#Children Tongue Tie Release

[zarameraki]

♡₊˚☀️・₊✧ 𝗻𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶'𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 & 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗶𝗱𝗻'𝘁 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 ♡₊˚☀️・₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 he's obsessed to the max 𖥔 ceo x baker 𖥔 grumpy x sunshine 𖥔 she talks a lot x he listens a lot 𖥔 spoils the literal shit out of you 𖥔 mention of parental death 𖥔 major fluff 𖥔 sexual content in vague details 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 super soft nanami 𖥔 close proximity 𖥔 he loves kissing the fuck out of you

: ̗̀➛ words: 7.7k

: ̗̀➛ notes: you guys are so sweet for supporting my toji fanfic which is why i wanted to write another and this time its about my husband, the father of our children, the man who deserves every beautiful thing in this world. if you enjoy my work, please leave a comment, like, and reblog! thank you & ily. enjoy!

Nanami Kento entered your bakery at exactly six o' clock.  

You carefully observed the moments he dedicated to perusing the array of pastries, the vibrant mountain of macaroons, and the freshly baked, warm casse-croûte that you unfailingly prepared for him when he clocked out. There was a tender quality to his countenance, noticeable in the slight release of tension between his brows as the soft, buttery flakes dissolved on his tongue in your presence. Without fail, he consistently left a generous tip in your travel jar, dedicated to a solo trip to Malaysia.

"Did you know they've got this thing about not wearing yellow in Malaysia?" you mentioned during your initial meeting, eyeing the distinctive black-dotted tie worn by the stoic salaryman. "Well, not that your tie would get you in trouble; it's not entirely yellow. In fact, I think it's perfect as it is, just like your hair, which also has a touch of yellow.” 

Please cut your tongue off. 

Anticipating a polite nod and perhaps a slightly regretful five-dollar tip left in the jar, you were taken aback when he queried, “Why is that?” 

“Oh, uh . . . a bunch of protesters wore the color during a demand for their prime minister to step down," you stumbled, feeling a twinge of embarrassment for veering off into an unintentional crash course. Dropping trivia about Malaysia wasn't exactly the same as flirting. "So, it's kind of become a symbolism for protest and, well, threat. I read it in a book once. I don't know if it's a legitimate law, though."

“Do you like reading?” he asked, still interested in conversing with you. “Most people would Google information.” 

“I like reading. It’s easier to retain information that way.” 

Nanami acknowledged your gesture with a nod of gratitude as he accepted the casse-croûte and exited your bakery. Anticipating that he might not return due to his reserved nature and your awkward attempts at compliment-flirting, you were surprised to find that he was, in fact, full of surprises.

Nanami became a regular visitor. Day after day, for the past year, he arrived at precisely six o' clock. He continued his routine, whether he purchased a box of pastries, a pair of bagged bread loaves, or simply a casse-croûte and a small cup of milk coffee. You always prepared his order five minutes ahead of time, just in case you were occupied with other customers.

"Enjoy!" you chirped, casting a warm smile at the customer you just served as the bakery slowly emptied, leaving only Nanami browsing the delightful array of small cakes. "Good evening, Mr. Nanami!"

Nanami raised his head in your direction. "Good evening." He finally settled on the black forest cake from the open freezer and brought it to the counter.

"Special occasion?" you inquired as you rang him out, sneakily not charging him for the casse-croûte and coffee. There was a special occasion of your own that you were eager to share, hanging from the tip of your tongue.

"An intern's birthday."

"Sounds fun!" You had been saving up for your birthday present since summer, and Nanami had played a significant role. "When's your birthday?"

"July third."

Your eyes widened with surprise. "No way! Mine is July sixth. We’re summer babies."

“Happy belated birthday,” he said, fishing for his wallet, gaze barely meeting yours. 

"Same to you." Offering the sandwich and coffee, you extended them towards him. "Consider it a belated birthday treat."

Nanami’s brows crinkled. “I cannot accept.” 

"Why not? It's a gift." You slid the items closer with a subtle nudge, leaving him little room to refuse. "And you've given me a priceless gift, Mr. Nanami." Your eyes hinted at the tip jar's location, which now lay empty. 

“Were you robbed?” he asked, concern evident in his voice. 

“What—? No! Oh my god. You’re so funny.” A chuckle escaped behind your fist, and he observed you momentarily before glancing away. "I'm heading to Malaysia next week!"

Nanami gave a subtle nod. Although his lack of a more animated response disappointed you, you understood that shortness was his nature. "Congratulations.”

"Thank you, Mr. Nanami. Your generous tips really made a difference. They covered half of our trip.”

“Our? It’s not a solo trip?”  

You let out a little nervous laugh. Should you really be telling Nanami about your crippling love life? Would he even be interested? Well, he seemed to listen carefully when you talk. Maybe he wouldn’t care, but you really needed someone to talk to about this. Unfortunately, all your friends were too busy with their marriages to care.

“Well?” Nanami prompted. 

"Right, sorry. It's just—I've actually been seeing someone. Funny enough, we met in a Facebook group for solo travelers. He lives in a nearby town.”

Unexpectedly, Nanami's first question caught you off guard. "Can you trust him?" His concern surfaced, causing you to pause. "I'm only asking because you met this man online. You can't trust strangers on the internet."

"Thank you, Mr. Nanami, but I’m capable enough to know about stranger danger," you said with a funny smile, dismissing his parental concern. "Besides, we’ve gone on a few dates over the past month."

Nanami's frown remained intact. "Correct me if I’m wrong, but are you paying for him, too?"

"Yes."

“Why?” Nanami asked, firmly placing his palms on the counter, making it clear he wasn't leaving until he was convinced you wouldn't get in trouble during your Malaysian adventure.

"What do you mean 'why'?"

His mouth opened but then closed into a thin line, his forehead lines deepening. "It’s not my place to tell you what’s right and what isn’t—"

"Yes, you’re right about that," you interrupted.

"—but this is bordering on recklessness. You cannot use your trip’s money to pay for a man you’ve known for a mere month. Why is he even in the traveler’s group if he cannot afford to pay for himself?"

