sex that echoed in the tidy kitchen.
โYou feel that?โ he asked, his voice rough behind you. โYou feel how deep Iโm in you?โ
You felt it. Every inch. Every vein. Every pulse of his hardness inside your softness. โYes,โ you gasped.
โIโm going to come inside you,โ he said, the words a blunt, hot declaration. โIโm going to fill you up. You want that?โ
โYes!โ you shouted, the word torn from you by another deep thrust.
โTell me,โ he demanded, his rhythm increasing, becoming faster, harder. โTell me you want my cum inside you.โ
โI want your cum inside me!โ you yelled, the confession loud and shameless. โFill me up, Jisung! Fuck me full of it!โ
He growled, a sound of pure male triumph. His hands tightened on your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh, holding you in place for his final assault. His thrusts lost any semblance of rhythm. They became frantic, pounding drives, each one slamming you into the counter, each one sending a shockwave of pleasure through your core.
You were coming again. The pressure of his cock, the force of his movements, the dirty, possessive words he was growling into your earโit all coiled together and snapped. Your second climax crashed over you, a deeper, more internal wave than the first. It clenched around his thrusting cock, milking him, pulling at him.
He felt it. โYouโre coming, baby?โ He panted. โFuck, thatโs so hot. Coming while Iโm fucking youโฆโ
He couldnโt hold back any longer. With a final, driving thrust that felt like it reached your soul, he buried himself as deep as he could go and let go. โIโm coming! Fuck, Iโm coming, baby.โ
You felt the hot surge inside you, the sudden flood of his release filling the space heโd carved out with his cock. He held himself there, pulsing, pumping, until every last drop was spent.
His body slumped against yours, his weight pressing you into the counter. His breath was ragged against your back. You were both panting, sweating, trembling in the aftermath.
He stayed inside you for a long moment, just feeling the connection, the mess theyโd made together. Finally, he slowly pulled out. The sensation of emptiness was acute, followed by the warm trickle of his come seeping out of you.
He turned you around, his hands gentle now, and pulled you into his arms. You clung to him, your face buried in his sweaty chest. The kitchen was silent except for the hum of the refrigerator and the sound of your slowing breaths.
The weeks after that pass the way weeks always do when something life-changing is hiding inside them. Ordinary. Almost rude in their ordinariness.
You teach fractions and conflict resolution, break up an argument over scented markers, attend a staff meeting where someone says โdata-driven instructionโ eight times in forty minutes, and come home to find Jisung asleep on the couch with one headphone still on and a half-eaten bowl of ramen abandoned on the coffee table. He writes melodies. You grade essays. He sends you voice notes at midnight because he wants to know if a synth sounds โtoo haunted but in a cute way.โ You tell him that haunted and cute are not usually neighbors. He sends back three crying emojis and a file named โcute_haunting_final_FINAL2.wav.โ
You make love the way you always have, in quiet bedrooms and lazy mornings and half-asleep laughter, but later, when you count backward with shaking hands and a calendar app open on your phone, you know exactly which night changed everything when your period fails to make an appearance.
At first, you do not panic. You are not a panicker by nature, and your body has been late before during stressful school months, especially when report cards and parent conferences turn your calendar into a cursed puzzle. Plus, youโre on the pill, and a quick Google search says that itโs 93% effective. Itโs crazy for you to be that 7% that would get pregnant. Right?ย
But a few days become a week, and a week becomes you standing in the bathroom before work, staring at two pink lines while Jisung sings loudly in the kitchen because he is making toast and believes every domestic act deserves a soundtrack.
You sit on the edge of the bathtub for a long moment, pregnancy test in hand, heart beating with a strange, steady force.
You are surprised, but not afraid in the way you expected you might be.
There is fear, of course, because only fools and people in diaper commercials think babies arrive without fear, but underneath it sits something quieter and stronger. You think of Jisungโs hand on your back when you fall asleep. His voice through your phone on late drives home. His ridiculous laugh. His tenderness with your students. The way he says your name when he thinks you are not listening.
Then he knocks on the bathroom door with his knuckle. โBaby, your toast is getting hard and cold.โ
You stare at the door.
โAlso, I may have burned one corner, but Iโm calling it rustic.โ
You open the door.
Jisung is standing there with a plate in one hand, wearing pajama pants and a sweatshirt with one sleeve pushed up higher than the other. His hair is a mess on one side from sleep. He looks so painfully himself that your throat tightens before you can speak.
His smile fades.
โWhat happened?โ he asks immediately, plate lowering. โAre you sick? Did I poison you even before the rustic toast?โ
You lift the test.
For once, there is no joke.
His eyes drop to your hand, and the entire hallway seems to hold its breath with him. You watch understanding move across his face slowly, because the truth is too big to enter all at once. His mouth parts. His eyes shine. His gaze jumps from the test to your face, then back again.
โIs thatโฆโ His voice breaks, and he clears his throat, trying again. โAre weโฆโ
You nod.
The plate tilts dangerously.
You grab it before breakfast becomes a casualty.
Jisung laughs, but it comes out strangled and disbelieving, one hand flying to his mouth as he stares at you. โYouโre pregnant?โ
โI think so,โ you say, though the evidence feels rather persuasive.
โWeโre having a baby?โ
You smile, and your eyes burn. โApparently.โ
He steps forward, then stops, hands hovering uselessly because he cannot seem to decide where to touch you first. Your face, your shoulders, your stomach, the air around you. He looks overwhelmed enough that you set the plate down on the hallway table and take his hands yourself.
โBreathe, Ji.โ
โI am breathing,โ he says, then inhales so sharply he nearly hiccups. โSee? Oxygen.โ
You laugh, and that breaks something open in him. He pulls you into his arms carefully but completely, holding you with his face buried in your neck, shaking with a laugh that turns wet around the edges.
โWeโre having a baby,โ he whispers.
โYeah.โ
โOh my god.โ His arms tighten, then loosen immediately as if he remembers you are suddenly made of glass. โSorry. Sorry, did I squeeze too hard? Is squeezing bad? Can I squeeze the baby? Not the baby, obviously, you. But the baby is in you. So indirectly, can Iโฆโ
โJisung.โ
โRight. Calm. Iโm calm.โ
โYouโre vibrating.โ
โI have entered a new plane of emotion.โ
You laugh into his shoulder, and he holds you while the toast goes cold, rustic corner and all.
That morning becomes one of the private myths of your relationship, something you both return to in pieces over the months that follow. Jisung tells the story like he was composed and dignified. You remind him that he almost dropped toast and asked whether hugging was medically dangerous. He insists that responsible fathers ask questions. You let him have that because he is adorable when he is defensive and because, secretly, his panic had made you feel even safer.
At first, pregnancy is a strange little secret tucked between you.
Jisung becomes unbearable in a way that is so sweet you do not have the heart to complain properly. He downloads three pregnancy apps and reads all of them, even though they contradict each other and cause him unnecessary emotional distress. He compares the babyโs size to fruit with great seriousness, then becomes personally offended by the lack of consistency.
โThis one says lemon,โ he says one night, lying beside you in bed with his phone held too close to his face. โThis one says peach. Those are different vibes, baby. Which one is our child?โ
โMaybe theyโre a lemon with peach energy.โ
He lowers the phone and looks at you with deep admiration. โYouโre going to be such a good mother.โ
โBecause I understand fruit metaphors?โ
โBecause you bring peace to chaos.โ
โYour chaos specifically.โ
โYes, but I am a full-time position.โ
By the second trimester, the secret is no longer small. Your stomach rounds softly beneath your dresses. Jisung starts touching it absentmindedly, in elevators, grocery aisles, while waiting for water to boil, while pretending he is not emotional about a commercial involving dogs in animal shelters. He talks to the baby when he thinks you are asleep, voice low and careful in the dark.
โHi,โ he whispers one night, palm warm against your skin. โItโs me. Your dad. That is so weird. Not bad weird. Good weird. Huge weird. Anyway, your mom is sleeping, so we have to be respectful because sheโs very scary when tired. Beautiful, but scary. Like a queen with a vendetta.โ
You keep your eyes closed, smiling into the pillow.
โIโm going to be cool,โ he continues. โNot too cool, because then you wonโt trust me, but cool enough that your friends think Iโm fun. Unless your friends are mean, then Iโll be uncool on purpose. Also, please donโt inherit my sleep schedule. Or my inability to fold fitted sheets. Actually, inherit your momโs everything, except maybe her habit of leaving mugs in strange places, because yesterday I found tea in the bookshelf that had a whole ecosystem.โ
You pinch his arm lightly without opening your eyes.
He goes silent. Then, very softly, he says, โI knew you were awake.โ
โNo, you didnโt.โ
โNo, I didnโt,โ he admits.
You roll over enough to look at him, and he props himself up on one elbow, caught and bashful, hair messy, eyes too tender for the hour.
โYou talk to them a lot,โ you say.
His hand stays on your stomach. โIs that weird?โ
โNo.โ
โGood.โ He looks down, thumb moving in a slow arc. โI want them to know me.โ
โThey will.โ
His expression flickers.
โWhat?โ you ask.
โNothing.โ
But it is not nothing. You know him too well for nothing.
Still, you do not press right away, because Jisung is someone who sometimes needs to circle his own feelings a few times before he can stand in the center of them. Push too early and he jokes. Push too hard and he shuts down. So you let the quiet hold him gently, let him rest his head against your shoulder, let his hand remain over the baby as if touch can translate everything he is not ready to say.
Around twenty-four weeks, things begin to shift.
Jisung is still funny. Still affectionate. Still the kind of man who sends you a photo of a tiny pair of baby socks from a store with the caption, these are stupidly small and cute, should I buy 50 pairs? He still drives you to school on mornings when his schedule allows, still makes your tea wrong but with conviction, still presses his lips to your stomach before kissing you because he claims the baby will feel left out otherwise.
But his nights in the studio grow longer.
At first, it makes sense. He has deadlines. A producerโs work does not clock out just because life becomes tender, and you have always known that music lives in him like a second bloodstream. He hears things other people do not. A melody under rain. Percussion in the rhythm of footsteps. Harmony in the refrigerator hum, which is romantic until he records a voice memo beside the open freezer at two in the morning and scares you half to death.
But then one late night becomes three. Three becomes a pattern. You wake up more often to his side of the bed still cold, the faint glow from the studio bleeding under the door at the end of the hall. When he does come to bed, he moves carefully, apologetically, like he is trying not to disturb the life he already feels guilty for missing while still being inside the same apartment.
He checks on you constantly.
That is the part that would fool someone who did not know him.
He asks if you ate. He refills your water bottle. He orders your favorite soup before you mention craving it. He rubs your lower back without being asked and insists he is simply โprotecting company propertyโ when the baby kicks against his palm. He is not distant in action. Only in spirit. His body stays with you, but his mind keeps slipping somewhere harder to reach.
You find search tabs open on his laptop one evening when he leaves to answer the door for delivery.
how to be emotionally stable parenthow much money baby first yearnewborn sleep schedule realisticsigns you are not ready to be a fathercan babies sense stress in wombhow to stop being anxious before baby arrives
You donโt snoop further. You donโt need to.
When he returns with food, happy little grin on his face, you close the laptop gently and say nothing, because he is smiling too brightly and asking whether the baby wants dumplings as if the baby has placed a formal order.
You let him have the performance for one more night.
The next week, after a doctorโs appointment, the pressure inside him becomes almost visible.
The appointment itself is good. Better than good. The baby is healthy, stubbornly positioned, and apparently committed to making the ultrasound technician work for every measurement. Jisung spends half the appointment laughing nervously and the other half staring at the screen with his mouth slightly open. When the heartbeat fills the room, fast and steady, his hand finds yours and squeezes so tightly that your fingers ache.
On the way home, you mention what the doctor said about the baby recognizing voices soon, maybe already responding to familiar sounds.
You mean it as a sweet fact.
Jisung goes quiet.
Not silent in the normal way, because he is rarely silent without making it clear that silence is an event. This quiet is different. He looks out the car window, thumb picking at the edge of his nail, and when you ask if he is okay, he smiles too quickly.
โYeah,โ he says. โYeah, just thinking.โ
That night, he works until four in the morning.
The night after, until three.
By Friday, he has become obsessed with a track that, to your untrained ears, already sounded beautiful two versions ago. It is soft, lullaby-like without being obvious, built around a piano line that seems to rise and hesitate, rise and hesitate, as if trying to become brave. Every time you pass the studio, you hear him replay the same four measures, stopping before the resolution, adjusting something so small even he probably could not explain it to anyone who did not live inside his head.
You give him space until space becomes distance.
On Saturday night, you wake to an empty bed and the low, muffled pulse of music through the walls.
For a while, you lie still, one hand resting over your stomach, waiting to see if he will come back on his own. The apartment is dark except for the pale city light slipping through the blinds, painting the room in soft gray-blue. Your body aches with the familiar heaviness of late second trimester sleep, that strange combination of exhaustion and restlessness that makes comfort feel like a negotiation with your body.
The baby shifts.
โI know,โ you murmur, rubbing the spot. โHeโs being ridiculous.โ
You feel a kick.
โDonโt encourage him.โ
You push yourself up carefully, padding down the hallway in socks, the wooden floor cool beneath your feet. The studio door is not fully closed, and through the narrow gap you can see Jisung hunched over his desk, headphones around his neck, one hand buried in his hair. The monitor casts his face in tired light. His shoulders are tense. The same section of music loops again and again, delicate and unfinished.
You knock softly.
He startles anyway, spinning in his chair so quickly he nearly tangles himself in the headphone cord.
โBaby,โ he says, guilty immediately. โWhy are you awake? Did I wake you? Is the music too loud? I can turn it down. I was just fixing one thing.โ
You lean against the doorframe, taking him in. The rumpled hoodie. The shadows under his eyes. The frantic brightness in his expression. The way he looks seconds away from either apologizing or making a joke, whichever will get him out of being seen too clearly.
โItโs four-twelve,โ you say gently.
His gaze jumps to the corner of the screen, and his face falls. โOh.โ
โYeah.โ
โI didnโt realize.โ
โI know.โ
He turns back toward the desk, rubbing both hands over his face. โIโm almost done.โ
โJi.โ
โIt just doesnโt sound right yet.โ
You step into the room, careful around the cables he always swears he will organize and never does. โIt sounded beautiful yesterday.โ
โThat doesnโt mean itโs done.โ
โNo,โ you agree, lowering yourself onto the small couch against the wall. โBut it might mean youโre not actually fixing the song.โ
His hand stills on the mouse. For a moment, only the loop plays between you, soft piano trying and failing to land. Jisung stares at the screen as if the waveform might rescue him from the conversation. โIโm fine,โ he says.
โYouโre not.โ
He laughs once, too thin. โWow. Direct. Very teacher of you.โ
โYou respond well to structure.โ
โI respond well to kisses too.โ
โYou can get kisses after you stop lying to me.โ
He looks at you then, and the attempted humor collapses before it fully forms. He is so tired. Not just sleepy, not just overworked, but worn down by thoughts that have been chewing at him quietly for weeks. His eyes shine, and he blinks hard, turning back to the screen too late to hide it.
Your heart aches, but you keep your voice steady, because panic meeting panic never helps him. โCome here,โ you say.
He shakes his head. โIโll get up in a second.โ
โHan Jisung.โ
His face crumples a little at the sound of his full name, just enough that you know he is fighting something bigger than embarrassment. He stands, then seems unsure where to go, so you hold out your hand. He crosses the small room and takes it, lowering himself carefully beside you on the couch, leaving enough space for your stomach before curling toward you like he wants comfort and thinks he has not earned it.
You reach up and take the headphones from around his neck, setting them on the table beside the couch. Then you smooth his hair back from his forehead, your thumb brushing the faint crease between his brows.
He closes his eyes.
โYouโre exhausted,โ you say.
โI know.โ
โYouโre scared.โ
His eyes open. There is no point denying it. Not to you. His mouth trembles once before he presses it tight, jaw working as if he can chew the feeling into something smaller. โI donโt know what Iโm doing.โ
โMost new parents donโt.โ
โNo, I know that, butโฆโ He stops, breathing out shakily, gaze dropping to your stomach. โItโs different when I think about other people not knowing. When itโs me, it feels likeโฆ like I should have figured myself out before this happened.โ
Your hand stills.
He laughs again, but this time there is no humor in it. โI keep thinking about how theyโre going to need us for everything. Everything, Y/N. Not just food and clothes and a crib and all the things I can Google until I go insane, but likeโฆwhat if theyโre sad? What if theyโre scared? What if they need me to be calm and I canโt be? What if Iโm in my head and I miss something important? What if Iโm not steady enough?โ
โJi,โ you whisper.
He shakes his head, tears spilling before he can stop them. โAnd I know youโll be amazing. I know that. Iโve seen you with kids. You just know how to do it. You know how to make people feel safe, and Iโm over here reading five different articles about swaddling and somehow getting worse as a person.โ
A surprised laugh slips out of you, soft and sad, and he huffs through his tears.
โItโs not funny.โ
โItโs a little funny.โ
โIโm having a crisis.โ
โI know, baby.โ
His face twists at the pet name, and suddenly the rest of it breaks open. โWhat if loving them isnโt enough?โ he asks, voice cracking so hard the question barely survives. โWhat if I love them more than anything and still mess them up because Iโm too anxious or too emotional or tooโฆme? What if they need someone better than me?โ
The studio feels unbearably quiet after that, even with the music still looping faintly from the desk.
You take his face in both hands. โListen to me,โ you say, calm but fierce enough that his wet eyes snap to yours. โThe fact that you are this afraid of failing them tells me exactly what kind of father youโre going to be.โ
He tries to look away, but you hold him gently in place. โBad fathers donโt sit awake at four in the morning terrified that they wonโt love their child well enough. Careless fathers donโt memorize every appointment, read every article, talk to a baby that isnโt even born yet, and panic because they want so badly to be good.โ
His breathing shudders.
โYou are not scared because you donโt belong in this,โ you continue, thumbs brushing his cheeks. โYouโre scared because you already care so much that it has nowhere to go yet.โ
His eyes squeeze shut, and another tear slips down.
