Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

[moodboard by the birthday girl]

~ ~ ~

The absolute chaos of watching dozens of kids kick off their street shoes to put on slippers for the school day was not lost on Park Jimin, even after years of daily repetition.

“Quickly, quickly,” he encouraged, watching his class of first grade students bustle around as the clock ticked closer to half past eight in the morning. Winter coats, scarves, face masks, nice shoes—dozens of young kids shoved their shoe bags into their designated shoe storage box and stored their other belongings, the chatter happy and excited. Slippers went on, and Jimin greeted each of his twenty-two students as they entered his classroom for the school day, smiling and watching friend groups converge together. 

“Good morning, good morning, good morning,” Jimin said as he walked through the classroom, every student seated exactly where they should be, every student wearing their school uniform. Jangseong Elementary School was one of the best in Seoul, and Jimin had been a first grade teacher at the school for five years now. That meant that he was going to be switching to a new elementary school soon, since teachers and principals rotated on a five-year schedule. But his time at Jangseong had been phenomenal thus far, and he was certain that this year’s class (though the year was coming to a close already) was one of his best.

“Has everyone brought me their homework?” Jimin asked with a small smile.

“YE-E-E-ES.”

“Did you all sleep well last night?”

“YE-E-E-ES.”

“Are you feeling warm, or do we need to fix that?”

“YE-E-E-ES!” the students all called out, a few of them giggling. Jimin heaved a dramatic sigh on purpose, the giggling escalating, and then he clapped his hands once and lifted his hands palms-up. His students all shoved their chairs back and stood up in excited anticipation.

“I hope your counting skills are perfect,” he warned, and he heard one boy hurriedly counting to eight under his breath. “Eight! Four! Two! One! Are you ready?”

“YE-E-E-ES!”

“Okay, here we go. A-five, a-six, a-five, six, seven, eight,” Jimin counted in jokingly, the giggles reaching a peak as he clapped his hands. Then, together, the entire class began to shake and wiggle around. Eight shakes of the right arm, then the left, then the right leg, then the left leg. Then four of each. Then two. Then one. All the while, they counted out loud, and the train derailed somewhere around four shakes on the right leg. The laughter was infectious, and even Jimin was laughing, but they made it through, and he motioned for his students to sit down.

“Okay, nap time,” he said, and immediately, about seven or eight students threw their heads onto their desks and pretended to sleep and snore. Jimin smiled, and then he clapped his hands! “Alright! Please pull out your textbooks for We are the First Graders! Quickly!”

There was a quiet but mad scramble as twenty-two small but growing humans dug into their desks to pull out their textbooks, whispering to each other. Jimin watched, using a thumb to fan through the pages of his copy of the textbook repeatedly as he cradled it in one arm. He was familiar with this curriculum. He could probably teach it in his sleep at this point.

Teaching wasn’t something that was in Jimin’s blood. So many of his colleagues boasted a mother who taught kindergarten or a father who taught high school literature, but Jimin’s father was a staunch businessman, and his mother was a legal secretary. Both of them had warned Jimin that despite the unmatched level of respect, he would burn out being a teacher within a year, that it wasn’t the job for him, that he should focus more on becoming a businessman like his father and just make a decent living. But Jimin had stumbled into teaching after being inspired by one of his high school teachers, and he had never once looked back or regretted his choice.

There was something intriguing to Jimin about little kids, especially the age that he taught. Teaching high school had been a big turn-off, mostly because of the stress that the students were put under to perform and succeed. In first grade, Jimin could focus on developing their personalities and shaping their behavior into something lovely. He also found that parents were far more curious and simultaneously out-of-the-loop, albeit eccentric, when it came to first graders. It was always a grab-bag, and it made for interesting work. 

The school day always flew by quickly, mostly because Jimin never let a dull moment consume the classroom. He moved seamlessly from the first grade-specific curriculum right into Korean, focusing mostly on writing today. When his class departed for lunchtime in the cafeteria, Jimin followed, always keeping an eye out for his closest friend at Jangseong, Kim Seokjin. Seokjin was a few years older and taught third grade, which suited his witty personality best.

“I’m about to lose my mind.”

“Do tell,” Jimin said, falling right into step beside Seokjin and watching his small first graders beside the growing third graders.

“How hard do you think it is to stand and recite your twelves times tables on command?” Seokjin asked rhetorically, and Jimin snickered prematurely. “And in what world is ‘my dog wouldn’t pee in the snow this morning’ a good excuse for forgetting them?”

“Valid, in my opinion. It’s the end of January. It’s snowing. Even I don’t want to get out of bed to pee in the morning,” Jimin pointed out, and Seokjin gave him a look. Nobody exchanged banter with Jimin about the woes of being a teacher like Seokjin did. So many teachers at Jangseong were so serious, veterans in the field, or brand new and too focused on succeeding. Jimin was in his eighth year of teaching, and he was somewhere in limbo. Seokjin was a ten-year veteran, but his sense of humor was still intact.

“I have so many jokes about peeing first thing in the morning in winter,” Seokjin sighed, sounding disappointed in his current environment that wasn’t conducive for adult jokes. “I’ll save them for staff meetings.”

“The only person who would listen to those jokes is Jeongyeon.”

“She’d love them.”

Then they both stood quietly side-by-side, watching their students carry trays to the lunch tables, sitting with friends. Jimin briefly watched the flurry of chopsticks and the slurping of soup amongst all the students, and then Seokjin snickered in fond amusement.

“New tattoos?” he asked, and Jimin whipped his head over, knowing exactly which student Seokjin was referencing. He squinted to find her, and then he blew out a breath, lips vibrating.

“She always does it in the lunch line,” he sighed. “This girl steals markers like a seasoned thief.”

“Is it a form of self-expression, or is she convinced that her skin is paper?” Seokjin asked, trying not to laugh.

“She has to know someone with tattoos,” Jimin deduced. “There’s no way she’s just doing that for the hell of it. It’s been an entire school year, and she’s still doing it, even though I scold her every single time. She doesn’t even care.”

“If she wasn’t a little genius, it would be a problem,” Seokjin pointed out. “But if she’s not in my class in two years, I’ll switch schools.”

Jimin snickered, and then Seokjin leaned back like he was being launched before taking a giant step forward to swiftly walk over to one of his students who had beckoned to him. Jimin turned his attention then to Jeon Dasom, the seven-year-old who had weasled her way right into Jimin’s heart from day one, burrowing and making a home there. Dasom was whimsically intelligent and stoic in the face of school-based discipline, always questioning why. She and Jimin had a special little secret between the two of them, mostly because Dasom had dealt with some bullying at the beginning of the semester.

Most kids were oblivious, but there were a select elite group of students who were consistently cruel. Jangseong Elementary was full of students with wealthy or affluent parents, and those students mixed in with the working-class families. It was back in October when Dasom had come to Jimin crying, because older students (with parental clout to back them up) were making fun of her father. When Jimin had pressed her for a reason, she had vehemently refused to talk about it at first. But Jimin, privy to her habits, had handed her some markers, allowing her to draw on her own skin while talking. Dasom had then indignantly said, while drawing, that they were hounding her because they heard that her father liked women and men. When Jimin had quietly asked Dasom if it was true, Dasom had scoffed.

“Well, my dad is bisexual.”

Hearing it come from a seven-year-old’s mouth had been startling, but Jimin had calmed Dasom down significantly by assuring her that it was okay, and that he, too, liked men. Dasom had been fascinated, promising not to tell other kids, and she and Jimin had formed a special little bond.

Most kids were relatively tight-lipped about their parents, and Dasom was no exception. She did, however, always have a wicked gleam in her eyes when she talked about her father, minus the bullying incident, and she rarely mentioned a mother. Jimin knew he wasn’t supposed to have favorites, but every year, he always had one or two students that he liked best. This year, it was Jeon Dasom.

After lunch, Jimin gathered his class back into his classroom for mathematics, already dreading the lesson he had prepared. His students worked well individually, but when they did group work, there were always little problems. The kids tried hard not to butt heads, but Jimin had a few mean girls in his class this year with parents who made nice donations to the school, so it was a delicate balance. Most kids wanted to do well and present themselves as angels so that their parents would be proud, but a handful liked to make Jimin’s job difficult.

“So with the worksheet—” Jimin held it up as one of his students passed out one to each classmate— “I want you to use what you’ve learned from the number chart. Focus on the number chart with your group, and don’t forget everything we’ve learned about place value! I’m paying very close attention to that. It’s the end of the semester, don’t forget! Now—let’s split into groups.”

Jimin shook the can of popsicle sticks with numbers on them, and then he walked around and let each student pick. He had done it dozens of times before, so with their popsicle stick, each student knew where to go. Five groups came together, and Jimin watched as, in a team effort, each group gathered what they would need to make their number chart to present to the class. Jimin stood quietly and observed, making sure that no one was carrying scissors dangerously or putting the glue stick too close to their mouth.

“Park seonsaengnim?”

“Yes? What is it?” Jimin tore his eyes away from group three.

“Do we do the worksheet problems together in our group?” Jeon Dasom blinked up at Jimin with a pencil in one hand, her other hand on her hip. She was wearing her school uniform like every other kid—navy blue pants, a white button-up shirt, and a navy blue tie. But her shirt was coming untucked, her tie was skewed, and her arms were still covered in different colors from markers. Jimin wordlessly reached into his desk drawer, grabbed a wet wipe, and took Dasom’s hand to extend her arm out straight. He then wiped her arm as he replied.

“Yes, you do the worksheet with your group after you make the chart,” he said, and Dasom just watched all her little drawings disappear without complaint.

“Okay.” Dasom flicked one braid over her shoulder, and Jimin smiled. Dasom was exceedingly cute, almost like a doll—round and angelic face, bright brown doe eyes, one dimple in her cheek when she smiled, long black hair that was always in some cool hairstyle. Today, it was in two Dutch braids, the tips resting over her shoulders. Back in December, she had come in with tinsel braided in her hair, and all of the girls had been jealous. Last week, her ponytail had been split into a dozen braids, and one girl had cried because she wanted a cool hairstyle, too.

“Any other questions?” Jimin asked, amused. Dasom shook her head, braids flopping, and then she bowed her head and turned to skip off to her group, completely unfazed by her teacher wiping down her arms as he did almost every single day.

Jimin knew a lot of teachers who focused on their own work while their class did group work, but Jimin had very little attention span to do any grading or answer emails. Interested in what his class was doing, Jimin slowly circled around the room, crouching down with each group and asking questions curiously. He volunteered to cut out a 2-D tens block for Haeun from group four, and he sat cross-legged and helped group one with the first two questions on their worksheet. Jimin had learned quickly as a teacher that if he was apathetic or detached, if he was uninvolved, then his students learned only what the curriculum offered. He wasn’t their father and he wasn’t their friend, but he wanted them to feel like their teacher cared or held interest in them.

“Ah-h-h, so how much does that make?” Jimin asked, watching with a smile as two boys in group two quietly counted the paper blocks they had been cutting for one side of their number chart. “Can you group the ones together?”

“Ah, yes,” Doyoung said, hopping up onto his knees. “Okay, so—”

“AH-H-H-H-H! GET OFF ME!”

In a flash, pandemonium broke out by the classroom door where group three was working. Jimin jumped to his feet nimbly, brow furrowed, and then he vaulted over Doyoung and shoved one desk chair aside, skipping over art supplies and leaping over to the door, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

“STOP IT! STOP IT!”

“Okay, off, off.” Jimin slipped his hands underneath Dasom’s arms and lifted her off poor Hwang Hayoon, who was screeching and swatting at Dasom. Jimin tugged and then set Dasom firmly on her feet again, and Dasom didn’t even avert her eyes or cower in a manner of premeditated groveling. She just set her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows, head tilted to the side a bit as she stared. Hayoon’s two pigtails were now a skewed mess, because Dasom had been holding one in each hand while sitting on top of Hayoon and demanding heaven-knew-what.

“I hate her!” Hayoon whined, scrambling to her feet with tears in her eyes.

“Stop making fun of Jiwon,” Dasom said calmly. Poor Kim Jiwon, blinking with owlish eyes behind her glasses, seemed stunned.

“She slapped me!” Hayoon accused, pointing a small finger at Dasom. Dasom didn’t even deny it.

“ Stop making fun of Jiwon,” Dasom repeated, crossing her arms. Jimin blew out a breath, still kneeling so he could be eye-level with both girls, but he stood up decisively.

“Dasom-ah,” he sighed. “Go sit down at your desk. I’ll need to call your parents.”

“Fine,” Dasom huffed. “But tell her to stop making fun of Jiwon.”

“Go,” Jimin demanded, pointing. Dasom scowled, but then she marched back to her desk, ignoring the other groups that were slowly getting back to work after witnessing the tussle. Jimin turned to Hayoon.

“What happened?” he asked tiredly.

“Dasom is crazy,” Hayoon whined, pouting something fierce as she tightly crossed her arms. “I don’t want to be in her group anymore.”

Keep your head on straight. She’s the child of a rich man who could get you fired in a heartbeat. Jimin took a deep breath.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m lucky I didn’t die,” Hayoon said dramatically, and Jimin raised his eyebrows, making eye contact. Hayoon was smart enough to respect her teacher, so she cowered just a little. “I’m not hurt, but it hurt when she pulled my hair.”

“Well, let’s just fix that up,” Jimin said, breathing deeply to keep himself from scolding Hayoon for being a bully. Instead, he smoothed out her hair and tightened the pigtails with care, and then he gestured. “If you’re not hurt, then please get back to work,” he quietly requested. Hayoon scowled just like Dasom had, but she pivoted on her heels and went back to her group, plopping down cross-legged. Jimin watched her for a moment, and then he clicked his tongue. It had taken all of ten seconds for Hayoon to tighten her pigtails by herself and giggle with her best friend and snatch the scissors from Jiwon’s hands, turning a shoulder away from Jiwon.

Shit, now I have to take her to the principal because it turned into a physical fight, Jimin silently bemoaned, watching as Dasom laid her head down on her desk and grabbed a marker, using her teeth to pop off the cap and then pressing the ink tip to her arm to draw. Dasom was easily one of the smartest students in his class, but sometimes she just did things that made Jimin wonder what in the hell her home life was like. Not in a negative way, either—in a curious way. She was articulate, outspoken, sweet, fiery, funny, and easily distracted by things like a tiny bug on the windowsill. She accepted discipline but picked and chose what suited her. Hayoon rejected all discipline. Jiwon was a typical submissive first grader. Dasom was… something else entirely.

“Dasom-ah.”

“Is my dad going to come here?” she quietly asked, still drawing as Jimin crouched down to speak with her, his eyes still wandering the room to supervise his class.

“Yes. We’ll need to speak to the principal,” Jimin relayed, bracing for impact. Most kids tended to tear up and wail out an apology to avoid discipline. Dasom just popped her lips a few times, still drawing.

“Park seonsaengnim,” she said, and Jimin quietly listened. “Hayoon is mean. She’s mean all the time. She’s never nice.”

“I hear you.” Jimin rested his chin on Dasom’s desk and blinked at her, and she finally looked up and stared at him. “But you still have to go to the principal. And you have to apologize to Hayoon.”

“I’m not sorry for slapping her.”

“Pretend you are,” Jimin whispered, and Dasom cracked a smile and set down the marker. Jimin stood up, called out for the class to keep working and took in their choral response to him, and then guided Dasom over to her former group. He set a hand on her shoulder.

“Hayoon-ah.”

“Yes? Oh.” Hayoon smiled, and then she hopped to her feet and folded her hands behind her back, swaying back and forth a few times as she waited for the apology she knew was coming. Dasom slowly turned and looked up at Jimin, and Jimin almost lost his composure. The look on her face was priceless, something akin to, “are you really going to make me do this?” But Jimin held it together long enough to beckon, so Dasom sighed.

“I’m sorry for tackling you and slapping you and pulling your hair,” she listed. “But be nice to Jiwon.”

“Dasom-ah.”

“I’m sorry,” Dasom said in exasperation, bowing her head to Hayoon. “Sorry. I’m sorry, Hayoon-ah.”

Hayoon hummed with a pleased smile at Jimin’s direction, and Jimin nodded.

“Get back to work,” he instructed, so Hayoon plopped down cross-legged and barked out an order to one of the girls, pigtails swinging as she reached for the glue. Dasom went back to her seat and dropped into her chair, and Jimin sighed, grabbing the worksheet for her to do instead of the group work just to keep her out of trouble, or to keep more trouble from brewing. Then he surveyed his entire class as they worked diligently, reaching for the phone on his desk at the same time to arrange the meeting.

The meeting was to take place after school, and Mr. Song, the principal, called Jimin an hour after the incident to say that Dasom’s father would be coming to the meeting. Jimin hoped and prayed that the rest of the day would go smoothly, and to his relief, it did. There were no further altercations, and dismissal was a breeze. His class all departed for the day after cleaning the classroom, but Dasom stayed behind.

“Okay, come with me,” Jimin said when the classroom was empty and clean. Dasom had her backpack on already, and she quietly walked by Jimin’s side down the hall and around the corner to the principal’s office, not a single hint of fear in her step or in her eyes. Jimin knocked on the door, waited until he heard a voice telling him to enter, and then opened the door. He guided Dasom in first, and then he gestured for her to sit down in one of the two chairs across from Mr. Song’s desk.

“Say hello,” Jimin whispered, scooting off to the side to find a good place to stand by and observe. Mr. Song, a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair, glasses, and a sharp jawline with dark eyes, watched Dasom carefully, adjusting his tie as he did.

“Hello, gyojang seonsaengnim,” Dasom said with a bow, and then she sat back down. Mr. Song arched one eyebrow, his hands folded on his desktop.

“Your father is on his way here,” Mr. Song said in his deep voice that Jimin felt in his soul, but Dasom didn’t curl in on herself in shame. Instead, she seemed to perk up a bit, eyes flicking to the door in premature eagerness. “We will discuss this matter and then decide the proper course of action when he arrives.”

“Okay,” Dasom said, swinging her little legs back and forth with her elbows resting on the armrests. Jimin watched her in interest, because she was far too level-headed for a seven-year-old who was about to get an earful from her father, of all people, about smacking classmates. Jimin had taken children to the principal before, and every single one of them had cried or held Jimin’s arm or gripped the chair for dear life, terrified of their mother or father’s reaction, scared of the disappointment and subsequent punishment. But Dasom was just looking around the office with curious doe eyes, and her father was five minutes late.

A knock on the door disrupted the awkward silence, and Jimin glanced up. The door swung open.

“Sorry I’m late. Traffic.”

Mr. Song stood up to greet Dasom’s father, and Dasom hopped up and knelt in her chair with a smile, but Jimin just stood up and stared. 

Oh, Jesus Christ.

The man who walked into the room looked like he had spent a lot of time in the principal’s office himself in his earlier years. His black hair was cut short and parted to the side, sunglasses pushed up into it in his haste to enter the building and find his daughter. He was wearing black pants and a short-sleeved white button-up with half the buttons undone, but his outfit in the face of the bitter January cold was hardly reason for Jimin to stare. Dasom’s father had two full sleeves of tattoos on his toned arms and an eyebrow piercing, and he was twirling his car keys around one finger distractedly.

“Hi. Don’t think we’ve met.” He stopped and bowed breathlessly to the principal, and then he politely offered his hand. “Jeon Jeongguk.” He shook Mr. Song’s hand firmly, and then he pivoted and faced Jimin, bowing. “Jeon Jeongguk. Nice to meet you.”

“Park Jimin. Dasom’s classroom teacher,” Jimin introduced himself.

“So I’ve heard,” Jeon Jeongguk said with a one-dimpled grin, tossing his car keys up and catching them with one hand in a snatching motion before tucking them into his pocket. Suddenly, everything about Dasom’s appearance and mannerisms made sense—the one dimple, her Bambi eyes, the way she constantly drew on her arms with markers. 

Jimin watched quietly as Jeongguk glanced around, found the empty chair beside Dasom, and plopped down into it, crossing his leg with his left ankle on his right knee. He rolled his head to the left, where Dasom was kneeling and staring at him.

“Why am I here?” he asked her in mild exasperation, and Jimin almost laughed. Mr. Song cleared his throat, so Jeongguk looked to the principal with a quick bow of his head, listening.

“Jeongguk-ssi, your daughter got into an altercation with another student in her class,” Mr. Song detailed, and Jeongguk nodded. “A physical altercation, mind you. I’ll allow her teacher to explain what happened.” He then gestured to Jimin, and Jimin took a deep breath. Be professional. Keep it together. It’s just your student’s really hot father. No big deal.

“Right. Well, they were doing group work for mathematics, creating a number chart,” he explained. “Dasom was in a group with four other girls. And at one point, when I looked over, she, uh… she was in a physical fight with Hayoon. So I pulled her off Hayoon and separated her from the group. Dasom said that Hayoon was making fun of another girl in their group.”

“Mm.” Jeongguk pinched his bottom lip between his thumb and pointer finger, and then he nodded once firmly. Jimin then watched as Jeongguk grabbed the arms of his chair, stood up halfway, shuffled until his chair was facing Dasom, and then he set it back down. In one swift motion, he shoved the armrest of Dasom’s chair so that she was facing him, and Jimin held his breath. Here it comes.

“What happened?” Jeongguk rested his elbows on his knees with his hands folded, and Jimin’s jaw dropped.

“Jeongguk-ssi, it’s very important that we—”

“May I just have a moment to hear the story from her?” Jeongguk requested, interrupting the principal politely. Mr. Song snapped his mouth shut, startled, and Jimin almost laughed. Never once, in his eight years of teaching, had he seen a parent do anything except bow to the principal and apologize and scold their child. “Dasom-ah. What happened?”

“Hayoon always makes fun of Jiwon because Jiwon has a lisp,” Dasom articulated clearly, and then she pulled her legs up and crossed them in the chair as if she wasn’t in the principal’s office for smacking a girl clear across the face. “And we were doing numbers one to ten on the chart.”

“So what, Hayoon was teasing Jiwon every time she said ‘three’ or something?” Jeongguk asked, and Dasom nodded fervently.

“Yeah, and she does it all the time, Dad. She’s really mean. She made her friend tease Jiwon, too. So I told her to stop, and she didn’t stop. She teased me and said I was a loser for being friends with Jiwon.”

“So what’d you do?”

“I tackled her.”

Jeongguk immediately snorted with laughter as he hung his head, and Jimin could not have been more floored if he tried. Mr. Song looked quietly outraged as he watched the conversation unfold, but he said nothing, letting Jeongguk do the parenting.

“Okay.” He glanced up. “And then what?”

“I slapped her on her face and pulled her hair.”

“Nice. I mean, not actually—sorry. Give me a minute,” Jeongguk said, holding out one fist to Dasom and holding up another hand to Mr. Song apologetically as Dasom bumped her father’s fist. Jimin was absolutely certain that he was hallucinating the entire scenario. “And then?” 

“And then I told her to be nice, but she was just screaming. So then Park seonsaengnim came and got me,” Dasom finished. Her little hands were folded in her lap, and when she tilted her head to the side, Jeongguk did exactly the same thing, a mirror image of his daughter.

“Okay. Well, are you sorry that you did that to Hayoon?” Jeongguk asked.

“No.”

“Jeon Dasom,” Mr. Song interrupted sternly, and Dasom cowered slightly, but Jeongguk didn’t even flinch. He just reached forward, grabbed the legs of Dasom’s chair, and pulled her close to him until his knees were touching the edge of her seat.

“Look at me.” He held up his pointer and middle fingers and directed them at his eyes, and Dasom looked at him immediately. Jeongguk turned his fingers towards Dasom’s eyes, and then he snapped them together and tapped her forehead once as she giggled. “Read the room, Dasom-ah. Sticking up for your friends is good. Keep doing that. Don’t ever stop doing that. Tackling and slapping and hair pulling, though… probably not the greatest thing to do at school. I think you can agree with that.”

“Yes, Dad.”

“If you have a problem with another student, you need to talk to your teacher and ask him to handle it. Taking matters into your own hands takes guts, but you also have to know when to chill out,” Jeongguk advised, and Jimin watched in mild awe as Dasom hung onto her father’s every word. “There was a stopping point. A limit. When was it?”

“Uh…” Dasom popped her lips a few times pensively. “Uh, probably when Hayoon made fun of me. Because that’s when I tackled her.”

“Okay. So what should you have done instead?”

“Gotten up to tell Park seonsaengnim about it.”

“Ding-ding-ding! Winne-e-e-er,” Jeongguk said, and Dasom giggled. “Have you apologized to Hayoon?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now apologize to your teacher, and to your principal, for causing all this trouble,” Jeongguk instructed. Dasom sighed and hopped out of her chair, and then she faced Mr. Song and bowed.

“I’m sorry for causing trouble,” she apologized sincerely, holding the bow for a moment before hopping once like a bunny and facing Jimin. “I’m sorry for causing trouble.”

“Alright, cool. Am I just taking her home now?” Jeongguk wondered, glancing over to Mr. Song.

“Jeongguk-ssi, this is a very serious matter,” Mr. Song said stiffly. “Discipline should be enforced.”

“Discipline?” Jeongguk arched the eyebrow with the piercing in it, and Jimin swallowed the lump in his throat. “With my utmost respect—she’s seven. Almost eight. She’s here right now. We’ve talked it out. She apologized to the right people. Punishment isn’t teaching. Park seonsaengnim.”

“Yes,” Jimin said, surprised that Jeongguk was addressing him, since he felt like more of a fly on the wall.

“Is Hayoon upset?” he asked. “Do I need to speak with her parents?”

“I doubt it,” Jimin replied with honesty. “She was fine two minutes later. If her parents lodge any kind of complaint, we’ll call you back in to speak with them.”

“Excellent.” Jeongguk clapped his hands together once. “Dasom-ah, say goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” Dasom said with two more bows as Mr. Song visibly shook his head, because his hands were tied. What discipline could he enforce with a parent who was unwilling to hear a word about it, after all? Jimin was trying not to laugh at the sight of Mr. Song’s veins popping slightly on his forehead as he attempted to remain calm in the face of a rebellious parent—a first for him, surely. Jimin had never witnessed anything like it before.

Hold on. Dasom got bullied once upon a time because of her father. This is the guy. I have to talk to him.

“Ah, Jeongguk-ssi?” Jimin said, and Jeongguk grabbed one of Dasom’s braids and tugged gently. Dasom stopped skipping away, giggling as she stumbled backwards and glued herself to her father’s side. “Can we talk privately about this? Maybe in my classroom?”

“Yeah, sure. Thank you,” Jeongguk said with a bow to Mr. Song, and then he nudged Dasom between the shoulder blades and let her lead the way out of the principal’s office, Jeongguk and Jimin both in tow. 

The walk down the hallway was silent, especially since most of the kids had left for the day. But when they rounded the corner, Dasom started skipping, and Jeongguk snickered, readjusting his sunglasses on top of his head.

“Is she a pain in the ass, or is she a good kid when she’s in class with you?” he asked, and Jimin almost choked in surprise. Is my child a good student? Is my child working hard and following the rules? Do you like my child? Those were the questions he usually got from concerned parents. The phrase “pain in the ass” was typically never included.

“She’s a good kid,” Jimin confirmed immediately, noticing Jeongguk’s fond smile as Dasom opened the classroom door and pressed her back to it, heels firmly against the ground to hold it open for the two adults. “Smart. Very articulate. Talks a lot more than the average first grader.”

“Yah,” Jeongguk said in exasperation as Dasom released the door and rushed into the room, attempting to escape any scoldings. But Jimin hurriedly continued.

“Not in a bad way. She has the vocabulary of a middle school student sometimes,” he said with a laugh as the classroom door closed. He then came to stand in front of his desk and perched on the edge of it, ankles crossed, arms folded. Jeongguk had his hands in his pockets as he watched Dasom stare out the window, palms pressed to the countertop, feet dangling a bit with her toes brushing the ground as she attempted to lift herself up to see more outside.

“Dad! There’s a bird nest in that tree,” Dasom called out, still looking out the window.

“Yeah? What kind of birds?” Jeongguk asked.

“Don’t know. Can I have your phone?”

“You gonna search on Naver?”

“Yeah.” Dasom hopped down and skipped over to Jeongguk, and Jeongguk immediately slapped his iPhone into her outstretched palm. Dasom turned it and held it up as high as she could to her father’s face, and the screen unlocked. She then hurried back over to the window, and Jimin smiled.

“She’s forever curious,” he commented. Jeongguk glanced around, and then he decisively sat on the edge of a student’s desk, arms crossed. Jimin took a moment of silence to appreciate the man across from him, because if ever there was a day that he needed to enjoy some eye candy, it was today. Jeongguk was gorgeous in sinful ways that Jimin didn’t want to admit out loud, mostly because Jeongguk’s seven-year-old daughter was a few meters away. Not once during the day had Jimin ever expected to be seated across from his student’s father while shamelessly wondering what said father looked like without his shirt on. Life had a sense of humor.

“Yeah?” Jeongguk turned back to look at Jimin, taking his eyes off Dasom. “As long as she’s a good kid. Don’t lie to me.”

“She’s great,” Jimin confirmed. “I know it’s almost the end of the year, but she’s one of my best students.”

“Dad! How do you spell pigeon?” Dasom hollered. Jeongguk spelled it for her, and then she set the phone down and attempted to hop up onto the countertop so she could sit above the cabinets by the window. 

“Yah, take your shoes off before you climb up there, you tree monkey,” Jeongguk scolded, but then he paused and glanced at Jimin. “Is she allowed to climb on your cabinets?”

“It’s after school hours,” Jimin responded, amused, and Jeongguk nodded.

“Shoes off,” he repeated, so Dasom kicked her street shoes off and then climbed up onto the countertop, grabbing for the phone to search for information about pigeons. “I’ve actually been hoping to meet you.” Jeongguk turned back to Jimin. “Dasom loves you. Thinks you’re the greatest person she’s ever met. Says you’re the best teacher in the school.”

“That’s a gross exaggeration,” Jimin said with a small smile, and Jeongguk shrugged.

“Mm, don’t know about that. I, uh… I actually wanted to thank you in person,” he said, lowering his voice a little. “For… being there for her. Sharing things about you that could make you lose your job.”

“In my defense, I checked if what was being said about you was true before sharing,” Jimin said vaguely, but he knew exactly what Jeongguk was talking about.

“Well, it helped her a lot. I think she’s used to all her friends having a mother and a father and nothing else,” Jeongguk said, slouching slightly in his chair. “Not a thirty-year-old single dad.”

Christ, he’s two years younger than me, Jimin thought in a fleeting moment of panic. He must have been staring, because Jeongguk snickered.

“Yeah, I was twenty-three when she was born. I can see you doing the math in your head,” Jeongguk accused good-naturedly. “I was young, not smart. Can’t say I ever expected to be a dad, but here we are, vibing. Just the two of us.” Jeongguk looked over his shoulder at Dasom. “It’s weird.”

“Being a dad?” Jimin cocked his head slightly, surprised at the direction the conversation was going. Jeongguk was a bit of an open book, it seemed, perhaps comfortable enough to talk to a peer, or an adult that Dasom trusted. 

“Mm. It didn’t really sink in until she started talking,” Jeongguk said, sounding amused. “Then I was like, ‘ah, shit, here we go.’”

“What, it didn’t sink in when she was a baby?” Jimin asked, trying not to laugh.

“Not at all. I mean, besides the sleep deprivation, I spent the first year of her life just carrying her around and showing her to people.” Jeongguk extended both arms out in front of him like he was holding a baby under its armpits. “‘Look what I made!’ That’s what I’d say. She was hell with four limbs until she started communicating with me.”