"Mr. Nan—"

"You are being scammed." 

Your teeth clenched together. You rarely got impatient. Years in the hospitality industry and dealing with misogynistic tenants didn't break you. Even setting up your bakery and almost draining your savings didn't dim your optimism. 

But getting scolded by someone who barely spoke more than five sentences to you in a whole year of being a regular? That's pushing it.

He didn't know you or Toji, the guy you're seeing. He didn’t understand how much you appreciated him accompanying you. So what if you covered his share of the trip expenses? Toji promised to pay you back, and he's been paying the bills for your dates. They might not be fancy, but it's the gesture that matters.

Sure, Nanami chipped in some money, and you're thankful for that. But he has no right to question you. Other people also contributed to your travel fund; it's not like he single-handedly financed the whole trip. You appreciated his support, but he was not in a position to lecture you.

With a sigh, you managed to contain your frustration and said, "Have a great rest of your night, Mr. Nanami.”

Nanami's frustration was palpable as he stood firm, his gaze piercing through the windows of your soul. “I suggest you take my advice into serious consideration. It would greatly upset me if you had the chance to visit one of your favorite countries taken from you.” 

You didn't bother watching him go. Instead, your discovery awaited you at the counter—the money for the coffee and casse-croûte lay there, accompanied by a crumpled yellow note that had slipped to the floor. Moving around the counter, you picked it up and smoothed out its wrinkles.

What greeted you was your own name scrawled across the sticky note, repeated around fifty times, the letters overlapping in a chaotic dance. Some were hastily scratched out, while others were executed with perfect cursive precision. You didn’t know what to make of it.

During your confusion, a new customer walked in. Quickly, you pocketed the note, focused on carrying on with your day despite the lingering frustration that Nanami's cryptic message had left in its wake.

Toji never showed up.

You waited for him for two agonizing hours, extending the torture even more after your flight had taken off. It dawned on you that he likely didn't bother getting a ticket. He probably pocketed the money you sent him and vanished into thin air. Every attempt to reach him failed miserably—your calls were forwarded, and the fifth one hammered the heartbreaking truth that he had blocked your number. To compound your misery, you sent him a string of text messages that refused to deliver your pain. You didn't even know where he lived, as your encounters were always in the obscure locations of your budgeted dates.

The thought of reporting him to the police crossed your mind, accusing him of theft, but the lack of photographic evidence left you helpless. To make matters worse, he hated taking pictures, and you were uncertain if the name he provided was even real. All that remained was a flicker of hope that you might cross paths with the bastard and unleash your pent-up rage with a hard kick to his dick. 

With a heavy heart, you gathered your strength, brushed away the tears until not a single trace remained on your lashes, and lugged your suitcase and carry-on outside the airport, hoping to hail a cab.

The idea of facing the upcoming days at work felt agonizing, goading you to spend them in the isolation of your shabby apartment. You were engrossed in a depressing routine—microwaved dinners, aimless hours on the couch, and a marathon of old cable TV shows.

As hunger struck again, you contemplated your options. Baking seemed like a possibility, but motivation had abandoned you. Pasta could be an option, but the lack of noodles and tomato sauce made it impractical. So, you settled for the one thing that required no ingredients: crying.

At least that was free. 

Despite the inner turmoil, you mustered the strength to shoulder your overcoat, sporting your fleece pajamas printed with candy canes and well-worn second-hand boots. 

The short walk to the corner store felt longer than usual, the biting cold making you clutch your threadbare coat tighter. Your teeth chattered in protest as you entered, and the rush of warm air was a momentary relief against the chill. Fingers numb, you mindlessly reached for familiar comfort snacks—chips, chocolate milk, anything to dull the ache.

A hand much larger than yours beat you to the last packet of croissants.

“Ah, sorry.” You let it go. “All yours—” You choked as you looked up, and up, at Nanami staring at you wide-eyed, his hazel eyes flickering at a rapid speed as if he were hallucinating your presence. Your face flushed with embarrassment, and the weight of the past five days crammed upon you—his uncanny prediction, your own naivety, and the sting of being swindled. “Mr. Nanami . . . ”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in—”

“Good night.”

With a dismissive shake of your head, you left the basket on the counter, mumbled a quick apology, and retreated back into the biting cold. 

You’ve faced tons of humiliating moments—slipping in front of customers, your purse strap getting snagged in a door and dragging you back, and that one unforgettable instance when a little boy labeled your eyebrows as caterpillars in front of a line of onlookers. Yet, none of those incidents could hold a candle to the awkwardness of bumping into the very man who had warned you about the ill-fated choice of paying for a stranger's trip—stranger now—when it was supposed to be your trip. 

You felt a firm grip on your wrist, making your restless pacing suddenly stop.

Startled, you turned around to find a pair of expressionless hazel eyes and a slightly out-of-breath figure. Now is not the time to ogle Mr. Nanami’s broad shoulders, you idiot!

Releasing your wrist, he handed over a white, plastic bag. With a raised eyebrow, you peered inside to inspect its contents. It held everything from your shopping basket, including the last packet of croissants. Even more unexpected, he had paid for it all. 

“I’ll pay you back tomorrow,” you assured, your eyes already scanning for the nearest ATM, just in case you forgot. "But for now." You pulled out the packaged croissants and extended them toward him. Your body was shaking, not because of November but because of how you were scammed after being forewarned by Nanami. “Please. Take it.” 

He took your small hand in both of his, the warmth immediately melting the tension in your body. “So cold.” 

A soft giggle escaped you at the obvious observation, and you placed your free hand on top of his. "So warm." Sniffling, tears welled up in your eyes. "You know what else is warm? The sun. And it's yellow. It's so yellow."

“Factually speaking, it is white.” 

You wiped an arm across your nose. “What?” 

“The sun. It’s white. It’s only yellow in children's books.” 

You weren't about to argue with the guy who vindicated your slip-ups. Still, given the circumstances, you wished he'd soften the bluntness and let you bask in the illusion that the sun was a simple shade of yellow.