โYou donโt have to be perfect,โ you say. โYou have to show up. You have to listen. You have to apologize when youโre wrong. You have to try again when the day goes badly. You already do those things, Jisung. You do them with me all the time.โ
His hands come up to your wrists, holding lightly.
โAnd youโre wrong about me just knowing how to do everything,โ you add, softer now. โIโm scared too.โ
He opens his eyes.
You give him a small, honest smile. โIโm calmer than you are. That doesnโt mean Iโm fearless. It just means I had my panic a little better than you.โ
A watery laugh breaks out of him before he can stop it, and the sound loosens something in your chest, making you lean forward to kiss his cheek.
He wipes at his face with his sleeve, then immediately looks annoyed at himself. โIโm sorry. Iโm sorry, I didnโt mean to make you comfort me at four in the morning while youโre pregnant. That feels like a top ten bad boyfriend moment.โ
โYou are not a bad boyfriend.โ
โIโm at least a medium inconvenience.โ
โYou are a beloved inconvenience.โ
He nods weakly. โThat feels fair.โ
You lean forward again and kiss his forehead, lingering there as his breathing begins to slow. His hands slide carefully to your waist, then to your stomach, like he needs to remind himself that the fear is not the only thing in the room.
โHeโs going to know your voice,โ you say quietly.
His fingers pause.
You feel the mistake the second it leaves your mouth, because the sentence exposes the secret you have been carrying for three days.
The secret you were not supposed to know yet.
The secret you had told yourself you would reveal properly, sweetly, maybe with a tiny pair of socks or a little envelope or some gentle private moment where Jisung was not already cracked open on the studio couch at four in the morning.
You had not meant to find out without him.
That had been the plan, at least. You both agreed to wait, partly because Jisung declared that surprises are fun and partly because he did not trust himself not to buy every gendered baby item in a ten-mile radius. But after the appointment, after seeing the way he stared at the screen, after feeling the future press closer than ever, curiosity had gnawed at you until you called the office and asked.
You planned to tell him later. Not like this.
His eyes search your face, catching the shift. Even exhausted and teary, he notices you.
โWhat?โ he asks.
โNothing.โ
His brows pull together. โYou said he.โ
You press your lips together. โYes.โ
His hands tighten slightly over your stomach, not enough to hurt, only enough to reveal that his whole body has started listening.
โY/N,โ he says slowly.ย
You close your eyes. โI was going to tell you differently.โ
Jisung stops breathing for a second. โYou know weโre having a boy?โ he whispers.
You open your eyes, and the look on his face nearly undoes you. Fear still lingers there, but wonder has begun pushing through it, fragile and bright.
โI called,โ you admit. โAfter the appointment. I know we said we would wait, but I couldnโt stop thinking about it, and I justโฆI wanted to know. Iโm sorry. I shouldโve asked you first.โ
He does not seem upset. He barely seems capable of understanding the apology.
Your hand covers one of his over your stomach. โHe. Itโs a boy,โ you repeat.
For a moment, Jisung only stares at you.
Then his face breaks. Not into any of the ugly assumptions people sometimes attach to sons and fathers and legacy. It is nothing like that. You know he would have cried this way for a girl, for any child, for any small life that belonged to both of you. This is not joy because the baby is a boy. It is joy because the baby is suddenly someone.
His son.
Your son.
A little boy who will know his voice.
โWeโre having a boy?โ he asks, and the words wobble in the middle.
You nod, tears slipping down your own cheeks now. โYeah.โ
Jisung laughs, covering his mouth with one hand, then presses that same hand over his eyes as if the feeling is too bright to look at directly. His shoulders shake. For a second you think he might be crying harder than before, but then he makes a sound that is half sob and half stunned laughter, and you realize the panic has cracked open into something else entirely.
โA boy,โ he says, like he is trying the word carefully. โOur babyโs a boy.โ
โIโm sorry I found out without you,โ you whisper.
He shakes his head immediately, still crying. โNo. No, donโt be sorry. Iโm not mad. Iโmโฆโ He laughs again, helpless and wet. โIโm so happy. Oh my god, Iโm so happy.โ
The baby kicks, firm enough that both of you feel it beneath your joined hands.
Jisung gasps. You start laughing through your tears. โI think he knows weโre talking about him.โ
โHe,โ Jisung repeats, and then he is gone all over again, folding forward carefully until his forehead rests against your stomach. His hands cradle the curve of you with trembling reverence, and his voice drops into a whisper so tender it makes the whole world feel hushed. โHi, baby boy.โ
Your hand finds his hair.
He closes his eyes, breathing unevenly against you. โIโm your dad,โ he says, and the sentence sounds like both a confession and a promise. โIโm really scared, and Iโm probably going to cry a lot, and your mom is going to be way better at pretending she knows what sheโs doing, but Iโm here. Okay? Iโm here.โ
Your throat tightens.
โAnd I already love you so much,โ he continues, voice breaking again. โSo much that itโs making me weird. Ask your mom. Iโve been very weird.โ
โYou have,โ you whisper.
He nods solemnly against your stomach. โSee? Honest household.โ
A laugh escapes you, soft and watery, and Jisung presses a kiss to the place where your son moved beneath his hand.
โIโll try really hard,โ he whispers. โI wonโt get it perfect, but Iโll try.โ
The track still loops behind you, that same unresolved piano line rising and rising without ever landing. Jisung lifts his head slowly, eyes swollen and shining, and for the first time all night, he looks at the desk without urgency.
โI kept trying to fix it,โ he says quietly.
โThe song?โ
He nods. โIt felt wrong if it wasnโt perfect.โ
You brush your thumb beneath his eye. โMaybe it doesnโt need to be perfect.โ
His gaze returns to your stomach, and something gentle settles over his face, not certainty exactly, but the beginning of trust.
โMaybe it just needs to be honest,โ he says.
You smile. โThat sounds like something a producer would say after crying his eyes out.โ
He narrows his eyes, though the effect is ruined by how damp his lashes are. โYouโre bullying the father of your child.โ
โIโm grounding the father of my child.โ
โThat sounds nicer.โ
โIt is.โ
He leans into you, and you shift carefully so he can rest against your side without pressing too much weight on you. For a while, neither of you moves. The studio hums softly around you, filled with cables, notebooks, half-finished melodies, and the small evidence of a life being rearranged by love. Jisungโs breathing slows. His hand stays on your stomach. Your son moves once more, softer now.
Eventually, Jisung reaches blindly toward the desk and stops the loop.
The silence that follows feels merciful.
โI think,โ he says, voice rough, โI should come to bed.โ
โI think thatโs the smartest thing youโve said all night.โ
You help him shut everything down, though he insists on saving the file under a new name first. When you glance at the screen, you see what he types.
babyboy_lullaby_draft_one.wav
Your heart clenches. โDraft one?โ you ask.
He looks shy, one hand at the back of his neck. โHe deserves options.โ
โOf course.โ
โAnd also, I donโt want to put too much pressure on him musically before birth.โ
โHow considerate.โ
โIโm a modern father.โ
โYou are a sleep-deprived father.โ
โThat too.โ
In the bedroom, he moves around you with exaggerated care, fluffing your pillow, adjusting the blanket, placing your water bottle within reach, then moving it half an inch closer like that will determine whether you survive the night. You let him fuss because the panic has softened into tenderness, and because sometimes care needs somewhere to go.
He climbs into bed and settles behind you, one arm wrapping carefully under your chest, his palm coming to rest over your stomach. His body is warm along your back. His breath touches the nape of your neck.
โI meant what I said,โ he murmurs.
โAbout being a modern father?โ
โAbout trying.โ
You cover his hand with yours. โI know.โ
โIโm still scared.โ
โI know.โ
โBut less like Iโm drowning,โ he says, and his voice is thoughtful now, tired but clearer. โMore likeโฆIโm standing in water and itโs cold, but youโre holding my hand, so Iโm not being as dramatic about it.โ
โYou are always a little dramatic.โ
โI said as dramatic.โ
You smile into the dark.
After a while, he whispers, โDo you think heโll like me?โ
The question is so naked, so very Jisung, that you have to close your eyes for a second.
โI think heโll adore you,โ you say. โI think heโll know youโre silly and emotional and warm. I think heโll know your voice before he knows almost anything else. I think heโll grow up understanding that love can sound like music from down the hall, and bad jokes in the kitchen, and someone trying again even when theyโre scared.โ
Jisung is quiet for so long that you think he might have fallen asleep.
Then he sniffles.
โAre you crying again?โ
โNo,โ he says, obviously crying. โYour speech was just well thought out.โ
You turn carefully in his arms, slow and awkward because pregnancy has made every movement a small engineering project. He helps immediately, hands hovering like you are a priceless artifact being rotated in a museum. When you finally face him, he looks embarrassed and soft and impossibly young in the dark, yet somehow more grown than he had yesterday.
You touch his cheek. โYouโre going to be amazing,โ you say.
His eyes search yours, wanting to believe it.
โNot because youโll never mess up,โ you continue. โBecause youโll care when you do.โ
His mouth trembles once, but this time he does not fall apart. He nods, pressing his forehead to yours. โI love you,โ he says.
โI love you too.โ
โAnd him.โ
โAnd him.โ
His hand slides between you, settling over the baby again. For a moment, the three of you are quiet together, folded into the small dark room with no rings, no ceremony, no perfect plan, no promise that fear will never return. Just love. Just the choice to stay. Just Jisungโs thumb moving slowly over your stomach, keeping time with a rhythm only he seems able to hear.
โBaby boy,โ he whispers, already half asleep. โPlease inherit your momโs emotional stability.โ
You laugh softly. โAnd your creativity.โ
โAnd my cheeks.โ
โThat too.โ
โAnd none of my search history.โ
โDefinitely none of that.โ
He hums, satisfied, and pulls you a little closer.
Outside, the city continues without knowing anything has changed. Cars move through wet streets. Lights blink in distant windows. Unfinished music waits in his studio for morning. But here, in the quiet, Jisungโs breathing evens out against you, his hand still protective over the life you made together on a night that had seemed ordinary until it became everything.
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โคท part of the weight of love: eight ways to STAY series
jisung knows how to turn emotions into music, but becoming a father is different from writing songs he can endlessly perfect. as your pregnancy makes the future feel frighteningly real, his excitement begins tangling with fears about whether he can truly become someone your baby can depend on, forcing both of you to realize that love was never meant to be flawless to be enough.
pairing producer!jisung x school teacher!reader
genre established relationship ; expecting parents ; fluff
rating mature, 18+
word count 11k
warnings themes of anxiety ; fear of inadequacy ; societal expectations ; graphic & detailed smut ; oral (f&m receiving) ; p in v sex
๐ฒ hannieeeeee! i gotta stop saying 'i loved writing this one' on every note because i literally say it every time. with that being said, i loved writing this hannie fic. in my bones i feel like he would be this dad and it makes me want to curl up and sob because ohmygod i love him. also your girl does research on every fic usually, and this one is no different. cacophony? never heard that one in music class. anyway! so excited to hear you guys' thoughts. as always, enjoy hunnies <3
m a s t e r l i s t .แ i n b o x .แ
Jisung is sitting cross-legged on the linoleum floor of your classroom with a plastic tambourine balanced on his head, three glitter stickers on his cheek, and twenty-two elementary school students staring at him with a mixture of excitement and confusion.
You stand near your desk with one hand braced against the edge, your other hand resting lightly over the soft curve of your stomach, trying very hard not to laugh loud enough to disrupt what he clearly thinks is a serious artistic demonstration. His expression says focus. His posture says professional. The bright green sticker stuck to the corner of his mouth says otherwise.
โOkay,โ he announces, lifting both hands like he is conducting an orchestra inside a very tiny, very chaotic concert hall. โWho can tell me what rhythm is?โ
Several hands shoot into the air at once.
โItโs when music goesโ!โ Minseo shouts, standing up mid-sentence to bounce around.
โItโs when the song has feet!โ Joon adds, completely confident.
โItโs when Mr. Han makes that face because weโre clapping wrong,โ Jiwoo offers, which sends half the class into immediate giggles.
Jisung looks betrayed, one hand flying to his chest as if a seven-year-old has just wounded him beyond repair. โThat face is called passion, actually. Some people pay good money to see this face in a studio.โ
โThey would ask for a refund,โ you say sweetly.
His head snaps toward you, eyes wide with theatrical offense. โBabe.โ
The entire class explodes.
โOoooooh, Miss Y/N is his babe!โ
โYou said babe!โ
โAre you married?โ
โIs Mr. Han your husband?โ
โIs the baby going to have your big cheeks?โ
Jisungโs mouth opens, closes, and opens again, but nothing comes out except a tiny sound that might have been a plea for help. His face burns so red so quickly that you almost feel bad for him, though not enough to rescue him right away. This is what he gets for trying to be casual in a room full of children whose entire purpose in life is apparently to detect any form of weakness and weaponize it.
You clap twice, smooth and practiced, and the class settles almost instantly, though several of them are still vibrating with the joy of having witnessed adult embarrassment in the wild.
โAlright, musicians,โ you say, giving Jisung one merciful glance as he peels the tambourine off his head with as much dignity as possible. โMr. Han is here to help us with our spring showcase song, not answer questions about my personal life.โ
โBut is he your husband?โ Sora asks, blinking at you with the innocent ruthlessness of a child who knows exactly what she is doing.
Jisung suddenly becomes deeply invested in organizing a pile of rhythm sticks that were already organized.
You smile, warm but firm. โHe is very important to me.โ
That answer, somehow, satisfies them more than any proper label would have. A few of the girls sigh like you have given them the ending to a drama. One of the boys mutters that his dad calls his mom โbabeโ only when he is in trouble. Jisungโs shoulders shake with silent laughter, and when he glances up at you, there is something soft tucked under the amusement, something that still catches in your chest even after years of knowing him.
He is not your husband.
He is not anything that could be explained neatly on a family tree or in the blank spaces of a school emergency contact form, though his name had started appearing in the practical parts of your life long before either of you said it out loud. He was the person who knew which grocery store brand of strawberries you hated, the person who tucked your cold feet between his calves even while complaining that you were trying to freeze him from the inside out, the person who could turn a bad day into a story so ridiculous you forgot where the ache had started.
He was your boyfriend, yes, but the title no longer seemed big enough to hold everything he had become to you.
You met him in this same classroom, though back then he had been less glitter-sticker-covered and more visibly terrified.
The school had been running a small arts enrichment program that year, one of those underfunded miracles built out of donated supplies, teacher overtime, and the fierce belief that children deserved beautiful things even when budgets forgot them. Someone had known someone who knew Jisung, a music producer with a soft spot for community projects and an unfortunate inability to say no when kids were involved.
So Jisung had shown up one Tuesday afternoon wearing an oversized hoodie, carrying a backpack full of cables, portable speakers, and three kinds of panic. He had bowed too deeply to the principal, nearly tripped over a bucket of crayons, and introduced himself to your students with a voice that cracked on the word โproducer.โ
You had liked him immediately.
Not because he was smooth, because he absolutely was not. Not because he knew what he was doing, because during the first session, a seven-year-old had asked him if bass was โthe sound that makes your tummy dance,โ and he had looked at you like he needed professional backup. You liked him because, once the initial awkwardness settled, he became gentle in a way he did not seem aware of. He crouched to speak to the quieter kids. He listened seriously to nonsense lyrics about dinosaurs eating noodles. He made every small idea feel worth building into something.
You watched him turn a classroom full of noisy children into collaborators, not by controlling them, but by making them feel heard.
He watched you manage twenty-two small storms without losing your calm, redirecting tears, tying shoelaces, finding missing pencils, soothing hurt feelings, catching lies with a single raised brow, and somehow remembering which child needed praise privately because attention embarrassed them. Later, he told you that the first time he saw you handle a paint spill, a nosebleed, and a friendship breakup within the same seven minutes, he thought you might actually be a government-trained crisis negotiator disguised as an elementary school teacher.
โI was scared of you,โ he had confessed over coffee after the third week of the program, his hands playing with the crumpled paper left over from your straw.
โYou were scared of me?โ
โYou smiled while commanding children,โ he said, eyes round and earnest. โThat is power. Ancient power. Village elder power.โ
โYouโre ridiculous.โ
โMaybe,โ he conceded, then took one sip of his drink and burned his tongue badly enough to yelp.
You fell in love with him slowly, which is maybe why it lasted. There was no lightning strike, no dramatic confession spoken under rain, no orchestra swelling at the exact right moment. It was smaller than that, and because it was smaller, it became harder to ignore. It was Jisung staying after the program ended to help you stack chairs. It was him bringing extra snacks for the kids who always forgot theirs, pretending he had โaccidentallyโ packed too many. It was the way he started lingering in your classroom after everyone else left.
By the time he asked you out, the students had been whispering about it for weeks.
By the time you said yes, you already knew how he took his coffee, which songs he hummed when he was thinking, and that he got shy when complimented sincerely but would accept harsh feedback as a challenge to improve.
Months passed the way ordinary life does, not in grand chapters but in collected evidence. A toothbrush at his apartment. His hoodie on your chair. Your lesson plans spread across his coffee table while he edited vocals beside you. His phone charger permanently living on your side of the bed because, according to him, you committed battery crimes. Your name in his emergency contacts. His hand finding yours in grocery store aisles without either of you looking.
Moving in together had not been a dramatic decision so much as a gradual realization. His things settled beside yours in careful little stages until the apartment no longer belonged to one person or the other. Then one lease came close to ending, someone finally said what both of you had been circling for months, and suddenly it made more sense to split rent than keep pretending you still lived in two different places. After that, home became something shaped by shared routines, late nights, forgotten mugs, tangled laundry, and the quiet intimacy of building a life beside someone day after day.
You were not married, and for a while, neither of you felt the need to be.
It was not avoidance. It was not fear. It was just that love had already made itself at home in every practical corner of your lives, and neither of you had rushed to name what was already being lived. You had chosen each other in sick days and late nights, in tough conversations and family dinners, in hard weeks and gentle mornings. Marriage was a possible someday, maybe even a wanted someday, but it had never been the proof.
The proof was Jisung now, sitting on your classroom floor, laughing because a group of children had just decided he was legally obligated to marry you.