“Look what I made,” Jimin repeated under his breath, snickering. “Very mature.”

“I was young, not smart,” Jeongguk repeated, grinning. “Anyways, we have a very, uh… unorthodox way of doing things. Most traditional parents would cry in horror if they knew how I was raising her. But whatever. It’s just the two of us, like I said. So if she’s defending her friend’s honor and bitch-slapping a mean girl, what am I going to do? Ground her? That teaches her nothing.”

“She’s right.” Jimin pressed his tongue into his cheek for a moment. “The girl she tackled is a nightmare. Entitled brat. And I’d get fired for saying that to anyone else and not cherishing each student individually. But Jiwon gets teased all the time, and Dasom always sticks up for her.”

“Good. I don’t condone violence,” Jeongguk pointed out, and Jimin cracked a smile. “She definitely shouldn’t have smacked that girl around. But she did what she thought was right, and we talked it out. Lesson learned, no formal discipline needed. As long as she’s not giving anyone a right hook.”

“A right hook, huh?”

“Yeah. She wants to start boxing,” Jeongguk sighed, sounding pained as Jimin snorted. “Because I do it at home.”

“They’re not pigeons!” Dasom suddenly called out, flicking one braid over her shoulder. 

“See if they’re oriental magpies,” Jeongguk suggested, and then he spelled it for her before Dasom could even ask. Once she was distracted again, Jeongguk turned back to Jimin. “I’m really sorry, I don’t mean to take up your time. Was there something you wanted to talk about?”

“No, no. I just… I just wanted to let you know that I won’t be punishing her for anything,” Jimin replied. “And that if Hayoon’s mother pitches a fit, I’ll let you know.”

“That’s fine. I can handle rich mothers,” Jeongguk said with a mischievous grin.

“Can I ask you…” Jimin started, but Jeongguk switched the ankle he had crossed over the other and tilted his head slightly.

“About Dasom’s mother?” he guessed, and Jimin clicked his tongue and sat back in his chair with a sigh, guilty. Jeongguk’s smile softened, and Jimin’s heart clenched. “She’s my age. We were together for a little over a year when she got pregnant. Didn’t plan for it. We weren’t married or anything, and she didn’t want to be a mother, so she said she’d just give the baby up for adoption so we could move on with our lives. I fought her every day for months.”

“Ah, wow.”

“We agreed to break up about halfway through the pregnancy. She also agreed to have the baby, but she gave me full custody because I wanted the kid, not her,” Jeongguk said in a bit of a trance as he stared at a single spot on Jimin’s desk, like he had told the story a thousand times before. “So Dasom was born, and I took her home with me. Eunji went back home and carried on with her life.”

“Is she, uh… Is she in the picture?” Jimin wondered. “Dasom’s—I mean, she’s mentioned her mother before, so…”

“Yeah, yeah. She sees Dasom once a month,” Jeongguk replied. “They have girls’ night. A little sleepover. But it’s not really a mother-daughter relationship. Dasom knows Eunji gave birth to her, but beyond that, there isn’t really… a connection. They get along well. Love hanging out. But I always tell Eunji that she can see Dasom more than once a month, and she says no. She just doesn’t want to be a mother.”

“I can understand that,” Jimin tentatively said, and Jeongguk nodded.

“Yeah. She’s a great person. Smart, sweet, works hard. She’s not angry or spiteful. Doesn’t stalk me or ask who I’m dating or anything. Has a boyfriend. Babysits Dasom when I ask. I can’t complain.”

“You don’t hear that very often,” Jimin said. “A good working relationship between parents who are separated.”

“I got lucky,” Jeongguk stated. “That’s all. Damn lucky. Yah, Dasom-ah!”

“Yes, Dad?”

“Are you done bird watching?”

“I guess so.” 

“Okay, well, let’s get going. I don’t think your teacher wants you here all night. Save that for high school,” Jeongguk joked, and Jimin snickered as Dasom hopped off the counter, put her backpack on, grabbed Jeongguk’s phone, and carried it over. With two hands, she held it up to her father, and Jeongguk took it and pocketed it. “Say goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” Dasom said with a grin, hugging Jeongguk’s leg.

“Politely, you little demon,” Jeongguk scolded, and Dasom giggled, bowing to Jimin.

“Goodbye, Park seonsaengnim,” she said politely. Jimin bowed his head back to her, and Dasom looked rather pleased.

“What time are you scheduled for your conference?” Jimin asked Jeongguk curiously. Jeongguk blinked at him, and then he lifted one knuckle and nudged his eyebrow piercing gently a few times, pursing his lips like he was trying not to laugh.

“Uh, conference,” he repeated like he was tasting the word for the first time. “That… is that the email I got from the school last week?”

“For end-of-the-year parent-teacher conferences?” Jimin asked, trying not to laugh all the same. “The one where you log in to the online portal and select a time for a conference with me? And it’s like a bloodbath? And all the spaces are filled now? Except for one? The very last time slot? At quarter to nine at night next Monday?”

“That just got worse and worse as you kept talking,” Jeongguk said, circling his pointer finger horizontally as Jimin snickered. “Uh, well, I guess that’s… cool. That’s my only option, isn’t it?”

“Afraid so.”

“Then I’ll be here on Monday at quarter to nine,” Jeongguk sighed, and then he glanced down at Dasom, who was staring up at him. “The things I do for you, huh? Quarter to nine is my bedtime. I’m cranky. Now you’re going to have to tuck me in when I get home. I hope you know some good lullabies.”

“You don’t go to bed until after midnight,” Dasom argued. “I know because last week, you were saying ‘shit’ at your Overwatch game and the clock said twelve-oh-four.”

“Okay, so, we’re going to go,” Jeongguk said cheerfully as Jimin burst out laughing, turning and pressing one palm to his desk before walking around it, catching a glimpse of Jeongguk putting a hand jokingly over Dasom’s mouth. “Thank you for looking out for her. I’ll be here on Monday night.”

“Yes, see you then. Dasom-ah! See you tomorrow,” Jimin said.

“Okay, bye!” Dasom called out, skipping and pulling Jeongguk’s hand. As they walked out of the classroom, Jimin heard her say, “Dad, can we get bubble tea?” To which Jeongguk responded, “Not on your life, kid, but thanks for trying. Good effort.”

Jimin shook his head as he slowly sat down in his desk chair, knowing that he was supposed to be packing up to go home for the day. But all he could do, like a fool, was think about how on Monday, he would be sitting across from his student’s father again, trying not to mentally undress him while talking about academic progress.

***

mood: “love again” by dua lipa

“So he’s a literal D-I-L-F.”

“Well, when you say it like that, it sounds kinky.” Jimin tossed back the shot of soju, and then he slammed the shot glass onto the table, watching as Kim Namjoon filled it up quickly. With his head propped in his hand while chewing on a toothpick, Kim Taehyung grinned, using one finger to spin his shot glass around on the table of the pub.

“And you said he was hot, so I’m not wrong.” Taehyung clamped the toothpick between his perfect teeth and pushed back his black hair, which was about the only “typical” thing about him. As a photographer, he didn’t have to adhere to strict dress codes like Jimin did. So Taehyung had a dozen ear piercings (six on each side), a stud in his nose, a smattering of butterflies tattooed on his left collarbone and over his shoulder (visible through his white t-shirt), and fingernails painted neon pink at the moment. He looked and dressed exactly as Jimin did during school holidays, but for now, Jimin had to tone it down.

“But have you ever heard of a parent acting like that?” Jimin asked.

“Most parents just respect the process and agree that their kid was in the wrong to avoid any further humiliation,” Namjoon said, his hand on Taehyung’s thigh as he massaged it lightly. Taehyung always had a smug look on his face when he was with Namjoon, and rightfully so. Namjoon was the hot, smart kind. Dark brown hair, glasses, fit body, damn good job as a pharmacist. The kicker was that once upon a time, he had been Seokjin’s boyfriend. That was how Namjoon had met Taehyung—through Jimin. But Namjoon and Seokjin had amicably and happily parted ways a few years ago, leaving Taehyung to swoop in.

“Not him. He actually listened to his kid,” Jimin pointed out. “And he looked good doing it, too. Jesus, talk about unprofessional.”

“Well, let’s face it,” Taehyung said, pouring himself another shot of soju. “The guy you fucked last weekend wasn’t a hot, bisexual single dad with muscles and tattoos.”

“You’re supposed to tell me that it’s wrong for me to thirst after my student’s father,” Jimin said with a scowl.

“That’s so boring. Why would I ever do that?” Taehyung asked, raising one eyebrow. Namjoon snickered and intervened.

“You just need a good cockblock,” he decided. “And the best one is thinking about how he has a seven-year-old kid.”

“That doesn’t seem to be deterring him from mentally undressing said kid’s father,” Taehyung hissed loudly to Namjoon, and Namjoon smacked Taehyung’s thigh as Jimin burst out laughing. “Okay, but hyung has a point. You fuck the dad, that comes with a kid. Package deal kind of thing.”

“There’s nothing wrong with fucking a single dad and forgetting about the kid and treating it as a one-night stand,” Namjoon argued, but Jimin held up both hands and waved them.

“Okay, hello. Are we forgetting that his kid is my favorite student?” Jimin asked, and Namjoon said “ah” as Taehyung tossed back his shot and fired a finger gun at Jimin.

“That’s right, I forgot. Well, then it’s only a win, as far as I’m concerned,” Taehyung declared.

“He spent twenty minutes with the guy in an elementary school, babe,” Namjoon stated. “Doesn’t exactly scream ‘turn-on.’”

“He’s changing schools after this term is over,” Taehyung replied. “I say we fuck the hot dad and move to a different school. Problem solved.”

“This is why I tell you guys nothing,” Jimin sighed as he reached for some of the crispy fried chilli chips. Saturdays were one of the only chances that Jimin had to meet up with his friends. He and Taehyung had gone to school together and were best friends; Namjoon had joined Jimin’s friendship circle because of Seokjin. And Jimin had other friends, the kind of friends that he went to nightclubs with, but nothing compared to Taehyung, Namjoon, and Seokjin. 

Taehyung had always stuck by Jimin’s side, the two of them thick as thieves, neither one of them worried about ever getting tied down or dating seriously. Korea, after all, wasn’t the most accepting place when it came to being gay or, in, Taehyung’s case, pansexual. So Jimin and Taehyung had always been wingmen for one another, scouring nightclubs in Itaewon that they knew were safe spaces for the two of them, keeping tabs on one another if they chose to disappear for the night to get laid. But a year ago, Taehyung had fallen head over heels for Namjoon, stars in his eyes, and Jimin had accepted it. Now he was the single one in his friend group, and at thirty-two and still young and hot, he was starting to wonder if settling down or finding someone would be wise.

Then again, fantasizing about a sinfully hot father of one couldn’t hurt.

“Is he hot enough for me to photograph?” Taehyung wondered as they continued to snack and drink.

“You know what? He must have social media,” Namjoon said, arching one eyebrow. “Why not look him up? Surely he has an Instagram or something.”

“On it. You said ‘Jeon’ was his family name, right? I’ll find him,” Taehyung declared, and Jimin pinched the bridge of his nose and immediately grabbed another shot of soju, disappointed that shot after shot did nothing to his body’s steel will to never get drunk quickly enough. Jimin watched as Namjoon rested his chin on Taehyung’s shoulder, and Taehyung rolled the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. And then—

“This has to be him,” Namjoon declared, and Jimin’s heart stopped. “Jeon Jeongguk. Wait, is he famous? Jimin-ah.”

“Huh? Famous?” Jimin’s brow furrowed as he leaned in.

“Well, he has over a hundred thousand Instagram followers,” Namjoon pointed out, and then he grabbed Taehyung’s phone and turned it around. They had, indeed, found Jeongguk’s Instagram page, and Jimin just stared. The information was all there in his bio—30, bisexual, dad to one cute little brat (his words), personal trainer. Jimin reached forward and scrolled with one finger, and then he dropped his head on the table with a groan.

“Oh, shit, he’s fucking hot,”  Taehyung said with a laugh, because there were videos of Jeongguk offering personal training tips, and in half of them, he was shirtless. Two full sleeves of tattoos, a set of baby’s footprints tattooed right over his heart that had to be Dasom’s. The other pictures or videos featured one very cute little girl, and she did all sorts of things—boxing, ice skating, playing the violin, hanging by her knees upside down on Jeongguk’s (very muscular) arm, rollerblading, and wearing some questionable, high-fashion outfits where some fashion designer named j-hope was tagged. 

“Oh my God, he’s like one of those Instagram dads,” Namjoon laughed.

“No, no, he’s not. Because he’s not doing any of those stupid promotion codes for diet supplements or anything,” Taehyung said. “And he’s a personal trainer, which means he’s a rare breed to be denying all that shit. Guess he doesn’t give a fuck. Hey, his daughter’s pretty cute.”

“She’s my best student,” Jimin said, cautiously lifting his head.

“And your best student’s dad is fucking beautiful,” Taehyung said without shame, and Namjoon nodded in agreement. “Hop on that dick. Or let him hop on yours. I don’t know which I’d prefer.”

“No one asked you,” Jimin crankily said, rubbing his brow.

“Oh, he has a TikTok, too? Oh, shit, he’s popular on TikTok,” Taehyung laughed, and Namjoon saw Jimin’s facial expression, so he grabbed Taehyung’s phone and locked it, sliding it away.

“Okay, so, the weatherman said we might get more snow next week,” he said, and Jimin couldn’t help it—he snorted with laughter at the terrible attempt to change the subject.

“Jesus Christ. Sorry. It’s just—” Jimin threw one hand up halfway and let it fall to the table with a thud before he crawled his fingers to grab more chips. “You know what the biggest turn-on was? Ask me. Prepare to laugh.”

“What was the biggest turn-on?” Taehyung asked, lacing his fingers together and propping his chin on his knuckles as he blinked sweetly.

“The way he disciplined his kid,” Jimin said, and as Namjoon let out a dramatic and fake groan, Jimin laughed. “No, listen! Listen, you don’t understand. I’ve been teaching for a long fucking time, okay? And most parents are fucking pushovers. But God, the way he walked into the principal’s office like he’d been there before was so sexy. You should have seen it. He just talked to his kid like she was an intelligent human being and then said goodbye. Refused the school’s bullshit discipline.”

“The shit that turns us on in our thirties,” Taehyung sighs, and Namjoon snickered in agreement. “Honestly. Ten years ago, a guy who could funnel two beers in a row was sex on legs and worth a blowjob in the nightclub bathroom. Now I’m turned on by a pharmacist who can tell me which ibuprofen to take without even reading the labels.”

“Will you shut up?” Namjoon said in fond exasperation.

“No, it’s sexy,” Taehyung insisted, but then he turned back to Jimin. “Get this guy into bed. Dead serious.”

“I should probably give him an update on his daughter’s academic progress before I do that,” Jimin said with mild disdain, and Taehyung clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes.

“Please. He won’t care about that. Mark my words. I bet he found you just as attractive as you found him.”

“You look good in smart casual,” Namjoon added, pointing at Jimin. 

“Doesn’t mean he gave a damn when he was at the school to see why his daughter was in trouble,” Jimin retorted.

“What, so you think that means he doesn’t have eyes or taste?” Taehyung asked, and Jimin snickered. “Jimin, you walk into nightclubs and men literally do one-eighties and follow you to the bar.”

“That’s a fucking lie.”

“I’ve seen it happen.”

“Yeah, but that’s when I look good,” Jimin emphasized. “Not when I’m wearing slacks and a button-up.”

“You underestimate yourself,” Taehyung said, shaking his head. “You said you’re seeing him again on Monday, right? Parent-teacher conference. So talk about his kid and then see if he has any interest beyond that. And report back immediately.”

Jimin braced himself for figurative impact on Monday, and not just because Jeon Jeongguk was on his conference schedule. Parent-teacher conferences for the end of the year were always stressful, because if a child wasn’t performing well or if Jimin had concerns, the parents typically fretted from the other side of the table, desperate for solutions at the eleventh hour. Even further, Jimin had to stay at the school until around nine o’clock just to squeeze each student’s parents in for about fifteen minutes.

There were only three weeks until the second semester concluded, but it wasn’t like the break was ever long enough. Jimin looked forward to summer holidays the most, but he would just have to wait patiently for after the first semester of the next year concluded. Until then, he had a class of twenty-two very excitable kids.

“Park seonsaengnim, my mom said that she’s going to bring you a present.”

“Are you going to tell my father about the time I fell asleep?”

“Park seonsaengnim, please don’t tell my mother that I didn’t do well on the math test.”

All day, Jimin was flooded with concerns from his students, all of which he fielded with reassurance and smiles, even though he was likely to tell the parents absolutely anything they asked to hear because that was his job. And that was exactly what he did when conferences started at four o’clock after dismissal. He spoke with parent after parent, keeping his enthusiasm high and appreciating the respect he received, even if some of the parents had delusions about their child’s behavior or the expectations for first grade. Some mothers asked a thousand questions because it was their first experience. Some fathers sat with stern faces because they had already put two kids through first grade.

“We’re just concerned, as I’m sure you can understand. We don’t want our daughter under the influence of children who misbehave and act out inappropriately.”

“I can assure you that this incident is not one that will be repeated,” Jimin said in a soothing tone to Hwang Hayoon’s mother, who was sitting cross-legged and speaking in a tone of voice that was dripping with sweetness. Her husband was silent beside her, zoning out but attempting to appear involved.

“Hayoon is a sweet and loving child,” Hayoon’s mother insisted. “And I do hope that she’s being treated as such by her teacher and her classmates alike. She deserves the best education that we can offer to her.”

“I completely agree,” Jimin lied with a practiced smile. “As I said, this is not a situation that will repeat. The other child involved has been disciplined. No need to worry.”

“Voice your concerns, darling,” Hayoon’s mother said, nudging her husband. Hayoon’s father cleared his throat and shifted himself in the seat.

“Uh, yes. Yes, as long as the other child was disciplined,” he said, and then he checked his watch. Jimin, always in tune with the parents across the table from him, immediately provided an academic progress update and dismissed them, because the conversation was going absolutely nowhere, and Jimin had already as good as finalized Hayoon’s good grades. It was relatively pointless.

“Damn. I should’ve brought some soju. You look like you need it.”

mood: “motive” (with doja cat) by ariana grande

Jimin whipped his head up and away from his laptop, and he inwardly cursed Taehyung to hell for perpetuating indecent thoughts in his head. It was quarter to nine on the dot, and Jimin’s classroom door was open, and there was Jeongguk. He was wearing black pants with black boots, a black turtleneck, and a black leather jacket. Dangling from one hand was a black and silver motorcycle helmet, and Jimin wanted to evaporate on the spot. Of course he has a motorcycle. Why wouldn’t he? Having a motorcycle just solidifies his status, doesn’t it? Jesus Christ.

“Hi. Come on in,” Jimin offered. Jeongguk strolled into the room, his short hair parted to the side and combed back off his face, that damn eyebrow piercing still in. When he got close enough, he bowed politely to Jimin with a small smile, so Jimin gestured to the open chair. Jeongguk pushed his tongue into his cheek as he looked around for a place to set his helmet, but he finally just settled into the chair across from Jimin and tucked the helmet underneath the seat. Then he scooted the chair at an angle, crossed one leg over the other, and stared at Jimin.

“So.” Jimin clicked his tongue and folded his hands, Dasom’s file ready to reference. “We can start by discussing how Dasom’s academic year has looked so far and what her progress on her objectives has been. We can chat about any concerns you might have. And then—”

“How professional is this meant to be?” Jeongguk interrupted. Jimin swallowed his next words and digested what Jeongguk just said, picking at the corner of Dasom’s file with his thumbnail. 

“A teacher speaking with a parent,” Jimin stated plainly. Or I could tell you that my friends want me to get dicked down by you.

“You know you have all my respect,” Jeongguk said point-blank. “For doing what you do. For educating my daughter. For sticking up for her.”

“Thank you.” Jimin took a quiet deep breath as he watched Jeongguk switch which leg was crossed.

“Can I be honest with you?” Jeongguk then said. “At the risk of, uh… venturing into unprofessional territory.”

“By all means,” Jimin agreed, trying not to let his relief show on his face. He had been upright and stoic and professional for hours, and no matter how hard he tried, there was no use in scolding himself into upholding his values for another fifteen minutes. What was a job without a little joy, especially if said joy came in the form of a sinfully handsome thirty-year-old single dad?

“I don’t need to know any of that,” Jeongguk said, waving his hand dismissively. “The academic stuff. Doesn’t matter. Is she failing anything? In first grade?”

“No.”

“Is she a problem?”

“Not at all.”

“Is she struggling?”

“No.”

“Cool. Is she a decent human being?” Jeongguk asked, cocking his head to the side a bit. Jimin raised both eyebrows, slightly startled by the question. Jeongguk noticed, so he clarified. “Look, first and second grade are important. I’ve had her at home most of the time up until now, right? So here she is at school, acting like a real human on her own. So I’m asking you, since you see her every day, if you think she’s a good kid. Not a good student. A good human being. Is she nice? Does she listen? Does she make friends? Does she have a heart? Shit like that.”

“Ah. That’s…” Jimin puffed air into his cheeks in thought for a moment, and then he tilted his head quickly like a curious dog listening to a master. “Okay. I’ve never really gotten that question before.”

“Well, if she’s a little shit now, then I have work to do at home, so I’d like to know that kind of thing, you know?” Jeongguk said, shrugging. Jimin chuckled.

“She’s very nice. She always listens. She’s friends with just about everyone except for those mean girls. And she has a heart of gold. She’s funny, too. Makes all the kids laugh. Quick. Very quick. Never misses a thing. She’s a decent human being. Anything else?”

“No, that’s all for her. How about you?”

“What about me?” Jimin said, startled. Jeongguk slung one elbow up to rest on the table.

“You’ve been at this all day, and you still look good. How long have you been a teacher?” Jeongguk asked, mixing a compliment with a polite question. Jimin raised one eyebrow. He was just in black slacks and a white button-up, but the clothing fit him well, and Namjoon had said he looked good in smart casual. And Jeongguk, of all people, noticed.

“Eight years. What does me looking good have anything to do with a conference about Dasom?” he asked with a teasing lilt in his voice, trying not to let his pulse quicken. This was bordering on unprofessional, but Jimin had absolutely no energy left to care. In fact, it was mildly thrilling.

“It doesn’t,” Jeongguk said, grinning. “How did you end up as a teacher?”

“Had a great high school literature teacher who inspired me,” Jimin responded. “Decided to go with the younger kids so I could get to them early and have a positive impact on their lives.”

“Well, Dasom loves you,” Jeongguk stated, and Jimin pursed his lips, feeling his ears burn a little. “She never shuts up about you. She comes home every day and tells me things about you.”

“Well, she’s likely over-exaggerating, but that’s very kind of her.”

“Is she exaggerating, though?” Jeongguk asked, a sparkle in his eyes. “She did tell me months ago during that bullying incident that you said you liked men. Did you lie to her to make her feel better?”

“No. I wouldn’t lie to her like that,” Jimin replied, and his pulse did, indeed, begin to race as he picked up a pen and began to twirl it between his fingers as he spoke. The school was virtually empty, since no one liked to schedule conferences close to nine o’clock. What was the harm in being honest? Jeongguk was here with a motorcycle helmet and a shit-eating grin on his face and very little interest in talking about Dasom’s academic achievements. Jimin wasn’t a teenager. He was a thirty-two-year-old man with eyes. He knew what Jeongguk was doing.

“That explains a lot, then,” Jeongguk stated, but he didn’t clarify any further, even though Jimin was curious. He held his tongue and shrugged.

“Dated a few girls back in high school, but it never lasted,” he explained vaguely. 

“Fair enough. I’m more male-leaning, anyways,” Jeongguk remarked flippantly, watching Jimin play with the pen. “I’m sure your partner must appreciate you a lot for what you do.”

“I’m single.”

“Oh?” Jeongguk said, and Jimin burst out laughing the same time that Jeongguk pressed his tongue behind his top teeth with a wicked grin. “You don’t have to tell me that that was smooth. I know it was.”

“Are you flirting with me at a parent-teacher conference for your daughter?” Jimin asked with emphasis, still laughing.

“It’s only flirting if it’s working. Otherwise, it’s just fishing for information,” Jeongguk replied, shrugging with the same one-dimpled grin. Jesus, no wonder Dasom’s such a cute little angel. She took all of his good looks. Jimin propped one elbow on the table and rested his fist against his lips momentarily. Then he rubbed his pointer finger against his bottom lip before flicking it at the floor towards the helmet.

“You have a motorcycle.”

“Kawasaki Ninja,” Jeongguk replied. “Black and grey. Had her for about three years. Dasom wants to go for a ride on it with me. She’s delusional.”

“At least she tries.”

“She has audacity, if nothing else,” Jeongguk said with a grin. “Have you ever ridden on a motorcycle?”

“Can’t say that I have, no.”

“First time for everything,” Jeongguk commented casually, but Jimin didn’t miss the way Jeongguk’s eyes scanned him head to toe in a flash.

“First time for what? Riding?” Jimin asked innocently, and Jeongguk choked on his own breath, coughing and hitting his fist against his chest a few times as Jimin fought a laugh. “You’re right. Maybe one day, huh?”

“Could be fun,” Jeongguk remarked, finally regaining his composure. “You know, when I asked how professional this was meant to be, I—”

“You obviously weren’t expecting to talk about motorcycles. I know,” Jimin said with a little sigh, and Jeongguk snickered. “It’s almost nine o’clock. I’ve been at this all day. And most parents who came in spoke to me like I’m some higher power who can perform miracles with their child. So this is… refreshing. Talking with someone my age on my level.”

“Oh? You’re thirty?”

“Thirty-two. Close,” Jimin teased, and Jeongguk’s mouth formed a silent “ah.”

“Well, I don’t want to overstay my welcome if it’s almost nine o’clock. I’m sure you want to go home,” Jeongguk offered. “Since I’ve performed my parental duty by attending this conference, and I believe you have to be back here in less than twelve hours.”

“It’s not a glamorous job,” Jimin lamented, and Jeongguk gave him a wry smile, reaching down to pick up his helmet. “Are you, uh… busy with work most days?”

“Oh.” Jeongguk propped the helmet in his lap. “I split my time between work and home. I’m a personal trainer. I have a gym about ten minutes from here, so I spend the mornings and afternoons there. I pick Dasom up from school every day.”

“You have your own gym?” Jimin arched one eyebrow, and Jeongguk grinned.

“Why, you want some personal training sessions? I’ll give you a nice discount, seeing as you’re my kid’s teacher,” he joked. “It’s a small little gym. Nothing major. Just enough for me to do my job. Offer stands. Let me know. After Dasom finishes first grade, of course. Which is soon. Wouldn’t want to overstep.”

The wicked and playful gleam in Jeongguk’s eyes and the way he was fighting back a wider grin was devastatingly sexy. Jimin cracked his knuckles, wondering how the hell he had ended up in a situation where his student’s father was hitting on him with absolutely no shame. All because Dasom smacked a girl around. The universe was laughing at Jimin, and Jimin wanted in on the joke.

“I’m inclined to think that this may qualify as overstepping,” Jimin mentioned as Jeongguk stood up, helmet under one arm.

“Should I see myself to the principal’s office?” Jeongguk asked, and Jimin stifled a laugh, shaking his head as he, too, stood up.

“Great to chat with you about Dasom’s academic progress and achievements,” he said, and Jeongguk let out a bark of laughter.

“This entire conversation just tells me that I have nothing to worry about,” he replied. “Maybe I’ll see you before the end of the semester. If not, then, uh… take care, Park seonsaengnim. And the offer always stands. For personal training, I mean. If it interests you.”

“And the motorcycle ride?” Jimin asked, slipping his hands into his pockets as Jeongguk started to walk backwards towards the door. He grinned, pulling a pair of fingerless black gloves from his pockets. As he put them on, helmet still under one arm, he shrugged.

“Depends on what qualifies as overstepping,” he teased, and then, gloves on, he twirled the helmet in his hands and held it out in Jimin’s general direction. “See you.”

Jimin waited until he felt Jeongguk was long gone down the hallway before he deflated in sheer relief, pressing both palms to the table for a moment with his head bowed. He wasn’t one to ever slip into semi-unprofessional territory, but the parents who had preceded Jeongguk were… not Jeongguk. Jimin feared he was absolutely doomed, especially when he heard the kickstart of a motorcycle. Startled, he turned and glanced out the window of his classroom, only to see the headlights of the aforementioned Kawasaki Ninja and Jeongguk with his helmet on, adjusting his gloves under the fluorescent lights of the parking lot. And then he grabbed the handlebars and took off into the night, and Jimin thought of several curse words to utter out loud before settling on, “fucking hell.”

Chapter Text

[moodboard by the LOML birthday princess]

~ ~ ~

“Park seonsaengnim.”

“Yes? Ah. Yes, Dasom-ah,” Jimin said, folding his hands politely and turning away from his laptop after being momentarily startled. The students were cleaning up the classroom for the end of the day, and Dasom’s assigned job was to wipe down all the individual whiteboards that the kids used for mathematics. Dasom had just slammed most of the whiteboards down onto Jimin’s desk after carrying them over, the tiny spray bottle between her teeth, the cloth over one shoulder.

“Sorry,” she apologized when Jimin gave her a look and handed her a sanitizing wipe. She sheepishly wiped the little spray bottle, and then she sprayed the whiteboard on top and started wiping it clean of all the red marker stains.

“Dasom-ah.”

“Yes?”

“You’re supposed to be doing your cleaning task at your desk,” Jimin pointed out, amused.

“Doyoung is wiping down the desks,” she commented, wiggling her head a little as she worked. Today, her hair was in a messy top knot with a navy blue scarf tied like a headband, and all Jimin could think about was that Jeongguk was the one who always styled her hair. “So I decided to move over here.”

“Mhm. Jiwon-ah! Careful with that,” Jimin called out, and Jiwon nodded and bowed apologetically, taking care with the push broom she was using with another student’s assistance.

“Park seonsaengnim.”

“Yes, Dasom,” Jimin said, eyes flicking back to Dasom as she wiped down the next whiteboard.

“My dad thinks you’re cute.”

Jimin held his next breath to keep from choking on it, and Dasom spritzed the next whiteboard and looked up at Jimin, seeking a reaction. When she saw how silent he was, she gave him a toothless grin, because she was missing one of her front teeth, a recent occurrence. It was Friday, and she had come in on Wednesday without that tooth.

“Do your work, Dasom-ah,” Jimin scolded lightly.

“Okay,” Dasom said with a small bow, and she kept working in silence for just a moment. But then— “I asked him if he thought you were cute and he said yes, so now I’m here to ask you if you think he’s cute.”

“And I’m here to ask you to do your work,” Jimin said, folding his hands and gently resting his chin on his knuckles as Dasom looked up with the same grin, unperturbed.

“I was just curious,” she said with a shrug, still cleaning as she spoke. “He said that you’re a great teacher for me, so I asked him if he liked you, and he said you’re cute. Which is really gross, but he’s my dad, so do you think he’s cute?”

“Jeon Dasom,” Jimin firmly said, and this time, Dasom clamped her mouth shut with a tiny giggle. She finished cleaning the whiteboards, and then she put them back into the right place and skipped away to retrieve her backpack. Once she had it on both shoulders like the rest of the kids, she waved enthusiastically to Jimin, and Jimin pointed abruptly to the door. Dasom covered her mouth with both hands, giggling again, and then she skipped out the door with her friends, surely to go and meet Jeongguk as he picked her up like he said he always did.