"I've always loved the color yellow," you mumbled. "Maybe getting scammed was a blessing. I'd probably get fined for wearing yellow otherwise. I couldn't afford to mess up on my trip. Besides, it all depends on the shade, right? Imagine how many fines I'd rack up just testing which shade of yellow suits me—"

Nanami tugged you close, capturing your lips with his.

A sharp intake of breath filled your lungs, eyes widening in surprise. Instinctively, your hands pushed him away, fingers grazing your tingling lips.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Fuck. I’m so sorry.” 

“No, it’s okay. Don’t—Don’t worry. About it.” You tucked your lips in and tasted chocolate and mint—two of your favorite combinations. Nanami always seemed like the kind of man who would hate both flavors independently and dependently. “You’re okay. I mean—You’re okay in general. You’re not okay with kissing. You’re probably great, I’m sure.” Your tongue traced the curve of your lower lip, and Nanami’s eyes followed the motion. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.” 

You walked up to him, grabbed the lapels of his coat, and tugged him down a notch, your lips colliding with his. 

Nanami's touch was calculated, his hand sailing onto your cheek, feeding warmth to your cold ear before vanishing into the labyrinth of your hair. Simultaneously, the other serpentined to the small of your back, his magnetic energy drawing you snugly against his chest. His warm tongue delicately swept across your lower lip, an unspoken cue that encouraged you to part your lips in response.

Nanami deepened the kiss, your tongues stroking against one another feverishly as if it were your last kiss. Who knows? Maybe it could’ve been. But the way he kissed with such desperation, releasing soft moans, not allowing you a moment to catch your breath, made you think that maybe this was just the start.

And you kissed him back just as needy.

If your hands slightly released their hold on his lapels, you'd gently cup the sides of his neck, rising on your tiptoes. And if your calves protested, you'd draw him down, wrapping your arms around his neck, your fingers entwining in his pale, golden locks. The taste of mint chocolate lingered on your lips, and a smile curved on your mouth as he stole a quick peck, pulling back just to gaze into your eyes for a moment before kissing you again.

You’re not sure how long you two stood and kissed there. Nanami was the one who always took the lead, savoring the taste of your pink, tender tongue, kissing your chilly cheeks and dewy eyes. The desire for each other made it hard to break away, yet the need for a breath of air was undeniable.

Finally, you decided to be the one to step back, signalling the end of your first kiss with him.

Your bottom lip tingled as you pulled it in, jaw aching from the infectious smile that had taken over your face. You couldn't help stealing glances at the tall man before you, who returned your gaze with a soft, almost imperceptible grin. Yet, in his eyes, under the gentle glow of the streetlight, you could see the excitement and joy of kissing you, twinkling brightly.

“I'm gonna—”

“I should—”

Both of you sighed; you with a soft chuckle, and him with a discreet throat-clearing.

“I've already missed quite a few workdays,” you said. “Gotta earn that dough if I want to make next month’s rent.” Nanami didn’t quite catch your bakery pun, but he nodded in agreement.

“Right,” you murmured, subtly veering to the side, putting on a little show as you started to walk away. You admitted it—you were a hopeless romantic. You secretly hoped for him to steal a kiss on your cheek and watch until you safely disappeared around the corner. “I’m off now.”

“Goodnight,” Nanami replied, subtly licking his lips for the sixteenth time. Yes, you were keeping count. 

“Night-night.” 

Nanami strolled down his end of the sidewalk. You followed suit, turning down your street. 

Luck had only sometimes been on your side when it came to men and their romantic gestures. Oh well. At least you experienced a passionate kiss from one of your favorite customers. Asking for more seemed a bit too much—

A hand gently pressed against your back, and as you turned, it gracefully curved around your waist, drawing you in. Nanami caught your gasp and kissed you with an urgency that doubled, holding onto you as if his life depended on it, lifting you off your toes. Three sweet pecks later, he released you, both of your faces flushed.

"Get home safely," he whispered, walking away without a second glance.

That night, you couldn't help but giggle into your mascara-stained pillow.

The morning after, you were a whirlwind of joy and light, twirling through the bakery with trays of freshly baked pastries, replenishing boxes and take-out essentials. You greeted customers with an extra dose of sweetness, and to top it off, you even handed out a tray of delectable chocolate jam cookies. And you wore a yellow bow in your hair. 

The oven beeped as the casse-croûtes finished baking, signaling their readiness for Nanami's arrival in just five minutes. You took special care in preparing his milk coffee, indulging in a quiet chuckle at your undeniable favoritism. Though the neighborhood bakery wasn't bustling with a large customer base, your attention was solely dedicated to him—your only regular as everyone else buzzed in the distant city an hour away.

With his coffee prepared and two casse-croûtes packed, you added a chocolate-mint cookie to the bag. Then, you decided to rearrange the shelves of gift baskets to pass the time. 

Setting up the ladder, you ascended the shaky steps until you were eye to eye with the fifth shelf. Heights were never your forte, which, in hindsight, was another reason why flying to Malaysia was out of the question. The more you thought about being scammed, the more your heart wrenched from your lost trip. You’d again brought out your tip jar and prayed the odds were in your favor. Hell, maybe you’d ask Nanami to join you if you decided to take your relationship to the next level. 

As you secured the bow on the basket, your gaze landed on the clock—6:30 p.m., and Nanami was a no-show. 

Anxiety surged through you in an instant.

Did he leave you hanging? Maybe that kiss was a turnoff, and he chose to disappear rather than be upfront about finding you too overwhelming. Did your breath smell bad? Were you a terrible kisser? Or, worse, did something happen to him?

A torrent of worries flooded your mind, breaking through like a burst dam. Each imagined scenario seemed more nightmarish than the last, causing your head to spin. Recent events, like Toji's betrayal, fueled this self-doubt, made you question your intuition. While Nanami was clearly wealthy, consistently tipping a twenty each day, you found yourself questioning whether he had plans to use you for something else. As if that weren't enough, doubts crept in about your appearance and your optimistic, extroverted personality.

It started to make sense, didn't it? Nanami led a tranquil life, sticking to a routine of work and home, while you were a whirlwind of spontaneity—constantly buzzing with new ideas and discussions, unable to sit still or resist laughter at the silliest jokes. Everything seemed to fascinate you, yet nothing appeared to faze him. How could you have been so naive to entertain the thought—

“Good evening.” 

