Work Text:
Connor Price Instagram vid that inspired this fic
Connor Price – ‘Jude’s Song’ on Youtube
‘Every Word was Written for You’
Min Yoongi was a rapper known for his quick verses, his ambitious beats, and his genius. He was also known for taking no shit and for telling it like it was, with no concern for following with the trends. At thirty-six, he had already made a name for himself for over a decade and a half. He was publicly known to be a good, moral person, quietly leaving large donations where he could with no word to the media except for when there were leaks. He was known to be open-minded, and though he didn’t consider himself to be an activist, those who looked up to him (or opposed him) saw it that way.
Overall, though, Min Yoongi was known to be a strong, formidable man who wasn’t known for openly showing his feelings.
Those closest to him knew his true demeanor; his softness, and his silliness, and his love.
But then, something wonderful happened, and the rest of the world got to see a new side of him.
It wasn’t a secret, but at the same time it was.
See, the thing about large apartment buildings in the middle of Seoul meant that multiple celebrities could live there without the media batting an eye. And if popular choreographer Park Jimin happened to live in the same building as Min Yoongi, no one thought anything of it.
What they didn’t know was that Park Jimin didn’t just live on the same floor as him. He lived in the same apartment. And not only did he live in the same apartment, he also slept in the same bed. Often using the same pillow, even. (But no one needed to know how Jimin liked to wrap himself around Yoongi in his sleep, forever a koala.)
Yoongi and Jimin had gotten married four years previous. It was during Yoongi’s Burn the Stage: Revival Tour, on the final night in Busan, Jimin’s hometown. It had been barely a month after South Korea made same-sex marriage legal. Only their closest friends and families knew, because even they both wanted to keep this one aspect of their very public lives private and precious.
Of course, while that was certainly wonderful, that wasn’t the ‘something wonderful’ that had happened. Oh, no. Not in the way it took over Yoongi’s entire being in an entirely new way.
A year and a half ago, he and Jimin had a serious discussion together. They both knew they wanted kids. The question was how. Now that they were legally considered a family, they were finally allowed to adopt. That was the route Yoongi assumed they would take. But then, Jimin suggested surrogacy. So that their children would have a bit of them in them as well. Knowing that they wanted two children for sure, they decided to use Jimin’s sperm first, and then Yoongi’s when they had the second in two or three years.
(They would later reveal to their closest friends that this was decided by a game of kai bai bo. But no one else needed to know that.)
Fast-forward to the present.
They were going to keep Hayoon a secret. They really were. To protect his privacy, to protect his very being, they fully intended to keep him a secret. That didn’t last long, though, and, according to Jimin, it was all Yoongi’s fault.
It was all Yoongi’s fault for falling completely and utterly in love with their son.
Jimin stood in the doorway to Yoongi’s home studio now, holding his phone steadily in both hands as he leaned against the doorframe. Smiling softly, he pressed record.
Yoongi sat on the sofa in the studio, Hayoon settled upon his raised legs as Yoongi’s own feet rested on the coffee table. He tapped Hayoon on the nose and put his headphones on. Hayoon kicked his little feet against Yoongi’s chest, wrapped entirely in his tiny onesie.
“Okay, are you ready?” Yoongi’s light, cheery voice was met with two “gyah gyah”s from Hayoon that almost sounded like a “’kay, yeah!” Yoongi chuckled. “Yeah?”
He picked up the mic sitting beside him and began to sing. Not rap. Sing.
“I can’t wait ‘til you’re old enough, when we can sit and have conversations, tell me all about what you want from life and all of your aspirations—”*
Yoongi wasn’t a singer. He’d never been a singer. But upon the birth of their son, he’d begun to sing for him. First mimicking Jimin’s soft, angelic lullabies, then creating his own lyrics and his own melodies. It was simple things at first, just singing about what they were doing, or things that had happened earlier in the day. Whatever popped into his head at the time. He was a natural lyricist, after all, and it came out without thinking.
But then Yoongi started properly writing, and recording—and created a media frenzy when he brought Hayoon in with him into the company building to work with Namjoon and Hoseok.
(Jimin had heard later on from Hoseok how Yoongi had scolded Namjoon for playing too ‘aggressive’ of beats at first, so they’d had to tone it down as Yoongi worked with Hayoon securely strapped to his chest.)
Jimin watched as Yoongi patted Hayoon’s head and gently stroked his fingers against his wispy dark hair. Hayoon briefly closed his mouth and puffed out his already round cheeks before blowing a bubble and kicking his legs some more at the catchy song.
“I make these songs when you sleep, every word was written for you.”*
Jimin posted the video to Yoongi’s Instagram—yes, he knew his husband’s password, of course—tagged himself in the caption, and grinned as he watched the chaos that ensued.
Later that night, once Hayoon was tucked into his crib on the other side of their bedroom, and Yoongi was properly restrained by all of Jimin’s limbs, the rapper knew despite having less time for himself, he wouldn’t trade this life for anything. Even if his reputation was no longer a tough-ass rapper but instead a softly fond, proud father and loving husband.
The End.
*(lyrics by Connor Price, ‘Jude’s Song’)