“Rough day?”

With the classroom empty, Jimin glanced up from his laptop. Seokjin was strolling into the classroom, hands in his pockets, glasses on. His footsteps were quiet from his slippers, and he perched on the edge of a desk close to Jimin.

“Dasom,” Jimin slowly and carefully said, and Seokjin raised his eyebrows expectantly, “told me that her father thinks I’m cute.”

“Scandalous.”

“And she wanted to know if I thought he was cute.”

“Oh, so she’s a little matchmaker,” Seokjin said with a laugh, crossing his arms and his ankles simultaneously as he leaned. “She has a lot of nerve, that one. If one of my students ever asked me that, they wouldn’t. They know better.”

“If there’s one thing Dasom has, it’s the nerve,” Jimin sighed, rubbing his forehead.

“What’d you say to her?”

“I told her to finish cleaning.”

“Smart choice. I would’ve gone with, ‘tell him I said he’s a D-I-L-F.’”

“Yeah, because I hate my job so much that I’d be okay with getting fired,” Jimin joked, and Seokjin snickered.

“I mean, damn,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “Must mean that her dad’s talking about you at home. Or she’s asking him about you, and he’s answering. That spices things up a little. Especially after that conference you had.”

“I’m not letting a seven-year-old set me up with her father,” Jimin said crankily, dropping his face into both hands as Seokjin laughed.

“You’re going to be eating your own words soon,” he predicted. “Especially since you’re into him.”

“I’m not into him. I barely know him. I’d just… you know.”

“Sit on his face.”

“Exactly,” Jimin said while throwing one hand up, and Seokjin’s shoulders shook with laughter. “God, is that too much to ask? Why does everything have to be complicated? Is it not enough to just want to sit on a beautiful man’s face?”

“It’s all about the intention behind the face-sitting,” Seokjin decided. “You have to mean it. And you have to be willing to let him rail you. Confident enough to let a younger man with a seven-year-old daughter rail you into oblivion.”

“This is a wholesome conversation for my first grade classroom,” Jimin commented, and they both laughed, knowing full well that this was hardly the most scandalous conversation that had been held between teachers in this elementary school. The shit that Jimin heard in the teachers’ lounge sometimes amongst respectable, revered teachers was unbelievable.

“Confidence, Jimin-ssi,” Seokjin said, and Jimin clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes.

“I have plenty of confidence. But I’m not twenty-two anymore. I have taste. I’d let him top me as long as he did a good job,” he said, and Seokjin grinned, pushing off the desk and cracking his back by twisting his torso.

“It’s the fact that you think he wouldn’t do a good job that has me laughing,” he said.

“I’m sure he’d do well.”

“To satisfy you?” Seokjin snorted. “You’re a pain in the ass on your best days, and I’ve never even gotten you into bed. Good luck to Dasom’s father if he has the privilege. I’m going to grade some science tests before I go. Are you sticking around for much longer?”

“I’m finished.” Jimin shut his laptop. “Counting down the days at this point.”

“You and me both.”

Jimin packed up his bag as Seokjin left the room singing to himself, and he headed straight for home, exhausted. All he had to do was make it through a few more easy weeks, and then he’d get the small break at the end of the semester that he so desperately needed. Second semester was always the most difficult, mostly because of the interruptions from various holidays.

Besides the Lunar New Year, the semester was slated to end just before Valentine’s Day. Each day, Jimin spent time appreciating the twenty-two kids he had in his class, knowing that he would have to let them go soon. He was waiting patiently to receive his new school assignment, unless Jangseong intended to let him overstay his welcome, but all he could do was hope that his next school assignment wasn’t too far from home or too left-field for his teaching style. 

In what Jimin thought was a rather smart move on her part, Dasom was an angel for the remainder of the semester, never once bringing up her father to Jimin again. Jimin was guilty, though, of checking Jeongguk’s Instagram page every few days, intrigued by what he was posting. One post was Dasom walking down a long hallway with incredibly dramatic theatrics and twirls, and the man laughing behind the camera was most certainly not Jeongguk. In the video, Dasom was wearing a cute little outfit in a vibrant shade of yellow, and Jeongguk’s caption was: I left them alone for one hour. ONE. HOUR. And in the video, he had tagged j-hope again. So Jimin had clicked on the profile, only to find out that j-hope was the one-man genius behind the fashion label BLUE SIDE, Jimin owned some of the label’s clothing, and Jeongguk referred to this man as Dasom’s “uncle.”

The most recent post, though, was a video followed by a series of pictures of Dasom without her front tooth, beaming ear-to-ear. In the video, Dasom was standing on a chair in front of a bathroom mirror, Jeongguk visibly filming (in a white t-shirt, but who was focusing on Jeongguk besides Jimin?). In the video, Dasom was huffing and puffing and hyping herself up, and Jeongguk was playfully and repeatedly punching her shoulder in support. Then he counted to three, and Dasom let out a battle cry before yanking the tooth right out of her mouth. Jimin hadn’t realized he had been smiling like a fool at his phone until the video ended, and that was when he exited Instagram, embarrassed.

When the last day of the semester arrived, Jimin found himself with a bunch of first graders hugging his legs and torso, giggling and asking for attention. Typically, students were polite and respectful and never touched, but Jimin had made it quite clear that he was open to hugs and affection and that he cared about his students, so even Hayoon was seeking a hug.

“Okay, okay! Off you go!” Jimin called out, clapping his hands and pointing to the classroom door. With the eager excitement of several litters of puppies, his twenty-two students departed his classroom for the final time, hurrying to grab their shoes and belongings and head out to the buses or to the car loop for parent pick-up. Teachers of the higher grades supervised the bus loop, so Jimin headed straight for the car loop, ruffling the hair of several of his boys and complimenting a few of his girls on their pretty paper crowns that they had all made to celebrate finishing first grade.

“Oh, thank you,” Jimin said with a bow when he reached the car loop, accepting a card from Jiwon’s mother with both hands.

“She just loved having you as her teacher,” Jiwon’s mother said, gripping Jiwon tightly with pride. “She was scared when she found out she had a male teacher, but she’s just had the best school year. Thank you for setting the tone for her.”

“She was an absolute joy. Jiwon-ah, you’re going to do so well in second grade,” Jimin complimented, crouching and offering his hand for a high-five. Jiwon smiled, her glasses slipping down her nose a little as she high-fived Jimin. “Very proud of you. Have a wonderful spring vacation before next semester begins.”

Jiwon’s mother helped her into the backseat of the car, and Jimin stepped back, bowing his head to a few other parents who passed by, a few of them parents of his former students.

“Thinking of directing traffic as a side gig?”

Jimin glanced to the right, his heart cartwheeling. Jeongguk was approaching, wearing black pants, a dark grey loosely fitted turtleneck tucked in, a long black coat, and a black baseball cap. His black face mask was pulled down to his chin, and he nudged Dasom forward with one hand, twirling his car keys around his pointer finger with the other hand. Dasom was wearing her school uniform and her winter coat, a white beanie with a pom-pom on it covering her two French braids, her hands gloved. She skipped up to Jimin, but then she stuttered and glanced over her shoulder, clutching what looked like a card in her hands.

“Yeah, go ahead. Come on,” Jeongguk encouraged, waving one hand. “You made it. Go ahead.”

“But you put—”

“Dasom-ah,” Jeongguk interrupted loudly, so Dasom giggled and turned back around, handing Jimin the card that had glitter on it. Jimin accepted it with a small bow, and then he crouched down to be just below her eye level, since she was rather petite.

“Do you want me to read it right now and embarrass you?” he asked, and Dasom crossed her arms tightly and shrugged, rubbing her lips together. Jimin looked at the front of the card: I LOVE YOU was written in perfect Korean in glitter, and there was a heart drawn on the front of the light pink cardstock with a picture Dasom had drawn of her holding Jimin’s hand, two stick figures with smiles. Jimin cracked open the card, and he caught something that began to slide out without looking at it first. 

“‘Hi, Park seonsaengnim, it’s Jeon Dasom. I made you a card to say thank you for teaching me this year. You taught me a lot of spelling. My dad helped me spell some words in this card. You’re my favorite teacher ever. I love you,’” Jimin read, and then he lowered the card. Dasom was standing there with both hands covering her face, but she hadn’t moved. “Well, this is the most beautiful card I’ve gotten all day.”

Dasom dropped her hands, eyes narrowed. “Are you lying?”

“Not lying. You made this yourself and the spelling is great,” Jimin complimented. “May I hang this on my fridge?”

“Yes,” Dasom agreed, looking embarrassed. Then she stood on her tiptoes, peering over the top of the card. In nothing more than a hissing whisper, she added, “Did you see it?”

“Hmm?” Jimin glanced down at the thing that had slid out of the card that he had caught with his thumb. Dasom scooted as close as she could, speaking so Jeongguk couldn’t hear her, even though he was getting closer in suspicion.

“I told you that Dad thinks you’re cute,” she whispered.

“Dasom-ah. Say goodbye,” Jeongguk requested, getting close enough. “Sorry about her. Last day of the semester. Come on, baby bear. Let’s get going.”

“Okay.” Dasom swayed on the spot a little, and then she suddenly threw her arms around Jimin’s neck. Jimin almost fell over in his crouching position, but he caught Dasom and hugged her tightly, smiling.

“See you in second grade,” Jimin said lightheartedly, even though he already had his new assignment the next town over at Kyodong Elementary School.

“I love you,” Dasom said hurriedly, and then she leapt away from Jimin like he was on fire, squealing to herself like she had just said something horrific, grabbing Jeongguk’s leg and then throwing her entire face right into his stomach in dramatized shame before grabbing his coat and hiding herself inside it. Jimin snickered and stood up, and then he finally glanced down at what was underneath his thumb. It was a sleek white matte business card. In black letters with a gold drop shadow: GOLDEN PERSONAL TRAINING. An email address. A business phone number. Jeongguk’s name and qualifications. With trembling fingers, Jimin flipped the card over, and there was a different phone number written in pen—likely a personal number. Nothing else.

“Thanks for everything,” Jeongguk said, and then he pulled Dasom out of his coat and threw her over his right shoulder as she giggled, kicking petulantly and thumping his back with her small fists. “Enjoy your spring vacation.”

“Put me down, you monster!” Dasom called out.

“Takes one to know one, you little demon,” Jeongguk retorted, and Dasom giggled again, still kicking. “Say goodbye.” Jeongguk spun around so that his back was to Jimin, and Dasom lifted her head and shoulders.

“Bye!” she called out with a wave, and then Jeongguk carried her right over to the black Hyundai IONIQ that was parked at the curb. He set Dasom on her feet and helped her into the backseat, closing the door. Jeongguk then hesitated before opening the driver’s side door.

“Call me sometime. If you want. No pressure,” he said to Jimin, pressing his tongue into his cheek before yanking the door open and dropping into the driver’s seat. Ignoring how cold his hands were and that his cheeks were stinging from the winter winds, Jimin just fought back a grin and watched the car pull away from the curb.

***

Spring vacation was typically cold with some snow, given that it was the end of February. On the first few days, Jimin spent his nights cooking with Namjoon and Taehyung, making warm soups and stews and watching movies instead of taking a cab to Itaewon to enjoy the nightlife. After an absolutely exhausting semester and academic year, Jimin had very little time to prepare for his new school placement, but most classrooms were cookie cutter. He had packed up everything at Jangseong for an easy move to Kyodong, and he wasn’t alone; several other teachers were migrating as well, but Seokjin wasn’t.

“I can’t believe I’m going to have to find someone else to bitch to,” he had complained over the phone. “Can we just have weekly phone calls so I can let it all out?”

“Kyodong is in Gangnam, hyung. It has a reputation,” Jimin had said, leading Seokjin to snicker.

“Ah, the rich get richer. Have fun with that!”

But now it was a Thursday evening, and Jimin was home by himself, watching his large pot of samgyetang bubbling on the stovetop, thinking about eating for his health. And as he absentmindedly stirred (not that it needed to be stirred after being pressure cooked), he flipped Jeongguk’s business card over between his fingers.

I’m an idiot.

Dasom’s card was, indeed, pinned to his fridge with a magnet. But Jeongguk’s business card had been on there as well until five minutes ago. Now, with his food still cooking, Jimin was having terrible thoughts.

He as good as told you to call him. He literally made the first move. He wants you to call, and you’re standing here at your grown age pretending that he doesn’t.

“Fuck it,” Jimin murmured, snatching up his phone from the countertop. He wasn’t shy by any means, but something about Jeongguk made him feel like his heart was in his throat, and it had to be the fact that Jeongguk was both younger and a father. That was a lethal combination for Jimin. His fingers felt clammy as he typed in Jeongguk’s number that was scrawled in pen on the back of the business card, and then he stared at his bubbling soup until his vision blurred.

Just do it. You’ll regret it if you don’t. Spring vacation is only for so long.

It was almost eight o’clock at night, so Jimin figured it had to be a decent time. He pressed the phone to his ear, closing his eyes and suddenly hoping Jeongguk didn’t answer.

“Hello, this is Jeongguk.”

“Ah. So it’s not a fake number,” Jimin said right away on instinct, and he wanted to smack himself, but then he heard Jeongguk let out a breathy laugh.

“Hold on, hold on,” Jeongguk said with a small grunt, sounding like he was getting up or moving around. The muffled background noise faded as Jimin shifted his footing nervously, chewing on his bottom lip. “Sorry. Hi. I wasn’t expecting you to call. That business card was a long shot. But I’m glad you did.”

“I’m so sorry, am I interrupting your night?” Jimin asked.

“No, no. I was just watching Haikyuu!! with Dasom,” Jeongguk said, and Jimin grinned. “Just… yeah. Okay. She’s good. I watch with her so we can work on her Japanese, but also because I’m a shameless anime nerd. But she’s just on the couch with a lollipop. That will tide her over for ages.”

“Good show choice,” Jimin commended. “You weren’t expecting me to call?”

“Well, not really. Here I am, hitting on my kid’s teacher and handing out my phone number,” Jeongguk said with a laugh. “I’m not usually that bold, but… yeah. Anyways, it doesn’t matter.  You called.”

“I did. Mostly because I was curious,” Jimin admitted.

“Curious about why I left my phone number in my kid’s card for you?”

“Right.”

“Well, I guess…” Jeongguk laughed mostly to himself. “I guess it depends on what kind of line you want to cross or how weird you think it is. If it’s weird, then no big deal. It was worth a shot. Uh, I just—I mean, it’s up to you. I was just—okay, shit. I’m horrible at this part. Help me out, here.”

“Do you want to go out this weekend?”

“That’s what I’m trying to say,” Jeongguk sighed in relief, and Jimin snickered. “The whole asking part of this is just—God, that was shocking. Sorry. Yes. That’s what I’m getting at. I’m trying to see if you want to meet up and maybe go out one night. See if it’s worth a shot.”

“Yeah, sure. I’d like that,” Jimin agreed, pressing one palm into the countertop to keep himself upright. “Why not?”

“Are you free on Saturday?” Jeongguk asked, lowering his voice a little. “This Saturday would actually be really convenient. This is the Saturday that Dasom spends the night at her mother’s place. Built-in babysitter. Can you do Saturday?”

“I can. How do you feel about ice skating?”

“Ice skating?”

“Yeah.” Jimin turned his back to the countertop to lean. “There’s an ice skating rink in the park right now. It’s still up. Just popped into my head. Could be ridiculous.”

“I like ridiculous. I can pick you up,” Jeongguk offered. “Seven o’clock?”

“Seven o’clock,” Jimin agreed. “I’ll, uh… yeah. I’ll text you my address.”

“Alright. Yeah. Saturday at seven o’clock. I’ll see you—wait, am I still addressing you formally?” Jeongguk asked, and Jimin snorted.

“You don’t have to still address me as a teacher, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said, entertained. “First name is just fine.”

“Okay. Then I’ll see you on Saturday at seven o’clock, Jimin-ssi,” Jeongguk said, and Jimin almost crumpled the business card in his fist. “Thanks for calling me.”

“You did leave your number,” Jimin said with a laugh. “Goodnight, Jeongguk-ssi.”

Jimin wanted to taste the food he made, but even as he devoured his dinner, his mind was elsewhere. He was good at ice skating, since it had been one of his hobbies of choice growing up, but Jeongguk hadn’t even hesitated to agree to the left-field date idea. 

A date. This was most definitely a date. Jimin was going on a date with his (former) student’s hot dad. To most people, it was a rash decision or a decision made in haste, but Jimin was thirty-two fucking years old, and he deserved this. He considered for a moment what Namjoon and Taehyung had mentioned—Jeongguk came with a built-in kid. Dasom was a given no matter what, but did Jimin care? Was that a dealbreaker?

Jimin had always known that being a father wasn’t really in the cards for him. He had always been most interested in men, which came with the solidified idea that he was more likely to be a father to a dog or cat, and he had never minded. But here was Jeongguk with a seven-year-old daughter, so was Jimin suddenly supposed to change his tune? Not that his tune was strong; it wasn’t really a concept that he had forged an opinion on over the years, more prone to just falling in and out of bed with beautiful strangers and never thinking twice about kids. But now he had a date arranged with Jeongguk, so the idea was creeping back up into his brain.

Saturday came, and Jimin woke up with a churning stomach that he strictly attributed to nerves and not butterflies. Breakfast was just yogurt with granola and honey, and he made a purposeful trip to get a strong coffee to keep him alive into the afternoon.

Since the temperatures were still nearly freezing, Jimin figured it was best to dress warmly while still making an impression, but avoiding the trap-falls of looking like a teacher. After eating a light dinner, he dressed in black pants and a cream-colored sweater with a copper brown wool winter coat that fell to his mid-thigh. They weren’t going to a club; Jimin couldn’t use pure sex appeal to win Jeongguk over, which meant that looking handsome was going to have to be his angle. He carefully fixed his black hair in the mirror, and as he was scolding a stray hair into place, his phone buzzed.

JEON JEONGGUK [06:59:35PM]

I’m downstairs. Hope you’re wearing boots, and no long coats! 

“God damn it,” Jimin cursed, shrugging out of his wool coat and swapping it for a black puffer jacket that he loved dearly. The long coat would have looked elegant for ice skating, but Jimin supposed he had to follow whatever Jeongguk was saying at this point.

mood: “STUD” by troye sivan 

The moment Jimin exited his building, Jeongguk’s text message made complete sense. Because there was Jeongguk, wearing black pinstripe pants and a black turtleneck with a black coat, and he was leaning against his Kawasaki, holding one helmet with the other propped on the seat.

“Bet you changed your coat,” he guessed the moment he saw Jimin, grinning.

“I was going to look so high-fashion until you sent that text,” Jimin sighed, and Jeongguk snickered, ducking his head for a moment. His eyes drank Jimin in from head to toe, and Jimin noticed, his heart stuttering.

“You still look great,” Jeongguk complimented. “Here.” He handed over the helmet that was propped on the seat. “It’s been sanitized, don’t worry. You up for a ride? I’m trying to show off. Humor me.”

“Oh?” Jimin accepted the helmet. “Up for my first time riding? With you? To feed your ego? Sure.”

“I’ll assume you mean the motorcycle,” Jeongguk replied, twirling his helmet between his palms and jamming it onto his head. He flipped the visor up. “Give me at least a few hours before we take it any further.”

“Wow,” Jimin flatly said, and Jeongguk’s grin reached his eyes. Jimin slipped the helmet on, and Jeongguk’s hands were suddenly on his head, like he was making sure Jimin’s helmet was on properly.

“Cool. On the back, then,” Jeongguk said, swinging one leg over and turning to pat the second little seat. “I’ll need you to hold on tight to me.”

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” Jimin asked, also swinging his leg high enough to hop onto the back of the Kawasaki, balancing himself.

“What, having a beautiful man holding onto me on my motorcycle? I mean, I can’t complain,” Jeongguk said, starting the engine as Jimin’s heart kickstarted at the same. He took a deep breath, and then he carefully wrapped his arms around Jeongguk’s waist, his hands flat. The moment he did, he scoffed, leaned back, and used the top of his hand to playfully whack Jeongguk’s shoulder. Jeongguk let out a hum, confused.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I should’ve known,” Jimin complained jokingly.

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning I hold onto you for two seconds and all I feel are abs and muscle,” Jimin stated, and Jeongguk burst out laughing. “Jesus, this whole ‘personal trainer with a motorcycle’ thing is really pushing it.”

“Don’t know whether I should feel proud or insulted, But hold on regardless,” Jeongguk said with laughter in his voice. Jimin had half a mind to glance up at the stars and thank the universe for such a gift, but he refrained and wrapped his arms around Jeongguk’s waist again, holding on tightly. Jeongguk revved the engine, and then he lifted both of his feet and took off down the narrow street.

The adrenaline rush was instantaneous. Jimin had never ridden on a motorcycle before, and now he couldn’t figure out why. It was immediately thrilling, the way that Jeongguk careened through the streets with such ease, the way they leaned whenever he took a turn, the way Jeongguk rested one gloved hand on his thigh when they were at a red light, the way that that same hand came up to rest on top of Jimin’s hands for just a brief moment before he took off again. It made Jimin absolutely weak, and he considered himself fortunate that the ride to the park was only about twelve minutes.

“So?” Jeongguk cut the engine, both feet on the ground, and Jimin removed his arms, his heart still racing. “What’d you think of your first ride?”

“It was…” Jimin removed his helmet as Jeongguk hopped off, and he offered one hand to Jimin. Jimin accepted and slipped off the little seat on the back, chuckling. “No, I can’t even bullshit you. That was an adrenaline rush. I loved it.”

Jeongguk pulled off his helmet, rested it against his hip under one arm, and ran his fingers through his hair as Jimin stared, trying to come to terms with the fact that Jeongguk was the perfect man, the whole package. Maybe he had some faults and flaws, but Jimin had yet to discover any, and it was both maddening and devastatingly sexy. Jeongguk seemed to have confidence without arrogance, which was an achievement in and of itself.

“Well, then I’m glad I took a chance and didn’t show up in my car. Pretty sure Dasom left some toys in it,” he said mostly to himself, and Jimin snickered. “So, ice skating? What’s the motive?”

“I used to ice skate when I was younger,” Jimin replied, and Jeongguk hummed, turning towards the park. The lighting was fluorescent, but there were also twinkle lights, and the ice skating rink in the middle of the park was bustling with happy patrons. “Look, I thought about just saying ‘fuck it’  and suggesting a nightclub, but you have a kid to pick up in the morning, so I wasn’t really sure how you felt about that.”

“Creative and considerate,” Jeongguk teased as they slowly began to walk. “You’re ticking all the boxes. But I’ll politely ask if you’ll let me pay the fee for two people to skate.”

“And I’m politely asking if I can argue.”

“I’ll allow one counterargument,” Jeongguk replied, and Jimin pressed his tongue into his cheek to keep from laughing. “But I’ll likely pretend I can’t hear you.”

“I’m older than you.”

“So, how was your Seollal?” Jeongguk asked, and Jimin burst out laughing, shaking his head as they approached the ice skating rink, upbeat music playing through the speakers. “You’re older than me, sure, but I think I can pay forty-thousand won for two of us to skate. It won’t break the bank. Hi, two tickets please, and skates to rent.”

Jimin clamped his mouth shut as Jeongguk approached the woman dressed warmly at the booth by the entrance, and he paid in cash. They walked through together to where rental skates were being sanitized and handed out according to size, and they both grabbed a pair of ice skates and sat down on the bench beside one another.

“Are you about to do a triple axel and make me look like a fool?” Jeongguk wondered. “Because I can skate, but on two feet only.”

“No triple axels. Those are a thing of the past,” Jimin said as he laced up his skates. “Did you take ice skating lessons as a kid, too?”

“No, no. Nothing like that.” Jeongguk hesitated for a moment, wiggling his left foot into the ice skate, and then he sighed. “Not to bring up my kid on a date, but I learned the basics of the sport because Dasom started ice skating about a year ago. She’s really into it. Ice skating and the violin. Those are her two things. And then she wants to learn how to do proper weightlifting and boxing, so she’s a little…”

“She’s awesome,” Jimin filled in, and he didn’t miss the single dimple in Jeongguk’s cheek as he fought back a smile, lacing up his skate. “You can talk about her. She’s your daughter. It doesn’t bother me.”

“Can I just lay it all on the table here, then? Before we go ice skating?” Jeongguk asked, resting his elbows on his knees, and Jimin nodded. “The only reason I felt okay with dropping my number in my kid’s card is because you know that she exists. Dasom. You know I’m a dad. You know I have a daughter.”

“Oh?”

“That’s not something I usually tell people until the second or third date,” Jeongguk said with a short laugh. “It’s typically a dealbreaker for most men, point-blank. And the women I’ve dated have pretended to be okay with it, but then they remember that I had to have sex with another woman to actually have a kid, and then it’s a dealbreaker, especially because Dasom stilll sees her mother. So it’s… yeah. It gets complicated. But you already know about her.”

“I do.”

“And you like her.”

Jimin let out a breathy laugh, surprised at how vulnerable Jeongguk was making himself despite all of his previous bravado. Surely it would return, but he had said he was laying his cards on the table, and Jimin could see it in spades. He couldn’t begin to imagine the struggle of being a single father trying to date, but Jeongguk had a point. Even though Namjoon and Taehyung had brought it up, Jimin wasn’t bothered by the idea that Jeongguk had a daughter.

“I do like her. So it’s not something you have to worry about,” Jimin replied. “You can just… you know. You can be yourself. I’ll try to do the same. Not easy when I’m usually in teacher mode, but if we both break the habit now, we might have some luck.”

“Deal. Alright, that was serious enough.” Jeongguk steadied himself and stood up on the rubber floor, and Jimin did the same, grinning. “Show an amateur how it’s done.”

Jimin stepped onto the ice first, and he pushed off from the wall and glided away, slowly turning as if his legs were a compass and facing the entrance. Jeongguk stepped onto the ice gingerly, but then he pushed off as well, catching up with Jimin. Jimin was going to ask if Jeongguk wanted to skate with him, but Jeongguk just took off without him, rounding the corner and grinning mischievously. Rolling his eyes, Jimin turned and cut through the center of the rink sneakily, and then he found a spot right in front of Jeongguk in his path and began to slowly weave his feet in and out, skating backwards.

“Impressive,” Jeongguk commended. “And also grossly unfair, since I can only move forwards.”

“What, you can’t go backwards yet?” Jimin teased.

“Not unless you want me on my ass the entire time,” Jeongguk said, and Jimin snickered. As Jeongguk continued to skate facing forward, Jimin continued backwards, coming up to Jeongguk’s left side and skating with him in little crossover steps. “You really picked a difficult environment, you know that?”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Sharp blades on ice with the potential to wipe out epically,” Jeongguk declared, and as Jimin laughed, he added, “and you think I’m going to be able to give you my best game like this? Goddamn. Serious disadvantage.”

“What, you can flirt on a motorcycle but not on the ice?” Jimin asked, pressing Jeongguk for more. Instead of answering, Jeongguk suddenly wrapped one arm around Jimin’s waist and spun the two of them away from the outer perimeter. Jimin clutched Jeongguk’s arm (his damn muscular bicep, Jesus Christ) and steadied himself, and then he found himself in a strange sort of dance position, realizing that Jeongguk could wrap an entire arm around his waist with ease.

“I can if you give me a little time,” Jeongguk quietly said, his eyes flicking down to Jimin’s lips for a fleeting moment before his gaze met Jimin’s again. “Bit different from dancing up on you at a nightclub and asking for your name, but I’ll take it.”

“I like this better,” Jimin almost whispered. Jeongguk dragged his bottom lip through his teeth, and then he began to slowly skate away, checking if Jimin was following. So Jimin fell right into step alongside Jeongguk, nudging him as they rounded the corner.

“I’m going to ask you some questions. About yourself. Answer what you feel comfortable with. I’ll answer whatever questions you answer,” Jimin said, and Jeongguk hummed in interest, arching one perfect eyebrow. “When’s your birthday?”

“September first.”

“October thirteenth. Did you go to school?”

“I did. Studied exercise science. Graduated a few months before Dasom was born,” Jeongguk replied. “I’m assuming you went to school to study education, seeing as you taught my child.”

“No, I’m winging it,” Jimin joked flatly, and Jeongguk snickered. “What’s your worst habit?”

“Mm… starting things and not finishing them,” Jeongguk replied after a moment of thought. “If I’m not immediately good at it, I tend to give up. Shitty habit.”

“Pretty normal, though,” Jimin agreed, gliding around another corner. “I get too dramatic in fights with people and tend to take it too far. Where were you born?”

“Busan.”

“Busan,” Jimin echoed, and Jeongguk whipped his head sideways to give Jimin a look of pleased surprise. “Who’s the fashion designer you always tag in your Instagram posts? Friend of yours?”

“Best friend, in fact. Half of Dasom’s closet is just custom clothing he made for her like she’s his personal doll. Happy to know you’ve been looking me up on social media,” Jeongguk said, and Jimin scoffed, trying to play it off, but Jeongguk was highly amused. “Find anything interesting?”

“Just a shit ton of shirtless workout videos and photos.”

“It’s my brand.”

“What, thirst trapping?”

“Personal training, get your mind out of the gutter,” Jeongguk retorted playfully. “Unless you felt trapped after looking at my feed, in which case, I’d love to know more. Get some feedback. Good for business.”

“You know how hot you are,” Jimin said in irritation, and Jeongguk’s close-lipped smile with his eyebrows raised was a clear attempt to keep from laughing. “You don’t need any feedback, trust me.”

“My turn,” Jeongguk suddenly interrupted, and Jimin raised his eyebrows this time. “Because you’re asking all the normal questions, but now that I know you’re looking me up on Instagram, let’s rip the Band-Aid off.”

“This feels like a trap.”

“A thirst trap? I’m fully clothed,” Jeongguk said innocently, sweeping a hand up and down his body. 

“And if I feel like seeing you not fully clothed?” Jimin asked without a filter, finally feeling like he was getting the hang of things, and Jeongguk smirked.

“Always an option. Now it’s time for the awkward questions.”

“Okay.” Jimin spun and began to skate backwards, facing Jeongguk. “Shoot.”

“Last time you got laid?”

“Two weeks ago,” Jimin said without hesitation.

“Shouldn’t have asked that,” Jeongguk sighed, and Jimin stifled a laugh. “Three months ago. When did you lose your virginity? What age?”

“Nineteen. Some hot guy in a nightclub let me fuck him in a bathroom,” Jimin said shamelessly, and Jeongguk snorted, almost falling over.

“Sounds less chaotic than mine,” he said, and Jimin glided backwards around the next corner, looking at Jeongguk curiously. Jeongguk laughed as he spoke. “No, it was disastrous. Karaoke night. I had just turned nineteen and I was a horny mess. I gave this guy a blowjob in the bathroom, and then I took some girl to a backroom to have sex. I never even knew their names.”

“The true bisexual experience,” Jimin teased, and Jeongguk shrugged, grinning. “You know, this is like a really shitty game of Never Have I Ever.”

“Just fishing for information without the benefit of alcohol,” Jeongguk said, eyes sparkling.

“Yeah? Trying to see how far you can take this?” Jimin asked, turning forwards again and slowing down so Jeongguk could skate beside him.

“You said it, not me,” Jeongguk pointed out, and then he skated a little further ahead, forcing Jimin to catch up quickly. “Dating is fucking weird when you get older. It’s easier, but at the same time, it’s fucking impossible.”

“Easier because you have absolutely no shame, fucking impossible because you’re more set in your ways,” Jimin deduced, and Jeongguk smacked his thigh, snapped his fingers, and point at Jimin.