“Ah!” you yelped at the sudden baritone intruding into your thoughts. Your foot, betrayed by the unexpected intrusion, lost its balance on the step. Your arms flailed in a desperate attempt to find stability as you teetered backward, the impending hazard of a severe concussion and potential spinal cord injury looming.

But just as you were prepared to shake hands with God, Nanami's powerful arms swooped in at the last possible moment. With a secure hold, he cradled you in a bridal style, and you clung to him like a shaking puppy, arms looped around his neck.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his breath slightly labored.

You gingerly peeled one eye open to peek at him. His expression was one of calm disorientation; eyebrows knit together while his lips maintained a straight, tight line.

"Yes," you whispered, soothed by his timely intervention.

Nanami steadied you back onto your feet but maintained a firm grip on your elbows. “Look at me.” As you did, he inspected each eye closely while keeping his hand steady on your left cheek. He checked below your jaw, down to your dusty palms, which he cleaned with his silk handkerchief. He also patted down your tousled hair. "Are you sure you're okay?"

“Mm-hmm.” You could cry from how gentle he was with you. “A-Are you okay?” 

“I am now.” He took a composed breath and effortlessly retrieved his suitcase from the floor, brushing off invisible dust. “I apologize for being late. My . . . car broke down.” 

"What? Oh my god! Do you need me to give you my mechanic's number? I promise he's not as bad as the Google reviews say. He's actually quite a sweet man. And he gives me a friends and family discount because my father was close with him." You beamed, and Nanami squinted his eyes as if the brightness of your smile momentarily blinded him, but he tried his best to reciprocate.

“Do your parents live here?” 

You shook your head. “They passed away a while ago.” 

“I apologize.” 

"Don't be." You quickly switched subjects by fluttering towards the counter to pick up his items. “Tell me how your coffee tastes.” You turned around, adding, “I switched to a new brand of milk—”

Nanami pressed his lips against yours, momentarily freezing you. His seamless transition afterward could have fooled an onlooker into thinking you'd been married for years. "Thank you.” He took a sip and nodded thoughtfully. “It’s great. Everything you make is great.” 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, sudden shyness enveloping you. From the kiss? The compliment? Him? You didn’t know at all. “Do you still need me to give you the mechanic’s number?” 

“It’s all right. I had it fixed. Minor battery issue, that’s all.” 

“Ah, okay. See, that’s why I prefer to walk.” 

Nanami glanced elsewhere, nodding. “Then, would you like to walk with me after you’ve closed?” 

“Oh.” A subtle flicker of surprise crossed your features. Nonchalantly, you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear before smiling warmly. “Of course, yes. I’d love to go on a walk with you. Where are we going? There are lots of cafés in a nearby shopping district. I know all the best places to take you to.” A grave thought struck you just then. “Oh, actually. Hmm.” 

Curious, he tilted his head down, meeting your worried gaze. "What is it?"

"Well," you began, your thoughts taking a cautious turn, "you probably have a set time to be home unless you live nearby. In that case, we could spend the entire evening strolling around. Only if you're interested, of course."

Nanami’s lips twitched. “I live nearby.” 

“Where?” You weren’t ashamed to have been so upfront. It was more of a precautionary measure. 

And he didn't seem bothered, quickly revealing the familiar neighborhood you instantly recognized. It was a fifteen-minute walk from your own place.

"May I step out momentarily to make a call?" Nanami asked, pulling out his phone. It was the latest model you noticed—one that came out last week and mocked your own that was five versions older. “It will be quick.” 

“By all means.” You had to fix your hair and make-up anyway. 

Nanami nodded and exited the shop, leaving you to flee behind the counter. As you crouched down to check yourself in the small mirror tucked away in the lower drawer, you couldn't help but feel a warmth on your face from the unexpected collapse, the sweet, brief kiss, and his impeccable navy blue suit decorated with yellow cufflinks. Maybe a café was too casual for him; a restaurant might have been a more suitable choice. An expensive choice. However, you were adamant about not letting Nanami cover the entire cost.

Upon his return, five minutes later, you both settled at one of the three round tables in your bakery (he even pulled out your chair for you). Sipping on your coffees and enjoying the casse-croûtes and chocolate pastries, the conversation seemed somewhat one-sided. Yet, Nanami's aloof demeanor never made you feel inferior for dominating the dialogue. He listened to every word and vowel with his undivided attention, nodding alongside and adding in short sentences when he could relate to your childhood shenanigans. 

"Wait," he interrupted, causing you to halt in your tracks. The sun cast a warm glow on his face, making his eyes narrow into slits, but God did he look handsome. He extended his hand and brushed a thumb near your lips, discovering a small chocolate smudge. Swiftly, he licked it clean and tidied up the area around your lips with a napkin. "Beautiful."

“What?” 

Nanami was a deer in headlights. He sunk his head, beating himself up from murmuring his thoughts aloud—at least, that’s what you concluded. "You look beautiful," he declared with more assurance, his gaze on your face. "You are beautiful, Y/N."

Oh, my. 

Your heart was going to claw itself out of your chest. You could cook an egg on your face from how heated it had gotten. In fact, you were burning hotter than the sun, which continuously made him squint and blink. “Thank you.” 

He nodded twice, finishing the remnants of his coffee. Rising, he disposed of the cups and wrappers in the garbage bin, then extended a hand to help you stand. "I'll wait outside while you close up."

At a lightning pace, you ensured that everything in the bakery was safely unplugged and shut off. Grabbing your purse, you gave yourself a quick once-over in the mirror, adjusting your face and hair. Stepping outside, you meticulously locked the door and gates.

Without a word, Nanami entwined his fingers with yours, causing you to smile like an idiot at him. He maintained a straight, vigilant gaze, seemingly unresponsive as you wrapped yourself around his arm. A subtle smirk tugged at your lips when you felt his muscles flex.