โMr. Han,โ one of your students says, holding up a triangle instrument with great seriousness, โif the baby cries, you can just make music and then they will stop.โ
Jisung considers this with the gravity of a man receiving sacred wisdom. โThat is actually an excellent plan. You may have just saved my future sleep schedule.โ
You snort. โThat is not how babies work.โ
He points at you without looking away from the child. โSee, this is why I need consultants. Your teacher is very smart, but sometimes she crushes dreams.โ
โYour baby will like your songs,โ Sora says, softer this time.
Something shifts in his face. It is quick, almost hidden under the practiced brightness he uses when emotion comes too close in public, but you see it. You always see it. His mouth curves, but his eyes go glassy for one vulnerable second before he blinks it away and taps the rhythm sticks together.
โYou think so?โ he asks.
Sora nods. โBabies know.โ
Jisung looks at you then, and his smile is smaller this time, less performance and more wonder.
Your baby kicks. Just a small flutter beneath your palm, quiet and familiar now, though it still has the power to steal the breath from your lungs every time. You draw in a quiet breath, and Jisung catches that too, because for all his spiraling and distractedness and dramatic complaints about having the attention span of a squirrel at a firework show, he notices you with painful precision.
His eyes drop to your stomach.
You nod once.
The class keeps chattering, the fluorescent lights keep humming, the world keeps behaving like nothing enormous has happened, but Jisungโs expression softens into something so open that it makes your throat tighten. He does not move toward you because he is still surrounded by children and instruments and the fragile structure of your lesson plan, but his hand lifts slightly from his knee, instinctive and unfinished, like he has to stop himself from reaching for both of you.
You save him from becoming emotional in front of twenty-two tiny investigators by clearing your throat.
โAlright,โ you say, though your voice comes out warmer than you intend. โBack to rhythm.โ
Jisung nods too quickly and picks up the tambourine again. โYes. Rhythm. Excellent.โ
And just like that, the moment folds itself into the day, tucked away beneath noise and glitter and the steady pulse of a future that is becoming harder to imagine without trembling.
Later, when the classroom empties and the last student is collected by a parent running ten minutes late, you find Jisung at the sink trying to scrub glitter glue from his fingers with the grim determination of a man who has learned too late that elementary school crafts operate by the same laws as curses.
โYou know,โ you say, leaning against the counter, โyou donโt have to volunteer every showcase season.โ
He looks at you through the mirror, appalled. โAnd abandon my fans?โ
โYour fans asked if your cheeks are genetic.โ
โThey are also interested in science.โ
โThey also asked if you were my husband.โ
He goes quiet in that rare way of his, not uncomfortable exactly, but careful. The water runs between you for a moment before he shuts it off, drying his hands slowly on a paper towel that immediately sticks to the glitter he failed to remove.
โI mean,โ he says, trying for casual and landing somewhere more fragile, โIโm not.โ
โNo,โ you agree softly. โYouโre not.โ
He turns to face you, his shoulder brushing the cabinet, the classroom around him suddenly too bright and too ordinary for the tenderness gathering in his face. โDoes that bother you?โ
The question does not surprise you, not entirely. Pregnancy has a way of inviting other peopleโs assumptions into places they were not asked to enter. Since the first ultrasound photo appeared on your fridge, people had begun speaking as if a proposal were the next logical symptom. Some asked sweetly. Some asked with judgment dressed as curiosity. Some looked at your bare ring finger before they looked at your face, as if your child needed a legal sequence to be loved properly.
You push away from the counter and step closer, taking his glitter-specked hand in yours.
โNo,โ you say, because you mean it. โI donโt need us to be married for me to know youโre committed to me.โ
He stays silent, watching you.
โYouโre already here,โ you continue, thumb brushing over the back of his hand. โYouโve been here. That matters more to me than doing things in an order that makes other people comfortable.โ
Jisung swallows, and for once he does not make a joke quickly enough to hide behind it. โYouโre all I ever want.โ
โI know.โ
โAnd the baby.โ
โI know.โ
โI want to be the dad who forgets pickup time or burns instant noodles or teaches our child that cereal counts as soup.โ
You blink. โCereal does not count as soup.โ
โI know that now,โ he says solemnly. โGrowth.โ
You laugh, and he grins, relieved by the sound in a way that makes you want to kiss him right there in your classroom between the sink and the drying rack of tempera paint masterpieces. So you do. His mouth meets yours softly at first, smiling too much to make it clean, one hand coming up to cradle the side of your face while the other settles carefully over your stomach.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours.
โI love you,โ he says, so quiet it sounds like a secret.
โI love you too.โ
Your baby moves again beneath his palm, and this time Jisung feels it.
He freezes. Every ounce of humor drains from his face, replaced by awe so unguarded it nearly hurts to look at. His fingers spread gently, as if he is afraid to startle the tiny life inside you, and his eyes shine before he can stop them.
โHi, Baby,โ he whispers.
You cover his hand with yours.
He laughs once, breathless and watery, and looks down at your stomach like the world has just answered him in a language he is still learning. This was not the first time heโs felt a kick from his unborn baby, but he acts like it is every single time.
โOur baby is going to be a genius just like me, donโt you think?โ
โYou called cereal soup.โ
โAnd I will overcome that for my family.โ
You laugh again, but his hand stays where it is, warm and careful, long after the joke fades.
That is how Jisung loves you these days, with laughter first, then wonder close behind.
And sometimes, when you see him standing in your classroom with glitter on his skin and one hand over the place where your child grows, it is impossible not to remember the night everything began, though at the time neither of you knew it had begun at all.
It had been raining in a steady and inconvenient way that made the whole city smell like wet pavement and laundry left too long in the machine. Jisung had come home late from the studio, hair flattened by his cap, cheeks flushed from the cold, carrying takeout in one hand and a small paper bag in the other.
โFor you,โ he had said, dropping the takeout on the counter with suspicious casualness.
Inside the bag was a pack of your favorite pens, the expensive kind you only bought when you were feeling reckless, and a little keychain shaped like a cartoon squirrel because, according to him, it looked โdetermined despite its anxietyโ which was apparently a compliment.
You had been grading spelling tests at the kitchen table, wearing one of his hoodies and your most exhausted expression, and something about the sight of him standing there with damp hair and nervous eyes made the room feel smaller, softer, strangely suspended. He had been overworked. You had been tired. Neither of you had said much at first, but the quiet had not felt empty.
He sat beside you, stealing fries from the container he claimed he bought for both of you, and you pressed your cold feet under his thigh just to hear him complain. He did, loudly, accusing you of trying to kill him. You laughed until your stomach hurt. He watched you like he wanted to memorize the sound.
Later, when the rain thickened against the windows and your papers were abandoned in a crooked stack, he kissed you in the dim light of the kitchen with one hand at your waist and the other still smudged in ink from the pen he had tested for you. Love, familiar and easy, tipping into hunger because the night was quiet and he was warm and his mouth kept smiling against yours.
You remember thinking, briefly, that your life already felt full.
You did not know it was making room.
His hands were already under your shirt, your bra already unhooked, the air in your kitchen cool against your suddenly bare skin. Jisungโs mouth was on yours, hungry, and all you could taste was the need and exhaustion you both carried.ย
โFuck, I missed you,โ he mumbled against your lips, his voice a low, tired rasp that vibrated right into your bones.
Your fingers were in his hair, pulling him closer. โMissed you too. Missed this.โ Your own words were slurred with fatigue and want.
Your shirt hit the floor. His followed. The tangle of clothes was a testament to the haste, the desperation. His belt buckle clattered against the tile. You stepped back, just enough to give him room to kick his jeans away, and your own leggings were already halfway down your thighs. You helped them the rest of the way, kicking them into the dim corner near the fridge.
You stood there, naked in the warm yellow glow of the kitchen lighting, the only light left on in the whole apartment. Jisung looked at you, his eyes dark, his chest heaving with a breath that wasnโt just from exertion. It was from relief. From finding home.
โCome here,โ he said, his voice firmer now. It wasnโt a request.
You went to him. He caught you, his hands sliding around your waist, lifting you with a grunt of effort that was pure male satisfaction. He carried you to the kitchen counter, the cold granite meeting the backs of your thighs as he set you down. The contrastโhis hot palms, the cool stoneโmade you gasp.
โOpen for me,โ he whispered, his head already dipping between your legs.
You leaned back, your elbows finding purchase on the hard surface, and you let your knees fall to either side of him. The exposure was immediate, total. The kitchen, usually a place of mundane routine, transformed into a stage for this raw, private thing.
Jisung didnโt hesitate. His mouth found you, not with a gentle kiss, but with a firm, wet press of his lips directly against your center. His nose nudged your pubic bone. His breath, hot and sharp, washed over you.
โGod, you smell good,โ he growled, the words muffled by your flesh. โLike youโve been thinking about me all day.โ
You hadnโt, not reallyโyouโd been thinking about spelling tests and snack timeโbut the way he said it made it true. Made your whole afternoon feel like a slow-build foreplay to this moment. You moaned, a sound that started low in your throat and broke free into the quiet room.
His tongue found your slit. He traced it, a slow, deliberate stripe from bottom to top, collecting the moisture that had already gathered there. He licked, a broad, flat stroke that made your hips jerk. Then he focused. His tongue narrowed, became a point, and he pushed it into you, just a little, just enough to tease the entrance. You cried out, your head falling back.
โYeah,โ he said, pulling back to speak. โYeah, you like that. Youโre so wet for me already. Dripping, baby.โ
He went back in. This time, his technique changed. He used the flat of his tongue again, but he pressed harder, rubbing you with a firm, rhythmic pressure that built a steady thrum of pleasure right at the core of you. His hands came up, gripping your thighs, holding you open, his thumbs digging into the soft inner flesh. He owned the space.
Then he found your clit. He didnโt toy with it. He zeroed in on it like a target. His tongue circled it, fast and tight, a dizzying orbit that sent sparks shooting up your spine. You were panting now, your breaths short and ragged. One of your hands flew to his head, gripping his hair.
โJisungโฆfuckโฆright thereโฆโ
โRight here?โ he asked, his voice a dirty, knowing murmur. He sucked. He pulled your clit into his mouth and sucked on it, hard, the pressure exquisite and almost too much. Your whole body tightened, a wire pulled taut. You arched off the counter, your back bowing.
He released it with a pop of his lips. โTell me,โ he commanded, his tongue still flicking against the swollen nerve. โTell me what you want.โ
โI wantโฆโ You were gasping. โI want you to fucking eat me. Make me come on your tongue.โ
โThatโs what Iโm doing,โ he said, and his tone was almost arrogant, almost proud. He dove back in.
His mouth was a messy, wonderful instrument. He licked, he sucked, he probed. He used his lips to massage you. He used his teeth to graze you, so lightly it was more a threat of sensation than the sensation itself. The wet sounds were obscene in the quiet kitchen. The slide of his tongue, the slick noise of your own arousal, his hungry grunts. It was a symphony of filth.
The pleasure was coiling in your belly, a tight, hot knot that was winding tighter with every stroke of his tongue. Your thighs began to shake in his hands. Your moans became continuous, a low, desperate hum that broke into sharper cries when he did something particularly goodโwhen he dragged his tongue over your clit in a long, slow pull, or when he pushed two fingers into you alongside his tongue, filling you suddenly.
โOh, god!โ you shouted, your voice echoing off the cabinets.
He fucked you with his fingers, a steady, deep rhythm that matched the frantic circles his tongue was making on your clit. The dual sensationโthe invasion inside, the focused torment outsideโwas unbearable. It was perfect. Your vision blurred. The world narrowed to the feeling of his mouth, his fingers, the cold counter under your ass, and the impending explosion in your nerves.
โCome on,โ he urged, his voice thick and wet. โCome on my face. I want to taste it.โ
It was the permission you needed. The command.
The knot snapped. Pleasure erupted out of you, a white-hot wave that crashed through your entire body. You convulsed against his mouth, your hips bucking uncontrollably. A sharp, broken scream tore from your lips. He kept his mouth on you, kept licking, kept sucking, drawing out the climax until you were whimpering, until your body was slack and trembling against the counter.
He finally pulled back, his lips glistening, his chin wet. He looked up at you, his eyes blazing with a satisfied fire. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a slow, deliberate motion that was unbearably sexy.
โGood?โ he asked, a small grin playing on his lips.
You could only nod, your body still pulsing with aftershocks.
He stood up, his own nakedness fully presented to you now. He was hard, his cock standing upright from his body, thick and flushed and demanding attention. He put his hands on your hips and pulled you forward on the counter, until you were sitting right at the edge.
โNeed your mouth,โ he said, his voice dropping to a gravelly promise.
He didnโt need to say more. You slid off the counter, your legs still shaky, and you knelt on the kitchen floor. The tile was hard under your knees. You looked up at him. He was towering over you, his cock at eye level. You reached for him, your hands wrapping around the base. He was hot, almost feverish, the skin smooth and tight over the hard shaft.
You leaned forward and kissed the tip, a soft, reverent press of your lips. Then you opened your mouth and took him in.
The first inch was a surrender. You let your jaw relax, let your throat open, and you slid him into your mouth. His taste was musky, male. You moaned around him, the vibration making him groan.
โFuck, yes,โ he hissed, his hands coming to rest on your head, not pushing, just holding.
You began to move. You pulled back until just the tip remained between your lips, and then you pushed forward again, taking him deeper. You set a rhythm, slow at first, a deep, sucking pull each time you went down. Your tongue worked against the underside of his shaft, pressing and swirling as you moved.
His breaths became heavier. His fingers tightened in your hair. โYouโre so good at this,โ he muttered. โYour mouth is fucking perfect.โ
You took the praise and used it. You sped up. Your head bobbed faster, your lips sealing tightly around him, your suction increasing. You could feel him swelling in your mouth, getting harder, thicker. The little choked sounds he made above you were fuel. You wanted to hear more.
You pulled back all the way, letting him pop out of your mouth with a slick sound. You looked up at him, your lips wet. โTell me,โ you said, echoing his earlier command. โTell me what you want.โ
His eyes were hooded, his face tense with pleasure. โI want you to deep throat me. Take it all. I want to feel your throat around my cock. Please, baby.โ
You nodded, a flush of heat spreading through you at the dirty instruction. You opened your mouth wide, tilted your head back, and let him guide himself. He didnโt thrust. He let you take control. You leaned forward, swallowing him down, down, until the head of his cock bumped against the entrance to your throat. You paused, let your muscles relax, and then you pushed past it.
He slid into your throat. The feeling was intenseโa deep, full pressure that made your eyes water. You held him there, your throat working around him, and then you pulled back, dragging him through the tight channel again.
โOh, god, fuck,โ Jisung groaned, his whole body shuddering. โJust like that. Donโt stop.โ
You didnโt. You found a rhythm that worked, a deep, throaty fuck with your mouth. Each time you took him deep, you could feel his hips twitch, could feel the raw want in his body. Your own arousal was building again, a secondary fire kindling low in your belly. The subjugation, the act of serving him like this, was turning you on just as much as the physical sensation.
You used your hands too. While your mouth worked on the top half of his cock, your hand wrapped around the base, pumping in tandem with your bobbing head. You twisted your wrist, squeezed gently, matched the pace. It was a full-service blowjob, messy and thorough and completely devoted to his pleasure.
You could taste the pre-come now, a slick, slightly bitter fluid that seeped from him. You swallowed it, let it coat your throat, and the act made him curse again.
โYouโre going to make me come,โ he warned, his voice strained. โYou want that?โ
You pulled off again, your lips leaving him with a wet smear. You looked up, your eyes locked with his. โYes,โ you said, your voice husky. โI want to taste all of you.โ
A savage grin split his face. He pushed your head back toward his cock, guiding you. โThen finish me.โ
You obeyed. You took him back into your mouth, and this time you went for the end. Your rhythm became frantic, desperate. You sucked him hard, your throat constricting around him on each downstroke. Your hand pumped his base vigorously. The sounds were loudโyour gagging breaths, his ragged moans, the wet slap of your lips against his skin.
He was close. You could feel it in the way his muscles tightened, in the way his cock seemed to swell to its absolute limit in your mouth. His breathing was a staccato rhythm of sharp inhales and shuddering exhales.
โFuck, fuck, Iโmโโ he started, but the sentence was cut off by a deep, guttural groan.
Then it happened. A hot, sudden flood filled your mouth. It was thick, copious, and the taste was stronger now, more potent. He was coming, his hips jerking forward, his hands clamping on your head to hold you in place. You kept sucking, kept swallowing, drawing every drop out of him until his shuddering stopped, until his body went slack.
You finally released him, your mouth empty, your lips sore. You stayed on your knees, looking up at him as he caught his breath. He was glorious in his aftermathโsweaty, spent, his eyes half-closed in satisfaction.
He reached down and cupped your cheek. โYouโre incredible,โ he said, his voice soft now, almost awed.
You smiled, wiping your mouth with your hand. The floor was hard under your knees, but you didnโt care.
He didnโt let you stay there long. He bent down, his arms hooking under yours, and he lifted you back up to your feet. Your legs were unsteady, but he held you.
โNow I want you,โ he said, his desire clearly not sated, just redirected. His cock was already hardening again, the resilience of a young, hungry man.
He turned you around, your back to his front, and pushed you gently toward the counter. Your palms flattened against the cold granite. He positioned himself behind you, his hands grabbing your hips, pulling you back until your ass was pressed against his renewed erection.
โRemember how I fucked you last week?โ he whispered into your ear, his breath hot. โFrom behind, while you held onto the headboard?โ
You remembered. The memory made a fresh wave of heat wash through you. โYes.โ
โIโm going to do it again. But harder. Iโm going to fuck you so hard you feel it tomorrow when youโre passing those graded papers back.โ
The promise was vulgar and perfect. You nodded, your head dropping forward. โPlease.โ
He didnโt need more encouragement. One hand stayed on your hip, the other reached between your legs, finding your wetness, slicking his fingers with it. He brought those fingers to his cock, stroking himself with your own arousal, getting himself fully hard and ready. Then he positioned himself.
The head of his cock pressed against your entrance. He didnโt push in slowly. He pushed in with a single, solid thrust that buried him halfway inside you in one motion.
You cried out, a sharp sound of pleasure and shock. The fullness was immediate, breathtaking. He was big, and he filled you completely, stretching you in a way that was almost painful in its intensity.