“That’s exactly it,” he declared. “See? You get it. Now teach me how to skate backwards so I can show off to Dasom next time she makes me get on the ice with her.”

Jimin agreed and began to show Jeongguk a few basic techniques that would help him get comfortable with skating backwards, including the waves he was doing earlier and how to push with the edge of his blade to direct himself. The more that they skated together, though, the more they gravitated towards one another. Suddenly, Jimin was setting his hands on Jeongguk’s hips, and Jeongguk was dragging his long fingers across Jimin’s shoulder blades as they moved together. Closer and closer. The thin boundary line melted as if they weren’t already skating on thin ice. Jimin wasn’t used to purposefully flirty touches, but it made him feel like a teenager again, his pulse racing every time they danced around one another.

“Should we get going?” 

“Hmm? Oh. Shit, it’s past nine,” Jeongguk realized, glancing over at the clocktower on the opposite side of the rink. “Surprised they haven’t caught us yet. We only purchased two hours.”

“The rink closes at ten,” Jimin pointed out, and Jeongguk snickered.

“Makes sense. Alright, let’s get out of here. Guess that’s a wrap on date night.”

It was a quick process to return the skates and step back into boots, and the first two minutes of walking towards the parking lot felt awkwardly strange in comparison to hours they had just spent fooling around on the ice. Jeongguk offered Jimin the second helmet, and they both hopped onto the motorcycle, Jimin automatically wrapping his arms around Jeongguk’s waist in a secure fashion. Jeongguk started the ignition and then took off onto the main road, Jimin glancing over Jeongguk’s shoulder every now and again. When they stopped at a red light, Jimin’s heart leapt into his throat when Jeongguk’s gloved hand came to rest on top of the hand Jimin had on Jeongguk’s waist. He laced their fingers together for a moment, and then he returned the hand to the handlebars as the light turned green.

You’re overthinking it. It’s not a big deal. You’ve been on dates. It’s just been awhile since you were this desperate to get laid by your date. Jesus, do I even care how it happens? No. I’d give anything to see him on his knees for me, but I think I’m more in the mood for him to fuck me into the next century.

Jimin hated how quickly they arrived at his apartment building. He hated even more when he had to hand over the motorcycle helmet. But it was Jeongguk’s sudden hesitation to say goodbye that made a flicker of hope and adrenaline spark in Jimin’s body.

“So.” Jeongguk set the extra helmet onto the seat. “How, uh… how willing would you be to do this again sometime?”

“Oh, come on.” Jimin’s voice was hushed, but he wasn’t stupid. All that talk earlier at the ice skating rink and no follow-through? There was no way. “Don’t tell me you want this night to end right here, right now.”

“I’m trying to be a gentleman,” Jeongguk replied, which only egged Jimin on.

“You were plenty polite for the past three hours. Figured the date was just a formality. Just two adults being responsible,” Jimin said, and Jeongguk smirked, trying not to laugh as he ran his fingers through his short hair.

“At what point did you catch on that I was interested?” he asked impishly, and Jimin snorted.

“I don’t know. At what point did you catch on that I was asking to see you naked?” he fired back, and Jeongguk stifled a laugh. “So? Are you coming up or not? A gentleman would at least see me to my front door.”

“Well, I am a gentleman.”

So Jeongguk grabbed both helmets for safe keeping, and Jimin, with his heart beating louder than his footsteps, led the way into the building and up to the third floor. His apartment was on the corner, and the hallways were quiet. Jimin punched in his code and shoved open the door, and then he held it open and glanced at Jeongguk expectantly.

“Choice is yours,” he offered. Jeongguk bit his bottom lip momentarily, but then he stepped inside, and as the door closed, Jimin took both of the motorcycle helmets and set them onto his kitchen counter. Then he took a deep breath, palms pressed to the cool surface, and collected his courage. He had as good as asked for it, and now he had Jeongguk alone in his apartment.

“Are you saying goodnight, or are…” Jimin trailed off as he spun around, because Jeongguk swooped in and grabbed Jimin by the waist, and Jimin held onto him instinctively, noticing within seconds how easily they melted into each other, as if they had spent the past few hours studying one another and all the ways they could fit together.

“Can I kiss you?” Jeongguk whispered, etching the words on Jimin’s cheek as his lips grazed smooth skin. Jimin’s head lolled slightly, because damn it, this was what he had been waiting for all night.

“Yes,” he whispered, and then Jeongguk’s lips found their way to Jimin’s without a moment’s hesitation.

Jimin could only wonder if Jeongguk was immediately saving all the details of the kiss to memory as well—the little breath they both took before diving in. Soft, careful, curious with a touch of confidence, like both of them had known that it was bound to happen. Jimin tended to filter out moments like this with his partners, seeing the first kiss as a formality, something to get out of the way before stripping down to the bare minimum in a literal and figurative fashion. This kiss, though, was not something he wanted to erase from his memory.

It wasn’t surprising to Jimin that Jeongguk’s lips were soft and that he kissed just like he smiled—dazzling. And when Jeongguk pulled away, there was a moment where they both searched each other’s eyes, read facial expressions, communicated telepathically. How far do we take this? Do you want this the way I do? 

“Do it,” was all Jimin was able to breathe out before Jeongguk crashed into him again, all dazzling softness forgotten, replaced with a confidence that made Jimin gasp. Jeongguk’s hand gripped the back of Jimin’s neck, fingertips pressing into hair, and when his tongue swept along Jimin’s bottom lip, Jimin wrapped his arms around Jeongguk’s neck, body arching towards Jeongguk naturally. It was the perfect storm of experience and eagerness, the way they kissed while pressed to the door as if they couldn’t bear the thought of separating to make a decision on what happened next.

“Jesus, you’re so beautiful,” Jeongguk whispered against Jimin’s neck, two hands shoving Jimin’s jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor. Jimin tugged until Jeongguk’s shirt was untucked, and then he slipped his hands underneath, fingers latching into warm skin and fluttering across every single curve and valley of Jeongguk’s body, all the muscle tone, the way his waist was small enough to make Jimin dizzy.

“You said I could see you without clothes on,” Jimin said. “So get to it.”

“I’m in no hurry,” Jeongguk said, and then he threaded his fingers through Jimin’s hair and tugged until Jimin’s head was against the door, chin up. In total control. Cool, calm, collected. What was it about Jeongguk that made Jimin just want to give in? He usually had to do so much work, but here was Jeongguk, taking his time. With his lips on the column of Jimin’s neck, Jeongguk added, “I want to give you exactly what you deserve.”

“And what’s that?” Jimin asked, his knees weak as he hooked his fingers in Jeongguk’s belt loops, feeling lightheaded with pleasure already.

“Well, if you let me…” Jeongguk dragged his lips around the front of Jimin’s neck along his Adam’s Apple and to the other side as Jimin damn near choked. “My plan was to fuck you so well that you’ll never be able to say anyone else’s name in bed except mine.”

“That’s ambitious,” Jimin whispered, even though he was trembling at the mere thought. No, pull it together. No man can fuck you that well. Let him talk his shit. Just focus.

“Unless you’d prefer to top,” Jeongguk murmured. “Or we can save that for a rainy day.”

“You plan on getting me into bed more than once?” Jimin asked, shivering inwardly when Jeongguk’s hand grabbed underneath his thigh to hitch his leg up. The unabashed confidence. Jimin had no idea what to do with himself. “Haven’t even undressed me yet.”

“I told you.” Jeongguk dove in for another kiss, one large hand still holding Jimin’s leg up, their hips pressed together. “I’m not rushing this.”

“You talk to all your partners like this?” Jimin asked, hating the way that he loved every word Jeongguk was saying.

“No.” Jeongguk pressed his forehead to Jimin’s. “But I want to absolutely ruin you. The kind of sex that makes you cry from how good it feels. If you don’t believe me, then you have nothing to lose.”

“Deal. Bedroom.”

mood: “naked” by doja cat

There was no need for further conversation. Jeongguk was right—Jimin had nothing to lose. If the sex was good, then at minimum, Jimin got laid. If it was more than good… Jimin wasn’t quite ready to consider that yet. Instead, he guided Jeongguk to his bedroom as they kissed feverishly, chasing one another’s lips, fumbling out of sheer adrenaline. This was what Jimin loved most about falling into bed with men after thirty. There was a sort of assured intimacy that came with it, and there was a lack of shame from being aroused. Jimin surely wasn’t fighting it.

Jimin turned so that Jeongguk fell onto the bed first on his back, and then he knelt at the foot of the bed between Jeongguk’s legs. He had to give a show of confidence as well, because he was no amateur. If Jeongguk was intent on having sex good enough to make either or both of them cry, then there was no time to lose, despite Jeongguk’s statement that he was in no real hurry.

“Undress for me,” Jeongguk requested, and Jimin swallowed down the little shudder of pleasure that threatened his body. He crossed his arms at his waist and pulled off his sweater, tossing it aside, and then he got rid of his belt. Jeongguk just sat up with his hands propped on the bed behind him, watching Jimin’s every move, his eyes wandering up and down Jimin’s chest. The way he devoured Jimin with his eyes made Jimin feel a surge of unfiltered confidence. 

When Jimin began to remove his pants, he almost stumbled, because Jeongguk was undressing, too, and it was quite a show. He pulled his shirt off and threw it to the floor somewhere, and then he ran his fingers through his hair and sat back again as Jimin stared, his pants kicked off now. Jeongguk on video was a sight to behold, but Jeongguk in person was an entirely different story. His entire upper body was sculpted with muscle, but not in an overbearing fashion. It suited him perfectly, and the tattoos were complementary in a deadly sort of way. Two sleeves full of flowers, hands intertwined, some butterflies, ticking clocks and winding staircases, a tiger, scattered words here and there. Picture perfect.

“You’re kidding,” Jimin said mostly to himself, and Jeongguk smirked, but not in a cocky way. He was pleased, thrilled by Jimin’s reaction. And when he lifted one finger and crooked it a few times without a word, Jimin reevaluated his previous desire to have Jeongguk on his knees. Now it was Jimin who was ready to drop to his knees and give Jeongguk whatever he wanted.

“Knew you’d be this beautiful. Knew it from the second I saw you,” Jeongguk whispered as Jimin climbed onto his lap in nothing more than his boxer briefs, Jeongguk still wearing pants but shirtless. Shameless, Jimin situated himself perfectly, and he could feel how hard Jeongguk was, but Jeongguk didn’t react like most men Jimin had bedded. He didn’t gasp or throw his head back or grab Jimin for a rough kiss. He just slipped both of his hands onto Jimin’s ass and encouraged Jimin to grind down on him, his lips dragging across Jimin’s chest.

“Jeongguk,” Jimin breathed, eyes closed as he rocked his hips. “Get undressed. Hurry up.”

“Mm, hold on. Not yet,” Jeongguk murmured, and then he rolled and flipped them over so that Jimin was lying on his back. Jeongguk grabbed both of Jimin’s arms and carefully but firmly held them over Jimin’s head against the mattress, diving down to leave bruising kisses along Jimin’s neck and collarbone. Jimin squirmed, bringing his legs to wrap around Jeongguk’s waist in an attempt to bring them closer together.

“What…?” was all Jimin could manage. Jeongguk’s hands released his arms, but Jimin kept them above his head, eyes rolling back as Jeongguk began to kiss down his body. His hands grabbed Jimin’s knees for leverage, and he trailed fire down the center of Jimin’s chest with his lips, pausing to run his tongue over each nipple before continuing down to Jimin’s hips and thighs.

“Stop playing with your food before you eat it,” Jimin said breathlessly, back arching off the bed when Jeongguk sucked the skin of his inner thigh, his cock twitching in anticipation. Jimin felt the vibration of Jeongguk’s laugh course through his veins when Jeongguk’s lips were on his stomach.

“Saying that means that you think I’m going to eat you alive,” he muttered, and Jimin’s laugh was breathy as he finally opened his eyes. Jeongguk stood up and removed his belt, and then he stepped out of his pants, never once breaking eye contact with Jimin. 

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Jimin moaned, and Jeongguk’s playful smirk was the cherry on top. Broad shoulders, toned chest and abdomen, small waist, muscular thighs. This man was walking sex, and he was intent on fucking Jimin until Jimin cried, whether he could accomplish such a feat or not. “Come here. Let me at least suck you off.”

“You sure?” Jeongguk asked, and Jimin nodded. “Lie down on your back. Head at the edge of the bed. If you don’t like that, then tell me now. I don’t mind.”

Negotiations were also a different game. At thirty-two, Jimin knew exactly what he liked and what he didn’t like, exactly what he wanted and what he always avoided. But lying on his back so Jeongguk could fuck his throat was absolutely something that he both liked and wanted. Jimin fell onto his back, head off the edge of the bed, and Jeongguk stood over him with a small smile, pupils blown. He then leaned forward, thumbs hooking into the waistband of Jimin’s briefs.

“May I?” he whispered, and then he kissed Jimin upside down. “Want you naked while you do this.”

“Yes,” Jimin whispered, and he lifted his hips so that Jeongguk could remove his briefs and throw them aside. When his hands glided up Jimin’s thighs and hips to his ribs and his chest, Jimin closed his eyes again, skin igniting with every touch, every fingertip like a separate match to spark the blazing fire between the two of them. Jeongguk’s hand gripped Jimin’s jaw. Heavy breathing versus composed breathing. A firm kiss with swallowed moans. All of Jimin’s desires melted like sugar on Jeongguk’s tongue as they kissed.

“Open,” Jeongguk said, and Jimin opened his eyes and his mouth, unable to believe how compliant he was for this man. Was he really that fucked already? Or had it been that long since he had been so magnetically attracted to someone?

Apparently so. If I call him “daddy,” he’ll kill me. I’m tempted. Jimin circled his tongue around the head of Jeongguk’s cock and then tilted his head back more, a clear sign for Jeongguk to take it further. Jeongguk thrusted gently, and Jimin gagged once, but he relaxed his throat and breathed through his nose, stunned when Jeongguk hit the back of his throat. 

“Can you take it?” Jeongguk asked, and it wasn’t a taunt; it was a genuine question. Jimin hummed positively, so Jeongguk’s hands came to either side of Jimin’s head, and he began to fuck into Jimin’s mouth in a rhythm. Jimin stifled a moan and gripped his sheets, trying not to touch himself, tightening his lips. Jeongguk kept one hand cradled underneath Jimin’s head and used his thumb to stroke Jimin’s cheek as he continued to thrust, and it was single-handedly the hottest gesture Jimin had ever experienced.

“Feels fucking incredible,” Jeongguk praised, his fingers flutter down Jimin’s neck to his chest. “You’re amazing, taking it so well, look at you—shit, okay. Okay, that’s enough. I’m not coming down your throat. Not now.”

Jimin let out a sigh when Jeongguk pulled out, and he immediately rolled onto his stomach, wincing from the sensitivity of his hard cock against the sheets. He was going to roll back over, but Jeongguk climbed onto the bed and pressed his hand to Jimin’s lower back.

“Stay here.”

Jimin stayed, and he didn’t regret it for a single moment. He directed Jeongguk to the lube and condoms, and Jeongguk retrieved both. He lubed up his fingers, and then he spread Jimin and put a pillow under Jimin’s hips, slipping one finger in. Jimin sucked him right up with a small moan, but Jeongguk just trailed kisses down Jimin’s shoulder blades, fucking him open quickly but efficiently. One finger became two, and the way he angled his long fingers had Jimin writhing.

“Fuck, fuck, what are you—? Ah, ah, ah, Jeongguk, Jeongguk,” Jimin panted, pulling at the sheets with white knuckles, having half a mind to thrash around. Jeongguk seemed to know exactly what he was doing, because his fingers were repeatedly stroking the same spot, and Jimin’s vision was doubling, breath quickening, muscles clenching in anticipation, mind working on overdrive. But Jeongguk was holding him down without being demanding about it, and Jimin was letting him do it, gasping in pleasure.

“Right there, hmm?” he finally said when Jimin was gritting his teeth and moaning into his arm, lifting his hips, eyes squeezed shut. “Think I can find that same spot when I’m fucking you? Should we take bets?”

“Shut up and fuck me,” Jimin gasped as Jeongguk’s fingers slipped out of him. With one hand, Jeongguk nudged Jimin until Jimin rolled over, his lower back and hips still on the pillow. Jeongguk kept him right there, kneeling on the bed as he rolled the condom on and added a bit of extra lube. Jimin hadn’t once touched himself yet, and he couldn’t even remember why. It didn’t matter.

“Legs open,” Jeongguk commanded, and Jimin had a thousand jokes and wanted to laugh, but he had no time. The confidence he had had going into this endeavor had been grossly misplaced, thinking that he was going to be in complete control and that Jeongguk would absolutely not be able to bring him to the point of begging. But now Jimin was eating his own words, because he was doing everything Jeongguk said without question.

“Fuck,” Jimin gasped out as Jeongguk slowly pushed into him. He thrusted shallowly, one hand massaging Jimin’s thigh, and then he pushed in further as his slicked up hand wrapped around Jimin’s cock for the first time. Jimin swore he saw stars in his vision, clenching helplessly around Jeongguk, not sure if he was going to make it. 

“You can take me. Just relax. A little more.” Jeongguk leaned forward to whisper in Jimin’s ear as Jimin’s chest heaved. Sex was just a recreational activity to him, mutual pleasure with a fair bit of awkward fumbling, a good way to grab at fleeting intimacy for satisfaction. But Jeongguk was a walking cliché, turning sex into something much more dangerous than just a pastime.

“You made several promises,” Jimin breathlessly said when Jeongguk finally bottomed out. “And we’re basically fucking in a missionary position. Hope you’re not all talk. Better walk the walk.”

“You say ‘missionary position’ like it’s a bad thing.” Jeongguk slowly cocked his head, staring down at Jimin, his muscles flexing as he hovered. “You must have had some shitty sexual experiences in this position if you think it’s boring.”

“Must have.”

“I’ll change your mind.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Jimin said, and he knew he was going to regret it. Jeongguk kissed him once, and then he sat up, kneeling between Jimin’s legs, his hands on the backs of Jimin’s thighs. He pulled out nearly all the way before thrusting back into Jimin with a single snap of his hips, and it knocked the air out of Jimin’s lungs for a moment. Jeongguk leaned forward again.

“I don’t break promises.”

mood: “fall over” by banks

His whisper lingered, but Jimin’s moans drowned it out. Jeongguk began to fuck into Jimin deeply, steadily, at the perfect angle for Jimin to feel everything. Jeongguk’s hand was stroking Jimin in perfect time with his thrusts, and he wasn’t relenting or slowing down. Jimin wanted to do something, wanted to participate, but he couldn’t think straight. Jeongguk shifted and angled his hips as he resituated Jimin, and the moment he started fucking into Jimin again, Jimin damn near lost it, his own hand flying to his cock.

“Ah, fuck! Fuck, oh my God, fuck, Jeongguk, please, please, please, please, I can’t. I can’t, I can’t,” Jimin babbled, because every single thrust was dead-on in the perfect spot right up against his prostate, and he was starting to leak pre-come all over his stomach, making a sticky mess. 

“Not stopping unless you tell me,” Jeongguk said, watching Jimin intently, his hands still gripping Jimin’s thighs like he was determined to leave his mark. Jimin didn’t stop him. He went absolutely silent, his hand not doing any of the work, eyes rolling back in his head, his body so overwhelmed that he swore he could hear screaming. Or was that just him? He was sweating now, writhing against the sheets like he was trying to get away from Jeongguk but wanting the exact opposite.

“That’s it, baby, come on. Nice and loud. You need to come?” Jeongguk asked.

“Ah, ah,” Jimin gasped, nodding frantically. He was close, so close, and the way his body was tensing was a clear sign. But the moment he started panting and lifting his hips, Jeongguk suddenly stopped fucking him. Jimin clenched around him repeatedly, eyes shooting open.

“You good?” Jeongguk whispered, leaning down to gently kiss down Jimin’s neck. Jimin moaned.

“Why did you stop?” he asked, desperate. Jeongguk chuckled.

“Didn’t want you to come too quickly. It’ll feel fucking amazing if you have to work for it,” Jeongguk whispered, and Jimin shivered, swallowing heavily. “You like missionary now?”

“Not bad.”

“You’re a liar,” Jeongguk laughed, and then he slipped his arms underneath Jimin’s back and lifted him right off the bed, still inside him. Jimin gritted his teeth, but then he found himself sitting in Jeongguk’s lap, which sent Jeongguk’s cock even deeper inside him, and he let out a slow, breathy moan, dropping his forehead onto Jeongguk’s shoulder, fingernails digging into tattooed arms.

“Sound so beautiful. Look at you. I wish you could see yourself,” Jeongguk whispered, his hand slipping between the two of them. He began to stroke Jimin slowly with just the right amount of pressure, thumb swiping over the head of Jimin’s cock as Jimin rocked his hips. Jeongguk was, indeed, not in a rush. He seemed absolutely hellbound on pleasuring Jimin for as long as possible, dragging it out for as long as Jimin could withstand it.

“T-Tell me you… you feel…”

“You think I’m not enjoying this?” Jeongguk whispered, flicking his wrist and making Jimin shudder. “Wish I could film you like this. Watch it back. Let you see yourself how I’m seeing you.”

“Fuck, Jeongguk,” Jimin breathed, still circling his hips as little sparks of pleasure coursed through his body in languid, consistent waves, the arousal so all-consuming that he felt like he was floating. Jeongguk kissed Jimin’s shoulder quietly, his hand speeding up, and Jimin gripped Jeongguk’s biceps tightly, jaw clenched, panting as he tried to fuck himself to get what he wanted, so close. 

“You close?” Jeongguk whispered, and Jimin frantically nodded. “Feel good?” Jimin nodded again. “Gonna come? Hmm.”

“Fuck, what the fuck?” Jimin gasped out, his entire body collapsing in a near boneless state when Jeongguk’s hand suddenly vanished, the orgasm brought to a dead stop right on the spot. “You’re fucking kidding me, you’re kidding me. I’m gonna kill you, I can’t do this, will you just—?”

Jeongguk shut him up with a kiss, and then he laid Jimin back onto the pillows, still hard inside Jimin.

“You share this wall with any neighbors?” Jeongguk asked, and Jimin let out a laugh of disbelief, staring at his ceiling like he was trying to plan his own demise.

“No.”

“Good.”

Jimin went from staring blankly to moaning. Jeongguk grabbed his hips and started to fuck him again with vigor, and he angled downward and just right. He didn’t even have to touch Jimin. He refused to relent, encouraging Jimin over Jimin’s breathless but loud moans, his pleas. Jimin suddenly grabbed at the sheets again and then tried to grab for Jeongguk, but it was no use. He thrashed and kicked his legs, but Jeongguk kept him still. The pleasure build-up was so intense that Jimin lost his ability to form words. Every sound out of his mouth was a strangled moan, his head thrown back, elbows digging into the mattress as he fought against it, so overstimulated that he could hardly stand it.

“Go ahead. Come on, baby. Feel good? Come for me.”

Jimin’s vision was a blur, and suddenly, he was panting, his chest burning. When he let out a gasping moan, back arching, he felt tears in his eyes, and he didn’t even fight it. His next breath was something like a sob, and then he let out a shout that caught in the back of his throat as the orgasm damn near blinded him. He spilled all over his own stomach and chest, completely untouched, his legs shaking, hearing Jeongguk’s voice coaxing him through it, and not missing the way Jeongguk cursed and thrusted so roughly as he came that Jimin’s body jolted against the bed.

I’m in heaven. I’m dead, and this is what heaven is like. I made it. God has tattoos.

Jimin couldn’t open his eyes, but he felt a hand gently stroking his hair, felt soft lips peppering his face with kisses, heard sweet whispers of praise in his ear. He was still out of breath, his head spinning, and he could feel Jeongguk inside him as he came down from the high. There was a moment of silence, two pounding heartbeats meeting chest-to-chest, and then Jimin felt a thumb brushing tears from his cheeks.

“Don’t move.”

Jimin let out a whimper and a sigh as Jeongguk slipped out, and he finally opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling in sheer disbelief for the second time, his body buzzing, skin thrumming, the orgasm still sizzling through him quietly. He heard running water in the bathroom, and then Jeongguk crawled back onto the bed. A wet washcloth touched Jimin’s skin, and that brought him back to his senses.

“Thank you,” he whispered as Jeongguk wiped him down, following it up with soft kisses against damp skin. Once they were both clean off, Jimin rolled to the other side of his bed where the sheets were clean, still dazed, and Jeongguk crawled onto the bed, pulling Jimin right into his arms. Jimin curled up immediately, swinging one leg over Jeongguk’s hips to straddle him in a hug, burying his face in Jeongguk’s neck. Jeongguk’s fingers danced up and down his spine, sending chills across Jimin’s skin, his body completely spent.

“So?” Jeongguk whispered. “Did I follow through on my promises?”

“You can make yourself right at home. Shower. Coffee. Clothes. How do you like your eggs in the morning?” Jimin whispered, and Jeongguk laughed quietly, still rubbing Jimin’s back in a soothing fashion. “I can’t stand you.”

“Oh?”

“You made me cry.”

“As promised.”

“You know how many men I’ve had sex with?”

“How many?”

“Dozens. Why are you the cliché?”

“The cliché?”

“The one that comes along and fucks me so well that I cry. This is a joke,” Jimin whispered in complaint, and Jeongguk let out another laugh, turning and pressing his lips to Jimin’s bruised neck.

“I said I wanted to ruin you,” he whispered. “I don’t just talk a big game.”

“I’m usually vers,” Jimin murmured. “But you’re going to make me change my mind. I hate you.”

“So you’re agreeing,” Jeongguk whispered. “That we should absolutely have sex again sometime.”

“I’m agreeing to nothing,” Jimin muttered, and Jeongguk snickered. “You were right.”

“Hmm?”

“The orgasm was better with the edging.”

“That was bare minimum edging.”

“Still edging.”

“Are you satisfied?”

“Very.”

“Then that’s all I care about,” Jeongguk whispered, and Jimin swore his voice was a carefully crafted lullaby. He was starting to drift off to the sound of it, completely sated and sexually satisfied, his mind floating off happily. After a bit of a struggle, he sat up.

“Are you leaving?” he wondered. Jeongguk blinked up at him, and Jimin almost spun around to suck this man’s dick for a second time, because he was unreal. Ethereal beauty. Effortless. Eyes meant to captivate. The way he had complete control during sex but gave Jimin the intimacy afterwards that he so desperately needed… Jimin bent down and kissed Jeongguk’s waiting lips, his hands pressed to Jeongguk’s strong chest.

“I can if you need me to,” Jeongguk said. “I don’t mind.”

“Stay.”

Jeongguk raised his eyebrows. Jimin stared. Neither of them blinked until Jeongguk just popped his lips once, and Jimin dissolved into laughter, ducking his head, hands still hooking over Jeongguk’s shoulders.

“Okay, I get it. I know it’s after a first date and it still might be weird, but I don’t see anything wrong with it,” Jimin argued. Jeongguk lifted one hand to cup behind Jimin’s neck and brought him closer for a kiss.

“I’ll stay,” he whispered between kisses. “But I have to get up early to pick up Dasom.”

Jimin pressed another kiss to Jeongguk’s lips. “That’s fine. Just… yeah. Just stay.”

Jeongguk didn’t present an argument. He helped Jimin change the sheets and took the toothbrush that Jimin offered. Jimin laughed to himself while Jeongguk was washing up, because he was tempted to start limping while he walked to accommodate for how well he had just been fucked.

In nothing but their underwear, they both crawled into Jimin’s bed, and Jimin took a deep breath. Sleepovers were not a usual thing for him, but Jeongguk just had this vibe. Safe. Comforting. Familiar. Trustworthy. But when Jimin flicked the light off and felt Jeongguk reach for him, it felt like a fever dream. Suddenly, he was lying on his back with Jeongguk curled up in his arms, resting on his shoulder.

“Told you that you had nothing to lose,” he whispered, and Jimin smiled.

“Yeah, well, when I can’t walk in the morning, we’ll know why.”

“I’m proud of that, you know,” Jeongguk muttered, and Jimin snickered, shifting his body to curl in towards Jeongguk more.

“Is this weird?” he asked quietly. “I was teaching your daughter reading and writing two weeks ago.”

“And now you’re not, so here we are,” Jeongguk whispered back, chuckling. “It’s only weird if you want it to be weird. Otherwise, it’s just two grown men who met each other, hit it off, went on a date, and got horny.”

“That was a little more than horny.”

“Shh.” Jeongguk reached up and set his finger against Jimin’s lips, and Jimin stifled a laugh. “Ah, my alarm is on. I hope that’s okay. I usually wake up before it goes off.”

“That’s fine,” Jimin whispered. “Get up whenever. Help yourself to anything. I meant what I said.”

Jeongguk settled in comfortably with a slow exhale that hinted at sleep. “Thank you.”

It was nothing more than a breathy whisper, and Jimin closed his eyes again and sank into his pillows, surrounded by Jeongguk’s lingering soapy scent as he drifted off.

*** 

Jimin smacked his lips quietly as he stirred and awoke, sensing that there were hints of daylight streaming through his bedroom but not sure about the time. He shifted underneath the sheets, and that’s when he felt the dull but satisfying aches in his body, a telltale sign that last night had been far beyond what he could have ever imagined.

The smell of coffee wafted in the air as Jimin slowly rolled onto his back, and that smell forced him to open his eyes. There was Jeongguk, sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but his Calvin Klein boxer briefs, eyes a bit sleepy as he held up a coffee cup that belonged to Jimin.

“You made yourself coffee,” Jimin whispered with a tired smile.

“I wasn’t going to take the ‘help yourself’ offer seriously until I woke up,” Jeongguk admitted, and Jimin breathily chuckled. Jeongguk set the coffee cup onto the bedside table, and then he swung his legs up onto the bed and shimmied under the sheets. He rolled, and Jimin met him halfway, almost as if his body was naturally responding to whatever Jeongguk was about to offer. Jeongguk propped on one elbow, slung his other arm across Jimin’s waist, and leaned down to kiss him.

“I have to leave… to pick up Dasom… in ten minutes,” he whispered against Jimin’s lips between kisses. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Jimin whispered back, and Jeongguk smiled into the next kiss. “Can you just…?”

Jeongguk didn’t even ask for Jimin to finish the sentence. He slid down and found a comfortable place right in Jimin’s arms, and Jimin’s eyes fell shut again as his fingers absentmindedly fluttered through Jeongguk’s soft hair.

“I don’t remember the last time I did this,” Jeongguk murmured.

“Mm. All that hot sex and you’re a sucker for cuddling,” Jimin muttered, and Jeongguk snickered, his hand still wrapped around Jimin’s hip.

“What is it that they say about K-Pop idols? Duality. I have duality,” he said, and Jimin’s shoulders shook with laughter. “I’m not sure if you feel the same, but last night was incredible. Not just the sex.”

“Though it was a highlight.”

“Oh, yeah. Absolutely,” Jeongguk confirmed, and Jimin grinned, his eyes still closed. “But besides the sex, the date itself was really nice.”

“Mm. Surprised we kept it in our pants for almost two hours.”

“Me too. We did well. Go team.” Jeongguk lifted his fist, and Jimin cracked his eyes open just enough to see it and bump it, trying not to laugh. “I want to see you again. I have no idea when, since the new semester starts on Monday, but I don’t want this to be our only date.”

“Me neither. I want to see you again, too,” Jimin admitted. Confessed. Not a hint of hesitation, and was that normal? Did he usually hesitate? Or did he usually just play it off with the old “text me” line before never seeing his sexual partners again? This time, though, he meant it. “We can do dinner on weeknights. One Saturday a month. It doesn’t matter.”