You walked for hours, café-hopping and trying pastries, baked goods, and sweet drinks. Every time Nanami attempted to cover the expenses with his cash, you scolded him, insisting that since you had suggested the place, you should be the one to pay. It was a rule you had read about online, and all your friends stuck to it religiously. The thought of Nanami spending his hard-earned money on your interests made you feel incredibly guilty.

As a matter of fact, you were feeling guilty about tons of things. He told you he worked at an investment firm, which meant it was a nine-to-five, likely sporting a migraine he kept hidden, and now he was being dragged around the shopping district by you, forced to listen to you because he was a man who didn’t complain, wouldn’t complain, and long, story short, you wanted to die. 

“Kento,” you muttered, removing your hand from his, goosebumps rippling on your skin. 

“Yes, darling?” 

Your chest felt like it was being clenched in a fist. “I'm . . . I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” 

“For making you do all this. For making you pay for everything. For dragging you around when you're probably on the verge of exhaustion." Avoiding his gaze, you fixed your eyes on the concrete beneath you. “I know I can be too much sometimes—well, all the time.” A self-deprecating chuckle escaped your lips. "Exes in my past relationships have made it clear. I get overly excited easily, crave attention like one needs oxygen, trust people too easily to the point of getting scammed, and, well, I don't bring anything particularly special to the table. I'm sorry, Kento. Maybe it's best if we just stay friends?”

Nanami’s soft fingers lifted your chin up. Your words absolutely shattered his face, leaving you to feel worse than before. His lips were parted into a frown, his brows were scrunched up, brown irises flickering like he couldn’t believe you said that. This was the most reaction he had given you in the year that you’ve known him. 

“No,” he said. 

You blinked the tears gathered at your waterline. “No?” 

“No.” Nanami took a calming breath, closing his eyes. His forehead gently pressed against yours. “Please, let me be selfish for this once. For you. I can’t let you go—I won’t let you go."

"Kento—"

"I want to do this, Y/N. I want to pay for everything. I want you to drag me around because I’ll never be too tired for you.” Nanami drew back and cradled your sobbing face in his large hands. “I know I fail to show it, darling, but I love your excitement. I love paying attention to every detail of you because you’ve become my oxygen source. You’re a good, kindhearted woman, and anyone would be lucky to be seen by you. And you don’t have to bring anything to the table because there isn’t one dividing us, keeping us lengths apart.” His lips brushed your forehead, imprinting his words into your mind. "I want us to be more than just friends. I want us to be best friends. Lovers. In this life and the ones that follow."

You could explode. 

Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, seeking support as if the ground beneath you was about to crumble. Yet, you knew he would catch you, just as before. He was so real, embracing you wholly, both of you breathing in each other's scents to confirm a human like this could exist. How grateful you were he stumbled into your bakery that one rainy night, and how grateful he was that you offered him free coffee and a casse-croûte while he was freezing and trembling. His presence brought life to your bakery, gave you something to look forward to when you were at your lowest, and you gave him . . . everything. You were his everything since the first day. 

As the shared silence lingered, Nanami's phone shattered the moment, its noisy ring cutting through the haze. You instinctively stepped back, but he clung to your hand as if afraid you might slip away.

Never, Nanami Kento. You’re stuck with me. 

When he took out his phone, you caught a glimpse of the contact name: Satoru (assistant). 

Before you could process the fact Nanami had an assistant, he swiped right. “Yeah?” 

The voice on the other end resonated with loud cheerfulness in the quiet alleyway. Nanami half-rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Very well. Leave it there. I’ll be there when I want to.” 

The assistant chuckled and sang his goodbye, the cheerful tone abruptly cutting off as Nanami ended the call and slid his phone back into his pocket.

“Do all stockbrokers have assistants?” 

He tilted his head. “I’m not a stockbroker.” 

“Oh? I’m sorry. I assumed because you worked at an investment firm.” 

“Yes, I was a stockbroker.” He nodded, warming your hand in his, then casually added, “But I own a firm now.” 

Your brows hit your hairline. “That’s amazing!” 

“Thank you. We have several locations around the country. Kento Investments. Have you heard of it?” 

Heard of it? You were a client some time ago when you were starting your bakery. All you encountered were glowing reviews about their ethical practices, a refreshing leave from the scheming ways of most investment firms that had previously taken advantage of you. It stood out as the industry leader in your research, and the team was lovely in guiding you through the process, so much so that you even invited them to your grand opening.

"Ah, you have." Nanami grinned, gently tilting your chin upward and closing your gaping mouth. "Therefore, my darling, don't feel guilty about me covering the expenses. I'm quite secure in my position to support both of us for centuries."

All you could manage was a disbelieving chuckle as you rested your forehead against his chest. Taking it as an invitation, he embraced you, crowning you with kisses. 

Lifting your head, you said, "There's something I want to get for you."

"What is it?"

Hand-in-hand, you pulled him back toward the bustling district, the sound of his deep laughter echoing in the air. Your own laughter naturally joined in.

As you strolled past a vendor selling accessories, your attention was drawn to an item you had briefly noticed earlier in your walk. Although you planned to purchase it the following day and surprise him in the afternoon, tonight felt like the perfect moment.

Politely approaching the elderly vendor, you asked, "Could I please try those on?" He handed you a pair of round sunglasses with a green tint to the lenses. Standing on your toes, you carefully placed the glasses on Nanami's nose, adjusting them to sit perfectly on the bridge. The sides of the spectacles featured a stylish steampunk design that complemented his narrow, sharp features. "Handsome.”

"I'll take it.” Nanami reached for his wallet. However, you were one step ahead, swiftly bringing out the spare change you had set aside in your coat pocket. You had already calculated the price, ready to outsmart him in this little game of charity.

“Y/N.” 

“Thank you,” you said to the shop vendor, ignoring Nanami’s stare. 

“Y/N.” 

“Yes, darling?" You looped around his arm and began your stroll down the sidewalk. “Oh, come on. Let me be selfish and treat you once in a while.” You cut off his protests with a kiss. 

He surrendered instantly. 