โFuck, youโre so tight,โ he groaned, his voice strained with the effort of holding still. โEven after you come. Itโs like youโre sucking me in.โ
He began to move. He pulled back, almost all the way out, and then thrust forward again, deeper this time. The slide was smooth, wet, and obscenely easy. Your body accepted him, welcomed him, clenched around him.
He set a pace, brutal and beautiful. Each thrust was a deliberate, powerful drive that pushed you forward against the counter, then pulled you back with his retreat. Your palms slid on the granite. Your breasts pressed against the cold surface. Your head hung down, your hair swinging with the motion of his fucking.
The sound of it was raw. The slap of his hips against your ass, the wet, rhythmic noise of his cock moving inside you, his grunts, your moans. It was a cacophony of sex that echoed in the tidy kitchen.
โYou feel that?โ he asked, his voice rough behind you. โYou feel how deep Iโm in you?โ
You felt it. Every inch. Every vein. Every pulse of his hardness inside your softness. โYes,โ you gasped.
โIโm going to come inside you,โ he said, the words a blunt, hot declaration. โIโm going to fill you up. You want that?โ
โYes!โ you shouted, the word torn from you by another deep thrust.
โTell me,โ he demanded, his rhythm increasing, becoming faster, harder. โTell me you want my cum inside you.โ
โI want your cum inside me!โ you yelled, the confession loud and shameless. โFill me up, Jisung! Fuck me full of it!โ
He growled, a sound of pure male triumph. His hands tightened on your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh, holding you in place for his final assault. His thrusts lost any semblance of rhythm. They became frantic, pounding drives, each one slamming you into the counter, each one sending a shockwave of pleasure through your core.
You were coming again. The pressure of his cock, the force of his movements, the dirty, possessive words he was growling into your earโit all coiled together and snapped. Your second climax crashed over you, a deeper, more internal wave than the first. It clenched around his thrusting cock, milking him, pulling at him.
He felt it. โYouโre coming, baby?โ He panted. โFuck, thatโs so hot. Coming while Iโm fucking youโฆโ
He couldnโt hold back any longer. With a final, driving thrust that felt like it reached your soul, he buried himself as deep as he could go and let go. โIโm coming! Fuck, Iโm coming, baby.โ
You felt the hot surge inside you, the sudden flood of his release filling the space heโd carved out with his cock. He held himself there, pulsing, pumping, until every last drop was spent.
His body slumped against yours, his weight pressing you into the counter. His breath was ragged against your back. You were both panting, sweating, trembling in the aftermath.
He stayed inside you for a long moment, just feeling the connection, the mess theyโd made together. Finally, he slowly pulled out. The sensation of emptiness was acute, followed by the warm trickle of his come seeping out of you.
He turned you around, his hands gentle now, and pulled you into his arms. You clung to him, your face buried in his sweaty chest. The kitchen was silent except for the hum of the refrigerator and the sound of your slowing breaths.
The weeks after that pass the way weeks always do when something life-changing is hiding inside them. Ordinary. Almost rude in their ordinariness.
You teach fractions and conflict resolution, break up an argument over scented markers, attend a staff meeting where someone says โdata-driven instructionโ eight times in forty minutes, and come home to find Jisung asleep on the couch with one headphone still on and a half-eaten bowl of ramen abandoned on the coffee table. He writes melodies. You grade essays. He sends you voice notes at midnight because he wants to know if a synth sounds โtoo haunted but in a cute way.โ You tell him that haunted and cute are not usually neighbors. He sends back three crying emojis and a file named โcute_haunting_final_FINAL2.wav.โ
You make love the way you always have, in quiet bedrooms and lazy mornings and half-asleep laughter, but later, when you count backward with shaking hands and a calendar app open on your phone, you know exactly which night changed everything when your period fails to make an appearance.
At first, you do not panic. You are not a panicker by nature, and your body has been late before during stressful school months, especially when report cards and parent conferences turn your calendar into a cursed puzzle. Plus, youโre on the pill, and a quick Google search says that itโs 93% effective. Itโs crazy for you to be that 7% that would get pregnant. Right?ย
But a few days become a week, and a week becomes you standing in the bathroom before work, staring at two pink lines while Jisung sings loudly in the kitchen because he is making toast and believes every domestic act deserves a soundtrack.
You sit on the edge of the bathtub for a long moment, pregnancy test in hand, heart beating with a strange, steady force.
You are surprised, but not afraid in the way you expected you might be.
There is fear, of course, because only fools and people in diaper commercials think babies arrive without fear, but underneath it sits something quieter and stronger. You think of Jisungโs hand on your back when you fall asleep. His voice through your phone on late drives home. His ridiculous laugh. His tenderness with your students. The way he says your name when he thinks you are not listening.
Then he knocks on the bathroom door with his knuckle. โBaby, your toast is getting hard and cold.โ
You stare at the door.
โAlso, I may have burned one corner, but Iโm calling it rustic.โ
You open the door.
Jisung is standing there with a plate in one hand, wearing pajama pants and a sweatshirt with one sleeve pushed up higher than the other. His hair is a mess on one side from sleep. He looks so painfully himself that your throat tightens before you can speak.
His smile fades.
โWhat happened?โ he asks immediately, plate lowering. โAre you sick? Did I poison you even before the rustic toast?โ
You lift the test.
For once, there is no joke.
His eyes drop to your hand, and the entire hallway seems to hold its breath with him. You watch understanding move across his face slowly, because the truth is too big to enter all at once. His mouth parts. His eyes shine. His gaze jumps from the test to your face, then back again.
โIs thatโฆโ His voice breaks, and he clears his throat, trying again. โAre weโฆโ
You nod.
The plate tilts dangerously.
You grab it before breakfast becomes a casualty.
Jisung laughs, but it comes out strangled and disbelieving, one hand flying to his mouth as he stares at you. โYouโre pregnant?โ
โI think so,โ you say, though the evidence feels rather persuasive.
โWeโre having a baby?โ
You smile, and your eyes burn. โApparently.โ
He steps forward, then stops, hands hovering uselessly because he cannot seem to decide where to touch you first. Your face, your shoulders, your stomach, the air around you. He looks overwhelmed enough that you set the plate down on the hallway table and take his hands yourself.
โBreathe, Ji.โ
โI am breathing,โ he says, then inhales so sharply he nearly hiccups. โSee? Oxygen.โ
You laugh, and that breaks something open in him. He pulls you into his arms carefully but completely, holding you with his face buried in your neck, shaking with a laugh that turns wet around the edges.
โWeโre having a baby,โ he whispers.
โYeah.โ
โOh my god.โ His arms tighten, then loosen immediately as if he remembers you are suddenly made of glass. โSorry. Sorry, did I squeeze too hard? Is squeezing bad? Can I squeeze the baby? Not the baby, obviously, you. But the baby is in you. So indirectly, can Iโฆโ
โJisung.โ
โRight. Calm. Iโm calm.โ
โYouโre vibrating.โ
โI have entered a new plane of emotion.โ
You laugh into his shoulder, and he holds you while the toast goes cold, rustic corner and all.
That morning becomes one of the private myths of your relationship, something you both return to in pieces over the months that follow. Jisung tells the story like he was composed and dignified. You remind him that he almost dropped toast and asked whether hugging was medically dangerous. He insists that responsible fathers ask questions. You let him have that because he is adorable when he is defensive and because, secretly, his panic had made you feel even safer.
At first, pregnancy is a strange little secret tucked between you.
Jisung becomes unbearable in a way that is so sweet you do not have the heart to complain properly. He downloads three pregnancy apps and reads all of them, even though they contradict each other and cause him unnecessary emotional distress. He compares the babyโs size to fruit with great seriousness, then becomes personally offended by the lack of consistency.
โThis one says lemon,โ he says one night, lying beside you in bed with his phone held too close to his face. โThis one says peach. Those are different vibes, baby. Which one is our child?โ
โMaybe theyโre a lemon with peach energy.โ
He lowers the phone and looks at you with deep admiration. โYouโre going to be such a good mother.โ
โBecause I understand fruit metaphors?โ
โBecause you bring peace to chaos.โ
โYour chaos specifically.โ
โYes, but I am a full-time position.โ
By the second trimester, the secret is no longer small. Your stomach rounds softly beneath your dresses. Jisung starts touching it absentmindedly, in elevators, grocery aisles, while waiting for water to boil, while pretending he is not emotional about a commercial involving dogs in animal shelters. He talks to the baby when he thinks you are asleep, voice low and careful in the dark.
โHi,โ he whispers one night, palm warm against your skin. โItโs me. Your dad. That is so weird. Not bad weird. Good weird. Huge weird. Anyway, your mom is sleeping, so we have to be respectful because sheโs very scary when tired. Beautiful, but scary. Like a queen with a vendetta.โ
You keep your eyes closed, smiling into the pillow.
โIโm going to be cool,โ he continues. โNot too cool, because then you wonโt trust me, but cool enough that your friends think Iโm fun. Unless your friends are mean, then Iโll be uncool on purpose. Also, please donโt inherit my sleep schedule. Or my inability to fold fitted sheets. Actually, inherit your momโs everything, except maybe her habit of leaving mugs in strange places, because yesterday I found tea in the bookshelf that had a whole ecosystem.โ
You pinch his arm lightly without opening your eyes.
He goes silent. Then, very softly, he says, โI knew you were awake.โ
โNo, you didnโt.โ
โNo, I didnโt,โ he admits.
You roll over enough to look at him, and he props himself up on one elbow, caught and bashful, hair messy, eyes too tender for the hour.
โYou talk to them a lot,โ you say.
His hand stays on your stomach. โIs that weird?โ
โNo.โ
โGood.โ He looks down, thumb moving in a slow arc. โI want them to know me.โ
โThey will.โ
His expression flickers.
โWhat?โ you ask.
โNothing.โ
But it is not nothing. You know him too well for nothing.
Still, you do not press right away, because Jisung is someone who sometimes needs to circle his own feelings a few times before he can stand in the center of them. Push too early and he jokes. Push too hard and he shuts down. So you let the quiet hold him gently, let him rest his head against your shoulder, let his hand remain over the baby as if touch can translate everything he is not ready to say.
Around twenty-four weeks, things begin to shift.
Jisung is still funny. Still affectionate. Still the kind of man who sends you a photo of a tiny pair of baby socks from a store with the caption, these are stupidly small and cute, should I buy 50 pairs? He still drives you to school on mornings when his schedule allows, still makes your tea wrong but with conviction, still presses his lips to your stomach before kissing you because he claims the baby will feel left out otherwise.
But his nights in the studio grow longer.
At first, it makes sense. He has deadlines. A producerโs work does not clock out just because life becomes tender, and you have always known that music lives in him like a second bloodstream. He hears things other people do not. A melody under rain. Percussion in the rhythm of footsteps. Harmony in the refrigerator hum, which is romantic until he records a voice memo beside the open freezer at two in the morning and scares you half to death.
But then one late night becomes three. Three becomes a pattern. You wake up more often to his side of the bed still cold, the faint glow from the studio bleeding under the door at the end of the hall. When he does come to bed, he moves carefully, apologetically, like he is trying not to disturb the life he already feels guilty for missing while still being inside the same apartment.
He checks on you constantly.
That is the part that would fool someone who did not know him.
He asks if you ate. He refills your water bottle. He orders your favorite soup before you mention craving it. He rubs your lower back without being asked and insists he is simply โprotecting company propertyโ when the baby kicks against his palm. He is not distant in action. Only in spirit. His body stays with you, but his mind keeps slipping somewhere harder to reach.
You find search tabs open on his laptop one evening when he leaves to answer the door for delivery.
how to be emotionally stable parenthow much money baby first yearnewborn sleep schedule realisticsigns you are not ready to be a fathercan babies sense stress in wombhow to stop being anxious before baby arrives
You donโt snoop further. You donโt need to.
When he returns with food, happy little grin on his face, you close the laptop gently and say nothing, because he is smiling too brightly and asking whether the baby wants dumplings as if the baby has placed a formal order.
You let him have the performance for one more night.
The next week, after a doctorโs appointment, the pressure inside him becomes almost visible.
The appointment itself is good. Better than good. The baby is healthy, stubbornly positioned, and apparently committed to making the ultrasound technician work for every measurement. Jisung spends half the appointment laughing nervously and the other half staring at the screen with his mouth slightly open. When the heartbeat fills the room, fast and steady, his hand finds yours and squeezes so tightly that your fingers ache.
On the way home, you mention what the doctor said about the baby recognizing voices soon, maybe already responding to familiar sounds.
You mean it as a sweet fact.
Jisung goes quiet.
Not silent in the normal way, because he is rarely silent without making it clear that silence is an event. This quiet is different. He looks out the car window, thumb picking at the edge of his nail, and when you ask if he is okay, he smiles too quickly.
โYeah,โ he says. โYeah, just thinking.โ
That night, he works until four in the morning.
The night after, until three.
By Friday, he has become obsessed with a track that, to your untrained ears, already sounded beautiful two versions ago. It is soft, lullaby-like without being obvious, built around a piano line that seems to rise and hesitate, rise and hesitate, as if trying to become brave. Every time you pass the studio, you hear him replay the same four measures, stopping before the resolution, adjusting something so small even he probably could not explain it to anyone who did not live inside his head.
You give him space until space becomes distance.
On Saturday night, you wake to an empty bed and the low, muffled pulse of music through the walls.
For a while, you lie still, one hand resting over your stomach, waiting to see if he will come back on his own. The apartment is dark except for the pale city light slipping through the blinds, painting the room in soft gray-blue. Your body aches with the familiar heaviness of late second trimester sleep, that strange combination of exhaustion and restlessness that makes comfort feel like a negotiation with your body.
The baby shifts.
โI know,โ you murmur, rubbing the spot. โHeโs being ridiculous.โ
You feel a kick.
โDonโt encourage him.โ
You push yourself up carefully, padding down the hallway in socks, the wooden floor cool beneath your feet. The studio door is not fully closed, and through the narrow gap you can see Jisung hunched over his desk, headphones around his neck, one hand buried in his hair. The monitor casts his face in tired light. His shoulders are tense. The same section of music loops again and again, delicate and unfinished.
You knock softly.
He startles anyway, spinning in his chair so quickly he nearly tangles himself in the headphone cord.
โBaby,โ he says, guilty immediately. โWhy are you awake? Did I wake you? Is the music too loud? I can turn it down. I was just fixing one thing.โ
You lean against the doorframe, taking him in. The rumpled hoodie. The shadows under his eyes. The frantic brightness in his expression. The way he looks seconds away from either apologizing or making a joke, whichever will get him out of being seen too clearly.
โItโs four-twelve,โ you say gently.
His gaze jumps to the corner of the screen, and his face falls. โOh.โ
โYeah.โ
โI didnโt realize.โ
โI know.โ
He turns back toward the desk, rubbing both hands over his face. โIโm almost done.โ
โJi.โ
โIt just doesnโt sound right yet.โ
You step into the room, careful around the cables he always swears he will organize and never does. โIt sounded beautiful yesterday.โ
โThat doesnโt mean itโs done.โ
โNo,โ you agree, lowering yourself onto the small couch against the wall. โBut it might mean youโre not actually fixing the song.โ
His hand stills on the mouse. For a moment, only the loop plays between you, soft piano trying and failing to land. Jisung stares at the screen as if the waveform might rescue him from the conversation. โIโm fine,โ he says.
โYouโre not.โ
He laughs once, too thin. โWow. Direct. Very teacher of you.โ
โYou respond well to structure.โ
โI respond well to kisses too.โ
โYou can get kisses after you stop lying to me.โ
He looks at you then, and the attempted humor collapses before it fully forms. He is so tired. Not just sleepy, not just overworked, but worn down by thoughts that have been chewing at him quietly for weeks. His eyes shine, and he blinks hard, turning back to the screen too late to hide it.
Your heart aches, but you keep your voice steady, because panic meeting panic never helps him. โCome here,โ you say.
He shakes his head. โIโll get up in a second.โ
โHan Jisung.โ
His face crumples a little at the sound of his full name, just enough that you know he is fighting something bigger than embarrassment. He stands, then seems unsure where to go, so you hold out your hand. He crosses the small room and takes it, lowering himself carefully beside you on the couch, leaving enough space for your stomach before curling toward you like he wants comfort and thinks he has not earned it.
You reach up and take the headphones from around his neck, setting them on the table beside the couch. Then you smooth his hair back from his forehead, your thumb brushing the faint crease between his brows.
He closes his eyes.
โYouโre exhausted,โ you say.
โI know.โ
โYouโre scared.โ
His eyes open. There is no point denying it. Not to you. His mouth trembles once before he presses it tight, jaw working as if he can chew the feeling into something smaller. โI donโt know what Iโm doing.โ
โMost new parents donโt.โ
โNo, I know that, butโฆโ He stops, breathing out shakily, gaze dropping to your stomach. โItโs different when I think about other people not knowing. When itโs me, it feels likeโฆ like I should have figured myself out before this happened.โ
Your hand stills.
He laughs again, but this time there is no humor in it. โI keep thinking about how theyโre going to need us for everything. Everything, Y/N. Not just food and clothes and a crib and all the things I can Google until I go insane, but likeโฆwhat if theyโre sad? What if theyโre scared? What if they need me to be calm and I canโt be? What if Iโm in my head and I miss something important? What if Iโm not steady enough?โ
โJi,โ you whisper.
He shakes his head, tears spilling before he can stop them. โAnd I know youโll be amazing. I know that. Iโve seen you with kids. You just know how to do it. You know how to make people feel safe, and Iโm over here reading five different articles about swaddling and somehow getting worse as a person.โ
A surprised laugh slips out of you, soft and sad, and he huffs through his tears.
โItโs not funny.โ
โItโs a little funny.โ
โIโm having a crisis.โ
โI know, baby.โ
His face twists at the pet name, and suddenly the rest of it breaks open. โWhat if loving them isnโt enough?โ he asks, voice cracking so hard the question barely survives. โWhat if I love them more than anything and still mess them up because Iโm too anxious or too emotional or tooโฆme? What if they need someone better than me?โ
The studio feels unbearably quiet after that, even with the music still looping faintly from the desk.