Jeongguk shifted and rolled onto his stomach, slinging his arm across Jimin’s waist. “We’ll work something out. I promise. I know we’ll both be busy. Let’s agree to be adults about it. But I wouldn’t mind dinner or a Saturday night together.”

“You know my number,” Jimin whispered just as Jeongguk leaned in for another kiss. His thumb caressed Jimin’s cheek and jaw, and then he sighed and rolled off the bed, grabbing the coffee cup off the bedside table and taking a large sip.

“This is a lot to ask, but do you have any clothing that isn’t what I wore last night?” Jeongguk sheepishly asked, and Jimin let out a sleepy laugh, stretching his arms overhead and sitting up.

“Thought you’d have to go home first to swap over to your car,” Jimin said, and Jeongguk blew out a breath.

“Short for time,” he said in a pained voice. “Quite literally going to get off my motorcycle and get into my car.”

“Well, I did tell you to help yourself,” Jimin remarked with a smile. “Although I think you might rip my clothes with all that muscle.”

Jeongguk rolled his eyes for Jimin to see, so Jimin hopped out of bed and pawed through his clothing, offering up a pair of sweatpants and a black hoodie—clothing that he normally wore that wouldn’t rattle Dasom if she saw her father in it. Jeongguk pulled the hood up and downed the rest of the coffee, and then he ducked into the bathroom to brush his teeth as Jimin sat on the edge of the bed sleepily. Jeongguk came out checking the time on his phone, and then he pulled Jimin to his feet.

“I’ll see you again soon,” he said, brushing his thumb over Jimin’s bottom lip. “Thank you for an amazing night.”

Jimin was done letting Jeongguk get the best of him; he gently pushed Jeongguk’s hood down, carded his fingers through Jeongguk’s hair, and kissed him fiercely, bodies pressed together. Jeongguk let out a small moan in the back of his throat, and Jimin gently ran his tongue across Jeongguk’s bottom lip as Jeongguk’s hands found purchase on Jimin’s hips.

“God, you make everything worth it,” Jeongguk laughed with one more kiss, running his hand underneath Jimin’s shirt to the small of his back. “I’ll see you soon. I swear I will.”

“See you soon,” Jimin whispered, and then he watched as Jeongguk pulled his hood back up, smiled, and left the apartment.

Chapter Text

[moodboard by cata]

~ ~ ~

Kyodong Elementary School was a nightmare.

It wasn’t a terrible school, per say; it was that the school’s attendees had helicopter parents and a bullying problem, and a staff full of bystanders who turned a blind eye. It was like something straight out of a drama—two days ago, a fifth grader dumped his milk on the head of his classmate, and the teacher looked away because her job would be at stake otherwise if the father, a CEO of a food distribution company, caught wind of his son being punished.

“Okay, how many?”

The giggles escalated, but all of the students kept their hands on their head, except for three students who had removed one hand each. Miyeon put both hands over her mouth with the same giggle, but then she started to count out loud. All of her classmates were standing up at their desks, and Jimin was working with the class on practical methods of subtraction. Because a few of them had struggled with the homework, he was applying it in a way that would make sense. 

“That’s…” Miyeon put her hands on her hips. The class had already worked together to figure out exactly how many hands the class of twenty had in total by adding twenty plus twenty to get forty. Now they were subtracting. “Hmm, that’s—oh! That’s taking away three. That’s… Thirty-seven?”

“Correct,” Jimin said, and Miyeon’s classmates clapped happily.

At the very least, though, Jimin’s class was lovely, and all of them were oblivious to the troubles that plagued the higher grades. Inner peace was the exact reason why Jimin chose to teach first grade and would go no higher than second grade.

Jimin’s class had adjusted quite well to his presence. It was April now, and they had been with him for one month. So far, though, Jimin hadn’t quite connected with any of his students on more than a surface level. But he was also constantly distracted, doing his job but wondering if there was something more that he could do, wondering if his new placement was a wake-up call or the right place for him to be. This was his ninth year, after all. Perhaps it was time for a change, because he was beginning to doubt his own consistency.

mood: “break my heart” by dua lipa (fic title in this song)

Jimin feared that his sudden shift to a worried mindset regarding his career was thanks to a thirty-year-old single father of one, and the worst part was that the feeling was thrilling. It was something new, something exciting, and it was making him restless. He hadn’t seen Jeongguk since their date, but that wasn’t stopping them from communicating with each other. Jimin found himself texting Jeongguk like some giddy teenager every now and again, and after school was no different.

JEONGGUK [04:03:38PM]

Kind of miss hearing Dasom’s stories about you when I pick her up from school

JIMIN [04:05:20PM]

I miss having her in my class.

JEONGGUK [04:06:13PM]

Do you miss me, too?

JIMIN [04:07:01PM]

Miss everything about you right now, please let me see you soon

JEONGGUK [04:08:19PM]

Dasom goes to ice skating for two hours right after school on Thursdays

JEONGGUK [04:09:02PM]

I work late at the gym that day

JEONGGUK [04:09:48PM]

You should stop by ;) have your free personal training session that I promised

JIMIN [04:10:17PM]

If that’s when I can see you, then I can stop by after school!

As if Jimin could focus worth a damn on Thursday, he hid a small backpack underneath his desk that felt like a dirty secret the entire time he was teaching, and it only distracted him further. He encouraged his class to clean the room with enthusiasm at the end of the day, smiling and ruffling hair, thanking them for their hard work when the desks were all wiped down.

“Quickly! Grab your shoes!” Jimin called out at dismissal, watching his students bustle around and grab their belongings, ducking in and out of the classroom to the shoe storage boxes. They all hollered their goodbyes, waving to Jimin, and then Jimin’s classroom emptied out. Jimin stood near the door, because he didn’t have any dismissal duties this semester. It wasn’t until he was sure that the hallways were empty that he dove for the backpack underneath his desk. He then changed into FILA workout gear and shrugged into his windbreaker, leaving the school as quickly as possible.

Golden Personal Training was about fifteen minutes from Kyodong, and it was nestled between a PC café and a phone repair shop. The windows were tinted, but there was a sign that matched the business card Jeongguk had given Jimin. 

I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m really showing up to do who-knows-what because I haven’t seen this man in one month.

Jimin gently pushed the door open, hearing the faint background thumping of some music playing. The gym had dark grey padded floors and plenty of matching equipment—two treadmills, a bike, weight machines, an entire rack of weights with a mirror on the wall, a space for deadlifting and pull-ups, and a corner with a punching bag. There were no other patrons, leaving Jimin free to look around curiously. There were framed certifications on one of the walls, and there was also a framed photo of Jeongguk with Dasom sitting on his shoulder, one arm up like she was flexing her muscles.

“Jimin-ssi?”

From a small office to the left, Jeongguk emerged, and the butterflies that had been dormant in Jimin’s stomach for about a month came alive. There was Jeongguk in nothing but black gym shorts and a fitted black t-shirt, tattooed arms crossed, grinning at Jimin. He strolled forward as Jimin took a deep breath and cracked his knuckles.

“Good to see you,” he said, and Jeongguk gently ran his bottom lip along his top teeth.

“You even came dressed appropriately.” He paused, and then he swiped his tongue across his bottom lip, taking a few steps forward. “I really didn’t think this through, did I?”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning I didn’t really…” Jeongguk wiggled both hands palms-up like he was a scale. “... factor in just how bad it would be. Not seeing you for a month. You really did a number on me, because I’m not even thinking about my job right now.”

“Well, I’ve been flirting with you like a teenager over text message for a month,” Jimin replied, trying not to laugh. “I think we should just both admit that we’re into this and get it over with. Takes two to play, you know?”

“I agree. Well, I did promise you a personal training session,” Jeongguk said, crossing his arms again. “Which would include an entire initial consultation session to see how you move and what would suit you best and what your goals are. But I don’t really think that’s why you’re here.”

“I think you know how I move. And how my body works. And what suits me best,” Jimin casually replied as Jeongguk raised one eyebrow with a small smirk. “So I’ll just let you decide. Though I wouldn’t really mind having someone check my posture while weightlifting. My hyung always works out and tells me to fix it whenever we’re at the gym together.”

“I can do that,” Jeongguk agreed with a small smile. Jimin stepped over to the weightlifting area near the mirror and shrugged out of his backpack, and Jeongguk asked him to do a quick stretch while he went to lock the door, since Jimin would be the last patron visiting the gym for the day. Jimin stretched his arms and torso and legs quickly, and Jeongguk returned and picked up two light weights.

“We’ll use two-kilo weights to start,” he declared, and Jimin took them. “Just show me what you normally do.”

Jimin nodded, and then he demonstrated a few of the arm exercises that he did with weights. As he moved, Jeongguk circled him slowly, and every so often, he lunged and gently grabbed Jimin’s arms or shoulders to manipulate him, tapping and pointing and explaining exactly what to do while Jimin adjusted.

“Mhm, shoulders down. Scoot your feet a little. That’s perfect.” Jeongguk stood in front of Jimin with a few fingertips on Jimin’s shoulders, and Jimin clutched the weights and stared, waiting until Jeongguk realized it. The moment Jeongguk caught Jimin’s eye, he leaned in for a kiss, and Jimin didn’t stop him. He breathed a sigh of relief into the kiss, because damn it, he had been waiting for it and it was worth it. 

“I’ll take these,” Jeongguk whispered against Jimin’s lips, and then he kissed Jimin again as he gently took the weights from Jimin’s hands. He turned and put them back, and then he grabbed Jimin by the waist for another kiss. Jimin circled his arms around Jeongguk’s neck and kissed him back feverishly, almost desperately, because one month was too long to be away from this man’s lips. Jimin couldn’t recall a time when he had ever craved another man’s touch and attention so deeply. Addiction wasn’t something he was prone to, but Jeongguk was making a fool of him.

“We didn’t last very long,” Jimin breathily said between kisses, and Jeongguk laughed.

“Be honest,” he murmured against Jimin’s cheek before trailing kisses down his neck. “Neither of us are here for a personal training session.”

“Maybe not, but—but the tips you gave me are good,” Jimin replied, and then he gritted his teeth. “Fuck, you drive me crazy. I can’t believe I’ve been thinking about you like this.”

“You too?” Jeongguk murmured, finding Jimin’s lips again.

“I definitely haven’t been brainstorming all the ways to convince you to get me back into bed again,” Jimin gasped, laughing at the same time that Jeongguk did.

“Okay, so it’s not just me,” he muttered, swiping his tongue across Jimin’s bottom lip before diving in for another kiss. “Been waiting for a good time to get you alone. Damn near impossible with a kid and your work schedule.”

“So then we just have to find time,” Jimin said breathlessly. “Like in a gym after school hours.”

“Under the ruse of personal training. Jesus, I’m that desperate,” Jeongguk said, his hands all over Jimin’s body in ways that made Jimin shiver excitedly. This was exactly what he had been hoping for, even if it had seemed like a long shot in the moment, and now it was happening. Jeongguk’s hands were on Jimin’s waist. Jimin’s hands were fighting underneath Jeongguk’s shirt to touch smooth skin. Things were escalating very quickly and very much in the direction Jimin had been hoping.

“If you’re desperate, then what does that make me?” Jimin asked, tilting his head so Jeongguk could kiss along the column of his neck again. “Been thinking of you fucking me again for weeks.”

‘I’d fuck you again in a heartbeat,” Jeongguk said without hesitation. “All you have to do is ask. Waiting for the day you’ll fuck me, though. I’m vers.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“I’ll fuck you right now,” Jeongguk all but growled, his hands grabbing Jimin’s ass before settling on his hips. “Put you right up against this mirror. Told you I wanted you to see yourself how I see you.”

“We don’t have time.”

“I’ll make time.”

Jimin wanted to make a thousand jokes about how this was something straight out of a porno, how this was not the kind of ambitious endeavor that most people risked in their day-to-day lives. But Jeongguk seemed down for anything, and Jimin was both horny and hooked. If they could just fuck it out and then decide what the hell they were doing, then perhaps they would be better off.

Jeongguk laughed himself to near tears when Jimin yanked a condom with an attached packet of lube out of his backpack, but he didn’t ask questions. He used up most of the lube for his fingers, and then he spun Jimin into the mirror and wedged him between two of the weight racks, forcing Jimin to press his hands to the mirror with a small gasp. Jeongguk gently but deliberately pulled Jimin’s track pants down to his thighs, and then he ran his hand over Jimin’s ass reverently.

mood: “wRoNg” (feat. kehlani) by zayn 

“Never fucked a man as gorgeous as you,” he complimented, and Jimin glanced up in the mirror, watching as Jeongguk slowly slipped one finger into him. Jimin’s back arched automatically at the intrusion, and Jeongguk braced his other hand on the small of Jimin’s back, looking in the mirror as well. “Not that you need the compliments. That’s shallow of me. But you really are beautiful.”

“Ah, shit,” Jimin breathed, one hand slipping as he pushed his hips back. He didn’t want to look at himself in the mirror, not yet. The very thought was too much for him. He just ducked his head, grateful that the doors to the gym were locked, because he was exposed completely.

Jeongguk slipped in a second finger and began to scissors them gently, reaching deeper until he had Jimin crying out, hands slipping against the glass. The way his free hand massaged Jimin’s ass before he lifted Jimin upright with an arm around his chest was so sexy that Jimin’s knees weakened. 

Okay, pull it together. You’re in complete control here. Or so you think. No, you’re not in control at all. Let it happen. You always try to be in control, anyways. Just give in.

“Jeongguk, please,” Jimin whispered, his head falling back against Jeongguk’s shoulder, eyes closed as Jeongguk’s fingers reached so deeply inside him that Jimin swore he was going to faint. Jeongguk’s fingers disappeared quickly, but only for a moment. There was a shift, some movement, the sound of lube, and then Jeongguk was spreading Jimin and pressing the tip of his cock to Jimin’s hole. Jimin immediately pitched forward again, hands on the mirror, and took a deep breath.

“Shit, you’re still so tight,” Jeongguk cursed, and Jimin gritted his teeth but took Jeongguk all the way, relaxing all of his muscles as Jeongguk bottomed out.

“Fast and hard,” Jimin said with his eyes closed. “That’s how I want it.”

“Done.”

Jeongguk pulled out nearly all the way before snapping his hips and thrusting back into Jimin in one go, Jimin nearly falling into the mirror. And he didn’t relent from that point forward. He fucked Jimin with vigor as Jimin clung to the mirror, his cock hanging helplessly and untouched while Jeongguk had a bruising grip on his hips. With one particularly rough thrust, Jimin moaned, and that was when Jeongguk wrapped one hand around Jimin’s cock and pulled him more upright, an arm wrapped around his chest again.

“Look at yourself. Look in the mirror,” he whispered in Jimin’s ear, kissing the shell of it before dragging his lips down Jimin’s neck, speaking words into Jimin’s throat. “Look how sexy you look. Look how beautiful you are like this. Look.”

Jimin dared to open his eyes, and he stared, catching his breath. Jeongguk was still shallowly thrusting inside him, tip of his cock brushing Jimin’s prostate every so often. His large hand wrapped around Jimin’s cock entirely, but that wasn’t the focus. Jimin’s eyes were glazed over and half-lidded, hair tousled, cheeks flushed, neck splotchy and red with new marks, lips kiss-bitten and slightly parted.

“See what I see?” Jeongguk muttered, using one hand to grip Jimin’s chin so that he was forced to look in the mirror. “Tell me you see how gorgeous you are.”

“Mm,” Jimin hummed as Jeongguk circled his hips, his hand steadily stroking Jimin, lips pressing wet kisses down Jimin’s neck as he nosed at the collar of Jimin’s t-shirt. Never in his life had Jimin assumed he would find himself sexy, but the way he looked right now was borderline obscene in the best possible way, all thanks to Jeongguk. “Jeongguk, just—please, just…”

“Hand,” Jeongguk muttered, so Jimin replaced Jeongguk’s hand with his own, and Jeongguk’s hands returned to Jimin’s hips. “I’ll be quick.”

He meant it. Jimin’s body lurched forward as Jeongguk fucked into him hard and fast, and Jimin’s hand matched the pace and rhythm Jeongguk set. He pushed his hips back in desperation, sweaty palm fully pressed to the mirror, and he dropped his head with a moan when he felt the orgasm building in the pit of his stomach.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” Jeongguk suddenly said, and Jimin’s heart leapt into his throat, because Jeongguk coming first felt like a victory. Jimin slowed his hand, and Jeongguk’s thrusts became faster and more erratic, his fingers leaving bruises on Jimin’s hips as he gripped and pulled Jimin back onto him. Jimin slapped his other hand on the mirror, not caring where it had just been, and then he lifted his head and arched his back slightly. 

“Harder,” he gasped out, and Jeongguk let out a quiet stream of curse words as, with one final thrust, he let out a labored breath, hips pressed to Jimin’s ass, head bowed, hands slipping down Jimin’s thighs. His breath came out ragged as he slowed down and stopped altogether, licking his lips, hands fluttering across Jimin’s lower back.

“Shh,” he suddenly said, and then his hand found Jimin’s cock again, and Jimin whimpered, biting his bottom lip. Jeongguk seemed to know exactly what to do, because with a few deft strokes and a flick of the wrist, Jimin came undone, spilling all over the mirror and Jeongguk’s hand, clawing at the glass to keep himself upright.

“Jesus,” he sighed out, the sizzle of a post-orgasm haze washing over him in steady waves

“I just cleaned those mirrors,” Jeongguk murmured, and Jimin, still sweating, promptly reached back and smacked Jeongguk’s thigh. Jeongguk snickered, and then he gently pulled out while holding the condom in place as Jimin caught his breath. Jeongguk disappeared and returned with a towel, and he and Jimin both cleaned off. Jimin laughed and re-dressed as Jeongguk wiped down and cleaned the mirror, clicking his tongue in fake disapproval.

“Okay. We need a plan.” Jeongguk sat down on a workout bench and pulled Jimin into his lap, and Jimin straddled him willingly, carding his fingers through Jeongguk’s short hair. “To see each other more often. Otherwise, we’re going to be jumping each other’s bones every single time.”

“Then stop being so good at fucking me.”

“And you expect me to do that how?”

Jimin snickered as Jeongguk raised both eyebrows. “Kidding. I agree, though. The sex has been great. But there’s more to this than just sex.”

“Jimin-ssi.”

“Hyung,” Jimin corrected him, and Jeongguk seemed slightly stunned before he continued.

“...Hyung,” he said carefully, gauging Jimin’s reaction. “Look, it’s not going to be as easy as we think. I have to leave in…” He whipped his head to look at the clock on the wall. “Fifteen minutes to go pick up Dasom from ice skating. And then it’s straight home for dinner, homework, shower, and bedtime. My life revolves around her. She comes first. You never will. I get that that sounds harsh, but I’m—”

“Jeongguk-ah,” Jimin interrupted, scratching the base of Jeongguk’s scalp with his fingernails. “I understand that. I’m not asking to come first. But this feels like a good thing. I actually want to spend more time with you than just a random date or two. I want to see where this could go. Maybe nowhere, but… I mean, we won’t know unless we try harder.”

“It scares me.” Jeongguk blinked up at Jimin with round eyes full of worry, a complete departure from the man who had had Jimin by the chin while fucking him from behind ten minutes ago. “Thinking of introducing someone into Dasom’s life. Because what if you’re not permanent? Then she’s heartbroken. Do you get what I mean?”

“So we take it slow. It scares me, too,” Jimin admitted. “I never expected to be interested in a man with a seven-year-old daughter, but here I am.”

“She’ll be eight in June.”

“I know. She’s on the thirteenth, just like me,” Jimin said softly with a small smile. “Look, she’s the one who played matchmaker in the first place. She’s a smart kid. We’ll take it slow. Can I see you on Saturday?”

“I can send her to Hoseok and Yoongi,” Jeongguk said mostly to himself, and then he nodded. “Okay. Saturday.”

“Come over to my place,” Jimin suggested. “Nothing fancy. We’ll order delivery and watch a movie. Play a game. Doesn’t matter. What do you think?”

“I’ll be there,” Jeongguk replied, sounding thrilled. “One day, though, we have to go to a nightclub together. Just once. Just for shits and giggles. I’m curious.”

“You’re on.” Jimin leaned in and kissed Jeongguk sweetly. “Thanks for inviting me here. Though I didn’t really use much of it, you have a nice gym.”

“You used the most important piece of equipment,” Jeongguk joked, and he burst out laughing when Jimin groaned. “Thanks for coming. I know it was random, but I panicked. I had to come up with something. Didn’t want to lose the opportunity.”

“Well, at least now I know where you film half of your Instagram videos,” Jimin teased, and then he climbed off Jeongguk’s lap and stretched his arms. With one final kiss, he smiled. “I’ll see you on Saturday night. Come over whenever. Just text me.”

“I will.” A single dimple appeared in Jeongguk’s cheek when he smiled. “See you then.”

Jimin snatched up his backpack as Jeongguk retreated into his office. The music turned off overhead just as Jimin unlocked the door and walked out of the gym, and then he waited until he rounded the corner to laugh and collapse against the side of his car in relief and sheer happiness. Then he pulled out his phone and let his fingers fly:

JIMIN [05:56:32PM]

SOS, I just let hot dad fuck me in his gym and now we have a date on Saturday

JIMIN [05:57:02PM]

It’s happening 

TAEHYUNG [05:58:04PM]

YOU LET HIM DO WHAT

NAMJOON [05:58:42PM]

LOLLLLLLLLLLLL Jimin’s really going to date a single father, this is amazing

JIMIN [05:59:12PM]

You fuckers, I really like him, WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?

TAEHYUNG [06:00:21PM]

Embrace it???? He’s hot, his kid’s cute, you said he’s good to you

TAEHYUNG [06:00:47PM]

DILF can also stand for, in English, Dick I’d Like to Fall on

NAMJOON [06:01:13PM]

He’s laughing at his own joke right now

JIMIN [06:02:04PM]

1. I’ll embrace it. Shit, this is happening fast.

NAMJOON [06:02:53PM]

Good things tend to happen like that ;)

TAEHYUNG [06:03:49PM]

In stalking his Instagram, I noticed he’s friends with j-hope so hook me up

JIMIN [06:04:14PM]

If you’re nice, I just might

Jimin blew out a breath, running one hand over his mouth as he dropped into the driver’s seat. Once his phone was in the holder, he stared at himself in the rearview mirror.

Some personal trainer. My neck is a mess. Jimin almost laughed out loud as he touched his skin, because if it was bruised, he would have to cover it with makeup tomorrow. But no matter what, it was worth it.

Jeongguk was worth it.

***

“Dad.”

“Mm.”

“Dad.”

“Mhm.”

“Dad.”

“Where’s the off button?” Jeongguk grumbled into his pillow, reaching out and poking a giggling girl with his finger. “I hate this alarm.”

Jeongguk rolled onto his back with a grunt, flinging one arm over his forehead, and then he let out another grunt as Dasom climbed onto the bed, wiggled under the covers, and threw her upper body across Jeongguk’s chest. Without looking, Jeongguk dropped his other hand onto her back and rubbed affectionately as she hugged him with one arm, and then he felt a little finger poking at the underside of his chin.

“Dad.”

“I’ll bite your finger off.”

“I want to make pancakes.”

“No you don’t.”

“Dad, it’s Sunday.”

“Not pancake day,” Jeongguk murmured, eyes still closed as he fought back a smile. “There’s a fridge full of food. Cereal. Yogurt. Fruit. Powdered donuts. You could eat the entire bag of powdered donuts. Why pancakes?”

“I want to put blueberries in them.”

Jeongguk finally opened his eyes and glanced down at his chest. Dasom was lying there with her head turned to the side, blinking at Jeongguk expectantly. She was still wearing her rainbow-striped pajamas, but she had coaxed her long black hair into a messy ponytail with a blue scrunchie, even though it was a little lopsided. Jeongguk reached down and stroked her ponytail, twirling it around his fingers as Dasom stuck her bottom lip out and closed her eyes.

“Make me pancakes,” she grumbled.

“Make your own pancakes.”

“Can I?”

“No, you can’t use the stove,” Jeongguk complained, and Dasom giggled. “Okay, just go and mix all the ingredients together.” He waved one hand, eyes closed. “You know where everything is, right? You’re seven. You can do precise baking measurements.”

“I can’t reach the pancake mix in the pantry.”

“Not the pantry,” Jeongguk said dramatically, and then he grabbed Dasom around the waist and flung her to the other side of the bed as she let out a yelp. Jeongguk instantly rolled over and yanked the covers high above his head, burrowing, but Dasom weaseled her way in and smacked Jeongguk’s bare chest indignantly.

“It’s almost nine o’clock!” she shouted, and then she used her two small hands to squish Jeongguk’s cheeks. He pouted on purpose, and she giggled as he talked nonsense just to make her laugh. “Dad, come on. I’m hungry. Feed me.”

“Fine, fine,” Jeongguk sighed, throwing back the covers. Then he kicked his legs like he was throwing a tantrum as Dasom laughed, shoving him playfully.

“Get up, Dad,” she said through her laughter. “We can watch more Haikyuu!!”

“Did you brush your teeth?”

“Yes.”

“And wash your face?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, fine. Blueberry pancakes.”

Dasom skipped out of the bedroom the moment Jeongguk was on his feet, and he yawned, grabbing the shirt he had thrown off before crawling into bed last night and dragging it onto his tired body. He brushed his teeth and splashed some water onto his face, and then he grabbed a hairbrush and walked into the kitchen, where Dasom was standing in the pantry with her hands on her hips. Jeongguk clamped the brush between his teeth, and then he grabbed Dasom by her waist and lifted her up effortlessly. She grabbed the box of pancake mix, and then she walked over to the countertop and dragged the stepping stool over from the corner. 

“What does it say?” Jeongguk asked as Dasom turned the box over and squinted at the directions like it would help her understand.

“Uh… mix… dry… what’s that word?”

“Ingredients.” Jeongguk pulled the scrunchie out of Dasom’s hair and began to run the brush through it as she stood on the stepping stool, attempting to read.

“Mix dry ingredients with one and… is that half? One and a half cups of water,” she read, and Jeongguk hummed in agreement, still pulling the brush through her thick hair. When he was satisfied, he gathered it all and used the scrunchie to tie it into a high ponytail on the top of her head. Dasom continued to read in slow motion as Jeongguk ducked into the bathroom and grabbed a handful of clear rubber bands.

“So we need how much water?” he asked as he separated a strand of the ponytail and began to braid it quickly.

“One and a half cups.”

“Good girl. What does it say next?”

Dasom continued to read the directions as Jeongguk hastily braided her ponytail into six separate braids, tying each one at the end. Once he was satisfied, he kissed the side of her head and grabbed the measuring cup. With his help, Dasom measured a cup and a half of water and added it to the dry pancake mix, and then she used the whisk to stir it all together, scraping the edges of the bowl like Jeongguk asked. Satisfied, Jeongguk then heated the pan up with some butter, and he poured the pancake mix into the measuring cup.

“Steady, steady, steady. Not too big! Chill out, chill out,” he said as Dasom giggled, watching the pancake batter expand in a large circle in the pan. “Okay, blueberries. Drop them in carefully. Fingers away from the edge of the pan.”

“Is that enough?”

“Depends on how blue you want your skin to be.”

“Dad.”

“You never know.”

“That’s enough,” Dasom declared, a toothless grin still on her face. She pressed her palms to the countertop, staring at the pancake as it formed bubbles, leaning in with the balls of her feet still on the stepping stool. Jeongguk reached down and dragged it over, putting her right in front of the stove and standing behind her. One thing Dasom had inherited from her mother was her petite and short stature. She was far smaller than the average girl her age, so Jeongguk could bench press her as a joke whenever he wanted.

“Okay, you see the bubbles?”

“Yes.”

“That means it’s almost time to flip. Here’s your spatula. Lift up the edge and peek. Come on, look. Bend your head, silly. Is it golden brown?”

“Yeah! It looks good.”

“Okay, let’s flip it.”

“Can we do it like the chefs do it? Without the spatula?”

“Do you want your pancake to be on the ceiling?”

“Okay, we’ll use the spatula,” Dasom said seriously, and Jeongguk snorted with laughter, placing his hand over hers. “Wait, I don’t want to ruin it. Help me, Dad.”

“I got you.”

“I don’t want my pancake to be messed up.”

“You’ll eat it regardless.”

“One… two… three!” Dasom flipped the pancake with Jeongguk’s help, and it landed in the pan with a smack. Dasom threw both of her arms up in the air victoriously, and Jeongguk chuckled.

Dasom ate her massive blueberry pancake with a side of fruit that Jeongguk gave her, and he quickly made his own pancake and ate with her as she swung her legs, chattering on and on about ice skating and how she was starting to do better and better with her arabesque. Jeongguk asked if she had practiced the violin lately, and Dasom sheepishly shook her head, saying the last time she had practiced was Wednesday night. Jeongguk gently recommended that she practice before her lesson tomorrow, and Dasom agreed with a smile, happy to not be scolded.

“Dad?”

“Yes, my love.” Jeongguk stopped scratching Dasom’s back for a moment, the TV still on. Breakfast was finished, the dishes were clean, and now they were indulging in some anime for an hour or so before moving on to other productive tasks for the day. Jeongguk had his legs kicked up on the coffee table, and Dasom was lying sideways in his lap with a pillow for her head, still in her pajamas. Sundays were lazy days for both of them, and rightfully so.

“Where did you go last night?”

“Hmm?”

“Last night, when you dropped me off. Hoseokie samchon said that you had a date.”

“Mhm. I did.”

Dasom was silent for a moment, and Jeongguk waited, thinking that she was distracted by the TV. But then she took a deep breath and rolled onto her back, staring up at Jeongguk. 

It hit Jeongguk like a speeding train sometimes when he looked at Dasom like this. She was his spitting image, only her nose similar to her mother’s nose, and he made her. She was half of his DNA, and lying in his lap now, all Jeongguk could think about were all the mornings seven years ago when he had lifted her out of her crib, changed her diaper, paced the house while giving her a bottle, and then laid her on his bare chest so they could both nap. Her tiny little hands had always curled into fists against his chest, but she had sucked on her pacifier like it was a lifeline, and Jeongguk had just petted her fuzzy short hair and breathed in her powdery baby scent, pressing kisses all across her tiny head and whispering how much he loved her.

Being a father was not something Jeongguk had ever anticipated. He had never planned for it, but here Dasom was in all her glory. Night after night, Jeongguk had cried with Dasom cradled in his arms while she cried, begging her to tell him what she wanted, what she needed, because he just couldn’t figure it out. Was it gas? Was she hungry? Uncomfortable? And why had she picked Jeongguk, of all people, to be her father?

Dasom was an open book, transparent. She never lied to Jeongguk and never tried to hide what she was doing or what she was thinking from him. She had learned a few years ago that Jeongguk wanted honest conversations, and she liked when Jeongguk listened to her speak, liked when she could give her opinion without being disciplined. Jeongguk tried to talk to her like she was a real human being with feelings, not just a brainless child. He had no idea if he was raising her correctly or if he was a good father, but he liked her, so that was all that really mattered.

And Jimin. Jimin liked Dasom. And that mattered, too.

“Who are you going on dates with?” Dasom asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “Is it a man or a woman?”

“A man.”

“Is it my teacher?”

“He’s not your teacher anymore.”

“But is it him?”

“Yes.”

Dasom squirmed and brought her knees to her chest for a moment with a grin, and then she dropped her legs, resting her folded hands on her stomach, expression serious.