Over the next four weeks, you didn’t realize how quickly you’d become comfortable with Nanami. Like clockwork, he would arrive at your bakery, patiently occupying a table until your duties with customers or decorating displays finished. Now resembling a vibrant florist shop, the bakery owed its transformation to Nanami's thoughtful gestures—bouquets of flowers in every shade of yellow, orange, and white became an amusing routine. As you arranged them in vases, you would burst into fits of giggles like a maniac. 

You and him were like a Venn diagram, overlapping in unexpected places. He enjoyed non-fiction, classics, and history books; you immersed yourself in the world of romance and mystery novels. TV nights were a compromise between his love for documentaries and your penchant for anything sappy on Netflix, occasionally spicing things up with a true-crime documentary. His fascination with astronomy met your fixation with astrology, and surprisingly, he didn't scoff when you read the lines on his palms. Instead, he appreciated it just as much as you cherished his nightly photos of the moon and his ability to name the stars above.

At least, you were both Team Cats.

Nanami introduced you to his friends, including his quirky assistant Gojo, who had a habit of shamelessly flirting with you, seemingly just to get under Nanami's skin. However, your boyfriend was secure enough not to let it bother him. Yet, a trace of possessiveness would emerge during sex—when the two of you were entwined in bed, bodies bared and bathed in the aftermath of shared sweat.

Exiting the restaurant after a delightful dinner date, Nanami turned to you and suggested, "I'd like to invite you to my home tonight."

Finally, you thought, resisting the urge to dip your toes into the topic of visiting his home, especially considering he had been a frequent guest at yours.

The fact that he lived nearby had always puzzled you; he mentioned it casually yet never extended an invitation for a simple coffee or a chat on his welcome mat. Weekends saw him working from your living room, staying overnight, but on weekdays, he'd only spend a brief hour or two with you before heading home, a practice that seemed counterintuitive given his closeness. Despite the confusion, you hesitated to jeopardize your relationship by fishing too deeply.

So far, Nanami hadn't given you any reason to doubt him.

"Are you sure?" you asked cautiously.

"Absolutely, darling.” Nanami took your hand and planted a small kiss on the back of it. "I apologize for the delay. I've been having it . . ." He casually flicked up his sunglasses that had slipped. ". . . renovated."

“Oh, I see. Well, in that case, I’d love to!” 

Nanami nodded and leaned down to kiss your cheek. “Thank you for being so patient. I know it was eating you alive. You're not exactly the master of hiding your emotions.” He gave you a small smile and kissed your cheek again. 

You responded with a smile that crinkled your nose. "Just a bit anxious, that's all."

"Understandable.” He guided you toward his neighbourhood, exchanging a warm smile as you nestled against his arm. Observing the goosebumps on your skin and the faint shivers, he realized you had forgotten your cardigan. Without hesitation, he removed his blazer and draped it around your shoulders, helping you slip your arms through the sleeves and buttoning it up.

You took a deep breath, inhaling the pleasant scent from the collars. "You always smell so good."

Nanami bent down, kissing the side of your neck right above your racing pulse. "As do you," he murmured against your skin. "Always."

“Gosh, you're so flirty,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his midsection and burying your face in his chest.

“Come on now.” 

You walked for another ten minutes, taking a five-minute pit stop to pet a stray cat before stopping in front of a towering residence building. It was one of those extravagant ones boasting a fountain in the lobby and a vigilant security guard who greeted Nanami with a two-finger salute.

Hand on your back, Nanami guided you toward the elevator with mirrors on all sides.

He exuded an air of sophistication in his neatly rolled-up black dress shirt, complemented by beige pants. His pale, blond hair was slicked back, a Rolex clasped his wrist, and veins corded his well-defined forearms. The sunglasses you had given him rested atop his head. 

As Nanami caught your eyes on the reflective surfaces, a sudden blush warmed your cheeks. “What is it?” 

“Nothing,” you whispered, fingers idly playing with the golden butterfly bracelet he had given you on the night he asked you to be his girlfriend. “I was just . . . God, you’re so beautiful. Sometimes, I think I’m dreaming of you. And I don’t want to wake up from it.” 

Nanami released his grip on your hand, wrapping his arm around your waist. He tilted your chin upward and planted a lecherous kiss on your lips. As you stumbled backward, your back met the cool surface of a mirror, and you clung to his biceps. He continued kissing your jaw and nibbling at your neck.

“Ken—Wait, there’s a camera!” 

“I own the building.” 

Without allowing you to react, he kissed you fervently, his hands framing your face and his knee pressing between your legs. Your hips ground against the muscled surface, creating a heated friction that drew a moan from him.

The elevator dinged, signaling its arrival, but Nanami was undeterred. He refused to break the kiss. Lifting you effortlessly, he cradled you with a single forearm beneath your backside and your arms encircling his neck. Laughter echoed as you entered directly into the main corridor of his penthouse.

“Your front door is an elevator?” You marveled with an open jaw. 

“Yes, it seems so.”

Oh, how you loved his monotonous replies. 

Nanami gently placed you onto the expansive white surface of his couch, smoothly moving over your body to continue. 

“I knew you were a clean freak,” you said between his kisses, “but your penthouse looks like it was bought this morning.” 

“Two weeks ago.” He kisses down your neck, sideways toward your left shoulder. “That’s why I waited to invite you. Gojo was having the place decorated. I've installed a library for you, too. We can go book-shopping this weekend.” 

"Wait, what?" You pushed him back by his chest, incredulous. "Hold on, hold on, hold on. You mean to tell me you moved in just two weeks ago?"

"Yes," he answered, tilting his head slightly perplexedly. "When you asked about my residence, I panicked and couldn't come up with a proper answer, fearing you might decline my invitation for a walk. So, I bought this building from the previous owner on the spot. There are also commercial benefits. Quite a strategic move, if you ask me." With that, Nanami resumed his attention, focusing on kissing your collarbones and skillfully lowering your dress, exposing your chest to him.

But you were still stuck on the subject like a pesky fruit fly. “But you don’t live here?” 

“I don’t.” His mouth brushed over the mound of your left breast. “I live in Shibuya.” 

“Shibuya? Kento, that’s an hour and a half away!"

"Hmm." He glanced up, mouth sucking at your nipple.

"You've been faithfully coming to my city every single day, all the way from Shibuya, for a whole year? You've been burning all that gas just to be with me?"