You take his face in both hands. โListen to me,โ you say, calm but fierce enough that his wet eyes snap to yours. โThe fact that you are this afraid of failing them tells me exactly what kind of father youโre going to be.โ
He tries to look away, but you hold him gently in place. โBad fathers donโt sit awake at four in the morning terrified that they wonโt love their child well enough. Careless fathers donโt memorize every appointment, read every article, talk to a baby that isnโt even born yet, and panic because they want so badly to be good.โ
His breathing shudders.
โYou are not scared because you donโt belong in this,โ you continue, thumbs brushing his cheeks. โYouโre scared because you already care so much that it has nowhere to go yet.โ
His eyes squeeze shut, and another tear slips down.
โYou donโt have to be perfect,โ you say. โYou have to show up. You have to listen. You have to apologize when youโre wrong. You have to try again when the day goes badly. You already do those things, Jisung. You do them with me all the time.โ
His hands come up to your wrists, holding lightly.
โAnd youโre wrong about me just knowing how to do everything,โ you add, softer now. โIโm scared too.โ
He opens his eyes.
You give him a small, honest smile. โIโm calmer than you are. That doesnโt mean Iโm fearless. It just means I had my panic a little better than you.โ
A watery laugh breaks out of him before he can stop it, and the sound loosens something in your chest, making you lean forward to kiss his cheek.
He wipes at his face with his sleeve, then immediately looks annoyed at himself. โIโm sorry. Iโm sorry, I didnโt mean to make you comfort me at four in the morning while youโre pregnant. That feels like a top ten bad boyfriend moment.โ
โYou are not a bad boyfriend.โ
โIโm at least a medium inconvenience.โ
โYou are a beloved inconvenience.โ
He nods weakly. โThat feels fair.โ
You lean forward again and kiss his forehead, lingering there as his breathing begins to slow. His hands slide carefully to your waist, then to your stomach, like he needs to remind himself that the fear is not the only thing in the room.
โHeโs going to know your voice,โ you say quietly.
His fingers pause.
You feel the mistake the second it leaves your mouth, because the sentence exposes the secret you have been carrying for three days.
The secret you were not supposed to know yet.
The secret you had told yourself you would reveal properly, sweetly, maybe with a tiny pair of socks or a little envelope or some gentle private moment where Jisung was not already cracked open on the studio couch at four in the morning.
You had not meant to find out without him.
That had been the plan, at least. You both agreed to wait, partly because Jisung declared that surprises are fun and partly because he did not trust himself not to buy every gendered baby item in a ten-mile radius. But after the appointment, after seeing the way he stared at the screen, after feeling the future press closer than ever, curiosity had gnawed at you until you called the office and asked.
You planned to tell him later. Not like this.
His eyes search your face, catching the shift. Even exhausted and teary, he notices you.
โWhat?โ he asks.
โNothing.โ
His brows pull together. โYou said he.โ
You press your lips together. โYes.โ
His hands tighten slightly over your stomach, not enough to hurt, only enough to reveal that his whole body has started listening.
โY/N,โ he says slowly.ย
You close your eyes. โI was going to tell you differently.โ
Jisung stops breathing for a second. โYou know weโre having a boy?โ he whispers.
You open your eyes, and the look on his face nearly undoes you. Fear still lingers there, but wonder has begun pushing through it, fragile and bright.
โI called,โ you admit. โAfter the appointment. I know we said we would wait, but I couldnโt stop thinking about it, and I justโฆI wanted to know. Iโm sorry. I shouldโve asked you first.โ
He does not seem upset. He barely seems capable of understanding the apology.
Your hand covers one of his over your stomach. โHe. Itโs a boy,โ you repeat.
For a moment, Jisung only stares at you.
Then his face breaks. Not into any of the ugly assumptions people sometimes attach to sons and fathers and legacy. It is nothing like that. You know he would have cried this way for a girl, for any child, for any small life that belonged to both of you. This is not joy because the baby is a boy. It is joy because the baby is suddenly someone.
His son.
Your son.
A little boy who will know his voice.
โWeโre having a boy?โ he asks, and the words wobble in the middle.
You nod, tears slipping down your own cheeks now. โYeah.โ
Jisung laughs, covering his mouth with one hand, then presses that same hand over his eyes as if the feeling is too bright to look at directly. His shoulders shake. For a second you think he might be crying harder than before, but then he makes a sound that is half sob and half stunned laughter, and you realize the panic has cracked open into something else entirely.
โA boy,โ he says, like he is trying the word carefully. โOur babyโs a boy.โ
โIโm sorry I found out without you,โ you whisper.
He shakes his head immediately, still crying. โNo. No, donโt be sorry. Iโm not mad. Iโmโฆโ He laughs again, helpless and wet. โIโm so happy. Oh my god, Iโm so happy.โ
The baby kicks, firm enough that both of you feel it beneath your joined hands.
Jisung gasps. You start laughing through your tears. โI think he knows weโre talking about him.โ
โHe,โ Jisung repeats, and then he is gone all over again, folding forward carefully until his forehead rests against your stomach. His hands cradle the curve of you with trembling reverence, and his voice drops into a whisper so tender it makes the whole world feel hushed. โHi, baby boy.โ
Your hand finds his hair.
He closes his eyes, breathing unevenly against you. โIโm your dad,โ he says, and the sentence sounds like both a confession and a promise. โIโm really scared, and Iโm probably going to cry a lot, and your mom is going to be way better at pretending she knows what sheโs doing, but Iโm here. Okay? Iโm here.โ
Your throat tightens.
โAnd I already love you so much,โ he continues, voice breaking again. โSo much that itโs making me weird. Ask your mom. Iโve been very weird.โ
โYou have,โ you whisper.
He nods solemnly against your stomach. โSee? Honest household.โ
A laugh escapes you, soft and watery, and Jisung presses a kiss to the place where your son moved beneath his hand.
โIโll try really hard,โ he whispers. โI wonโt get it perfect, but Iโll try.โ
The track still loops behind you, that same unresolved piano line rising and rising without ever landing. Jisung lifts his head slowly, eyes swollen and shining, and for the first time all night, he looks at the desk without urgency.
โI kept trying to fix it,โ he says quietly.
โThe song?โ
He nods. โIt felt wrong if it wasnโt perfect.โ
You brush your thumb beneath his eye. โMaybe it doesnโt need to be perfect.โ
His gaze returns to your stomach, and something gentle settles over his face, not certainty exactly, but the beginning of trust.
โMaybe it just needs to be honest,โ he says.
You smile. โThat sounds like something a producer would say after crying his eyes out.โ
He narrows his eyes, though the effect is ruined by how damp his lashes are. โYouโre bullying the father of your child.โ
โIโm grounding the father of my child.โ
โThat sounds nicer.โ
โIt is.โ
He leans into you, and you shift carefully so he can rest against your side without pressing too much weight on you. For a while, neither of you moves. The studio hums softly around you, filled with cables, notebooks, half-finished melodies, and the small evidence of a life being rearranged by love. Jisungโs breathing slows. His hand stays on your stomach. Your son moves once more, softer now.
Eventually, Jisung reaches blindly toward the desk and stops the loop.
The silence that follows feels merciful.
โI think,โ he says, voice rough, โI should come to bed.โ
โI think thatโs the smartest thing youโve said all night.โ
You help him shut everything down, though he insists on saving the file under a new name first. When you glance at the screen, you see what he types.
babyboy_lullaby_draft_one.wav
Your heart clenches. โDraft one?โ you ask.
He looks shy, one hand at the back of his neck. โHe deserves options.โ
โOf course.โ
โAnd also, I donโt want to put too much pressure on him musically before birth.โ
โHow considerate.โ
โIโm a modern father.โ
โYou are a sleep-deprived father.โ
โThat too.โ
In the bedroom, he moves around you with exaggerated care, fluffing your pillow, adjusting the blanket, placing your water bottle within reach, then moving it half an inch closer like that will determine whether you survive the night. You let him fuss because the panic has softened into tenderness, and because sometimes care needs somewhere to go.
He climbs into bed and settles behind you, one arm wrapping carefully under your chest, his palm coming to rest over your stomach. His body is warm along your back. His breath touches the nape of your neck.
โI meant what I said,โ he murmurs.
โAbout being a modern father?โ
โAbout trying.โ
You cover his hand with yours. โI know.โ
โIโm still scared.โ
โI know.โ
โBut less like Iโm drowning,โ he says, and his voice is thoughtful now, tired but clearer. โMore likeโฆIโm standing in water and itโs cold, but youโre holding my hand, so Iโm not being as dramatic about it.โ
โYou are always a little dramatic.โ
โI said as dramatic.โ
You smile into the dark.
After a while, he whispers, โDo you think heโll like me?โ
The question is so naked, so very Jisung, that you have to close your eyes for a second.
โI think heโll adore you,โ you say. โI think heโll know youโre silly and emotional and warm. I think heโll know your voice before he knows almost anything else. I think heโll grow up understanding that love can sound like music from down the hall, and bad jokes in the kitchen, and someone trying again even when theyโre scared.โ
Jisung is quiet for so long that you think he might have fallen asleep.
Then he sniffles.
โAre you crying again?โ
โNo,โ he says, obviously crying. โYour speech was just well thought out.โ
You turn carefully in his arms, slow and awkward because pregnancy has made every movement a small engineering project. He helps immediately, hands hovering like you are a priceless artifact being rotated in a museum. When you finally face him, he looks embarrassed and soft and impossibly young in the dark, yet somehow more grown than he had yesterday.
You touch his cheek. โYouโre going to be amazing,โ you say.
His eyes search yours, wanting to believe it.
โNot because youโll never mess up,โ you continue. โBecause youโll care when you do.โ
His mouth trembles once, but this time he does not fall apart. He nods, pressing his forehead to yours. โI love you,โ he says.
โI love you too.โ
โAnd him.โ
โAnd him.โ
His hand slides between you, settling over the baby again. For a moment, the three of you are quiet together, folded into the small dark room with no rings, no ceremony, no perfect plan, no promise that fear will never return. Just love. Just the choice to stay. Just Jisungโs thumb moving slowly over your stomach, keeping time with a rhythm only he seems able to hear.
โBaby boy,โ he whispers, already half asleep. โPlease inherit your momโs emotional stability.โ
You laugh softly. โAnd your creativity.โ
โAnd my cheeks.โ
โThat too.โ
โAnd none of my search history.โ
โDefinitely none of that.โ
He hums, satisfied, and pulls you a little closer.
Outside, the city continues without knowing anything has changed. Cars move through wet streets. Lights blink in distant windows. Unfinished music waits in his studio for morning. But here, in the quiet, Jisungโs breathing evens out against you, his hand still protective over the life you made together on a night that had seemed ordinary until it became everything.
pairing: spider-han (but still a secret) x f!reader, established relationship
genre/tags: spider-man/marvel au, angst, some hurt/comfort, explicit content, both are grad students, y/n is a teacher bc i said so, handjob, protected sex
word count: 4.4k
synopsis: After a containment breach at the lab leaves Jisung changed in ways he can barely control, the fear of hurting you makes him distant. As his developing double-life begins pulling the two of you apart, you struggle to keep him by your side.
other parts in my spider-man au: tba
[a/n] so i love spiderman and i wrote this really enthusiastic fic about how hot his strength and stamina BUT i love sad and down-trodden spidey even more SO i wrote an angsty companion piece.
He had been so sure he was going to die.
Fear had made his hands clammy and his eyes blurry. He was sure it had something to do with the spider. He fumbled for his phone. One last message, he promised himself as he dragged himself up to the roof of the science building. The city stretched out beneath him, distant and indifferent. Heโd be found quickly, at least. He told you he loved you, to take care of yourself, but he didnโt say goodbye. Then he closed his eyes.
When he awoke, everything was wrong. The sky was different. The city stood above him. It was cold. His body was half-submerged in the river, clothes missing. Three days had passed, but there were no memories. Where he had gone, what he had done, was lost.
He went home.
Upon arrival, his first heartbreak came the moment the door opened. You collided into him with a force that shouldโve knocked the air from his lungs. You werenโt someone who cried but now the sound of it tore through you. You held onto him like he might vanish again if your grip loosened even a little.
The second time his heart shattered, all he did was try to hold you. Having thought heโd never get this chance again, his arms wrapped around your back like heโd done thousands of times, pulling you close, his fingers sinking into your soft flesh. But the moment he applied even the smallest bit of pressure, you flinched under him. The sounds you made would haunt him - your ribs cracking underneath a cry like a cornered animal.
You had been so overcome with misplaced grief that you hardly registered the exchange; you were only focused on him. Even later, it would take you days to notice the bruises. You could be absentminded like that, but he didnโt miss anything anymore.
He couldnโt.
Now, the world constantly pressed in on him from all sides - every one of senses were heightened to an inhuman degree. He also seemed to develop a secret sixth one which made him hyper-aware of everything around him. It was like he simply knew the world around him.
Even then, the worst of it was actually his strength. He couldnโt measure or trust it. The first night back, he snapped his glasses (useless anyway) without meaning to. Then the bathroom counter. Then his skateboard, split clean in half. Then some expensive equipment at the lab. And if he could do that without trying, he didnโt want to risk again what might happen if he couldnโt control himself around you.
You tried to stay close. Never said out loud, a part of you thought that if he was never too far from you, heโd be safe. But safest thing was distance, according to Jisung. Stay away. Donโt touch. Just until he could make sense of things or fix them.
He tried to fake normal with a little kiss or a brief hug but there were lines he wouldnโt cross. At night, heโd lay beside you long enough to see you fall asleep. Watching you was the only indulgence heโd permit himself. But then - when he ached to reach over - heโd leave. At first, it was to the couch, then it was out of the apartment entirely. Heโd convinced himself it was for the best, going against the one thing you wanted.
But it still hurt you.
One night, three months in to his self-sentenced quarantine, he had gotten home before you, a rare feat. The quiet tempted him and he fell asleep in the bed he hadnโt let himself touch in weeks. He woke to you curled into him like nothing had changed. Instinct took over; he kissed you, soft at first, then deeper when you leaned into him. Your hands followed. For a moment, he almost let it happen. Then it hit him, where it was going and what he could do, so he caught your hand, too hard.
โJi, are you okay?โ you had asked, startled.
โYeah,โ he muttered, avoiding your eyes as he pulled away. โI just remembered something I have to do.โ
โItโs late, Ji.โ He tried to get up, but you held onto him. You had grown to hate when he left after dark. โStay,โ you whispered. Just one word, but it was loaded like a gun.
โItโs not and itโs for my final, y/n. The deadline is soonโโ
You sucked in a breath. โIt can wait, canโt it? โTil the morning?โ Your grip tightened, even if it didnโt really hold him there.
โIt really canโt. I have to go to the lab. You know - before they lock up.โ
โIt probably is already. Itโs the holidays. Just stโโ
โY/n, no. I gottaโโ
โWhat do you mean โnoโ?โ The sob broke through before you could stop it. There was so much you had to say, to scream at him, but the words stayed lodged in your throat. You shoved his arm away and folded in on yourself. Your hands pressed to your face. Your voice was so small, โWhat am I doing wrong?โ
โBaby,โ he said quickly as he dropped to his knees in front of you. โYou havenโt done anything, I swear.โ
โThen what is it?โ You looked at him, not disguising the anguish you had been enduring. โBecause if itโs not my fault, then itโs yours and I donโt know what to do if it is.โThe tears came all at once after that.
He hesitated exactly three seconds before pulling you into him, pulling your face to his chest. He hoped time had passed in that way only he could have noticed, but you pushed him back. Hard. You didnโt need superpowers to tell time.
โYou can go,โ you said, your voice shaking despite the effort to steady it. You said it more to yourself than him. You wiped at your face, breathing rough. He didnโt move so you did. You stayed at your best friendโs place for a week.
If anything, he made it worse.
Whatever heโd been doing to distract himself started to consume him. He vanished at hours that didnโt make sense, came back just as unpredictably, marked up in ways he couldnโt hide.
When you went back home upstate together for Christmas, he forced you to carry the semblance of normalcy for him. You smiled through questions asking if Jisung was really still in grad school, laughed when theyโd joke about his new physique, swallowed the prying that came in too sharp and too often. You defended him, defended you, being the only one trying to keep things from unraveling.
So you finally let it fall apart.
You pulled back. No more check-ins when you got home. No texts in the middle of the day just to see if he was okay. His injuries went unnoticed. Any new changes, unacknowledged. You were still polite, but there was a distance now, cold and deliberate. Youโd finally matched what heโd been giving all along; it was not like he had anything warmer to offer.
The realization he had fucked up took maybe two weeks to sink in. He kind of thrived in your silence, flourishing with all the new freedom he had to himself, ignorant of the cause. The realization came one evening, walking home with you. He let himself feel a little proud in how he was finally getting the hang of things, like maybe he could be normal again. So he reached for your waist.
And you dodged him. Quick and intentional, you nearly stepped off the curb in the process.
He froze, his chest tightening. His first thought was that heโd hurt you again, but then it clicked. You werenโt in pain at all. He hadnโt touched you. You just hadnโt wanted him to.
Weeks later, he could only watch you.
Jisung stared at you from the couch as you prepared yourself tea in the kitchen. The place was small so there werenโt very many places to look at anyway. You wore an old high school band shirt that now fit like a baby tee with plaid shorts. Jisung thought heโd be cute and wore his matching pajama bottoms, but you didnโt feel like noticing. Beneath the stretched out band, he could make out the white lace trim of your underwear. It was the pretty floral pair, the one with the little flower where a button shouldโve been. You were always so pretty.
You walked past to make your way to the bedroom when he held you by the hips and yanked you swiftly on the couch. Instinct helped him save the mug. Heโd been practicing lately, not that you really cared it seemed.
โWe should start planning something for Valentineโs,โJisung pitched.
โNo,โ you retorted. โIโll be planning what to catch up on during the break.โย
โHey, just stay.โ
You shot him a mean look, unfiltered, unkind. Jisung averted your gaze, so guilty his ears were turning red.
You attempted to leave and got a few steps away, before Jisung took advantage of your lowered guard and guided you down again, so that you straddled one of his thighs.
The movement startled you. In the soft glow of the tiny tree that was still up, it lit him just enough for you to really look at him. Some things hadnโt changed - the shadows under his eyes, his mouth pulled into a tired pout, his unruly bangs. But you were sure the rest of him had changed. His neck looked thicker. His shoulders were broader, more solid than you remembered. Even that ugly Fall Out Boy shirt clung to him now, stretched across his chest instead of hanging loose. And his hands - they felt different when they found your hips. Bigger. Rougher.
