SOPH YOU'RE INSANE - Tumblr Posts

NOW WATCHING: GOING SEVENTEEN INSANE

꒰ 𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 ꒱ 박성호

summary : you and your husband were throwing a bbq party, and sungho has somehow convinced you he was going to grill

genre : fluff, husband!sungho x afab!reader, girldad!sungho, non-idol!au, bbqdad!au tws : kisses, language, bad bbq puns, father sungho author notes : this is zanna's fault for indulging my delusions word count : 1.3k

“hey babygrill.” 

you turned, “sungho—”

“is it hot grill summer?” he asked, a wood-handled, metal spatula clutched between his fingers. “because you’re smoking hot.” you cringed, holding back a laugh as he leaned sideways, fingers turning the dial on the front of the grill. the vein in his neck strained with the angle, making it prominent against the midday sunlight. the defined muscles of his arms flexed, and you stared like you’d never seen him before—even though you’d been married to him for two years now, dating him for three before that. you reached out, tracing the lines, feeling the heat from the grill and sun combine against his untainted-tan skin. 

“i’m going to get our daughter ready,” he ignored your touch, knowing it wasn’t anything new. he liked it though, knowing you weren’t like that before him. “myself, too.”

“sure, babe.” he replied, hovering his palm a few inches over the metal rack he had cleaned just a couple minutes ago. “go ahead. i’ve got this all under control.”

who was he really trying to convince? you thought. your husband wasn’t a master chef by any means, but when you craved late-night snacks, he was definitely the man for the job.

“are you sure,” you quizzed. “maybe don’t start until i get back?”

“my love,” he met your eyes, head still slightly hung as he adjusted the heat. his longer hair fell to the side effortlessly, cascading like a waterfall. “i’ll be fine.”

“oh no,” you laughed. “i’m worried about my house, sungho.” 

he faked being offended. “what the hell? i’m a great chef!”

“you’re great at a lot of things, baby, there’s no doubt about it, but cooking just isn’t one of them.” his fake started to become genuine, arms crossing over his broad chest. you tried hard not to stare again. “right now!” you added, “practice makes perfect! but, just wait for me to supervise. i would like for there to be a backyard to have this party in…” you kissed his shoulder. “please?” 

ultimately, you always won him over. “fine, i’ll cut up stuff for the sides instead.” you weren't sure about that either, however it’s something you’ve made him do often for you. so, it should go fine, shouldn’t it? “but, hurry, i’d like to get these burgers sizzling. you could say, the steaks are high, right now, y/n. want them to be grate for our family and friends.” 

you mentally facepalmed. when did you marry such a cheesy guy? you guess it's for the best that he became a dad after all, with these (terrible) jokes of his. 

you left him to attend to the vegetables for the burgers, finding your daughter in front of a fan on the couch, basking in the air that blew directly in her face. bluey was playing on the TV, the accents rubbing off on her slightly. 

she lit up, “mommy!”

“hi, baby.” you plopped down next to her, and she instantly nozzled against your side. “do you wanna bet on daddy burning something?” 

she eyed you, then nodded, “seven fruit snacks.” you hummed, seemingly thinking it over. but before you had the chance to agree, she added, “and 45 minutes past bedtime.”

you cocked your head, slightly in disbelief, but mostly in amusement. 

“deal.” you held your hand for her to take, which she did (hand significantly smaller than yours) closing the bargain. “i have faith in my husband.” 

you lied, but regardless, you honestly wanted your miniature version to win.

you silently watched a couple more minutes with her, glancing at the clock on the wall. you threaded your hand through her hair, thinking about the styles you could put it into today; ultimately knowing what your kid would prefer. 

“first one ready gets dessert before dinner!”

she jumped off the couch, small legs carrying down the hall and presumably to the bathroom. you followed after a moment, hearing the water start to run.

once finished, you joined sungho outside again, prepared for guests to start showing up. he had to do a double take when you walked out, and if this was a cartoon, you feared his eyes would’ve been popping out of his head. 

“woah,” he snaked his hands around your waist, after abandoning the grill carelessly, planting a couple kisses against your lips and surrounding skin. “damn, are you a5 wagyu?” he murmured, eyes roaming over your figure, “‘cause you look expensive.”  

you caught the look your (almost) three year old daughter gave him; the same one she gave tomatoes. you stifled a laugh against his lips.  

“ew, daddy!” she shrieked at your kiss, wiggling in your arms to push him back. “that’s my mommy!” she argued, throwing her small limbs around your neck and puckering her lips against your cheek. 

“i’m sorry, baby.” he put his palm to your daughter's head gently, kissing her temple. “I’m just letting your mom follow my apron’s instructions.” he revealed said tightly-tied clothing: kiss the chef adorned with fake abs (not that he needed them) printed on it. once again, you wondered when you married such an unserious guy. 

she began to hysterically laugh, and you guffawed, sungho taking her from you gladly. she hugged around his neck, “damn girly, you got a grip.” she squeezed tighter, kissing his cheek too. “i almost passed out!” that prompted a competition between the two, giggles sounding throughout the backyard as your daughter hugged tighter and tighter. 

you were only interrupted when his parents voices cut through the noise, “where’s my pretty princess of a granddaughter?” suddenly said girl was pushing from your husband, trying her hardest to be put down; her grandparents were arguably her second-favorite people. they took care of her during your date-nights and any other time sungho would ask. you’d never had a good relationship with your parents, but you were glad that they took you in for your daughter and husband's sake. 

they met your side, gaining a hug from you. 

“daddy! put me down!” she whined, causing you to giggle at the sight, “please!” 

he shook his head, attacking her with more hugs and kisses. 

it was refreshing to see such a man who wasn’t afraid to show his love and adoration for someone–especially his daughter. 

finally she broke free, running the short distance to sungho’s dad and jumping into his arms. she resumed the game with him, arms wrapping around his neck. 

“i made you something last night!” her attempt to get put down was easier than before, and once she hit the ground she was off, ushering her grandma and grandpa to follow into the house. “c’mon, it’s for your fridge!” 

sungho met your side once again, arm around your midsection, your head laid on his shoulder. you were glad you started a family with him of all people, even though when you were younger you weren't sure you would ever have wanted kids; but everything just felt so safe and secure with him. every doubt and uncertainty was put to rest when he was around. 

“she converted me into a girl-dad.” 

you laughed, “babe, you’ve always been a girl dad. do you remember when we found out, no one cried harder than you did.” 

he waved you off with a pfft sound, “she’s just so adorable, you can’t blame me.” he broke away, arms up innocently, standing back. “she’s a miniature version of you.” 

you spun to face him, “no, she’s exactly like you, baby. terrible humor, no respect for bedtime, fluffy-ass hair.” 

a hum resonated. he was staring again, eyes flicking over you casually. “should we have another, you think? another girl, but i’d love a miniature version of me, too.” your eyebrows rose in amusement, until your attention found itself locked behind him on the copious amount of smoke. 

“it’s burning.” 

“yeah, i know.” he said in a duh-tone, words adorned with his eyes rolling, “you’re hotter than the grill.”

“no, babe.” you grabbed his bare shoulders, spinning him around. “there’s actually a fire right now.” 

“oh my god!” you didn’t need to be facing him to see his eyes go wide, shoulders tensing under your grip. you giggled, sungho moving quickly to grab the tongs from the side table and move the food from the flame that had developed. “why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asked, slightly frantic. 

“i guess you could say… missteaks were made.”

he turned slowly, a shit-eating grin across his face, “i knew you liked them.”

of course you did. it was sungho. 

suddenly a voice called out, “mommy, you owe me my fruit snacks!”

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