“Dad?” 

“Yeah.”

“There’s a girl in my class. Her name is Miyoung. She’s my friend,” Dasom explained, and Jeongguk nodded, grabbing the remote and pausing the anime so he could listen. As Dasom continued, he repeatedly stroked from her forehead into her hair, something that she liked because she said it helped make her feel calm. “Her parents are divorced.”

“Ah. That’s very sad.”

“She lives with her mom,” Dasom continued. “Her dad moved far away, and she doesn’t see him anymore. That’s sad, too.”

“I agree.”

“And her mom is dating a new man now. And Miyoung said her mom is paying more attention to the man, and she thinks they’re going to get married.”

Jeongguk hummed, just listening, even though he had a feeling where the conversation was going. Dasom liked to tell stories that led her straight to her point. She liked to compare her own experiences to other things going on in her life and with people around her—it was how she understood the world, and it was the reason why she was so introspective at just shy of eight-years-old. Jeongguk encouraged it, too, because it was great for her critical and abstract thinking skills. Maybe he was parenting blind and winging it ninety-nine percent of the time, but at least his daughter talked things out with him. That was all Jeongguk cared about in the end.

“She said that her mom leaves her with babysitters a lot now and that when her mom invites the man for dinner, he doesn’t really talk to Miyoung or give her any attention. She said she’s mad because her mom isn’t doing a good job caring about her, either. So Miyoung is really lonely and sad.”

“I can understand that.”

“I don’t want to be lonely and sad and left with babysitters all the time, Dad.”

“Come here.” Jeongguk sat Dasom up, tossed the pillow aside, and then pulled Dasom right into his lap sideways. She curled up and rested her head on his shoulder, one hand on his chest, the other hand in her lap. Jeongguk kissed her forehead and hugged her with both arms as tightly as he could. “Thank you for sharing that story with me.”

“Mhm,” Dasom hummed, and Jeongguk kissed the side of her head again. He always thanked Dasom for sharing her stories, because it meant that she was communicating openly and honestly. 

“You know that I’ve only been on two real dates with him,” Jeongguk quietly said, still holding his daughter close to his chest. Her fingers were right near the baby footprints tattooed over his heart—her footprints. The tattoo artist had come to Jeongguk’s house and everything just to get the inked baby feet to transfer properly for a tattoo. “But I want to go on more dates. I like him a lot. He’s very smart. And very funny. He’s nice, too.”

“I know. He was my teacher. He’s the best.”

“He is.” Jeongguk smiled. “I’m really happy when I go on dates with him.”

“Do you kiss him?”

“I do.”

“Gross.”

“To you,” Jeongguk said indignantly, and Dasom giggled, cuddling in more. “But honey, I don’t know what’s going to happen next. You know what I mean? We’re learning about each other. Going on dates. Spending time together. And I’m seeing where he can fit into my life. Our life. Because you come first.”

“I do?”

“You do. I even told him that. If I had to choose between him and you, I’m picking you one hundred percent of the time. You’re my daughter. And I don’t ever want to give anyone more attention than you to a point where you would feel lonely and sad. And I hope that if you ever feel that way, or if you think that’s what’s happening, that you would tell me.”

“I would.”

“Good. “ Jeongguk rubbed Dasom’s shoulder affectionately. “But I also want you to understand something.”

“What?”

“I’m an adult,” Jeongguk said simply. “And there are a lot of things I still want to have in my life. And that might mean a boyfriend or girlfriend. Do you know how when you go to see your uncles, they’re super happy?”

“Ah, yeah.”

“You can see that they love each other very much,” Jeongguk said, referencing Hoseok and Yoongi as Dasom nodded against his chest. “They’ve been together for a long time, right? And they have a pretty cool life together.”

“Yes, they do.”

“I want to have something like that in my life, too,” Jeongguk stated, and he felt Dasom’s small hand gently patting his chest like she was subconsciously soothing him. “I want to have someone to love and be happy with and have a cool life with. I have you, which is pretty great. Best thing ever. But I want what they have, too.”

“Yoongi samchon does lots of really nice things for Hoseokie samchon,” Dasom remarked. “They take care of each other, Dad. Do you want that?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“Do you think Park seonsaengnim can take good care of you?”

Jeongguk smiled and closed his eyes, pulling Dasom into his chest as much as possible in a hug. She curled up willingly, bringing her knees in, and Jeongguk cherished it. She was still young enough to appreciate hugging her father. In a few years, Jeongguk wouldn’t be able to hold her like this. He would have to let her be a teenager, let her do her own thing and thrive. So for now, he had to hold onto her as tightly as he could and save every hug to memory.

“I think he would. And I think I’d take good care of him, too. And you know what else?”

“What?”

“He thinks you’re really cool.”

“He does?” Dasom lifted her head, eyes wide as she stared at Jeongguk. Jeongguk nodded.

“Mhm. You said that Miyoung’s mother’s boyfriend doesn’t really talk to her much, right? That maybe he doesn’t like her very much.”

“I think that’s right.”

“Well, I don’t think you’re going to have that problem,” Jeongguk said, and Dasom fought a smile by pursing her lips, Bambi eyes sparkling, one dimple popping out in her cheek. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes, Dad.”

“You’re my number one,” Jeongguk declared, and Dasom smiled. “Always. But I’m feeling really happy right now because I’m spending time with someone who I really like, and he likes you almost as much as I do.”

“Was I his favorite student?” Dasom grinned.

“Yes, but don’t let it go to your head,” Jeongguk scolded good-naturedly, and Dasom giggled. She wiggled out of Jeongguk’s arms and knelt on the floor by the coffee table, and then she popped open the container and rummaged around, humming pensively to herself. She emerged with blue, yellow, and red markers, and then she hopped back onto the couch and back into Jeongguk’s lap. She dragged his arm until it was draped across her own lap, and then she uncapped the yellow marker.

“Are you gonna tell him that you love him?” she asked as she began to color in the tattoos on Jeongguk’s arms that didn’t have color to them, like the winding staircase. She usually colored each stair differently to make a rainbow pattern.

“Not yet. It’s too soon,” Jeongguk replied, slouching further into the couch. “You can’t rush it, you know.”

“That’s what people say about art,” Dasom said in a singsong voice, and Jeongguk snickered. His kid was funny, and nothing made him prouder than knowing that Dasom had a sense of humor on her. Maybe it was just because she had inherited Jeongguk’s terrible sense of humor and Jeongguk found himself funny, but she always made him laugh.

“Well, I think I need to wait to tell him something like that,” Jeongguk replied as Dasom capped the yellow marker and grabbed the blue. She used her teeth to pop the cap, and then she snapped it onto the top of the marker and got back to work.

“Would you ever let him live with us?”

“That’s a very big question,” Jeongguk said with a small smile. “Would you let him live with us?”

“It depends.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Dasom capped the blue marker and grabbed the red, holding it up to Jeongguk. Jeongguk pulled the cap off and popped it onto the top of the marker, and Dasom got back to work. “He has to love you. He can’t live here unless he loves you.”

“Very important.”

“And he has to love me, too,” Dasom said in a bit of a smaller voice. “Because he can’t just love you and not love me, too. That would be mean.”

“I agree. Loving you is very important.”

“And he has to make me pancakes.”

“That’s a condition for living with us?” Jeongguk asked, and Dasom stifled a laugh, bobbing her head as her braids swung back and forth while she colored. “Your standards are high, Jeon Dasom.”

“You told me to have high standards.”

“You’re right, I did. Should I put my foot in my mouth?” Jeongguk asked, and Dasom giggled, collapsing with her head against Jeongguk’s bicep for a moment before straightening back up to reach for the red marker again. “Any other conditions?”

“Yes. He has to get his own bed,” Dasom said, and Jeongguk let out a bark of laughter as Dasom clicked her tongue indignantly. “Well, he can’t sleep in the same bed as you, because that’s gross. What if he wants to kiss you? Even worse.”

“You don’t think I deserve a bedtime kiss?” Jeongguk asked, slapping his hand over heart dramatically. Dasom twisted her upper body and then lifted the red marker right near Jeongguk’s face.

“Stay still,” she instructed. “I’m going to color your nose red like a clown.”

Dasom then let out a shriek as Jeongguk snatched the marker, grabbed her around the waist, and lifted her right over his head like a barbell, her little body supported by his palms. He stood up, and then he maneuvered her until he was holding her by both ankles, dangling upside down.

“DAD! PUT ME DOWN!”

“Who are you calling a clown?”

“YOU! YOU’RE A CLOWN!” she hollered, so Jeongguk shook her back and forth as she shrieked, arms flailing. “PUT ME DOWN! THIS IS A CIRCUS! PUT ME DOWN!”

After making a lap around the coffee table and letting Dasom clean up the markers while hanging upside down, Jeongguk set her on her hands and let her cartwheel out of his hold, and she immediately lunged and started punching his stomach with her tiny fists. Jeongguk held his fists up by his head like a boxer, crouching and throwing punches at her while bouncing and breathing heavily, and Dasom finally just grabbed his arm and held on tight. Jeongguk lifted his arm up as she wrapped her legs around his bicep as well, hanging like a koala, and he carried her into her bedroom and tossed her onto the bed.

“Clothes,” he commanded. “And then think about practicing, got it? Either that or we can go for a bike ride first. But you need to practice no matter what.”

“I’ll practice first,” Dasom sighed. “And then can we go for a bike ride?”

“Deal.”

Jeongguk walked back into the living room, smiling down at the half-colored staircase on his arm as he heard Dasom throwing open her closet and picking out clothes. He plopped down onto the couch with his phone, and then he heard fingers plucking at the strings of a violin. As he pulled up a text message conversation, Dasom began to play a simple song.

JEONGGUK [10:52:29AM]

Dasom asked me if I’m dating her teacher

HOSEOK [10:53:04AM]

Hahahahahahaha and how did that go?

JEONGGUK [10:53:54AM]

Surprisingly well

JEONGGUK [10:54:32AM]

I said I wanted to go on more dates with him and she didn’t seem to mind

JEONGGUK [10:55:16AM]

She just said that if he loves me, then he has to love her, too

HOSEOK [10:56:02AM]

Damn LOL my precious little philosopher

JEONGGUK [10:56:49AM]

I said that I wanted to have what you and Yoongi have and she liked hearing that

HOSEOK [10:57:39AM]

Well, you can look forward to being told to get a room when you kiss him in front of her

JEONGGUK [10:58:20AM]

She said that if he lives with us, he has to sleep in his own bed

HOSEOK [10:59:05AM]

LOLLLLLLLLL absolute savage, she’s definitely your kid

HOSEOK [11:00:02AM]

I’ll take her next Saturday, by the way. Please. I have more clothes for her to try on.

Jeongguk quickly got up from the couch and peeked around the corner. Dasom’s bedroom door was open, and she was wearing a white long-sleeved shirt and a pair of neon green short overalls, her feet bare as she stood and played the violin bent at the waist while reading the sheet music that she had lying on her bed. Jeongguk snickered, shaking his head, but he sat back down with a smile on his face.

JEONGGUK [11:00:45AM]

She’s wearing your overalls right now while she’s practicing the violin

HOSEOK [11:01:32AM]

Take pictures of her so I cry until Yoongi tells me to pull it together, please xxxxx

***

“Be good.”

“I’m always good.”

Jeongguk glanced in the rearview mirror, and then he unbuckled his seatbelt, trying not to laugh. Dasom was wearing a pair of leopard print leggings with a little black dress and a brown fake fur warm coat with matching ankle boots. She never spared a single expense when she spent time with Hoseok and always took her time getting ready. She had even made Jeongguk put her hair in a high messy bun on the top of her head, and she was wearing a pair of sunglasses despite the setting sun.

“Okay, let’s go,” Jeongguk said, opening the backseat door. Dasom hopped out and grabbed her little black bag, and then she took Jeongguk’s hand instinctively and held tight as they walked towards the luxury apartment building. Jeongguk lifted Dasom up in one arm so she could punch in Hoseok’s and Yoongi’s apartment code, and he held her right up to the camera as she squirmed and giggled.

“Yah, it’s hideous!” Hoseok’s voice suddenly said.

“Edna Mode! Let me in!” Dasom called out.

“Of course, darling, I’ll let you right up.” Hoseok played along, and the door of the building slid open. Jeongguk plopped Dasom down and let her run to the elevator to press the button for the top floor of the building, and they soared up to the seventh floor. The door was already propped open, and it wasn’t Hoseok standing there—it was Yoongi. Black hair with an undercut, wearing comfortable workout gear even though it looked like he had been lounging and watching TV. He was smiling fondly at Dasom.

“Yoongi samchon, do you like my outfit?” Dasom asked as she walked the metaphorical runway down the hall towards their apartment.

“You look very high fashion,” Yoongi complimented. “Did you remember your toothbrush this time?”

“It’s in my bag,” Dasom said, and then she hugged Yoongi around his waist, her head turned sideways. Yoongi cradled the back of her head affectionately and then nudged her inside with a small smile.

“Hey, Gguk-ah,” he said. “Busy night?”

“Hyung said he wanted Dasom here, so I’m just taking advantage,” Jeongguk replied with a grin, leaning against the doorframe opposite Yoongi.

“Do you need us to keep her overnight?” Yoongi asked. “You know she has enough clothing here. Just say the word.”

“It should be okay,” Jeongguk quietly replied, stepping inside and shooting Yoongi a look of gratitude. When Dasom was born, Hoseok had been single and terrified of children. He hadn’t even wanted to hold Dasom until she could lift her own head up, and he had avoided babysitting her at all costs, instead asking his older sister to lend a helping hand when Jeongguk was in crisis. But then Hoseok had met Yoongi, a budding corporate lawyer, and everything had changed.

Yoongi was only a year older than Hoseok, but he had a quiet fierceness to him and loved in silence and through gestures. When he had met Jeongguk, Yoongi had immediately asked to hold Dasom, who hadn’t even turned two yet. After seeing Yoongi bounce Dasom around on his lap for an hour, Hoseok had called Jeongugk in a panic a day later, saying that there was no way he could date a man so confident with children, and that he needed more practice. So Jeongguk had offered up Dasom for babysitting practice. Now, Hoseok and Dasom were thick as thieves, and Yoongi just played the role of quiet caretaker, watching his eccentric but brilliant partner roleplay as fashion designer Dasom’s assistant.

“Dad!”

“Yes—oh my God,” Jeongguk laughed as Dasom came stumbling out of the side room in a pair of gold shiny boots that were supposed to be knee-high on the average woman, but came up to the tops of Dasom’s thighs, and her dress was terribly tucked into the shoes to make it work. Hoseok was walking behind her and holding her hands like she was a toddler learning how to walk again.

“Remember when she was three and she used to draw humans as circles with legs?” Hoseok asked, grinning. “Behold.”

“They’re awful,” Jeongguk commented as Dasom stumbled again. Hoseok was dressed down significantly, wearing only a grey sweatsuit with a navy blue beanie covering his silver blonde short hair, but he was grinning mischievously, trying not to laugh.

“I like them!” Dasom declared, beaming. “I want a pair of these boots in my size!”

“Not on your life, kid,” Jeongguk replied calmly, and Hoseok snickered. Then he grabbed Dasom around the waist, pulled off each boot, and threw them to the floor until Dasom was without shoes once again.

“Say goodbye so Dad can go on his date,” Hoseok encouraged, nudging Dasom between her shoulder blades. Dasom skipped up to Jeongguk and launched herself at him, so Jeongguk picked her up and hugged her tightly as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

“Do you want me to pick you up tonight or tomorrow?” he quietly asked as he rubbed her back. Dasom rested her chin on Jeongguk’s shoulder, and then she pulled away and stared at him. With one finger, she touched the two ends of Jeongguk’s eyebrow piercing.

“Tonight,” she whispered, and then she brought her pointer finger to Jeongguk’s bottom lip and flicked it repeatedly to make a popping sound until she was giggling, because Jeongguk was just letting her do it. He opened his mouth and pretended to bite her finger, and she pulled away.

“It might be late. So if they tell you to lie down and go to sleep, you’ll do it. And I’ll bring you home to your bed, okay?” Jeongguk said, and Dasom nodded. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Dasom repeated, so Jeongguk pressed about eight or so kisses to her cheek before blowing a raspberry on it as she let out a yelp. “Stop it! Let me go, let me go. Fashion is my life, let me go.”

“You’ve corrupted her,” Jeongguk sighed as Dasom wiggled right out of his arms and bolted for Hoseok, snatching up the boots as she ran. 

“Jack-Jack, be a doll and put those back where they came from!” Hoseok called out.

“Okay!”

“I don’t know when I’ll be here to pick her up,” Jeongguk admitted, but Yoongi waved one hand dismissively.

“Doesn’t matter. We’ll be awake. You cool if we get delivery for dinner for her? She liked the rosé jjimdak we got last time with the glass noodles. Might do that again,” he said, tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip as Hoseok came to stand by his side.

“Feed her anything. Doesn’t matter,” Jeongguk said, because he trusted Yoongi and Hoseok with his life, and with Dasom’s life. Nowhere was Dasom safer than with Yoongi and Hoseok. “I’ll call when I’m on my way to you guys.”

“Have fun,” Hoseok said with a grin, wrapping his arms around Yoongi’s waist from behind. “Nothing too crazy. You look hot. Love the outfit.”

“We’re doing the painting and drinking thing,” Jeongguk said, and Yoongi hummed and nodded as Hoseok grinned. “My idea. Is it stupid?”

“Nah, it’s great,” Hoseok said. “Go, go, go. We’ll see you later.”

Jeongguk departed, ignoring the slight ache in his chest that always happened when he left Dasom with other people. He had assumed that such a feeling wouldn’t last past a certain age, but Dasom was almost eight, and he still hated leaving her behind. Spend time by yourself! Be independent! Have a life all your own! But even when he was doing that, Jeongguk still missed his daughter, no matter how much of a pain in the ass she was on her worst days.

Jeongguk drove to Jimin’s apartment and hyped himself up based off of Hoseok’s compliments. He was wearing black wide-legged pants and a white t-shirt with a few of his favorite necklaces, relieved that the weather was warm enough now for the end of April to forgo a jacket. It also gave him a chance to show his tattoos, which he only did because Jimin seemed to love them.

mood: “shh...don’t say it” by fletcher

“Hurry up!”

“Coming, coming,” Jeongguk said as he slammed his car door shut and locked it. Then he jogged across the parking lot to where the other car was sitting and waiting—their taxi, the car that would take them to the venue for painting and wine drinking. Jimin was standing there with a grin, wearing olive green linen pants and a white long-sleeved shirt as if he knew he was effortlessly gorgeous and barely had to lift a finger to knock the air out of Jeongguk’s lungs.

Jimin had been a bit of an enigma to Jeongguk at first, but admittedly, having sex with him after that first date had answered a lot of Jeongguk’s questions. Jimin was someone who spent most of his time in charge as a leader, teaching and mentoring and shaping lives. He had walked into their date with a touch of bravado, but the moment Jeongguk had started making his move, Jimin had caved almost instantly, happy to surrender.

Jeongguk had dated men and women alike, but no one had ever fit so perfectly into his life the way Jimin did. Jimin was lovely all the time. His intelligence was the sexiest thing about him; sitting on the floor at a coffee table and eating dinner together had been a revelation for Jeongguk, because he hadn’t realized just how brilliant Jimin was until they had shared a real conversation. No matter what the topic, Jimin knew something about it. He was a true Libra, but he spoke with such passion about everything that Jeongguk knew he was dating the right man. This was the kind of man that could influence Dasom in a positive way.

Jeongguk had asked, too. He had asked Jimin point-blank what he thought about dating a guy with a seven-year-old. Asked for honesty. Asked for the brutal truth. And Jimin had said, without a semblance of a lie, that he had panicked initially but was warming up to the idea that maybe, just maybe, he was going to get to watch Dasom grow up. Five minutes later, he was sitting on Jeongguk’s face, naked and moaning.

So maybe Jeongguk wasn’t quite sure how to handle someone like Jimin.

“Hey,” Jeongguk said breathlessly, jogging up and immediately taking Jimin’s face between his hands to kiss him.

“You look nice,” Jimin said right away. “All these tattoos just to show the staff at this place what real art looks like?”

“I’ll just show them you,” Jeongguk joked, and Jimin rolled his eyes, cupping his hand behind Jeongguk’s neck for another kiss.

“Wasn’t expecting to get another date so soon.”

“Thank Hoseok for demanding that I give him Dasom for the night.”

“Oh?”

“He needs her for some designs.”

“Send me pictures,” Jimin said with a grin as he opened the door to the backseat of the car. After Jeongguk had apologized five consecutive times for sharing a picture of Dasom over text, Jimin had just started requesting the pictures so he could react accordingly. Never wanting to burden Jimin with it or force it onto him, Jeongguk had been a bit wary, but Jimin’s affectionate reactions made him feel less guilty about someone else caring deeply for his daughter. Dasom hadn’t seen Jimin since the end of her first grade school year, but it had only been two months. Jeongguk didn’t want to rush anything. He wanted to ease Dasom into things if the relationship became more serious than it already felt.

The taxi dropped them off at the venue (Hollywood and Wine), and since Jeongguk had booked a slot for the two of them, they were welcomed inside and led to their easels. Then a staff member directed them to the bar, where they could choose what they wanted to drink.

“Well, if we’re painting a war scene, I feel like red wine is the way to go. But what if I’m supposed to paint you nude? That’s a white wine scenario,” Jimin said, tapping his finger against his bottom lip as Jeongguk snickered.

“It’s springtime. A rosé or sauvignon blanc would be good, right?” he said, and Jimin turned the finger and pointed at Jeongguk.

“You’re brilliant. Rosé?”

“Go for it.”

With a glass of rosé each, they made their way back to their easels, and they toasted with a kiss that they snuck when no one was looking. Jeongguk felt like a fool for a moment, but then he realized that he was just feeling lovesick. It wasn’t that he was in love. Not yet. Or was he? He was staring love right in the face, sure, but he wasn’t ready to admit that it was love. It felt too fast, or perhaps Jeongguk just had a shitty gauge for romance.

The art director declared that tonight’s drawing would be a sunset over an ocean. Jeongguk gulped his wine down and carefully followed the instructions, glancing at Jimin’s canvas every minute and reaching over with his paintbrush to dab paint onto Jimin’s knuckles when he got the chance. Jimin silently scolded him, but when the rest of the class wasn’t looking, Jeongguk leaned over and used the canvas and easel as a cover to steal kisses.

I must be out of my damn mind.

Jeongguk typically used outings and dates as a means to fast intimacy, a quick fix so that he could go home to his daughter afterwards. Five years ago, Jeongguk had attempted a fleeting relationship with a man his age who had come to train at the gym. Only two months into it, Jeongguk had realized that it was just sex, and that he felt no connection, nor had he had any interest in introducing the guy to Dasom.

Jimin was at the two-month mark, and there was a connection. The sex was great—Jeongguk couldn’t deny that. But above all else, the quick fix of intimacy didn’t leave him feeling empty. It made him want to come back for more, and it made him want to do things like paint a sunset and drink wine instead of dancing in a dark nightclub.

“Mine is way better.”

“LIke hell it is.”

“I teach first grade,” Jimin argued, and Jeongguk snorted with laughter. “I’m practically a professional artist. Look at that perspective.”

“Your reflection on the water is average at best,” Jeongguk lied.

“Your sunset looks sad.”

“Is that an octopus in the water?”

“Shut up,” Jimin laughed, tossing back the last of his second glass of wine, paintbrush between his fingers as he drank with a smile on his face. Jeongguk watched him, enamored, admiring his profile, the way he licked his lips as he glanced at his own painting, the way he fixed his posture while sitting on the stool. Every little detail was a full story. Jeongguk could look at Jimin and see a future, the two of them curled up on the couch together with ice-cream and a movie. But he could also see Jimin tucking Dasom into bed at night, something that had never happened before.

With their paintings in their laps, the taxi took both of them back to Jimin’s apartment, where Jeongguk’s car was parked. Jeongguk dropped his painting off in his car, and then Jimin took his hand and dragged him towards the door, since it wasn’t even ten o’clock yet. Jeongguk went willingly, eagerly.

“Shh, shh,” Jimin said with a giggle, falling into Jeongguk’s arms again as they approached the door of his apartment, his painting dragging. Jeongguk was already kissing him, tasting his lips like candy, hands all over. He wrapped one arm around Jimin’s waist, the other hand massaging his scalp as he deepened the kiss, Jimin’s hair tangled in his fingers. The door opened, and they both stumbled in and caught each other, the painting forgotten by the kitchen.

Safe. There was a safety that came with being in Jimin’s arms. They slowed down, standing rooted to the spot in the living room, kissing and touching as Jeongguk stroked Jimin’s cheek with his thumb. With as much tenderness as he could muster up, Jeongguk brushed his lips along Jimin’s jaw in feather-light kisses, and then up to his temple.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, and he felt the vibration of Jimin’s laugh against his chest.

“You’re one to talk.” And then he set his lips back on Jeongguk’s lips with intention.

“Hyung,” Jeongguk whispered dazedly, and Jimin hummed, his tongue still in Jeongguk’s mouth, his hands fighting to get underneath Jeongguk’s shirt.

“Do you have time?” Jimin asked, pulling away and gazing at Jeongguk with affection.

“Why? Did you want to have sex?” Jeongguk asked, grazing his knuckles along Jimin’s cheek as Jimin nodded. “Okay. Bedroom.”

Jimin pulled Jeongguk into his bedroom, and rather than tearing each other’s clothes off, they stood at the foot of the bed and kissed slowly, carefully, undressing each other and taking time to touch. Jeongguk shivered when Jimin’s thumbs brushed over his nipples.

“Ever thought about getting more piercings?” he asked, and Jeongguk snickered.

“Thought about a lip piercing once,” he admitted, and Jimin raised his eyebrows in interest. “But I didn’t want to scare Dasom. She was a toddler. Plus, she was always pulling my lips and smacking my face.”

“Sounds about right,” Jimin murmured, and then he grabbed Jeongguk as they both tumbled onto the bed, grabbing for lube and a condom and rolling until Jeongguk was propped upright against some pillows, and Jimin was in his lap.

“Like this?” Jeongguk wondered, slicking up his fingers.

“I hate you,” Jimin sighed, and Jeongguk let out a breathy laugh, raising one eyebrow. “You keep saying you want to bottom and here I am, begging for it.”

“Are you trying to tell me that my dick is just that magical?”

“I might be, but don’t let it go to your head,” Jimin said, sighing out the last syllable as Jeongguk slipped his finger in with ease, and then a second one soon after. Jimin fell silent, draping himself over Jeongguk’s shoulder and rolling his hips like he was riding Jeongguk’s fingers, little breaths sweet and addictive in Jeongguk’s ear. With one hand pressed to the curve of Jimin’s back, Jeongguk left kisses all over Jimin’s chest and collarbones.

“I don’t really care how we do it,” Jeongguk murmured between kisses. “As long as I’m close to you like this. Love when it’s like this. Love fucking you. Don’t worry about it.”

“Then like this,” Jimin whispered, and Jeongguk nodded. Without a word, once Jimin was prepped enough, he knelt over Jeongguk’s lap, lined himself up, and sank down onto Jeongguk’s cock with a light sigh, eyes fluttering closed. He then draped his arms around Jeongguk’s neck and moved in for a kiss.

Time was lost. If there was a minute-hand ticking away, Jeongguk couldn’t hear it. He kissed Jimin in slow, quiet waves with floating whispers in between, goosebumps on his skin whenever Jimin began to rock his hips just enough for Jeongguk to grow harder inside him again. They kissed with abandon, Jeongguk’s hand loosely wrapped around Jimin’s cock, neither of them in a rush, neither fighting for dominance, neither speaking. This cocoon was safe, and Jeongguk was starting to wonder if there was a cure for the lovesickness he was feeling.

mood: “rumors” by sabrina claudio, zayn

Jimin kept one arm over Jeongguk’s shoulder and pressed the other hand behind him on Jeongguk’s knee, breaking the kiss, and then he began to move fluidly, hips rolling, body glistening with a light sheen of sweat that made Jeongguk feel wild. He couldn’t keep his hands from following the curves and planes of Jimin’s beautiful body, couldn’t keep from kissing every inch of exposed skin that was screaming out to him, couldn’t keep from desperately absorbing every little moan or whimper that left Jimin’s mouth.

This was much different than any other time they had had sex. Usually, Jeongguk walked into it with confidence and took the lead, knowing that Jimin liked being told what to do, that he liked the thrill of being denied or edged, enjoyed rough sex and dirty talk, was game for anything. But this was just… soft. Gentle. Quiet. It was sex with a purpose, but Jeongguk couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Touch me,” Jimin breathed, so Jeongguk began to stroke his cock again in a rhythmic fashion, watching the man riding him furrow his brow, bottom lip between his teeth. Gorgeous. He was so gorgeous, so effortlessly wonderful, and he wanted to be intimate with Jeongguk, of all people.

“Baby, I’m gonna come,” Jimin whispered in warning, and Jeongguk nodded, his heart racing. Baby. Was he? Did Jimin feel that way outside of sex? And was it worth asking? Jeongguk swallowed heavily and massaged Jimin’s thigh.

“Go ahead,” he encouraged. “I’ve got you. Come on. Don’t hold back. Come on, babe, come on. Let me see you.”

“Jeongguk,” Jimin moaned, falling forward with his hands pressed to Jeongguk’s chest, breathing heavily, eyes squeezed shut. He let out a sharp exhale that was more like a gasp, fingers curling until his nails were digging into Jeongguk’s skin, and he came all over Jeongguk’s hand and chest with a whimper. Jeongguk thought there would be a moment of peace or silence, but Jimin climbed out of Jeongguk’s lap, laid Jeongguk on his back, and pulled the condom off so he could get his mouth on Jeongguk properly. Jeongguk’s eyes rolled back as he sank into the pillows.

“God, you’re so good,” he breathed, reaching down with one hand to rake his fingers through Jimin’s hair. “So good, so—shit, okay, okay. Just—use your fingers, baby, use your—that’s it, shit, that’s…”

Jeongguk opened his eyes just to see Jimin hollowing his cheeks with his fingers wrapped around the base of Jeongguk’s cock, and then he flicked his eyes up and stared at Jeongguk. With a few choice curse words, Jeongguk let his head hit the pillow again as he gripped Jimin’s hair in warning, and then he lifted his hips up with a sharp exhale of pleasure as he spilled down Jimin’s throat.

The clean-up was quick and silent, like a well-oiled machine doing its best work. Still naked, Jimin swung his leg over Jeongguk’s lap and situated himself as if he had done it a thousand times, and Jeongguk ran his hands reverently up and down Jimin’s ribs and settled at his hips. Jimin’s right hand carded through Jeongguk’s hair.

“What are we doing?” he whispered, and Jeongguk cocked his head.

“What do you mean?”

“Us. What are we doing?” Jimin wondered. “Are we—are we something, or are we just…? Is this just… What are we doing?”

“We’re definitely something,” Jeongguk replied without hesitation. “This isn’t just fun or random to me. I’m not killing time. I mean, at first, I thought maybe we both just wanted sex. But it’s… I mean, we’re clearly beyond that.”

“Do you still want to keep seeing me?” Jimin asked, and Jeongguk nodded, which made Jimin slump in visible relief. “Oh, okay. That’s good. I don’t know why I’m worrying so much. It just feels too good to be true.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Jeongguk murmured with a small smile, glancing up to meet Jimin’s eyes. “I don’t really know what we’re doing, to be honest. Enjoying each other’s company, maybe. Learning. Having sex. Painting, although your painting could use some work.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Jimin laughed, smacking Jeongguk’s shoulder lightly. Jeongguk grinned, and then he embraced Jimin and held him close, feeling Jimin’s heartbeat against his own chest.