So much was different.
Eight years ago, on the first day at Midtown School of Science and Technology, Jisung had tripped and ate absolute shit, taking you down with him. Before the bell had even rung, you were both at the nurse. His hands were fidgety in his lap and he had an aggressive stammer he couldnโt control. He wouldnโt look at you. He was so small back then, hidden behind fluffy bangs and oversized headphones, like he wanted to disappear. Where was that Jisung?
You touched a hand to him, the version in front of you. Your hand hesitated for a second before it moved, slow and uncertain, tracing the line of his collarbone, then over his chest, over his abs. You kept going, like you were trying to map him. You traveled slowly down until you reached his waistbandโ
โOw!โ you yelled.
Jisung flinched and caught your wrist. Again, like he was repulsed by you, you thought bitterly. He let go almost immediately, guilt written all over him. His mouth opened and closed, searching for an excuse, but nothing came out. You shifted to leave. He didnโt let you.
โY/n,โhe finally mumbled. โIโm trying. I swear, I am.โ He pushed his glasses up and ran a hand through his hair, pulling slightly. You saw his arms. They were so much bigger, beefier even. Why were they bigger? Why was he gone all the time?
Why didnโt he want you anymore?
You buried your head in your hands. You had never cried more than you had in those past few months. Jisung used to be the resident crybaby in the relationship. Three years back, he confessed by sobbing uncontrollably in the rain the first time he had gotten super drunk. Heโd cry when heโd watch movies, after sex, when heโd see a disabled pigeon. Now it was you who was hiding your breakdowns. Not that there he was ever there to risk seeing them.
None of these words could pass through your lips, but sobs did. Jisung attempted to rock you. He could only gingerly cradle you, wrecked by fear and guilt. He was too stiff. You needed him. He needed you.
He didnโt know what else to do.
So he kissed you. Your forehead first - soft, careful - then your cheeks, and finally, your mouth. You didnโt pull away or resist. It was like your body knew it needed him. Your breathing was uneven, panicked, but he stayed there, steadfast against your lips like he could breathe for you.
Slowly, your arms came up around his neck, and his hands settled at your waist. He felt like he was in a lucid dream. Every movement was deliberate, every sensation too present. He was aware of everything - every shift, every breath, every inch of you. He decided heโd let you lead. Heโd follow carefully, adjusting, holding himself in check with everything he had. If this was what you needed, heโd do it. Anything to keep you from crying.
It was like a pact; you moved together. Your fingers tangled in his curls, pulling him closer, and he let you part his lips against yours, tasting like salt. It made his breath hitch, low and quick. His hands stayed at your waist, wary, but then they slipped beneath the edge of your shirt, brushing warm skin. He hesitated for half a second, yet you leaned into him anyway.
When your lips broke apart, it was just to move, to find something better. His hands steadied on your hips as he guided you fully onto his lap, and suddenly there was no space left at all. You took advantage of it before he could process his next move, hands dragging restlessly over him - his face, his chest, his arms.
He felt every bit of it, even the sting. That was the dangerous part because he liked it, missed it. Somewhere in the blur of it, he let himself fall back against the couch, pulling you with him without thinking. You followed easily, settling against him, your hands back in his hair. His grip tightened on your thighs and ass, so you grinded into him, slow.
He felt like he was coming apart. Every cell in his body was vibrating, like his body didnโt know how to contain any of it. Control was slipping.
And it was like you could sense it, so you pressed closer, rolling onto to a very obvious bulge beneath you. The change dragged something out of him, a strained sound catching in his throat. He let go of you instantly, back arching, hands hovering uselessly in the air.
But you didnโt stop.
You moved against him, even closer, grounding and undoing him all at once. Your mouth found his neck, and he exhaled shakily, words breaking apart before they could form. Your name slipped out of him like it hurt.
Thatโs what broke you. You hadnโt heard him say your name like that in so long - soft and wrecked.
You pulled back, using his chest to balance yourself as you sat up. The distance pained you immediately. He looked up at you, dazed, flushed.
โHey, you alright?โ His voice came too fast, still catching his breath. His hair was a mess, his lip bruised from where youโd bitten it, color still high in his cheeks.
โI am,โ you whispered, though your throat tightened again. โAre you?โ
He swallowed hard. This was where it could fall apart. He knew it. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, hands settling leerily on your thighs.
โIโm fine, baby. I promise. Donโt worryโโ
โAre you sure?โ Your voice wavered, quieter now. โYouโฆyou donโt have to do anything you donโt want to.โ You wouldnโt quite look at him, your fingers brushing the hem of his waistband, longing.
โY/nโฆโ He exhaled, softer this time. โIโm still here, arenโt I?โ
You looked at him then. And he held your gaze, as fragile as it was.
โIโm here,โ he said, even quieter now. โIโm not going anywhere.โ
You searched his face. Youโd never called him liar, but the truth had been stretched so thin lately.
โY/n,โ he tried again, gentler, his thumbs brushing slow, meticulous circles into your skin. โYou have to trust me.โ
He wanted it to be enough. He just didnโt know if it was.
You leaned down, pressing a slow, soft kiss to his chest - a question more than anything else. When you lifted again, your fingers caught at the edge of his pants and boxers. You both paused there, just looking at each other, making sure.
Jisung answered gently.
His hands came over yours, shaking ever so slightly, not stopping you, just guiding. He helped you unleash him.
You thought you imagined it, but no, he had gotten longer, thicker, veinier. His member sprang free with a graceless slap against his abs. But it was still just as pretty as before, with precum glistening the pink tip. You looked at Jisung again nervously. As delicately as he could, he guided your hand to his cock.
You brushed your thumb across the tip, hesitantly. Jisung sighed a low groan, polite like a secret. Was that good? You wrapped your fingers around him slowly, admiring how little you could hold. Your grip barely tightened. You moved bit by bit, inch by inch. His own hand didnโt speed you up, so you kept your delicate pace. These past few months made you doubt yourself.
Suddenly, Jisungโs hand moved and gently held your wrist, a ghost of a touch. You knew what he meant - you gripped tighter and watched him twitch.
โFuck,โ he exhaled. His abdomen flex, in and out.
That was enough.
You pumped him harder, wanting to see his body jerk. It did. His hips bucked into your fist as you pumped, encouraging you to hold him tighter and go faster. You missed the feeling of him throbbing in your hands, him searching for mercy. Youโd edge him for over an hour sometimes, just to watch him squirm. Tonight, he wouldnโt allow him himself the grace of losing himself to you, but his head was thrown back, mouth hanging open, struggling to catch his breath. You twisted, earning broken moan.
Jisungโs free hand clawed at his thigh, hoping the pain would distract him. You were doing so well; you were even considerate. But he was so overwhelmed by you. He could feel your heat radiate onto him. Your knees already shook above him. He could hear how your heart was beating against your chest, the sweat falling down your breasts, how wet you grew by the second. He could feel the blood pulse your fingers as they stayed unrelenting around him.
โY-y/n,โ he whispered lowly. โโm going to get a condom.โ
Your eyes widened. You stopped. โJi, donโt force yourself,โ you said as he got himself up. โWe donโt have toโโ
โHey.โ He was already sweaty, his large chest heaving against flimsy fabric. He spoke with a restless look in his eye. โI said to trust me.โ
He was a lot less cool than he planned as he got up with a groan and hobbled away, but it was only because every nerve in his body was ready to combat. He ended up pushing the bedroom door open too hard on his way, the hinges whining in protest. โShit.โ He forced himself to breathe, slow it down. He reached for the bedside drawer and missed the control he wanted.
โShit, shitโโHis fingers dragged through his hair, resetting. He could do this. Heโd been preparing for this.
He emerged from the room to you still knelt on the couch, wringing your hands together. He let a long exhale before returning, landing with an audible creak. He spread himself wide and handed you the condom.
โYou may do the honors.โ
You were momentarily incredulous. You couldnโt remember the last time heโd been funny. You scoffed.
He smiled.
You pulled his pants and underwear down again and removed your shorts altogether. But not the panties out of habit - he always liked pulling them to the side. As you ripped open the condom with your teeth, his hands found your hips, his fingertips heavy against your soft flesh. It was hard to roll it on, the condom getting caught on how tacky his cock was from all the precum. When it finally fit, he groaned with a hop, shifting himself to get comfortable.
You positioned your hands in his shoulders. Before you could check in one more time, he lifted up and on to his tip. The initial stretch sent a ripple through your spine, he could feel it. You gasped at how little effort it took to slide down him; you wanted him so bad.
He actually needed you be as slow as possible, though. His mind was already jelly. He wanted to fuck right into you right then and there and make up for lost time. Heโd take you there on the couch, the floor, the kitchen counter, the bed, later in the shower. The thoughts raced like visions. It was so difficult not to grip you hard and slam you down, but he kept himself in check.
โGood fucking girl,โ he rasped as you slid down.
You were so full. Your wetness made it so easy to let him bottom out. It was like he was in your organs. Your forehead dropped to his shoulder, the both of you wordlessly admiring how it like it was like he was born to be buried inside you.
The stretch was intoxicating. Your fingers dug desperately at his shoulders, down his arms, while trying to regain your breathing. Jisung didnโt rush you at all as you took your time, his fingers drumming against your waist patiently. Good for him, but you were losing yours. Your movements began, languid and subtle.
It was like a slow burn, like a candle with a broken wick, but Jisung was alight. It was a simple affair; you never had to be fancy to drive him insane. You would drag yourself up almost to the tip, almost drowsily, and then glide back down, leisurely. Every so often youโd grind him demurely, with not enough pressure to provide more than modest friction. You loitered on his cock, making every inch of him feel every drop of you through the latex. Your idle pace made his nerves raw, hypersensitive. Each tiny motion, each flutter of your walls, roll of your hips, was electric and hot. You were all he sensed - all he heard, all he felt, all he knew.ย
โFuck, I missed you.โ
His hands gripped you roughly in a fit of anguish. The pressure startled you out of your lazy stupor. Your eyes locked with his, as he revered you from below. Yours were blown wide, his were watery and red.
No one needed anything more to be said.
Jisung, abandoning all he had worked toward, began to push into you, a fast-paced rhythm snapping into you. All he could think about was you - you, who waited for him to come home when it was clear he wouldnโt. You, who rushed from work everyday to check if he was still there. You, who didnโt ask why he was bruised and cut up. His thrusts grew from slow to frenzied, knocking the air from your lungs, but plastered a smile on your face. Every impact was a jolt of pleasure.
Your nails scraped down his broad, sweaty back, drawing your signature. He was yours, you thought. As wet, sticky sounds mixed with breathless moans, choked gasps, and cut-off curses, you surrendered to him, at the mercy of his chaos.
โY/n,โ he whined, โlook at me. Watch me.โ
He held your face in his hand, forcing you to meet his gaze. He was the most beautiful you had remember ever seeing him. His eyes were teary and glazed. His hair damp, his lips bitten and bloody.
โโฆall because of you.โ
Each slam into you tore through you with absolutely no grace - you couldnโt control how loud you screamed and he could barely control himself. He was erratic at this point, choosing to let himself be consumed by you.
All coherent speech dissipated into muffled moans as you collapsed into him, your high hot and unstoppable as it dared to crash. You didnโt even possess the strength to announce it, you merely trembled violently as your needy cunt tightened around him.
Jisung had the foresight to held you closer, his own rhythm faltering but not stopping. You shook, your core tightening violently, but he was still chasing his own pleasure. He was greedy. He was enveloped in you - you were scorching and strangled around his cock, as your back arched. You whined so gently against his ear, too. Your shaky breaths were the prettiest sounds heโd ever hear.
โIโm close, too, I promise.โ
He knew he couldnโt be here forever. The way your heart beat against ribs was a sign you were growing too stimulated and needed your own release right then. He willed a few desperate thrusts, deep and hard, pounding into you a little bit more. With a jagged groan, he lost control and slumped against the couch, your walls clenching around him, squeezing out the last dredges of his orgasm as you fell victim to yours.
Silence.
Except for your uneven breathing and the fading thud of both your heartbeats, the apartment was quiet. Not the awful kind that had lived between you these past few months. This felt familiar. The kind built and softened over eight years together.
Jisung lifted you off him easily. You landed beside him with a graceless little flop, groaning tiredly before giving him a weak thumbs-up that made his chest loosen. You looked exhausted - flushed, damp with sweat, completely worn out. He probably looked just as rough, though his body had already started recovering.
โIโm gonna reheat your tea, babe,โ he murmured as he got up. โAnd grab the baby wipes.โ
You shifted like you wanted to follow him, or maybe stop him, but your body barely cooperated. Your lips parted around some unfinished thought before you looked down instead, guilt flickering across your face.
Jisung understood anyway.
โOr,โ he said softly, settling back down beside you, โI can stay here a bit. Or a while.โ
You smiled then - small and wobbly. Tears welled before you even noticed them, and Jisung brushed them away with confidently careful hands.
He pulled you against him and got comfortable. You folded into him naturally, curling between his side and arm as a hand rested right on top of his heart. His body followed suit, completely each end of the puzzle flawlessly. Jisung rested his head against yours, knowing this wouldnโt be the last time heโd make you cry.
gender: just a long ass story with some confort and maybe fluff.
You're a teenager (Soojin) from one of the richest families in Korea, but what happens when you lose all your money and a lower-middle-class boy meets you?
word count: 3,8 k
warnings: highschool!au, alcohol, cigarrets
authors note: omg i really thougt that nobody is goind to read thiss, thanks for the support
part I / part II / part III
By lunchtime, you already wanted to go home.
Not home-home.
That didnโt exist anymore.
You wanted to disappear somewhere quiet. Somewhere nobody could look at you long enough to notice you didnโt belong there.
The classroom had been exhausting.
Students talked during lessons. Teachers yelled without elegance or restraint. Someone slept through half of math class with their face directly on the desk and nobody seemed concerned.
At one point, two boys had started arguing over a soccer game in the middle of history class while the teacher just sighed like this happened every single day.
You couldnโt understand how any of this school functioned.
And yet somehowโ
it did.
You stood alone near the stairwell during lunch, staring down at your untouched convenience store sandwich. Your mother had apologized three times this morning for not having enough money to pack something better. The guilt from that alone was enough to make you lose your appetite.
You heard footsteps approaching loudly.
Thenโ
โThere you are.โ
You looked up.
Han Jisung stood there slightly out of breath, hoodie strings uneven, holding two drinks in one hand.
โYou disappeared after first period,โ he said accusingly.
โI was in class.โ
โYeah but likeโฆ emotionally.โ
You blinked at him. Han handed you one of the drinks anyway.
It was banana milk.
You stared at it.
โโฆWhy?โ
โBecause you look like youโre having the worst week of your life.โ
You almost laughed at how accurate that was.
โIโm okay.โ
โMhm,โ he said again with that same tone from earlier.
You were beginning to think he used mhm the way other people used I donโt believe you.
Han looked down at the sandwich in your hands.
โThat looks sad.โ
โItโs food.โ
โIt looks like it lost the will to live.โ
Before you could answer, he suddenly grabbed your wrist lightly.
โCome on.โ
Your eyes widened immediately.
โW-what are you doing?โ
โKidnapping.โ
โWhat?โ
โThe cafeteria is this way.โ
โI donโtโโ
โYou canโt spend your first lunch hiding near the emergency stairs like a mysterious orphan.โ
You stared at him in horror.
โA what?โ
But he was already dragging you down the hallway.
You could feel people looking.
Your body tensed instantly.
At your old school, attention meant scrutiny. Judgment. Rumors.
Han, meanwhile, acted like none of that mattered.
The cafeteria was loud and crowded and smelled like instant noodles and fried food. Han walked straight toward a table near the windows where three other students sat arguing over something.
โMove,โ he said immediately.
A blond boy looked up. โWhy?โ
โNew person.โ
The blond boy blinked at you once before scooting over casually.
โOh. Hi.โ
That was it.
No whispering.
No staring at your clothes.
No calculating your worth in five seconds.
Justโฆ hi.
It felt unreal.
Han pointed dramatically at everyone while you stood there awkwardly.
โThat oneโs Changbin. Looks scary but cries during movies.โ
โI DO NOTโโ
โAnd thatโs Hyunjin. Donโt make eye contact with him for too long or he starts acting pretty on purpose.โ
A taller boy with sharp features rolled his eyes.
โI hate you.โ
โI know.โ
You stood there frozen while they argued naturally like theyโd done this a thousand times before. Han suddenly looked back at you.
โSoojin. New. Looks expensive.โ
โCan you stop saying that?โ you muttered immediately.
Changbin snorted.
โHeโs not wrong.โ
Your face warmed. Han dropped into the seat beside you and opened his lunch dramatically.
Convenience store kimbap. Chips. Two energy drinks.
โYou eat like a divorced father,โ Hyunjin said flatly.
โMind your business.โ
You stayed quiet while they talked over each other effortlessly. It was strange. At Haneul Academy, conversations always felt strategic. Everyone monitored themselves constantly.
Here, people interrupted each other, stole fries off each otherโs trays, complained loudly, laughed without covering their mouths.
Messy.
But real.
And somehow, that realization hurt.
Because it made you wonder if anything in your old life had ever been real at all.
โYouโre doing that thing again,โ Han suddenly said.
You looked at him.
โWhat thing?โ
โThe staring into space thing.โ
โIโm not.โ
โYou literally are right now.โ
Felix leaned forward slightly.
โYou transferred recently?โ
Your chest tightened immediately.
โYeah.โ
โFrom where?โ
Before you could answer, panic already started crawling up your throat.
If they searched your nameโ
If they recognized youโ
If they knewโ
โHaneul Academy,โ Han answered for you casually.
Your head snapped toward him.
โHow do you know that?โ
โYou walk like private school.โ
โโฆWhat does that even mean?โ
โYou look like youโve never touched public transportation willingly.โ
Changbin burst out laughing. Even Hyunjin smiled into his drink. You shouldโve been offended. Instead, your lips twitched slightly before you could stop them.
Han noticed instantly.