He broke away to say, "Gojo drives me occasionally," and switched to your right breast.

"Nanami Kento, are you out of your mind?"

Finally, he released you and sighed. "I fail to see the issue here." He appeared so innocent, with his moist lips, tousled hair, and a crumpled dress shirt. 

You hurriedly sat up, readjusting your dress, which seemed to displease him. "I'm at a loss for words." Your gaze caught the weariness etched on his face, the bags under his eyes, the slow, heavy blinks signaling his desperate need for sleep. "You haven't actually been living here, have you?"

Upon hearing that, Nanami let out a weary sigh. "I do it when I'm too drained to make the drive back on weekdays."

As the details of his schedule fell into place, you flinched inwardly. He would rise at the crack of dawn, dedicate endless hours to handling clients at the office, and then endure a lengthy drive to your city, only to spend his evenings with you before leaving around midnight to return to Shibuya. The only time he would stay overnight at your place was on Saturdays, and he would depart early on Sundays for work. And all this time, you had believed he had an office in your city.

Oh, God. 

You loved him. 

You loved him so much.

Tears welled up in your eyes at the realization of just how much he loved you. The man had gone so far as to purchase an entire building in your city just to be closer to you. He showered you with affection at every opportunity, devoted his alone time to you with undivided attention and mind-blowing orgasms, and his bank transactions were probably dedicated to you. 

“I don’t deserve your kindness,” you whispered. 

“Neither did I the night when we met.” Nanami’s words always had a comforting effect on you. He gently pulled you onto his lap, and you curled up like a fetus, planting a kiss on his cheekbone. “I’ve loved you for a very long time, Y/N. I love . . . God, I love you so much. I didn't realize I was capable of feeling this much love for another human until I met you. It was all locked up inside me, and you held the key all along, darling." Leaning forward, he smoothly swept his blazer and delved into the pocket, revealing a small yellow box. With trembling hands, you accepted it and opened it to find a petite, golden key inside. “Our front door is an elevator.” 

Your breath hitched. “What?” 

“Move in with me.” 

“Kento—”

“I know. I know it's quite early to discuss this, and I want to give you the space and time to consider it. As you mentioned, your lease ends next month, and I'll officially be transitioning to remote work with a few business trips every other week. It would mean a lot to me if you decided to join me on those trips." He gently placed the key in your hand, kissing your fist. "I'm scheduled to travel to Malaysia next month."

Overpowered with emotion, you choked out a sob and immediately lunged at him with a hug, causing both of you to stumble backward as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He loved you. He wanted you to move in with him. He wanted to travel with you, starting with Malaysia. Suddenly, the tips he left in your jar took on a deeper significance, backing the idea that you weren't meant to journey alone, why you weren’t meant to go with that swindling bastard. As Nanami's gestures of kindness and service became increasingly evident, your tears welled up, choking him in a tight embrace that eventually had him laughing.

Last November, Nanami Kento had stepped into your small bakery, raindrops clinging to him, unknowingly marking his permanent presence in your life.

[mrsmikaelsxn]

Broom Cupboard Activities

masterlist

pairing: theodore nott x female reader

warnings: smut, fluff, cursing

summary: you and theo abandon a slytherin party and sneak into a nearby broom cupboard, a makeout session leads to more ;) - requested by anon

a/n: thank you for this request, i love writing for theo sm, i hope you enjoy xx!

song: sex, drugs, etc. - beach weather

You and Theodore were dancing together at another Slytherin party. They had just won a Quidditch match against Gryffindor.

You had on a tight, short silk dark green dress. Theo had worn a black suit and a green tie to match you.

The music was loud and you had to ask Theo to repeat what he said, since you could hardly hear.

"Want to sneak away, love?"

"Of course," you smile at him. He takes your hand in his and you squeeze past all of the students in the common room.

You guys finally make it past everyone and speed walk in the corridor, giggling like little children.

Theo spots a broom cupboard and pulls you in with him.

The doors shut behind him and he pushes you against them.

"I love you," he whispers and connects his soft lips to yours.

One hand of his is on the door, next to your head, the other he uses to wrap around your waist and pull you towards him.

His tongue slides against your lip and you open your mouth for him.

You bring your arms up onto his shoulders and run your fingers through his soft and fluffy hair.

"I love you too," you pull back to whisper before connect your mouths again. You feel him smile into the kiss, bringing a smile onto yours as well.

He groans when you tug on the ends of his hair. You push him back and move him so that he is now pushed against the wall.

You two had limited space because of the size of the cupboard, and you couldn't see much since it was so dark.

You start kissing his neck and jaw. Continuing your kisses, you take off the top of his suit, followed by his shirt.

You suck on his neck and collar, leaving hickeys to form.

His breathing picks up as you trail your kisses down his chest, running your fingers along his toned stomach.

You drop to your knees, and Theo looks down at you. He mutters a spell to make the floor feel softer for your knees. You smile up at him in thanks and start to undo his belt.

You get it off and pull his trousers down. You start palming him and he lets out a low groan as hit eyes flutter shut. You grin seeing how hard he is.

"Please, my love"

You then slide his boxers down, and take him in your hand. You slowly start pumping him and he releases a moan.

"Shh, love, you don't want us do get caught do you?"

He shakes his head and bits his lip to conceal any noises threatening to leave him. You whisper a silencing spell while hes distracted by your hand just in case.

"Fuck, sweetheart, I n-need your m-mouth"

You nod your head and kiss his tip and his head drops back onto the wall.

You lick him a few times, just to tease him.

"Darling, please," he begs.

"Okay," you whisper.

You take him in your mouth. Perks of having no gag reflex. He accidentally lets a loud moan slip. He prays to Merlin there isn't anyone by, still unbeknownst to the fact that you silenced the cupboard.

He brings his hands to your hair as you bob your head, sucking him off. You pull back and blow on his hard cock, he shudders and whimpers when you swirl your tongue on is tip.

You take him back in your mouth and run your fingers up and down his thigh.

"Oh my fuck, you look so pretty like this," he groans.

He bites so hard on his lips as you work your talented, talented mouth.