“Has work been okay?” Jeongguk whispered, and he felt Jimin laugh quietly as they pulled apart, Jimin’s fingernails scratched the bottom of Jeongguk’s scalp with affection.

“Yeah. It’s been good. Can’t complain. I have a good class this year,” he replied with a softness to his voice that made Jeongguk shiver happily. “I like the series you’re doing.” He used his knuckles to trace along Jeongguk’s jaw. “On Instagram. About posture and alignment.”

“Ah. That’s nothing,” Jeongguk said dismissively.

“I get to see you flexing all your muscles, so it’s not ‘nothing,’” Jimin said with a grin. “But it’s good. People like it.”

“Or maybe you just like it.”

“That, too.”

Jeongguk gently gripped Jimin’s chin and brought their lips together for a kiss, and then he smiled.

“I should get going,” he said. “It’s getting late. I promised Dasom I’d get her tonight and not tomorrow.”

“You’re going to have to let me see her one day soon, you know.” Jimin pulled away further to survey Jeongguk’s face. “It’s been months. She knows we’re dating. I haven’t seen her since she finished first grade.”

“I’ll think of something,” Jeongguk promised, and he meant it. It was time. He knew he was going to have to start incorporating Jimin into Dasom’s life now, especially since he was head over heels for Jimin, in deep with no plans of escaping. Life was funny that way, but Jeongguk welcomed the chaos.

After a flurry of goodbye kisses, Jeongguk reluctantly left Jimin’s apartment, promising another date soon and begging Jimin to text him during the week. Jimin promised, so Jeongguk took the stairs down to the ground floor, giddy. Glad the alcohol had worn off, Jeongguk hopped into his car and drove right to Yoongi’s and Hoseok’s apartment, checking the time—just after eleven o’clock. It was a toss-up whether or not Dasom would be awake. She liked to push her limits when it came to bedtime.

“...Hey.” Yoongi quietly opened the door when Jeongguk knocked. “She passed out an hour ago.”

“That’s shocking,” Jeongguk admitted, stepping into the dimly lit apartment. Hoseok was sprawled on the couch, and he glanced up from his phone and waved. “Was she good?”

“She’s always good,” Hoseok said as Yoongi gently pushed the door of their bedroom open. There, lying on the bed in the dark, was Dasom. She was curled into a fetal position and hugging a teddy bear that she kept at her uncles’ place, and she was wearing a pair of pajamas that Jeongguk had put into her backpack. 

“You took her hair out,” Jeongguk noticed when he peeked out into the living room again, and Hoseok nodded.

“I didn’t want her sleeping with her hair tied up like that,” he replied. “Not good for her scalp.”

“It pays to have a fashion designer for an uncle,” Jeongguk teased, and then he tiptoed back into the room. Dasom’s beautiful hair was cascading down her back and over one shoulder, and she was sleeping peacefully, lower lip jutting out a bit, and Jeongguk just stared at her, his heart aching. Seeing her sleep just made him think of when she was a baby. He used to stand over her crib and watch her sleep just to make sure she was okay. Right after bringing her home from the hospital, Jeongguk used to sleep with her little bassinet right beside his bed, and he would lie with his fingertips on her small back sometimes so he could feel her breathing.

Gently, Jeongguk scooted his hands underneath Dasom’s body, watching her frown and stir, but then he lifted her up and draped her over his right shoulder, his arm beneath her bottom to keep her supported. Dasom had said once that she didn’t like being cradled when Jeongguk picked her up in the middle of her slumber because she felt “squished,” so now he carried her on one hip, her legs and arms dangling because she was too tired to wrap them around him. Jeongguk turned his head and kissed her hair several times.

“I love you, my baby,” he whispered, and Dasom only let out a small hum, half-asleep. With one more kiss to her temple, Jeongguk walked out into the living room. 

“Here’s her stuff,” Yoongi whispered, slipping the backpack onto Jeongguk’s left shoulder.

“Thank you so much for looking after her,” Jeongguk whispered as Yoongi rubbed Dasom’s back. Hoseok hopped off the couch, gently brushed Dasom’s hair away from her face, and kissed her forehead.

“Anytime,” he said as Yoongi opened the front door. “See you later, Gguk-ah.”

Jeongguk carried Dasom down to the car and cradled her head carefully as he set her down in the backseat. He was always prepared, so he grabbed the pillow that was in the backseat and propped it against the window by reaching through from the other side. He buckled Dasom in, watching her melt into the pillow, head lolling.

Their apartment was on the second floor of a smaller building, so Jeongguk carried her through the lit hallways and into their home, not bothering to flick on any lights. She wasn’t wearing shoes, a perk of being carried, so he brought her right to her bedroom, but she whined quietly.

“What? What is it, darling?” Jeongguk whispered, rubbing her back.

“Dad’s bed,” she mumbled, nuzzling her face into Jeongguk’s shoulder. She was almost eight and liked to pretend she was mature and “over it,” but whenever Dasom asked to sleep with Jeongguk in his bed, it meant that she needed to feel safe and loved, that somewhere along the line she had started to feel lonely or abandoned and just wanted her father. It didn’t happen often, but Jeongguk never argued when she asked. He carried her into his bedroom and tucked her into the other side of his bed. But she called for him.

“What is it? Go to sleep, baby bear,” he said, brow furrowed as he knelt down. Dasom, lying on her side, cracked her eyes open, still half-asleep.

“Date good?” she murmured, her eyes closing.

“It was great,” he whispered, stroking her hair repeatedly so she could fall back asleep. She was quiet for a moment, but then she managed to say one more thing.

“You love him?”

Jeongguk paused as Dasom shifted underneath the covers further, eyes still closed. With a light touch, he used his fingertips to brush across her forehead and into her hair, watching her physically sink into the pillow as sleep began to take her over.

“I think I do,” Jeongguk whispered. He saw Dasom’s lips twitch in a smile, but then her face relaxed, and she said not another word. Jeongguk pressed a kiss to her forehead, wishing he could explain to her just how much he loved her. Instead, he let his actions do the work, and he changed into pajamas, washed up, and crawled into bed.

Surely Dasom would want pancakes first thing in the morning. And Jeongguk was going to cook them for her.

Chapter Text

[moodboard by cata]

~ ~ ~

“God, I’m so tempted to erase his answer and make it right.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“Fill me up.”

Jimin grabbed the bottle of wine and poured Seokjin another glass. They were sitting together at Seokjin’s kitchen table, and both of them had math tests and spelling tests to grade, miraculously matching up with one another. So Seokjin had insisted that Jimin come over for a Sunday night drinking and grading session before handing back the results to students tomorrow.

It was nearly June, and the weather was warming up. Jimin was going on consistent dates with Jeongguk now, even dinner dates. Yesterday, Jeongguk had slept over because Dasom had been with her mother, and Jimin was still giddy thinking about the night they had spent together watching movies and having sex and ordering delivery food way too late at night but unable to resist temptation.

“This kid can’t spell to save her life. She tries so hard, poor girl,” Seokjin sighed, shaking his head as he marked down yet another word on the paper before him. “Her concept of consonants is all over the place.”

“Did I have her?” Jimin read the name upside down. “Ah, no. She wasn’t my student.”

“No, your students who I have now are good spellers,” Seokjin said, rubbing his forehead. Then he tapped his red pen against the tabletop. “How was your date?”

“It was great.” Jimin marked problem number three wrong on Miyeon’s paper and flipped to the back. “Every date is good with him.”

“Is this it, then?” Seokjin grinned, kicking Jimin under the table. “Is he the one? Are you gonna be a dad?”

“I’m not gonna be a dad,” Jimin said crankily, trying not to laugh. “I just… I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

“Do you love him?”

“Well, I haven’t exactly told him yet,” Jimin replied. “But… I mean, I’m not going to sit here and lie. I definitely think I’m in love with him.”

“If he said he loved you, would you say it back?”

“Yeah.”

“There it is,” Seokjin said in a singsong voice, laughing. “Who would’ve thought? You bang your student’s father once and now look.”

“She wasn’t my student anymore,” Jimin pointed out, grinning. “Technicalities matter, you know.”

“You got me there—oh, just answer it. I don’t care,” Seokjin said when Jimin’s phone began to vibrate and Jeongguk’s name appeared. Jimin smiled, stood up with his wine glass in one hand, and pressed the phone to his ear with his other hand.

“Yes, hello?”

“Hey, baby. How are you?” Jeongguk asked, and Jimin smiled again, taking a sip of his wine.

“I’m great. I’m with a former co-worker right now. We’re grading papers. He’s the teacher I want Dasom to have for third grade,” Jimin explained.

“Ah, Kim Seokjin? Can we swing that?” Jeongguk asked, and Jimin chuckled.

“All we can do is hope. What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. I, uh… I wanted to ask you something,” Jeongguk said, sounding hesitant, and Jimin noticed. He set his wine glass onto the table, held up one finger to Seokjin, and quietly walked into the other room.

“What is it?”

“Dasom’s birthday is on the thirteenth of June,” Jeongguk said, and Jimin hummed. “Um, she’s having a birthday party the day before on Saturday with all her friends from school and skating and everything. But, um… on Sunday, she’s having a little party with just the adults. So, uh, that’s me, my two friends who look after her all the time, my friend’s sister, my older brother, and, uh… well, her mom and her mom’s boyfriend will be there, too.”

“That sounds awesome.”

“Well, I was wondering… I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come on Sunday. To her birthday party,” Jeongguk said in a rush, clearing his throat after. “Uh, she’ll—she’ll be really—yeah. She’ll be really excited if you show up as a surprise. If you want to. No pressure. Everyone wants to meet you, though. No pressure, sorry, I just—yeah. Even her mother wants to meet you.”

“Ah. Okay. Wow. That’s… wow. That’s…” Jimin took a deep breath. “That’s a lot.”

“I know.”

“That’s… Jeongguk, that’s…”

“A big step. I know. I get that.”

“You’re asking me to—when I said that I should start seeing her, I… I thought maybe dinner or something,” Jimin said, his heart racing nervously. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t expecting a birthday party.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I just—”

“I’ll be there. Of course I’ll be there,” Jimin said as if he was scolding himself. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. But it’s still… a lot to think about.”

“Wait, you’ll really come?” Jeongguk sounded pleasantly bewildered. “Are you sure? I was ready to negotiate.”

“Not necessary,” Jimin said with a chuckle. “It’s just that you’re asking me to meet all of the people who have basically raised her with you. And I’m the new guy. It’s a little scary. Terrifying, actually.”

“Understood. But I’ll be there with you,” Jeongguk pointed out. “And I trust you the same way I trust all of them. And Dasom will be over the moon.”

“I’ll get her a present,” Jimin said, and Jeongguk let out a laugh.

“God, that will boost her ego to impossible levels,” he joked. “Don’t feel obligated. You’re enough of a gift for her, trust me. Don’t go all out.”

“I’ll get her something.”

“Are you absolutely sure about this, hyung?” Jeongguk asked cautiously.

“I’m sure. I’m—yeah. I’m terrified, but I’m sure,” Jimin said, resolute. “I’ll be there. Just tell me when and where.”

“Okay. I’ll text you everything,” Jeongguk said, sounding breathless with both relief and excitement, which made Jimin’s heart skip happily. “Have a good night, babe.”

“You too, Jeongguk-ah,” Jimin said with affection, and then he hung up and ran back into the kitchen. “Hyung.”

“Did he propose?” Seokjin teased, and Jimin collapsed into his chair, grabbing his pen and tapping it a few times against his forehead as he leaned forward for a moment. Then he dropped his arms onto the table with a dull thud.

“He invited me to Dasom’s birthday party. The one for adults.”

“Oh, shit. That’s a huge step,” Seokjin said, raising both eyebrows. “You feel okay with that? I mean, do you feel like your relationship is at that point?”

“Hyung.” Jimin rubbed his face with his hands swiftly, and then he leaned back. “I’m in love with him. We’ve established that, haven’t we? So it has to be at that point. There’s no other option. I need to be a part of Dasom’s life.”

“And maybe tell Jeongguk you’re in love with him, but I digress,” Seokjin said with a coy shrug, setting one spelling test aside and reaching for the wine bottle. “Another glass?”

“Don’t make me beg.”

Jimin drank more wine and took a taxi home just like he had taken one to Seokjin’s place, already anticipating the amount of wine they would drink together while grading papers. The entire fifteen-minute ride home, Jimin brainstormed furiously about what kind of gift he could give to an eight-year-old like Jeon Dasom.

He thought of it halfway through his week when he was in the middle of teaching his reading lesson. The kids were coloring in an illustration to match the story they had just read, and little Sooah marched up to Jimin’s desk and extended her arm, frowning because there were marker streams all over it from her coloring escapades. It then dawned on Jimin exactly what to get Dasom, even if she had had it a million times before.

The thirteenth of June rolled around quickly, and Jeongguk texted Jimin the address and time to show up that morning with a heart emoji and everything. It was warm, since summer was approaching, and Jeongguk had insisted that Jimin wear casual clothing, nothing fancy. He had even sent Jimin a picture of himself in the mirror, wearing just a pair of ripped jeans and a black t-shirt. So Jimin (after he had finished drooling respectfully) opted for a similar fit, throwing on black jeans and a white t-shirt and then grabbing his present for Dasom that he had wrapped last night. His heart pounding nervously, he threw on his sunglasses and hopped into the car to drive to the park where Jeongguk had set up for them all to meet and hang out, since there would be dogs attending.

The weather was beautiful—a good omen, Jimin figured. He tucked Dasom’s present under one arm and locked his car, and then he scouted out the park before his eyes landed on a picnic table under a tree with a gold number 8 balloon and food spread across the table. There were two dogs chasing each other happily, and there was Dasom, standing on the bench of the picnic table as she attempted to be as tall as Jeongguk was during conversation. She was wearing a black sleeveless jumpsuit with a big black bow tied around her waist, and her long black hair was in two French braids. She wasn’t wearing shoes, and Jimin wasn’t even surprised.

Okay, just walk up to them. It’s just Jeongguk and eight other adults you’ve never met before. You can do this. Don’t be an idiot.

Jimin took a deep breath and stepped onto the grass to begin his walk towards the small party, but he didn’t even make it halfway. He paused when Dasom stopped poking her finger in Jeongguk’s ear and spotted him. She leapt off the bench and nearly face-planted, and then she began sprinting, not running, towards Jimin. When she reached him, she skidded to a halt, eyes wide and sparkling, mouth slightly open in shock.

“Are you here for my birthday?” she practically whispered as if she couldn’t believe Jimin was real.

“Of course I’m here for your birthday,” Jimin replied, noticing the way that his heart grew five sizes like a cartoon when Dasom slapped both hands over her mouth, concealing her wild smile. Then she threw her arms around Jimin’s waist and hugged him, her head pressed to his stomach, and Jimin laughed, hugging her back tightly.

“Park seonsaengnim.”

“Yes—oh.” Jimin crouched down, because Dasom was furiously beckoning to him like she had a secret, so she scooted to his side so she could whisper in his ear.

“Can you tell my dad that you love him?” she whispered, and then she pulled away and looked Jimin right in the eye as Jimin raised his eyebrows. Leaning in, Dasom added, “I even asked him if he loves you, and he said he thinks so, but maybe he’s scared. But if you say it first, maybe he won’t be so scared.”

“You think so?” Jimin gently asked, wanting to just hug her again for her shameless honesty and promotion of the relationship between Jimin and her own father. She was a rascal to the fullest extent, but the way that she looked after Jeongguk and took care of him in her own special way was devastatingly endearing. Dasom seemed to have a sixth sense, an intuition when it came to her father.

“Yes.” She nodded, her braids flopping, and then she grinned. One of her front teeth was growing in, but now she was missing the other front tooth and two on the bottom, and she was by far the most adorable child Jimin knew (perhaps he was biased). Dasom’s eyes flicked down, and she saw the present. “Did you bring me a present?”

“I did.”

“Is it a good present?”

“Yah,” Jimin scolded, lightly whacking her hip with the present as Dasom giggled. Jimin stood up so he could walk, but Dasom grabbed his hand and tugged.

“Come on, come on, come on. DAD! DAD, LOOK! LOOK, DAD, HE’S HERE! DAD!”

Jimin allowed himself to be pulled along towards the picnic table, trying not to blush or take off running when all eight adults turned to look at him in interest. Dasom marched right up to Jeongguk, and then she took Jeongguk’s hand in her free hand. Without hesitating, she then smacked Jimin’s hand into Jeongguk’s hand before leaping away like they were on fire. She climbed onto the picnic table bench, stood up, took a giant step over the food, and landed on the other side next to a man with silver blonde hair.

“Hi,” Jeongguk said to Jimin, trying not to laugh but refusing to release Jimin’s hand.

“Okay, now you have to kiss,” Dasom said, elbows on the picnic table and both of her hands up like she was ready to cover her eyes. “Ugh, this is awful. Okay, kiss. Do it. I can take it.”

“Is she serious?” one of the women laughed as the guy next to Dasom snorted.

“What’s it called—” Dasom turned to the man next to her— “when you make yourself watch something that’s gross so that it’s not as gross when you have to see it again?”

“Desensitization,” the man said, and Dasom just stared at him blankly. Then she whipped her head to look back at Jeongguk and Jimin.

“How about I introduce him to everyone first, you fool?” Jeongguk asked, and Dasom dramatically groaned, throwing her upper body onto the table. Chatter then broke out again amongst the laughter, and Dasom scooted closer to the man beside her, hooking her elbow with his as she watched Jimin set down the present onto the table with the others.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” Jeongguk softly said, squeezing Jimin’s hand. “Thank you for coming.”

“I think it was a good surprise,” Jimin said, and Jeongguk leaned in and gave him a quick kiss before guiding him over to the first person for Jimin to meet. 

“YOU DIDN’T EVEN WARN ME!”

“Zip it,” Jeongguk said to Dasom as the man beside her burst out laughing, because Dasom was kneeling on the bench indignantly with her hands pressed to the surface of the table. Jeongguk then gestured to the man with silver blonde hair, who stood up and offered his hand right away.

“Jung Hoseok,” he said with a contagious smile, and Jimin shook his hand.

“Ah, the fashion designer. I have your clothes in my closet,” Jimin said right away, and Hoseok grinned proudly. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

“And this is his partner,” Jeongguk added, turning Jimin towards a shorter, handsome man with black hair and an undercut and captivating eyes. He offered his hand as well.

“Min Yoongi,” he introduced himself as they shook hands. “About time we finally meet you. Every other word out of Jeongguk’s mouth is your name.”

“You zip it, too,” Jeongguk said, clamping his fingers together like a mouth as Jimin snickered.

“It’s great to meet you both,” he said. Hoseok then grabbed Dasom around the waist and made her sit down and settle as she scowled, and Jeongguk guided Jimin over to the next couple. Jimin met Jeongguk’s older brother, Junghyun, and his wife and their dog. He then met Hoseok’s older sister, Jiwoo, and her husband and their dog. 

“Ah, this is Byun Daeseong,” Jeongguk said, introducing Jimin to a tall man in jeans and a graphic t-shirt with a baseball cap on. He shook Jimin’s hand as Jimin noticed Jeongguk glancing around the park brow furrowed.

“Nice to meet you,” Daeseong said, shifting his footing nervously. “Uh, I heard you’re a great teacher.”

“Oh. Thank you,” Jimin replied with a small bow, mildly confused. He was about to ask how Daeseong knew such things, but a hand patted Daeseong’s chest and pushed him away, and Jeongguk put a hand on Daeseong’s shoulder and guided him off.

“Please excuse my boyfriend. He doesn’t know how to socially interact with people older than him.” The hand belonged to a woman who was smiling in amusement, and then she bowed. “Kim Eunji. I’ve been waiting to meet you.”

Now Jimin understood why Dasom was so tiny for her age. Eunji was petite, short enough for Jimin to rest his chin on the top of her head. Her long black hair was pulled up into a high ponytail, and she was wearing a red sundress, her sunglasses pushed up into her hair. Dasom didn’t look much like Eunji, most of her looks coming from Jeongguk, but Eunji was quite pretty with a fairy-like type of beauty, sitting into one hip casually and not bothering to hold herself in a prim and proper fashion, arms crossed. Jimin could see the family resemblance, mostly in posture. Eunji seemed small but mighty, much like Dasom was.

“Once a month for an entire school year—‘Hi, Dasom, how are you?’ And then I’d get—‘Mom, I have the best teacher. Mom, Park seonsaengnim said that I’m smart. Mom, what star sign are you if you’re born in October?’” Eunji said, having a pretend conversation with herself as Jimin stifled his laughter. Eunji grinned. “That last one isn’t made up. She wanted to do a Naver search on how compatible you were with Jeongguk.”

“She’s ambitious, if nothing else,” Jimin said with fondness, and then he offered his hand, which Eunji shook politely. “It’s really nice to finally meet you. Jeongguk has said good things about you.”

“Well, that’s very nice of him,” Eunji replied, tightening her ponytail as she watched the scene at the picnic table. Jeongguk was sitting on the edge talking to Dasom, who was quite animated as she spoke, hand gestures and all. “Dasom says you’re the best ever. I believe her.”

“I think she’s exaggerating.”

“I doubt that. She’s brutally honest. Last month, she told me that I shouldn’t marry Daeseong because I’m ‘better than that,’” Eunji said, using air quotes as Jimin snorted with laughter in disbelief. “That girl doesn’t sugarcoat anything. I don’t know whether to be mortified or impressed. But that’s how Jeongguk is, too, so I’m not surprised.”

“She came up to my desk in the middle of class once and said that her dad thinks I’m cute and asked if I thought he was cute,” Jimin remarked, and Eunji snickered. “She’s got spunk.”

“She does. But there’s something else I’ve noticed,” Eunji said, sitting into the other hip. “And feel free to stop me if I’m being too forward or disrespectful. But… about Jeongguk.”

“Mm?” Jimin slipped his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans and shifted to face Eunji more, curious.

“I’ve been with Daeseong for… five years now? Give or take,” Eunji began, her arms still crossed delicately. “And I always kind of hoped Jeongguk would find someone, you know? I get that it was easier for me. Everything was easier for me. He’s the one who raised her. I don’t really have a leg to stand on. And he’s had his friends and everything. But I wanted him to have someone like you. This is probably the happiest I’ve seen him since Dasom was born.”

Jimin nodded quietly, not sure what to say. It was bizarre, hearing Eunji speak so freely about Jeongguk, hearing that she wanted Jeongguk to have good things and wasn’t bitter about anything that happened in the past. Jimin was so used to the horror stories of the internet about scorned exes locked in custody battles or jealousy over new partners. Yet here Eunji was, smiling over Jeongguk’s newfound happiness. 

“He deserves this. If you’re gonna stick around,” Eunji added with a grin. “He really likes you. I asked him last time he picked up Dasom, and he even said so.”

“Well, I can’t really say I expected to date the single father who left his number in his kid’s end-of-the-year thank you card,” Jimin said, and Eunji giggled. “But I’m glad he did. I just have to make sure Dasom likes me as much as he does.”

“She idolizes you,” Eunji assured Jimin. “But that’s why Jeongguk likes you so much. Because you like his kid.”

“He’s a good father,” Jimin softly said as he watched Jeongguk lift Dasom up and over his head so that she was sitting on his shoulders, her hands grabbing his hair instinctively. Eunji clicked her tongue and shook her head.

“No, no. He’s a great father. I’m not going to win any awards for being the world’s best mother. I’m far from it. I don’t really have it in me, that mother’s intuition thing people talk about. I learned to be okay with that. But Jeongguk is amazing at being a father,” Eunji praised, and then she smiled. “Sorry about all of this. Pretty weird first conversation to have with someone.”

“Not really, given the circumstances,” Jimin replied with a shrug. “I was nervous about this. Big step. Didn’t think I was ready for it. Never really considered being any kind of father figure. But…” Jimin fixated on Jeongguk with Dasom, finally realizing that he wasn’t frantic or panicked anymore at the prospect of being added to their little bubble. “I love him. Which means that I need to love her just as much. Guess I can only hope that I do a good job.”

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” Eunji said cheerfully, and then she scooted just a little to the side as Dasom, now off Jeongguk’s shoulders, came dashing over, throwing her arms around Jimin’s waist without warning.

“Park seonsaengnim,” she said breathlessly.

“We’re going to have to get you to call me something else,” Jimin laughed. “I’m not your teacher anymore, you know.”

“We’ll work on it,” Dasom said like an adult, and Jimin snickered. “Dad says he’s going to cut the cake for me after we sing. Do you want cake?”

“Of course I want cake.”

“Okay, but you can’t kiss Dad if you help him with it,” Dasom said, and Eunji snickered. “I don’t want my cake to be poisoned.”

“Yah, don’t be so dramatic,” Eunji scolded good-naturedly, and Dasom looked up at her mother and pulled a disgusted face before she took Jimin’s hand and yanked. Jimin held her back for a moment, glancing over his shoulder at Eunji.

“Thank you,” he said with gratitude. “For everything. The conversation. All of it.”

“I have a feeling it won’t be the only time we get to talk,” Eunji said with a sparkle in her eyes. Jimin smiled, and then he allowed Dasom to pull him over to the small folding table that Jeongguk had brought, where a cake was in a box waiting. 

“Dad, I brought you someone!” Dasom announced giddily, and then she ran off to the picnic table.

“She’s very excited about all of this,” Jeongguk said as he used an elbow to nudge the box to the side after lifting the cake out. Jimin helped by setting the box beneath the table, and then he slipped one arm around Jeongguk’s waist.

“Well, rightfully so. It’s her party,” he pointed out, and Jeongguk snickered, grabbing the candles so he could arrange them on the cake.

mood: “sweettalk my heart” by tove lo

“What did Eunji say to you?” he asked as he began placing the candles carefully. He was trying to mask it, but Jimin could hear the concern in his voice, as if he was worried that the conversation hadn’t gone well.

“That you’re a great father.”

Jeongguk stuck the last candle into the cake and pursed his lips, turning to face Jimin.

If you say it first, maybe he won’t be so scared.

“And that you’re happy,” Jimin continued as he recalled Dasom’s words, seeing the smile slowly creep onto Jeongguk’s face. “And I agreed. That you’re a great father. I told her that now I just need to work on loving Dasom as much as I love you.”

Jeongguk’s eyes visibly widened for a moment, and then his expression softened as he lifted his knuckles to graze along Jimin’s cheek. “You really love me?”

“Of course I love you.”

Jeongguk leaned in and kissed Jimin sweetly, brushing their noses together with a smile. “I love you, too. I love you so much. I want you to be a part of Dasom’s life, hyung. And mine, but that’s a given. Will you?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Jimin stated, smiling. “And I’ll be here for all her other birthdays, too. If you want me to be. Also, I’m really great with decorating cakes.”

“Damn it. Should’ve asked you first,” Jeongguk sighed in fake disappointment, and then he grinned while reaching for the lighter as Jimin nudged him. “I’m glad my kid bitch-slapped that mean girl. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have met the way we did.”

“You definitely wouldn’t have shown up for that parent-teacher conference.”

“Absolutely not,” Jeongguk agreed, and they both laughed together as Jeongguk flicked the lighter. He quickly lit the candles, and then he kissed Jimin’s cheek and picked up the cake.

“I SAID NO KISSING NEAR MY CAKE!”

“Yah, will you pipe down and let them have a moment?” Hoseok scolded loudly as Yoongi grabbed Dasom around the waist and held her up in the air to keep her from running. She pretended to run in mid-air as Jeongguk’s brother laughed and Eunji shook her head with a smile.

“Happy birthday to yo-o-o-ou…”

Jimin spotted Jeongguk as he carried the cake, ready to catch it in case it wobbled from its precarious perch. Jeongguk slid the cake right in front of Dasom, and Dasom beamed as everyone sang for her. Then she blew out the candles after making a wish, leapt off the bench, and ran right into Jeongguk’s arms. Hoseok was the one who took the knife and began to cut up slices of cake as Jeongguk insisted that Dasom needed birthday kisses equal to her age, which made her fake-gag in horror as she tried to pull away, giggling. Jimin caught her eye and crooked one finger at her, so she scurried out of Jeongguk’s arms and over to Jimin, who sat down on the bench backwards so Dasom was eye-level with him.

“He’s not scared anymore,” Jimin whispered to her, and Dasom’s eyes bugged in disbelief.

“You told him?” she hissed, delighted. Jimin nodded. “You said you love him?”

“I did.”

“Did he say it back?”

“He did.”

Dasom climbed onto the bench and threw her arms around Jimin’s neck sideways. Jimin hugged her back tightly, once again remembering that months ago, Namjoon and Taehyung had warned him that dating Jeongguk was a two-for-one deal. Without fail, Jimin loved Jeongguk to the fullest extent, unconditionally. He had fallen in love quickly, unexpectedly, so beautifully. But Dasom had stolen Jimin’s heart first, and long ago. She had already made herself comfortable, so now it was just as if she was coming home. Jimin had held himself back from caring for her more than any of his other students. Now he didn’t have to hold back.

“Happy birthday, Dasom-ah. I love you,” he whispered to her. Dasom’s arms tightened around his neck, and she refused to let go even when Jeongguk said that her piece of cake was ready. Jimin continued to embrace her, catching Jeongguk’s eye and smiling when he saw the look on Jeongguk’s face. Hoseok clapped Jeongguk on the shoulder, Eunji rubbed Jeongguk’s back as she walked by to grab a piece of cake, and finally, Jeongguk smiled, visibly suppressing emotion.

“I’m eating your piece of cake,” Jimin hissed, and Dasom instantly pulled off Jimin and threw her body in front of his.

“No! Where’s my cake? Dad! He’s gonna steal it!”

Dasom secured her piece of cake, and she slid Jimin his own plate. They all sat around the picnic table together, two dogs at their feet playing, and even while the adults talked, Dasom injected herself right into the conversation with absolutely no qualms about doing so. She was respectful but bold, forever curious and prone to asking questions. She kept looking between Jeongguk and Jimin with a toothless grin, proud of her handiwork, pleased with how her master plan had all come together in the end.

“Okay, presents for the birthday girl!” Jeongguk declared, and then he picked Dasom up and plopped her on the picnic table so she could sit cross-legged where everyone could see her. As she tore into the first present, Jimin glanced around and noticed immediately that almost everyone was watching her with heart eyes and fond smiles, watching Jeongguk stand behind her and reach over to help if unwrapping the present was too difficult.

It takes a village.

Jimin had never really given much thought to what it took to raise a child, only resigning himself to having a general idea as a first grade teacher. But seeing Dasom surrounded by a handful of people who had held her as an infant, changed her diapers, taught her certain words or phrases, cooked her breakfast, attended her birthday parties—it was a stark realization, humbling. Dasom was the product of the people who had raised her, and that meant that she was, first and foremost, a reflection of Jeongguk.

“No way! No way, no way! Dad! Dad, look! Look!”

“I see,” Jeongguk laughed, moving the wrapping paper aside and glancing up at Jimin. Jimin had gotten Dasom a DIY tattoo kit with hundreds of different design options, and she was already flipping eagerly through the the sheets in awe, jaw dropped, eyes alight with excitement as she wiggled back and forth while perusing the choices. Jeongguk bent down and whispered in her ear.

“You got this for me?” Dasom exclaimed, looking up at Jimin.

“Better than drawing on your arms with markers,” Jimin said, and Dasom giggled, hugging the present to her chest.