โThere,โ he pointed dramatically. โShe can smile. Weโre making progress.โ
Your expression flattened immediately.
โDonโt make it weird.โ
โToo late,โ Hyunjin muttered.
For the first time in weeksโ
you laughed.
Small.
Brief.
But real.
And the terrifying part was that nobody at that table treated it like something fragile. Nobody looked shocked. Nobody acted like making Soojin smile was some impossible achievement.
They just continued talking normally afterward. Like there was nothing extraordinary about you at all. You werenโt sure why that made your chest ache so badly.
By the end of the school day, you were exhausted, not physically, mentally, emotionally.
The kind of exhaustion that sat deep in your bones and made everything feel heavier than it should.
Students flooded out of classrooms the second the final bell rang. Conversations echoed through the hallways, footsteps loud and rushed as everyone headed home.
Home.
The word alone made your chest tighten. You packed your things slowly, pretending not to notice how quickly the classroom emptied.
At your old school, your driver would already be waiting outside by now.
The car door open before you even reached it.
โGood afternoon, miss.โ
Simple.
Automatic.
Safe.
But when you stepped outside the public school gates, there was nothing waiting for you, no black Cadillac, no driver, no familiar face,
Just crowded sidewalks and buses roaring past loudly.
You froze.
Your mother had explained it briefly this morning.
โYouโll need to take the bus home, sweetheart.โ
As if that sentence meant anything to you. You stared at the bus stop across the street in genuine panic.
How were you even supposed to do that?
Did you pay inside?
Did you need a card?
Cash?
Did you call someone?
Use an app?
Your breathing slowly became uneven. People brushed past you constantly while you stood there like an idiot. You suddenly felt so painfully out of place that it almost made you sick.
In your old life, inconvenience barely existed.
If your driver wasnโt available, your fatherโs assistant arranged another car. If that failed, there was always the luxury taxi service your mother used. You never had to think, never had to figure things out alone.
And now you couldnโt even get "home".
Humiliation burned through your entire body. You quietly sat down near the front gates before anyone could notice the tears gathering in your eyes.
Just for a minute, you told yourself, just until the crowd disappeared.
But minutes turned into an hour.
Then two.
The sun slowly started setting over Seoul while students disappeared one by one until the school grounds became nearly empty.
And stillโ
you stayed there.
Because the truth was terrifying.
You had absolutely no idea how to survive your own life anymore. Your stomach hurt from holding back tears. You pulled your knees closer to your chest and stared at the pavement.
You wanted your mom.
You wanted your old room.
You wanted someone to fix this.
But nobody came.
Eventually, embarrassment outweighed fear. You stood up slowly, tightened your grip on your bag, and started walking. You didnโt even fully know where you were going. Just vague directions repeated in your head from that morning.
Left at the convenience store.
Straight past the pharmacy.
Apartment building near the laundromat.
The walk lasted over an hour.
Your feet started hurting halfway through.
The cheap shoes rubbed painfully against your skin, nothing like the comfortable designer ones you used to wear. Cars rushed past you while cold evening air hit your face.
For the first time in your life, Seoul felt enormous.
Not glamorous.
Not exciting.
Just cruelly big.
By the time you finally found the apartment building, your legs felt weak.
The elevator smelled faintly like cigarettes.
You hated that too.
Everything felt wrong.
You unlocked the apartment door quietly. Silence greeted you immediately. No house staff, no music downstairs, no sound of your mother talking on the phone while cooking never touched the actual kitchen.
Just silence.
The tiny apartment looked even smaller at night.
You noticed dishes in the sink, paperwork scattered across the table, a stack of legal documents with your fatherโs name printed across them.
Your chest tightened instantly.
Your parents werenโt home.
Court-related meetings again.
Trying to stop your father from going to prison.
Prison.
The word still sounded unreal.
Like something that happened to other families.
Not yours.
Never yours.
You slowly sat down on the floor of the living room.
And suddenlyโ
everything hit at once.
Not the house.
Not the money.
Not the clothes.
Your father could actually go to jail. Your mother cried almost every night when she thought you were asleep. Your friends abandoned you in less than a month. And tomorrow morning, you would wake up and do this all over again. The apartment suddenly felt suffocatingly small.
A broken sound escaped your throat before you could stop it.
Then another.
And another.
Until you were crying so hard you could barely breathe.
Curled up on the floor of a tiny apartment you still couldnโt believe was yours.
Over the next few weeks, Han Jisung became strangely unavoidable. Not in an annoying way.
More likeโ
a constant presence.
He waited for you outside class without acknowledging that he was doing it. Saved you a seat at lunch while pretending he didnโt care if you showed up. Complained dramatically whenever you skipped cafeteria meals.
โYou canโt survive on sadness and triangle sandwiches forever,โ he told you once, shoving half his kimbap into your hands.
You had stared at him.
โโฆDid you just insult me and feed me at the same time?โ
โYes.โ
โWhy?โ
โMultitasking.โ
You rolled your eyes.
But you ate the kimbap anyway.
And little by little, things became easier.
Not fixed.
Never fixed.
You still woke up every morning feeling disoriented in your tiny apartment. You still missed your old life so intensely it physically hurt sometimes. But now there were moments in between the sadness. Small moments.
Like Han making stupid comments during class until you laughed accidentally, or Felix offering you half his snacks without asking questions, or Changbin yelling at boys who stared at you too long.
You didnโt know when exactly it happenedโ
but somehow, those people stopped feeling like strangers.
Which was terrifying.
One Friday afternoon, Han leaned against your desk after class.
โWeโre hanging out today.โ
You looked up from your bag.
โโฆWhoโs we?โ
โUs.โ
โThat explains nothing.โ
โMe. Felix. Changbin. Hyunjin. A few other people.โ
โOh.โ
You hesitated slightly.
Your old friends used to โhang outโ too.
That usually meant expensive restaurants, luxury cafรฉs, shopping trips, rooftop parties. You suddenly became hyperaware of the old hoodie you were wearing.
Han noticed immediately.
โYouโre thinking too hard again.โ
โIโm not.โ
โYou literally have the same face people make before exams.โ
You looked away.
โโฆI donโt really have money right now.โ
The words still felt humiliating to say. But Han only blinked.
โOkay?โ
โโฆOkay?โ
โWeโre going to a park, not Monaco.โ
You stared at him.
โA park?โ
โYeah.โ
โโฆTo do what?โ
Han looked genuinely confused.
โTo exist?โ
You and the others were already leaving school, you didn't know where you were going or how you were going to get to that park Han was talking about.
Then Han stood up suddenly.
โCome on.โ
โโฆWhere are we going?โ
โBus stop.โ
You followed him automatically.
The others waved lazily goodbye, yelling things you barely caught over the traffic noise. When you reached the bus stop, Han stepped forward casually as the bus approached.
You, meanwhile, froze completely.
Your entire body locked up.
Han stepped onto the busโ
then paused when he realized you werenโt behind him. He blinked. You stared at the bus doors like they were the gates of hell.
And thenโ
slowlyโ
understanding spread across his face.
โOh my God,โ he said.
Your face burned instantly. Han looked genuinely shocked.
โYouโve actually never been on a bus before.โ
It wasnโt even a question. You looked down immediately, mortified.
โโฆNo.โ
For a second, he just stared at you.
Not judgmentally.
Just completely stunned.
โThat is insane.โ
โI know,โ you muttered quietly.
The bus driver looked annoyed already, so Han suddenly grabbed your wrist lightly.
Your breath caught immediately.
โCome on, rich girl.โ
Before you could process the warmth of his hand, he gently pulled you onto the bus behind him. You tried not to focus on how close he was, or how your heart started beating weirdly fast for absolutely no reason.
Han reached into his pocket and tapped a card against the machine twice.
Then he guided you toward the back seats. You sat down carefully, looking around nervously while the city lights blurred outside the windows.
After a few seconds, you glanced at him in surprise.
โโฆWait.โ
โHm?โ
โI didnยดt know buses were free.โ
Han turned toward you slowly. Then he started laughing, not mean in a mean way, just completely amused.
โYou thought public transportation was free?โ
โI donโt know!โ you whisper-shouted defensively. โIโve never done this before!โ
His smile got even bigger.
โCute.โ
Your stomach flipped unpleasantly. You ignored it immediately.
โSoโฆ how much do I owe you?โ
Han shrugged casually.
โNothing.โ
โNo, seriously.โ
You quickly named a number way too high. Han stared at you in disbelief.
โโฆSoojin.โ
โWhat?โ
โThatโs enough money for like ten bus rides.โ
Your eyes widened slightly.
โOh.โ
He laughed softly again, leaning his head back against the seat.
โRelax. You donโt owe me anything.โ
Nobody had ever said that to you so casually before.
Back then, everything came with expectations, favors, connections and reputation. Nothing was free. But Han acted like helping you was the most natural thing in the world. And somehow that scared you more than cruelty ever had.
An hour later, you realized he had been completely serious.
The โhangoutโ consisted of sitting around at a skate park near the river while the sun slowly went down.
That was it.
No reservations.
No dress codes.
No staff greeting people at entrances.
Just cheap snacks from a convenience store, music playing softly from someoneโs speaker, skateboards scraping against concrete, cigarette smoke drifting through cold evening air.
And somehowโ
everyone looked happy.
You sat awkwardly beside Han on a bench while Changbin argued with someone over skate tricks.
Felix was drinking something suspicious out of a convenience-store cup.
Hyunjin smoked lazily near the fence while Felix laughed so loudly nearby that people turned to stare.
You felt painfully out of place. Like someone had accidentally dropped a luxury porcelain doll into a normal teenage life.
You stayed close to Han instinctively. Not because he asked you to, because he was the only thing there that felt familiar.
Han dropped onto the grass beside the others while you sat carefully next to him. You watched someone pass around cigarettes, then alcohol.
You felt awkward immediately.
You didnโt belong here either.
Han noticed.
โYou okay?โ
โYeah.โ
Lie.
He looked at the others before leaning closer slightly.
โYou donโt have to do anything, you know.โ
โI know.โ
โYou look stressed.โ
โI justโฆโ you hesitated. โI feel weird.โ
โWeird how?โ
You looked around quietly.
โAt my old school, people acted like this kind of stuff was trashy.โ
Han snorted softly.
โYour old school sounds exhausting.โ
โโฆIt was.โ
He glanced toward the others.
โI donโt really drink much anyway.โ
You blinked at him.
โYou donโt?โ
โNah.โ
โWhat about smoking?โ
โMakes my lungs feel like expired yogurt.โ
You stared at him.
โThat is the worst description Iโve ever heard.โ
โThank you.โ
You smiled despite yourself. Then curiosity slipped out before you could stop it.
โSo what do you do?โ
Han tilted his head.
โWhen everyone else is drinking or skating.โ
Instead of answering immediately, he reached into his backpack, then he pulled out a black notebook.
The cover was worn down at the edges, covered in random stickers and messy drawings.
You frowned slightly as he handed it to you.
โโฆWhat is this?โ
โMy brain.โ
You opened it carefully, and froze.
The pages were chaos, lyrics half-finished in messy handwriting, tiny doodles squeezed into corners, random phrases, crossed-out thoughts, little comic sketches, song titles, words circled aggressively like they mattered too much.
None of it looked polished.
None of it looked โprofessional.โ
But it wasโ
beautiful.
Not in the clean, expensive way your old life had been beautiful.
This was human.
Alive.
You flipped through another page slowly.
โYou wrote all this?โ
โMhm.โ
Your eyes moved over unfinished lyrics.
"some people only love you when you shine enough to reflect them back"
Something tightened painfully in your chest.
There were tiny drawings beside the words. Stars. Eyes. Broken buildings.
You looked at him softly.
โThis is art.โ
Han immediately made a disgusted face.
โEw. Donโt say that.โ
โIโm serious.โ
โItโs literally just thoughts.โ
โNo,โ you whispered. โItโs not.โ
For onceโ
Han Jisung didnโt have a joke ready.
The hangouts became routine faster than you expected. Almost every afternoon, once classes ended, someone would ask the same question.
โRiver today?โ
And almost every time, the answer became yes. At first, you told yourself it was just because going home felt unbearable.
But eventually, you stopped pretending.
Your apartment no longer felt like home, it felt like grief.
Your father had gone to prison three weeks ago. Even thinking the sentence still made your stomach twist painfully.
Prison.
Your father.
Those words did not belong together.
But reality did not care what felt right anymore. The apartment became quieter after he left.
Your mother barely got out of bed some days. The living room stayed dark even in the afternoons, dishes piling slowly in the sink while legal papers covered the tiny kitchen table.
Sometimes you heard her crying through the walls at night. Sometimes she just stared blankly at the television for hours without actually watching it.
And every time you stepped inside that apartment, it felt harder to breathe. So you stopped going home immediately after school.
Instead, you followed Han.
Or Felix.
Or Changbin and Hyunjin.
The skate park became familiar somehow, the sound of skateboards hitting concrete, cheap convenience-store snacks, cold river air.
Hyunjin smoking while pretending he wasnโt listening to everyoneโs conversations.
Changbin yelling dramatically every five minutes.
Felix laughing loud enough to make strangers turn around.
And Hanโ
always beside you somehow.
You noticed little things now.
Like how he always offered you the first sip of his drink without thinking, wow he walked slightly slower when you were tired, how he unconsciously searched for you in crowds.
You hated how much comfort you found in that.
One evening, the five of you sat near the river while the city lights reflected against the dark water.
Felix and Changbin were arguing over something stupid again while Hyunjin sketched quietly nearby.
Han sat cross-legged beside you with his black notebook balanced on his knee.
You watched him absentmindedly while he wrote. His handwriting looked rushed, messy in a strangely beautiful way. Every now and then heโd pause to scribble tiny doodles in the margins.
Right now, he was drawing a little alien beside some lyrics.
You smiled slightly.
โโฆWhy do you draw aliens so much?โ
Han didnโt look up.
โBecause theyโre relatable.โ
โThatโs concerning.โ
โMhm.โ
You leaned closer slightly, watching him shade in the alienโs oversized eyes. The page was covered in unfinished lyrics again. Random phrases circled aggressively. Crossed-out sentences. Thoughts spilling everywhere like his brain moved faster than his hand.
Then Felix suddenly yelled from farther away.
โJISUNG.โ
Han looked up immediately.
โWhat?โ
โCome help me before Changbin accidentally kills himself.โ
โIโm coming!โ
Han sighed dramatically before standing.
Then he looked down at you.
โGuard my artistic genius.โ
โYou mean the alien?โ
โExactly.โ
And before you could answer, he jogged away toward the others. His notebook stayed open beside you. You stared at it. Then immediately looked away.
No.
Absolutely not.
That was private.
You respected him too much for that.
โฆRight?
Your eyes drifted back to the page anyway. Just one glance. That wasnโt terrible.
Right?
Slowly, you looked down.
And read.
i'm an alien on this earth, dropped abruptly from Earth
I don't belong anywhere, I look lonely
No matter how much I smile, I feel so lonely
Mixing with earthlings, an alien arises
Even if Sol speaks for me, no one listens
I landed in an unfamiliar place, initially filled with anticipation.
My tears well up as the night grows dark.
Your chest tightened instantly.
Alien.
The word echoed inside your head painfully. You stared at the lyrics longer than you should have.
I donโt belong anywhere.
Something about that sentence hurt, because for months now, that was exactly how you had felt.
Too poor for your old world.
Too different for this one.
Floating somewhere in between like a ghost of the person you used to be.
An alien.
You had genuinely believed nobody else felt this way.
Especially not someone like Han.
Han who laughed loudly. Han who made friends everywhere. Han who always seemed so alive.
But these words felt lonely in a way you understood immediately. a loneliness so deep it became part of your identity.
You swallowed hard. Your eyes drifted toward the tiny alien doodle beside the lyrics. Suddenly it didnโt look silly anymore.
It looked sad.
โYouโre reading my notebook.โ
You jumped violently. Han stood behind you holding two drinks, staring with narrowed eyes.
Your face burned instantly.
โI-I wasnโtโโ
โYou absolutely were.โ
โI just saw it accidentally!โ
โThatโs crazy,โ he said flatly. โConsidering it was on my lap twenty seconds ago.โ
You covered your face immediately in embarrassment.
โOh my God, Iโm sorry.โ
Han stared at you for another second. Then he sat back down beside you.
Surprisinglyโ
he didnโt seem angry.
Justโฆ quieter.
You glanced at him cautiously.
โโฆYou really feel like that?โ
Han looked toward the river. The city lights reflected softly in his eyes.
โโฆSometimes.โ
His voice sounded smaller than usual. You looked down at the notebook again.
Alien.
Maybe that really was the perfect word for it.
For losing your home.
Your life.
Your identity.
For sitting beside people and still feeling separate somehow.
For pretending you were adapting while secretly feeling stranded on the wrong planet.
And for the first time since everything collapsedโ
you realized you werenโt the only person in the world who felt that way.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Hii! hope you're having a great day! could I please request a story of Han Jisung x Reader!? Like he's on tour and he brings y/n and their first kid and then people are being mean to y/n so he addresses it and when they get home they have a fluffy moment and then y/n announces baby #2 - Sorry for a long story lol!
What about us?
MASTERLIST
Genre: Idol!AU, Dad!Han Jisung x Female Reader, fluff, angst.
A/N: This, right there, is a cute ass request. I don't like children so this was extra hard for me to write, but I love it so much in the end.
"No." you immediately dismissed, earning a pout from your boyfriend.
"Jiwon is missed by all the members, and I bet she misses them too." Jisung pleaded, but you were not going to fall into his trap.
"Love, they saw her last week."
"Which is a very long time for a child."
"She's three, Ji. She doesn't grasp the concep of time yet."
"Exactly my point!"
You huffed before turning your body around on the bed so he would face your back. Sometimes, it felt like you had to raise two children. Well, that would be the case very much soon, but Jisung didn't know that yet.
"Baby." he cooed as he wrapped his arm around your waist in a loving way.
"I said no."
"Why?" he whined even louder, which made you sit up.
"Because." you started and then stared right into his eyes. "America is far from home and she is only three."
He shrugged, not seeing the problem. "She went to Incheon once."
You moved your head to the side, not understanding his thought process. "Incheon is like a thirty minute car ride from here."
"And she survived." he beamed at you.
You shook your head in disbelief and tugged yourself right back into your bed sheets. You turned the lights off while Jisung kept trying to convince you to bring you and your daughter on tour. You were not going to succumb your lover's pleas. Not this time.
There is only so much you can refuse from Jisung. Miraculously, he had convinced you to go on tour with him. The only thing that truly made you change your mind was that you would get to spend some family time on a trip, and that you'd get to be with your man. Ever since the beginning of the year, he hadn't stopped working for a single day. You grew concerned about his health, but he assured you he was okay.
"Hey, come back here!" Changbin yelled at the little girl after she stole his cap.
He ran after her and she was surprisingly very fast. You watched them bicker once Changbin had managed to catch her as she was laughing uncontrollably. You honestly adored seeing her interact with the boys.
"Are you okay, love?" Jisung asked as he came from behind, placing a peck on your cheek.
"I just love how they take care of her so well."
"I swear they spoil her too much." Jisung sighed. "Chan wanted to buy her some candies but she's got more energy than needed."
"Certainly not candies." you hummed. "Have you gotten our bags yet?"
He nodded. "Security did, don't bother with it."
Although you had been dating for years, you still couldn't get used to him being a famous idol, meaning almost being treated like royalty. Being the independent woman you were, you hated the idea of people doing everything for you, which was the main reason why you wouldn't get into Jisung's work life too much. Plus, you preferred much more the privacy you kept with him and Jiwon.
"Mom." your daughter called out as she ran to you, arms extended.
"What is it, love?" you said, picking her up in your arms.
"Uncle Changbin said you would buy me cookies if I stop stealing his things. Is it true?"
You noted mentally to curse Changbin for making false promises up. "Of course, which ones would you like better?"
"Chocolate!" she clapped her hands happily.
"And that's how you know she is definitely her dad's little girl." Jisung kissed the top of her head. "Can I get some chocolate cookies too?" he pleaded to you with his puppy eyes.
"You're a grown man, get them yourself." you faked a smile at him, and he scoffed.
"Alright, lovebirds." Chan clasped his hands together as he approached the three of you. "We're off to go to the hotel."
Jiwon absolutely adored getting to see her father perform. Although some of the performances were not very adequate for children, she was still too young to understand why people would scream when her Uncle Felix was pulling his shirt up.
Throughout the concert, Jisung kept coming towards your side of the stage to check on you, not forgetting to send finger hearts to his baby girl.
"I want to go see him." Jiwon pouted at you.
"Daddy is busy, love." you told her sadly.
"He's not! He's laughing with Uncle Minho." she huffed.
Almost on cue, Jisung came to check on you two again. He noticed his daughter frowning at you and he just knew she was about to throw a fit. His paternal instincts took over, so he didn't hesitate to go to the staff and ask them to allow her to come up on stage with him. Since they were only performing Star Lost, he knew she wouldn't be bothering them.
A security guard came to you and asked you to come backstage with him. Confused, you sent a look to your partner only for him to send you a wink in return, which made the fans around you scream loudly. You followed the man as he led you to a hallway. Soon, you found yourself backstage with Jisung coming up to you.
"What the hell are you doing?" you nagged at him.
"My baby wants her dad." he smiled at Jiwon. "You watched me, Ji?" he asked her.
"I did!" she said proudly. "Can I go see Uncle Chan?"
You glared at him, but he acted as if he didn't see it as he took her in his arms. "Of course, baby." he cooed, and then looked at you. "The fans love her and you know it."
With a sigh, you held your hands up in defeat. "Fine, but keep an eye on her."
"I will." he kissed you before running back on stage, holding his daughter closely.
He sang along the lyrics with the other members as the crowd cheered upon seeing the toddler. He then put her down for her to run off to Chan who engulfed her in a tight hug.
As much as there were fans who loved it, many others were quite annoyed. Seeing Jisung's daughter was a constant reminder for them that the man was taken and had you follow him everywhere. Well, that's what they thought. This couldn't be any further from the truth because you hated bothering Jisung while he was working. He was the one who wanted to brag about you and your child, because that's what he was the proudest of.
The song ended and the members lined up to speak to introduce the next track. Jiwon had found her way to Jeongin as she hugged his leg, the maknae patting her head. He placed his mic in front of her, but she turned her head away in shyness.
"Don't you want to say hi to Stay?" he asked the girl in a sweet tone.
Slowly, she turned her head back to the mic and nodded. "Hi Stay." she said in a small voice, and the crowd was in awe.
She got shy again and hid her face behind Jeongin again. Chuckling, Jisung came to get the girl to bring her back to you, whispering in her ear to say bye to the crowd. She shook her head violently before starting to cry.
"It's okay, baby, I'm here." he said softly as he hugged her tightly. "Do you want to go back to Mommy?" She shook her head again, messily wiping her tears off. "What do you want?"
"I don't know." she whined.
She was obviously just tired since she didn't take her nap before the concert. However, by some magic, she stopped crying the moment she saw you join them. You took her from Jisung, who apologized for making her cry.
"Don't, she's exhausted, that's all."
The moment she found comfort in your arms, she snuggled happily in the crook of your neck. The fans were especially quiet as they observed the family converse, no mics around to hear what they were saying.
Jisung finally remembered he was in the middle of working and turned back to face the crowd. "Guys, I'm sorry." he laughed out. "Jiwon is happy to see you, I promise, but she needs some sleep. How about we get some applause for her?"
People clapping startled your daughter as she shot her head up in a sudden move. Her eyes widened as she analyzed her surroundings, until she stopped when she spotted Jisung.
"I want to be with Daddy." she whined, trying to get away from you.
Here it goes again.
"Sungie." you glanced at your boyfriend.
"I got her." he laughed, seeing your annoyed face.
Having a toddler was so much work. The girl changed her mind every two minutes and you really had a hard time saying no. This time, however, you didn't mind. As long as she was safe in her father's company, you felt at peace with it.
You kissed both of their cheeks before walking backstage. Jisung apologized to the crowd again as he announced the next song they would be singing. Jiwon had a smile back on her face and she got a piggyback ride from Changbin, as he ran around the stage while they sang Super Board. You absolutely adored what you were seeing.
Jisung came back late. Jiwon had already passed out in the comfort of her pyjamas, while you had turned the television on, yawning as you watched the news. Your boyfriend didn't bother removing his shoes when he walked in your room. He was more than exhausted and fell on the bed next to you.
"I'm so sorry, love." he mumbled, his face buried in the bedsheets.
"For what?" you chuckled, passing your hand through his hair.
He shot his head up to frown at you. "Didn't you see online?"
"Seen what?" you asked while taking your phone to see what he was talking about.
He immediately got up and snatched your mobile out of your hand. Taken aback, you huffed.
"What is it?"
"Nothing."
"Han Jisung." you said in a warning voice before attempting to get it back, but he was quicker than you and held it out of your reach. "Tell me what is going on."
"I rather not." You crossed your arms, sighing loudly as you waited for him to either give your phone back or spill out what he was hiding. Regardless, he refused to budge. "Y/N, please."
"Am I not allowed to have my phone?"
"I don't want you to see what's in the medias." He came closer to you, putting a hand on your cheek. "Do you really want to know?"
You were starting to understand slowly what was going on, so you let out a hum as a yes. With a sad sigh, Jisung pulled out his own phone and searched for something. He hesitated as he gave you a sad look, but ended up showing you nonetheless.
'Y/N interrupting Stray Kids concert.'
'Y/N under fire for not watching over her daughter properly.'
'Stray Kids Han's daughter crying at their concert.'
'Fans furious that Stray Kids Han's girlfriend is a bad mother."
He looked at you expectedly, afraid of what your reaction would be. It wasn't the first time the fans had been rather mean on the Internet. The first time was when you revealed your relationship. Then, when you announced your pregnancy. Other times were because they judged your behaviour when travelling with him as toxic. Needless to say, this was not new for you. But it still hurt.
"I see..." you whispered.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked for Jiwon to come on stage."
You groaned, rubbing your face with both hands. "It's not your fault. I mean, I understand why they assumed I wasn't being a good mother at that moment."
"Y/N, don't-"
"Don't what?" you cut him off, snapping at him. "Jisung, I get that you want us to be part of your life with Stray Kids, but it is not by letting you show her off to the public that I am a good mother. She's only three, for fuck's sake. She doesn't deserve to have a freaking scandal at this age. I should have thought it through beforehand."
He scoffed. "We did think about it. We talked about this whole situation for weeks before revealing we were having Jiwon."
You shook your head. "I agreed because I thought you would be there for us. Truth is, you haven't done shit every time something about us comes up. No defending me, just pure silence until the subject is not trending. All for what? To look all perfect in front of the cameras?"
The hormones were definitely affecting your mood. You had never been so... direct and rude to Jisung, the one you had called the love of your life for years. The worst is that you didn't blame him for not handling the situation well, because it wasn't an easy one and he was doing his best.
"It's the company-"
"I understand you want to protect your idol image, but think about us in all of this. I've been putting up with that shit for a long time, but there is so much that I can take."
You got out of your covers before you walked towards the bed where your little girl was sleeping peacefully, completely ignorant of the conversation. Jisung, who couldn't find the words to say something back, watched you join your daughter in the bed. He got the message the argument was over as you turned the lights off and laid down, your back facing him.
He needed to fix this, no matter what. Sure, he had worked so hard for his career to be successful, but he couldn't bear with the thought of you and Jiwon leaving him. It was simply not an option. So he went to bed, your side of the mattress empty, as thoughts filled his mind.
Jisung still had one concert left until you could go back home. You hadn't addressed a word to him, other than some fake loving comments to not look suspicious in front of your daughter. You truly wanted to tell him that you were sorry, but there was some truth in what you said. You were torn between wanting to act as if it didn't happen and actually doing something about the issue. Both options sounded like shit to you.
"Wow, you look like a princess tonight!" Hyunjin complimented Jiwon as you two walked in their dressing room.
"It's a blue dress." she jumped happily. "I chose it by myself."
"You have very good taste, Missy." he ruffled her hair, which made her laugh.
"My hair is messy now!"
"Hmm..." he frowned. "I wonder how did this happen..."
"You did so!" she pointed at him, laughing.
"Me? I would never." he gasped, offended by her accusations. "Maybe it's your mom."
"Mommy would not do that." she denied right away.
"Oh well, it can't be me!"
They continued to argue playfully for a bit, until she grew tired of it and walked to Seungmin. He had brought his SKZOO plush and she was begging for him to let her play with it. Hyunjin, sat next to you as you kept an eye on her.
"She is so much like her dad, it's extenuating." he grunted. "I don't know how you do it."
"Jisung is actually helping me out a lot with her. I know it's, like, the bare minimum, but I just didn't expect him to be taking this role so seriously. He was so scared before she was born."
He chuckled. "I remember, yeah. Still, they are one hell of a duo."
You hummed as you agreed with him. A stylist came up to you both to fetch Hyunjin to go do his hair. You found yourself alone again, yawning loudly since you didn't get much sleep the previous night.
"You can sleep before the show begins, you know?" a voice said, coming from your right.
"Who's going to watch her?" you gestured to Jiwon, who was now on Minho's lap as he hopped his legs up and down to entertain her.
"The boys know her well enough to watch over her properly." Jisung assured, putting a hand on your shoulder. "Rest, please."
You sighed in defeat, too tired to act petty with him. He helped you lay down on the couch where the two of you were already sitting and made sure to place your head comfortably on his lap to act out as a pillow. Angry at him or not, feeling his touch as he stroke your hair gently was the best thing ever. You found yourself dozing off peacefully only seconds later.
But you woke up when the concert was about to start. You were no longer laying on Jisung and the only people in the room were the staff. Jiwon was with a bodyguard as they played with Leebit and PuppyM. At least, you knew she was okay. Hearing loud music, you then understood that the concert had already started. Cursing at yourself, you interrupted Jiwon's playdate so you could go find your seats. The bodyguard offered to accompany you, which you accepted gladly.
Sitting throughout most of the concert, nothing they did was much different than the day before. Some jokes were new, and Seungmin was being particularly annoying towards Chan, but nothing too much out of the ordinary. Soon enough, it was time for them to do their ending speeches. Hyunjin was as sweet as always, Felix flirted a bit with the fans, Chan was emotional as he began to cry, Minho made some jokes on how he wouldn't miss Stay, Changbin did some aegyo, Seungmin made weird noises, and Jeongin was the only normal one... You waited patiently as your boyfriend was smiling at the crowd, waiting for them to quiet down. Inspecting him more attentively, you were surprised to see a single tear drop from his eye. It could have been sweat for all you know, but you were certain he was crying.
"Thank you so much for tonight! I had a lot of fun." he spoke and the fans went wild. "I'm sorry I couldn't give you the best of my performance today."
What was he saying? You thought he did perfectly, as always.
"I think you know why I wasn't feeling so good." he chuckled shyly. "I am always grateful to Stay, but last night, you guys made me feel very disappointed in you."
Now, you were definitely confused. The crowd started to talk among themselves, but Jisung put his finger in front of his mouth so he could continue to speak.
"I think some of you don't realize that being a parent is very hard, which is totally understandable. I, myself, didn't get that back when my Jiwon wasn't born yet. However, this is no excuse to assume that my girlfriend is not parenting our child properly."
It took everything in yourself to not stand up and go on that stage to take the microphone away from him while you felt a flush on your cheeks appear. Although the other members seemed totally calm about the situation, you knew this would get him in trouble with the company later, and that was the last thing you wanted for him. Even after everything you said to him. The fans, however, were not reacting like you had expected. Instead, the majority was agreeing with your boyfriend, some yelling apologies to him.
"Anyway, this is just a reminder that we are still only human beings who are trying their best, and I will continue to work hard so Stray Kids and Stay can still be around for a long time. Again, thank you so much for tonight."
By then, you were not listening anymore. The only thing you had in mind was running to him to yell at him for being so careless with his actions. So, the instant they left the stage, you hurried to go join them back in the dressing room, struggling in the process since you had a confused Jiwon in your arms who kept on questioning you.
"Han Jisung!" you yelled out as soon as you stepped foot in the room.
You put down your daughter for her to run back to the plushies she had to abandon earlier. Chan gave you a reassuring smile before he joined her, Changbin doing the same after. As for Jisung, he looked scared. He approached you, still on his guard, and you were giving him a death stare.
"Why on Earth would you do that?" you asked, your tone still a bit aggressive.
He looked down at his feet as he bit his upper lip. "You were right. I don't defend you enough when it should be the bare minimum."
"But you said that the company-" you started, this time your voice filled with worry.
"Love." he stopped you from talking, walking up to you to grab both of your arms. "It's all good. Chan already gave a heads up I would be doing this and, don't ask me how, but they gave me permission. You don't deserve to be treated like shit when I know you are literally the best at everything you do."
You felt the same as when you started dating as the blush crept up on your face. "You think so?"
"Of course. You went through a whole ass pregnancy and literally created a bundle of joy we call our daughter."
Talking about her, she had appeared next to him. She jumped up and down as she reached her hands up for Jisung to pick her up. He obliged and gave her a big kiss on the cheek.
"You were boring today." she pouted.
"How so?" he asked her, slightly offended by her comment.
"You were talking a lot at the end."
He let out a laugh before telling her a quick 'sorry'. He then focused back on you, sending you the biggest smile.
"I love you both so much, but I love you especially." he continued with his sweet words. "I'm sorry I hurt you before."
You didn't realize you had started tearing up until Hyunjin appeared with a box of tissues. You took one, embarrassed, and dried out your wet cheeks.
"And I'm sorry I yelled at you. I don't know what took over me, I was just so... It doesn't matter. I'm simply sorry." you sniffed. "And I appreciate a lot what you did on stage, it's actually so sweet of you."
Jisung grinned at you before he brought you closer for a long-lasting kiss, resulting to the boys and your daughter making sounds of disgust. You didn't care, your attention was solemly on the man you loved for now.
As you were nearing the end of the book you were reading, you were interrupted by loud noises coming from your living room. Confused, you closed your novel before heading towards where the sound came from. Not so much to your surprise, you spotted a bowl of cereal on the ground with milk spilled all over the floor. You sighed as you rolled your eyes at the pair in front of you.
"What did I say about eating cereals on the couch?"
The duo exchanged glances as their mouths were full of food, and one had a bowl missing from their hands.
"He did it!" Jiwon snitched.
"I am innocent!" he exclaimed in defense.
You pointed to his empty hands. "I'll have to trust her on this one, sorry love." you chuckled.
You were about to bend down to clean up the mess, but a sudden urge to vomit took over. You ran to your bathroom and let it all out in one go. As much as you wanted to wait for a bit longer until you announced the grand news to your lover, it was becoming more and more difficult to keep it a secret. It was the fourth time in two weeks that you had barfed, it was almost evident at that point.
"Baby, are you okay?" Jisung joined you next to the toilet.
"All good." you coughed out.
He bit his lips, not sure whether he should tell you his guess on why you were sick. You going for another barf was his signal that he should probably tell you.
"When's the last time you were on your period?"
You raised an eyebrow at him. "What?"
"Mommy, are you okay?" Jiwon asked with a worried voice as she arrived to join you.
"I'm alright, sweetie. You can continue to watch your show, okay?"
Hesitant, she left nonetheless, which allowed you to answer Jisung's question with another question.
"Why are you saying that?"
He shrugged. "This looks similar to what you were going through when you were pregnant with Jiwon." Your mouth slowly turned into a smile before you giggled happily, leaving Jisung perplexed. "Did I say something?"
"I know this might not be the best timing because of your plans for the year." you started. "But I have, hopefully, excellent news."
His eyes grew bigger as shock took over him. "Am I right? Are you pregnant again?" You happily nodded, and Jisung drowned you in his embrace, holding you tightly with excitement. "We need to tell Jiwon! No, wait. Not now. How about tomorrow? Hmm, I have work... Next week then?"
As he kept on rambling, you cut him off by bringing his lips to yours, catching him into a kiss. He kissed you back lovingly, but pulled back almost immediately after.
"Ew." he coughed out, having gotten a taste of your vomit.
"Yeah, that's pregnancy for you." you smiled apologetically.
"Let's celebrate without kisses for now... and with a some mouthwash."