“Thank you. It’s my favorite,” she said without hesitation.

“What are we, chopped liver?” Yoongi complained in good spirits, and Dasom grinned with absolutely no shame, holding up a page of the tattoos and showing it to Jeongguk because there was a tiger, and Jeongguk also had a tiger on his arm somewhere.

“We’ll do it over summer break,” Jeongguk promised her quietly. “You can’t have them on your skin at school, sweetheart. Over summer. We’ll tattoo you up wherever you want.”

Dasom pawed through her presents in her own little world for the next ten minutes, and that gave Jimin more time to mingle. He spoke more to Hoseok and Yoongi, and Hoseok promised Jimin a few free outfits while Jimin shamelessly plugged Taehyung, saying that Taehyung was a phenomenal photographer. Hoseok took one glance at Taehyung’s Instagram page and begged for a contact number, which Jimin happily provided. Jimin then scooted over to talk more to Eunji, who told him funny stories about when she had first babysat Dasom and had had no clue what to do.

“I walked into the room and this girl was hanging headfirst over the railing of her crib. Just hanging! Not falling or anything. She was just giggling and hanging there with her bottle in her mouth, dropping her stuffed animals one by one out of her crib and onto the floor.”

Jimin made it to Jeongguk, who embraced him and kissed the side of his head while Dasom was busy chasing Yoongi around the picnic table.

“I want to see you this weekend,” Jeongguk murmured between kisses, wrapping Jimin up and turning them away from the rest of the group.

“Why’s that?”

“Because I love you.” Another kiss. Jimin smiled. “And Dasom’s happy. And I don’t want anything else in my life right now except to be with you.”

“What if I asked for real personal training sessions? That don’t involve sex by the weights.”

“Done. For free. Whenever you want,” Jeongguk declared. “You can train with me. Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday nights. Dasom’s at violin lessons and ice skating those nights. Come train with me.”

“Deal. I love you, too,” Jimin added, arms around Jeongguk’s neck as they kissed again. He was going to go for one more, but then a small body smacked into his thigh, and Dasom wiggled between the two of them, clinging to Jimin.

“Hide me!” she hissed. “Stop kissing and hide me!”

“JEON DASOM!”

“Shh! I’m not here!” Dasom insisted, because Yoongi was searching for her.

“She’s definitely not over here!” Jeongguk called out.

“Dad, you suck!” Dasom hissed, and then she looked up at Jimin. “Save me!”

“Found her!” Jimin picked Dasom up and threw her over one shoulder, and Dasom let out a shriek, kicking her legs and smacking Jimin on the back repeatedly. Jimin grabbed one of Dasom’s ankles in his right hand and the other in his left, and then he dangled her behind his back as Dasom giggled, her fingertips grazing the grass.

“Absolutely no idea where she is,” Yoongi joked.

“Me neither,” Jimin said with a shrug. “Have you checked my backpack?”

“No, no, no, no!” Dasom flailed, so Jimin lowered her until her hands touched the grass, and she cartwheeled out of it and sprinted off, laughing and calling for Yoongi to chase her. Jeongguk walked up to Jimin’s side, and Jimin crossed his arms.

“Hope that didn’t scare her,” he commented, and Jeongguk snorted.

“Oh, trust me. That was about a two out of ten on the scale of what scares her. You fit right in.”

***

“There are rules.”

“And what are the rules?”

Dasom set her hands on her hips and stood right in front of Jimin. She was wearing her Iron Man pajamas now, her hair down and damp. Jimin motioned for her to sit, so she sat down on the floor between Jimin’s legs as he sat on the couch, and then he began to comb through her wet hair meticulously.

“You sleep on the couch.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Okay, fine. Then if you’re sleeping in the same bed as him, no kissing. And you have to wear all your clothes,” Dasom declared, and Jimin snorted with laughter, gently settling one hand on the top of Dasom’s head to work the comb through a small tangle. It was July, the beginning of summer vacation, and for the first time, Jimin was sleeping over at Jeongguk’s apartment on a Saturday night. Dasom had been hyper and wired all night, and now she was showered and ready for bed, trying to maintain her energy even though she was crashing fast. They had eaten pizza for dinner and they had played a game, just the three of them.

“Okay. Fully clothed. Can’t promise the no kissing thing,” Jimin admitted, making sure the middle part in Dasom’s hair was still straight.

“Are you bargaining?”

“I’m telling him the rules,” Dasom retorted as Jeongguk walked into the living room, tucking his phone away and plopping down on the adjacent couch. “You can hear them, too.”

“Sure.”

“I tried to keep him on the couch, but he said he’s sleeping with you,” Dasom sighed, and she giggled when Jeongguk threw a pillow at her face. “So I said no kissing and you have to wear a shirt, Dad.”

“Your rules suck,” Jeongguk said, and Jimin burst out laughing as Dasom threw the pillow back at him. “It’s almost eleven o’clock, you little demon. Come on. We need to blow-dry your hair.”

“Jiminie samchon.” Dasom twisted her upper body. “Will you blow-dry my hair?”

“Yah, he’s not here to be your personal assistant,” Jeongguk said, but Jimin grabbed Dasom underneath her arms and hoisted her up as he stood.

“I’ll do it tonight, it’s fine,” he said, and Dasom beamed proudly.

“Okay, this way! I’ll show you everything!” She took off running towards the bathroom, disappearing around the corner, and Jeongguk grabbed Jimin’s wrist to stop him. Jimin immediately bent with his hands pressed to the armrest and kissed Jeongguk at his request.

“You don’t have to do any of this,” Jeongguk whispered.

“I’m doing it so that she trusts me and knows that I can do it,” Jimin whispered back with a second kiss. “I love you. I’ll be right back.”

“Love you, babe,” Jeongguk said softly with a smile. Jimin then walked into the bathroom, where Dasom had pulled out the hair dryer and was holding it carefully. She offered it to Jimin, who plugged it in and turned it on, grabbing for the brush that was on the countertop. Dasom then stood and stared in the mirror as Jimin began to dry her hair section by section, Dasom chewing absentmindedly on a hair-tie. Jimin grabbed another section of her hair, held it between his fingers that were around the dryer, and used his other hand to lightly smack Dasom’s hand. Sheepish, she took the hair-tie out of her mouth and pursed her lips, trying not to laugh.

“Done.” Jimin turned off the dryer and unplugged it, running his fingers through Dasom’s dry, silky hair. “Do you need to brush your teeth and wash up?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Dasom said, reaching for the toothbrush as Jimin tucked away the dryer. He then switched places with Jeongguk so that Jeongguk could see Dasom off to bed, tucking her in and kissing her goodnight. Dasom hollered for Jimin, though, and she asked him to tuck her in and give her a kiss goodnight. It was absolutely a test, because she had the covers pulled up to her nose and she was halfway in a fetal position, but Jimin wasn’t going to let her get away with it. He marched into her room, tucked her in too much until she was giggling, and then kissed the top of her head, which was the only part left of her still exposed.

“Goodnight, Dasom-ah.”

“Goodnight,” Dasom said, voice muffled by the blankets. Jeongguk flicked off the light and closed the door, and the moment he did, he grabbed Jimin around the waist and swept him away towards his bedroom, kissing him as Jimin quietly laughed.

mood: “feels” by kehlani

“Not with your eight-year-old daughter in the next room,” he hissed, and Jeongguk snickered.

“Point taken. But that doesn’t mean I can’t kiss you.”

And they kissed. They kissed until Jimin felt like his lips were swollen, until he was sitting on the bed with Jeongguk kneeling in his lap, hands tangled in Jimin’s hair. Jeongguk sighed in frustration, dropping his forehead against Jimin’s.

“Fuck, I’m so horny,” he complained, and Jimin suppressed a laugh. “This is going to be harder than I thought.”

“I’ll suck you off later if you’re quiet.” Jimin whispered his promise against Jeongguk’s lips, and Jeongguk devoured it with another kiss, humming in agreement. It was just a trial run, after all—Jeongguk had been nervous to even ask Jimin to sleep over for the night, but Jimin hadn’t even hesitated to say yes. Jeongguk’s primary fear was exposing Dasom to too much too quickly, spooking her to a point where she would feel wary of Jimin’s presence at their house. But when he had asked Dasom for her opinion, Dasom had immediately delighted in the prospect of Jimin being at their house when she woke up in the morning. Always one step ahead and highly intelligent, she had also told Jeongguk, apparently, that one Saturday she had slept over at Eunji’s place and Daeseong had just been there, all moved in permanently. So Jimin doing a test run was nothing.

“So, what do you think?” Jeongguk whispered when they were finally lying in the dark, and Jimin was straddling Jeongguk’s hips with the blankets over them. Jeongguk hadn’t bothered with a shirt, and now Jimin was horny, too. “Am I still the hot single dad with the motorcycle, or am I boring now?”

“You’re never boring,” Jimin murmured, hands still wandering Jeongguk’s body. “Every time we have sex, it’s something different. And you’re still hot as hell. Always will be. When I first told my friend about you, he said you were a D-I-L-F.”

“I’m honored.” Jeongguk snickered. “Do I get to say that about you, too?”

“I’m not a dad.”

“It’s not about whether or not you’re an actual dad. It’s an energy. Being a D-I-L-F is a vibe,” Jeongguk declared, and Jimin hid his laughter by dropping his head into Jeongguk’s shoulder for a moment. “Do I give off that vibe?”

“Absolutely.”

“Mission accomplished.”

Jimin wasn’t quite sure when they drifted off to sleep. He definitely remembered the two of them lying facing one another while Jeongguk quietly jerked them both off, and he remembered Jeongguk getting up to wash his right hand clean after that. But the next time Jimin woke up, there was daylight streaming through the window, and he could hear whispers.

“Mm-mm.”

“It’s Sunday.”

“Mm.”

“Dad.”

“Mm.”

There was a moment of silence, and the Jimin heard the quiet patter of feet. Seconds later, a small hand shook his arm.

“Pst!” Dasom patted him again. “Are you awake?”

“Mhm.” Jimin slowly rolled onto his back and opened his eyes. Dasom was standing at the edge of the bed, hair a bit wild from sleep, but she was wide awake and practically bouncing in anticipation.

“It’s Sunday. I want to make pancakes,” she whispered.

“Dasom-ah,” Jeongguk croaked, but he said nothing else. Dasom blinked at Jimin hopefully, and then she threw her entire upper body over the blankets and right onto Jimin’s chest. Jimin wrapped his arms around her small frame and stroked her hair as she turned her head to the side quietly.

“Did you sleep well?” Jimin asked, and Dasom nodded against his chest. “Is it okay that I’m still here?” She nodded again. “Should we let Dad sleep while we make pancakes?”

“Yes. With blueberries. I know where everything is,” Dasom whispered, eyes twinkling.

“Mm. Let me wash up first.”

Dasom leapt away from the bed and skipped out of the room, and Jimin could hear her moving things around in the kitchen as he rolled out of bed with a yawn. Jeongguk was fast asleep again, face buried in his pillow, and Jimin knew he was near impossible to wake up, so he tiptoed out of the room to find Dasom pulling out a stepping stool.

“The pancake mix is up high,” she said as she pointed in the pantry, so Jimin grabbed it and brought it down for her. “I know the directions by heart because Dad makes pancakes with me every Sunday.”

“Well, let’s hear it, then,” Jimin said. “Are you measuring things?”

“Yeah, and I can mix,” Dasom proudly said. “Can you—” She used a rough hand to push hair out of her eyes. “Can you do my hair for me while I mix?”

“Oh. Uh… Yeah, hold on. Let me go get a hair-tie,” Jimin said, and he hurried into the bathroom and grabbed a few hair-ties to put around his wrist, as well as a brush. Then he stood behind Dasom and brushed her hair smooth before pulling it up into a ponytail. If there was one thing he knew how to do as a first grade teacher, it was how to tie up a girl’s hair. So he put another hair-tie a quarter of the way down Dasom’s ponytail, one halfway down, and one at the end to create sections as Dasom began to mix everything together with care, holding the bowl to keep it from moving as she did.

“Okay, hot pan… some butter…” Jimin gestured. “Do you use a ladle?”

“No. Dad pours it into the mixing cup so I can pour it into the pan,” Dasom explained, so Jimin used a spatula to put the batter into the mixing cup as Dasom held the bowl responsibly. Then, giggling at Jimin’s constant stream of “careful, careful, careful, careful,” Dasom poured the batter into the pan.

“Look, a mini pancake,” Jimin said, pointing to the tiny dot of batter near the edge of the pan. “That’s yours. Can we fit a blueberry onto it?”

“Rude,” Dasom said, holding up the spatula with both hands like it was a sword. Then she smacked it onto the countertop and grabbed the blueberries. “How many blueberries?”

“Seventy-four.”

“That’s not a pancake anymore,” Dasom said with a giggle, and Jimin sighed.

“Okay, fine. Seventy-three.”

Dasom turned on the stepping stool and used gentle little fists to repeatedly pound at Jimin’s chest. She was using absolutely no force, but the mere fact that she felt comfortable enough with Jimin to pretend to use him as a punching bag spoke volumes. 

The blueberries went into the pancake, and Jimin then suggested that they flip it like the chefs do. Dasom nearly fell off the stepping stool in excitement, and then she wiggled until she was right in Jimin’s arms, her back to his chest, both hands on the handle of the pan. Jimin stood behind her with his hands over hers and explained the motion to her, and she nodded fervently like she was training for the Olympics. 

“Okay. One… two… three!”

“YA-A-A-A-A-AH!” Dasom cheered the moment the pancake flipped perfectly and landed in the pan. She threw her arms up victoriously as Jimin took her by the waist and lifted her up towards the ceiling, and then he heard applause, so he turned with Dasom in his arms towards the sound.

“Brilliant. Show-stopping. Spectacular. Judges give it a ten out of ten.” Jeongguk grinned sleepily, and Dasom ran over when she saw that Jeongguk had his phone out. “Got it on video and everything.”

“Let me see!” Dasom exclaimed, reaching for his phone.

“Yah, you have pancakes to cook,” Jeongguk said, shooing her back towards her cooking. Dasom giggled and leapt back up onto the stepping stool just in time to slide the pancake out of the pan and onto a plate. Then, very seriously and with all her concentration, she held the plate in both hands and walked right over to Jeongguk.

“You can have the first pancake,” she said. Jeongguk tucked his phone away with a smile, and then he took the plate with two hands and a bow.

“Thank you,” he said with gratitude, and Dasom beamed proudly before hopping back up onto the stepping stool.

“Okay, next one!”

Dasom poured more batter and began to arrange blueberries onto the pancake as Jeongguk set his plate down on the table. Then he came up beside Jimin, slipping an arm around Jimin’s waist. Sensing that Dasom was about to turn around and complain, Jeongguk put one hand on the back of her head to keep her focused on the pan, and then he leaned in and kissed Jimin.

“I can still hear you!” Dasom hollered, but that didn’t stop Jeongguk from smiling into the next kiss he gave Jimin.

“Good morning,” he mouthed, and Jimin saw time freeze for a moment.

His Sunday mornings usually consisted of scrolling through social media while lying in bed until he was uncomfortable, and then dragging his tired body into the kitchen to make coffee. After washing up, he would then flop onto the couch and drink his coffee while watching something on TV, and then he’d consider maybe going for a run or phoning Namjoon and Taehyung. It was typically silent.

But this was a complete departure from the norm. Jimin had been living alone for just over a decade since graduating from university, never once looking back or bothering to think about what life would be like with a partner under the same roof, let alone a kid. None of that had ever really appealed to him. Yet there was something comfortingly domestic and safe about watching Dasom make a smiley face out of the blueberries for her own pancake, something safe about Jeongguk’s arm wrapped around his waist for soft kisses first thing in the morning. It wasn’t a life he had foreseen, but suddenly, it was a life that felt fulfilling in a way he had never anticipated. It was as if Jeongguk and Dasom were filling a void in Jimin’s heart that he hadn’t even known was there in the first place, but now that it was filled, he couldn’t imagine being without it.

“Dasom’s going to her music camp next week,” Jeongguk said to Jimin as they ate their pancakes and fruit. “During the day. So if you have time, we can meet up and do something. Take a day trip, go hiking. Do whatever.”

“We could go to Samcheok,” Jimin suggested. “In Gangwon.”

“Wait.” Dasom set her fork down, brow furrowed. “What do you mean? You’re meeting up with each other? You’re not staying here?”

“What do you mean?” Jeongguk asked, but Dasom was staring at Jimin.

“I thought you were staying here,” she said in a small voice. “With us. Don’t you live here now? I thought that was why you were here.”

“Oh.” Jimin set his fork down as well, because Dasom sounded confused, but there was also a hint of sadness creeping into her voice that Jimin needed to squash very quickly, because Jeongguk looked stunned. “Well, I don’t live here right now, Dasom-ah. This was just the first time I slept over. I was just trying it out. So that everyone could see what it felt like.”

“So when breakfast is over, are you leaving?” Dasom asked, sounding disappointed.

“I am. I have to go home and take care of a few things.”

“But why?” Dasom wondered. “Don’t you want to stay? Don’t—Don’t you love Dad? Don’t you love me, too?”

“Hey. Look at me.” Jimin turned Dasom’s chair to face him, because he could see that Jeongguk was ready to intervene, but Jimin wanted to handle this himself. “I love you both very much. More than you even know. But living together, moving in and being together… that takes time. Everyone has to be ready for it. I would have to move out of my apartment and find a place for all of my stuff. It’s a lot of work. It has nothing to do with how much I love you and want to stay here with you, because I do. It just takes time. You have to be okay with it. Dad has to be okay with it, too.”

“But I am okay with it,” Dasom insisted fiercely. “If you live here, you can help me with my homework or—or pick me up from my violin lessons or… or maybe you can cook dinner. And you can watch TV with us. Do you watch anime?”

“I love anime.”

“Then you should live with us. Dad, he should live with us. I said he couldn’t live with us unless he loved you and he loved me, but he said he does,” Dasom declared, turning to speak to Jeongguk now. “Don’t let him leave.”

Seven months. Jeongguk had been in Jimin’s life for only seven months, and to most people, blending a family within seven months was a tremendous risk. Jeongguk’s biggest fear had always been that Jimin would come into Dasom’s life and not remain permanent, thus ripping her heart out and causing grief. Jimin could see it now—the panic in Jeongguk’s eyes. His worst fear realized. As Jimin locked his gaze on Jeongguk, he could practically hear the silent conversation between them happening—was this the right thing to do? Were they moving too quickly? Was it too much of a risk? How much would it affect Dasom? Would she be traumatized by it no matter how it ended up?

“It’s up to you,” Jeongguk whispered, nearly mouthing it. Jimin’s heart stopped, because Jeongguk looked on the verge of tears but in an overwhelmed sort of way, as if breathless with anticipation. Like he had never considered asking Jimin to really move in with them so soon until Dasom had brought it up. And Jeongguk was absolutely right—what if something went wrong? What if their relationship wasn’t as strong as Jimin assumed it was? What if they broke things off and Jimin had to slowly ease out of Dasom’s life?

You’re an idiot. An absolute fool. You’re overthinking this. You know this is it. You know.

“It’s going to take time,” Jimin softly said, and then he turned to Dasom. “Dasom-ah. It will take time. I have to move out of my own apartment and figure everything out. Do you understand that? I can’t just move in.”

“Adult stuff,” Dasom figured, and Jimin nodded.

“Adult stuff,” he agreed. “But if you and Dad want me to be here with you, then… then I’ll be here. I’ll come live with you.”

“Dad!” Dasom exclaimed immediately, sliding out of her chair and grabbing Jeongguk’s arm. “Dad, can he? Dad? Can he come live here? Dad? Dad, are you crying? Why are you crying? Dad, don’t be sad.”

Jimin got out of his chair, and Dasom climbed right into Jeongguk’s lap and sat there, lifting her hands and wiping away the tears as Jeongguk laughed. Jimin wrapped one arm around Jeongguk’s shoulder and the other around Dasom and hugged them both close to him, and Jeongguk sniffed with another small laugh.

“Is this a family hug?” Dasom asked, and Jeongguk laughed yet again, a few tears soaking into Jimin’s shirt as Jimin held him close. He felt Jeongguk nod.

“Yeah. It’s a family hug.”

“Dad, can he really live with us?”

“Of course he can,” Jeongguk whispered, kissing Dasom’s forehead as Jimin kissed the side of Jeongguk’s head.

“Can I have a tiger tattoo to celebrate?”

“You’re a little monster, you know that?” Jeongguk said, and Dasom giggled, throwing a happy wrench into the conversation as she grabbed one of Jeongguk’s arms, searched, and found his tiger tattoo.

“I want mine in the same spot,” she declared. “Jiminie samchon. Do you want a tiger tattoo, too? There are five of them. We can match. I’ll tattoo you. I’m good at it. I even have black gloves.”

“Well, it sounds like you’re a professional, so I trust you,” Jimin said. Dasom ripped herself from Jeongguk’s arms eagerly.

“Okay, then don’t leave yet! Will you stay? Stay for a little! I’ll give you a tattoo!” she declared, and then she went running into the living room to gather up everything she needed, all of her sad questions long forgotten and replaced with happy answers. As she rummaged. Jimin sat sideways in Jeongguk’s lap and gently wiped the remaining tears.

“You good?” he asked with a smile. “My hot single dad is out here crying over his boyfriend moving in. Who would’ve thought?”

“Oh, you’re my boyfriend now?” Jeongguk asked, his smile radiant.

“Well, we might as well just go for it, since you’re asking me to move in with you.”

“In my defense, Dasom is the one who asked.”

“You were thinking about it.”

“I was. But are you positive? This is a lot. It’s a huge change. You’re inheriting an eight-year-old wild child,” Jeongguk warned, and Jimin quieted his anxiety with a kiss, fingertips brushing the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Don’t you worry. I have a few ideas, if you’re open to hearing them.”

“I’m all ears.” Jeongguk gently massaged Jimin’s thigh, accepting another kiss. “I love you. You’ve made me so happy. Dasom, too. You’re a dream.”

“And to think this all started out because I made a few bad riding jokes and we couldn’t keep it in our pants,” Jimin sighed, and Jeongguk snickered, dropping his forehead against Jimin’s shoulder. “I love you, too. And Dasom. I love you both. We’ll make this work. I promise you.”

“OKAY, I HAVE TWO TIGERS!”

“Yeah, get used to that. She interrupts everything,” Jeongguk said as Jimin laughed, and Dasom skidded to a halt in the kitchen, staring at Jeongguk and Jimin.

“Why do I have to see this?” she complained. “Is no one considering my fragile feelings as an eight-year-old? You’re exposing me to things.”

“Where do you learn this stuff?” Jeongguk asked as Jimin burst out laughing. “Should we not expose you to love? Terribly sorry.”

“I’m kidding,” Dasom said with a grin.

“Yeah, you better be, because now I’m going to kiss him, and you’re going to have to be okay with that,” Jeongguk declared. Dasom smacked the sheets of tattoos over her face, and the moment she did, Jeongguk used a few fingers on Jimin’s jaw to turn his head for a kiss. Jimin sank into it blissfully, clinging to the hope that this was what his life would be like every Sunday morning from here on out.

“I can still hear you kissing.”

“Quiet down in front,” Jeongguk said, and Dasom giggled. Then she reached out and gently took Jimin’s hand, glancing at Jeongguk like she was asking permission to take him away. Jeongguk nodded, so Dasom tugged, and Jimin stood up.

“Do you want your tiger in the same spot at Dad’s? You do? Perfect. Can you do mine, too? I don’t know if I can do it by myself. You’re really good at arts and crafts, though. I remember from when you were my teacher. We should…”

***

1 year later

mood: “this is how u feel” by loote

“She’ll think this is the coolest thing we’ve ever done.”

“Cooler than our Tokyo trip?”

“Honestly, with her? Yeah.”

Jimin laughed as Jeongguk grinned at him, using his tongue to play with the lip ring piercing he had gotten a few months ago. Dasom was fiercely convinced that her dad was, without question, the coolest dad ever just because of that. Jimin was fiercely convinced that Jeongguk having a lip ring was great for their sex life, and he wasn’t wrong. It benefited everyone.

“She’ll be all wired up,” Jeongguk sighed, leaning one elbow against the windowsill and rubbing his forehead, his other wrist draped over the steering wheel. “Last day of school before summer vacation always has her running around like she downed an entire bag of sugar.”

“Okay, well, she’ll pass out on the drive to Samcheok, anyways,” Jimin pointed out, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. The trunk of the car was packed, because unbeknownst to Dasom, they were about to drive three hours east to the coast for the start of summer vacation on the beach, something Dasom had been dying to do ever since seeing pictures of Jeongguk and Jimin’s adventure last year.

“Let’s hope. Oh, here they come.” Jeongguk glanced out the window, so Jimin made the decision to get out of the car and wait. He didn’t work for Jangseong Elementary anymore, nor did he work at Kyodong Elementary. In fact, he had left behind first grade altogether to apply his skill set elsewhere. Jeongguk (and Dasom) had encouraged him to take the leap, and now Jimin was one of the most revered and sought-after educators at a hagwon in Seoul, focusing on mathematics—his specialty. Kids of all ages flocked to him, and he was now able to set his own hours of work and do what he felt was right. Some days, he met with groups of ten-year-olds. Some days, he met with seventeen-year-olds buzzing with anxiety over their upcoming tests. But in all circumstances, Jimin was finally thriving.

“Jiminie samchon!”

Dasom came sprinting towards Jimin the moment she saw him, stars in her eyes, because Jimin never picked her up from school. Jeongguk always grabbed her quickly and ran her off to a violin lesson or ice-skating, since Jimin was usually working.

“Hey, how was your last day before summer vacation?” Jimin asked as Dasom quickly hugged him and then stepped back. She was starting to lose the clingy type of affection that Jimin had been used to a year ago, but she was still just as loving.

“Kim seonsaengnim let us watch some funny videos,” she said in delight as Jimin eyed her with affection. She was wearing her school uniform for spring and summer—navy blue pleated skirt, white short-sleeved button-up, navy blue tie. This morning, Jimin had pulled her long hair up halfway, and the section of hair that was pulled back was in a messy fishtail braid. He was learning quickly how to do Dasom’s hair, mostly because Jeongguk had taught him a few things.

“Oh, did he?”

“Best teacher ever.”

“Ouch,” Jimin said, smacking his hand to his chest and pouting. Dasom clicked her tongue.

“Not like that. You were the best first grade teacher. Kim seonsaengnim is the best third grade teacher. He’s good at science.”

“So are you.” Right on cue, Seokjin strolled out and set one large hand on the top of Dasom’s head, and Dasom squatted and ran to Jimin’s side, grinning. She was getting taller now, and Jimin often joked that she would be taller than him someday, which she found absolutely hilarious.

“Math is my best subject,” Dasom boasted proudly, gluing herself to Jimin’s side.

“Yeah, that’s because you have a built-in teacher at home who makes math make sense to you,” Seokjin said, amused. Then he tilted his head upward with a grin. “Long time no see!”

“Hey,” Jeongguk said, because he, too, had gotten out of the car. He was standing with both of his tattooed arms resting on the hood of the car right above the open door, grinning. “Has she been good?”

“As good as a wild child can be,” Seokjin sighed, and Dasom let out an indignant noise as Jimin suppressed a laugh. “Just kidding. She’s a model student. She may as well be my assistant teacher.”

“Does that mean that I can get bubble tea before we go home?” Dasom asked hopefully, grinning. “Home” was not the same anymore, either—at the end of last year’s summer vacation, Jeongguk and Jimin had found a newer and nicer apartment to call their own that was closer to the Han River, and closer to Yoongi and Hoseok as well as Namjoon and Taehyung (Dasom’s newest favorite uncles), and they had moved in as a family.

“Stop bargaining!” Jeongguk called out.

“I wasn’t asking you!” Dasom fired back, and Jeongguk immediately walked around the car as Dasom laughed and began to run in the opposite direction until Jeongguk faked her out and caught her around the waist. He picked her up with one arm as she wiggled futilely, still giggling.

“Maybe, if you act cute, we’ll get bubble tea before we hit the road,” Jeongguk said.

“Hit the road?”

“Well, yeah. We were thinking of driving to Gangwon,” Jimin casually said. Dasom immediately jumped out into a starfish position as if to say “nobody move,” her eyes wide. Then she looked up at Jimin.

“Say that again.”

“Gangwon,” he repeated.

“How cute do I need to act?” she wondered.

“Extremely,” Jeongguk said, and then he held his thumb and pointer finger out underneath Dasom’s chin. She immediately puffed her cheeks cutely, and Seokjin let out a laugh.

“Ten out of ten,” he declared, so Dasom turned and gave Seokjin a high-five.

“Okay, fine. Bubble tea and then off to Gangwon,” Jeongguk said, throwing open the door of the backseat. Dasom threw both of her arms up in victory, and then she turned and bowed hastily.

“Enjoy your summer vacation, Kim seonsaengnim,” she politely said.

“Enjoy the beach,” Seokjin replied, and then he stepped forward and quickly hugged Jimin. “See you soon.”

“Enjoy your break,” Jimin said, watching Seokjin shake Jeongguk’s hand.

“You two enjoy your break, too. Make sure you get some alone time,” he said with a wink, and then he walked off to go tend to some of the other kids milling around. Jeongguk told Dasom to buckle her seatbelt, and then he closed the car door and smiled at Jimin.

“Remember when you gave me your number right over there?” Jimin pointed out the very spot where Jeongguk had parked over a year ago with Dasom holding a handmade card.

“How could I forget?” Jeongguk opened Jimin’s door for him, and Jimin hopped back into the passenger seat. Once Jeongguk was back in the driver’s seat, he buckled in and leaned over to kiss Jimin sweetly.

“Less kissing, more bubble tea,” Dasom said, clapping her hands from the backseat. At the same time, Jeongguk and Jimin both set an elbow on the center console and twisted their upper bodies to stare at her. Dasom stared back, her hands in her lap politely, and then she popped her lips once in the silence. Jeongguk and Jimin both burst out laughing, Jimin laughing because it was something that Jeongguk did all the goddamn time.

“Onward!” Dasom yelled, pumping her fist forward. Jeongguk pulled away from the school and found the first drive-thru where they could get some bubble tea, and once all three of them had a drink, he headed straight for the freeway. With one hand on the steering wheel, he reached his other hand over, and Jimin immediately took it, lacing their fingers together in his lap. 

Maybe this wasn’t the life he had imagined for himself years ago. Maybe he had never given much thought to having a makeshift family. Maybe he had failed to anticipate falling head over heels for a former student’s father. The universe had a sense of humor, though, and Jimin was finally in on the joke. He hadn’t just gained a man he could love easily for the rest of his life—he had gained a nine-year-old that he could watch grow into a magnificent young woman someday, a girl who wanted to share her experiences with Jimin eagerly just as she shared them with her own father. Jimin glanced in the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of Dasom chewing on the red straw of her bubble tea, and he smiled. 

“Hey, Dad.” Dasom removed the straw from her mouth. Jimin saw the mischievous grin on her face, but he chose not to warn Jeongguk, ready to laugh at the outcome.

“Yeah?” Jeongguk’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror as well, tongue tracing over his lip ring as he did. Jimin admired his partner for a fleeting moment, soaking in the scene and embracing that this was his beautiful life now. This was what he would have for the foreseeable future—violin concerts, ice skating competitions, gym sessions with his partner, trips around the world. Jimin looked back to Dasom, who was still grinning.

“Can I have a turn driving?”

“Not on your life, kid.”

“It was worth a shot.”