"Shit, I-I'm going t-to c-cum," he whimpers.

You don't stop, only here and there for about two seconds so you can breathe.

"Ah, shit, darling, I-I"m cu-" he start but a moan is released from him as he releases in your mouth.

He watches as you swallow all of it, his breathe are ragged and you lick his tip, cleaning any cum left on him.

You stand up and lip your lips, he almost moans at the sight.

He brings his hand to your neck and pulls you into a sweet kiss as a way of thanking you without speaking words.

"Your mouth does wonders," he grins breathlessly.

"Why thank you, Mr. Nott"

"I'll pay you back for that later," he winks.

"I'll hold you to that," you kiss his cheek.

He puts his clothes back on and you say a spell to make yourselves look like you both haven't done anything.

"You know, I used a silencing spell," you inform him, stepping out of the closet.

He grabs your hand and follows you.

"You cruel, cruel woman"

You laugh and drag him back to the party.

Once you successfully make your way back in, you see Blaise walk up to the two of you.

"You guys are disgusting," he fake throws up and points his finger back and forth between the two of you.

"Oh shove off, mate," Theo smacks his head.

He shakes his head and holds up his hand as he walks away.

"So, dance with me again?"

You smile and take his hand that he held out to you. He brings you back to where people were dancing and you too let loose as you just enjoy each other's presence.

[jungkookschin]

to restrain is to love (to err is to love part 2)

synopsis: yea, it was totally your fault for pouncing on your ex husband and shoving your tongue down his throat at your kids' super mario birthday party. (totally romantic!) but after establishing boundaries? despite feeling nauseous, jungkook has to show great deal of self restraint when he finds out that his ex wife is going on a date. word count: 13k

pairing: dilf!jk /ex husband!jk / ceo!jk x afab reader

warnings: mentions of divorce, death, and cheating

to err is to love masterlist

"So, you want me to pretend like it didn't happen?"

Your ex-husband finally arrives home- his disheveled nature indicative of an exhausting day at work probably filled with tedious meetings and unexciting paperwork. He looks like he got the soul sucked right out of his body. His tie is loose around his neck, his hair is swept back sloppily, dark circles prominent, and there's a very obvious annoyed grimace hazed on his handsome face. 

It’s not like you enjoy contributing to his stress, but right now you have to draw the red line and establish boundaries. You hate the way your heart flutters at his mere presence- even when stressed out of his mind. You rip your eyes away from him so the notion departs from your mind; acknowledging your thoughts means accepting- or even embracing your feelings for him, and that’s just something you can’t do. 

After practically pouncing on him and salaciously shoving your tongue into his mouth after your children's Super Mario birthday party, you abruptly jolted from your sleep with regret plaguing your system. Instinctively your fingers come up to alleviate the aching pain in your temples whilst you recall how sinful it felt to have his lips against yours. The butterflies threatening to erupt in your stomach irk you, and you despise yourself for craving him like you are right now.

Even when he’s blinking at you incredulously like you’ve cut him deeply- you can’t help but be soft for him. 

“Yes,” you enunciate sternly; the dramatic roll of your eyes effectively masks how you truly feel, and it makes his heart ache painfully. “It was entirely inappropriate, and I apologize for that- let’s just pretend it never happened.” You mumble pointedly before redirecting your focus back to the soapy bubbly plastic Hello-Kitty dishes piled in the sink.

You brace yourself for a response as hostile as the words you just spewed out. 

Perhaps he perceived the way your body visibly tense because instead of a sarcastic response, he acts opposite of what you’re expected. You hear the soft thud of his briefcase echoing through the room and as a gentle sigh falls from his lips. 

He makes calm strides toward you, placing a hand on top of yours; the soapy bubbles on your hands rub onto his- it even gets on the cuffs of his shirt, but it goes unnoticed by him.  He just wants to help out. His other hand takes hold of the sponge as his body softly nudges you to the side. He begins to maneuver the sponge against the dishes, not gracing you with a single word.

Heart aching in your chest, you let out a concerned sigh. "Jungkook, you don't have to do that, it's alright-"

"I'm sorry for coming home late tonight,” His soft words are spoken in a hushed tone, as if he’s trying to bring you down from how panicked and aggressive you were previously behaving. "Thank you for making the kids dinner and cleaning up."

"It's my job to do that-"

"I know. But you work so hard. I just want to let you know how grateful I am." His words encapsulate the tenderness that has been stagnantly stinging his heart- and it sends an explosion of emotions to your stomach. He’s got this hold on you, and you find it unfathomable that he can reillumine the dull flame idly sitting in your heart. 

"Are you mad at me?" you squeak out, fingers brushing a stray strand behind your ear. He releases a soft chuckle, putting the last dish in the drying rack, turning and leaning back against the kitchen counter. He shakes his head to sweep the hair out of his face.

“Not mad, just a little sad,” the casual shrug of his shoulders enkindles a bubble of confusion in your heart. 

Your mouth dries up. You haven’t a clue of how to respond-especially when the situation isn’t combative in the slightest. You suppose that you adapted entirely to toxicity and hostility that you’ve become emotionally dysfunctional. You hesitate, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I’m sorry,” is all you’re able to muster up.

He smiles bitterly to himself, his sharp jawline flexing as he looks away from you and at the ceiling. For a split second, you detect a hint of pain on his face, but he masks that by playfully pinching your cheek before swinging his hand back down- further adding to your confusion. “Don’t be sorry- you can’t change how you feel. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” 

Oh.

The response he gave you was exactly what your brain was looking for, but for some reason your heart is left completely dissatisfied. 

He suddenly begins undoing the buttons on his shirt, letting his chest finally breathe after being trapped in the confines of a tight suit all day. This wasn’t unusual for him to do. Jungkook often paraded around the house shirtless. After all, this is his home, and he is entitled to comfort and privacy. Besides, it’s not like you’ve never seen it before.  

Biting your lip, you swat his hands away and begin undoing the buttons for him. Though the action intrinsically seems questionable, you’ve basically been his little wifey when the two of you decided to cohabitate again (for the children). You wash his clothes, make him breakfast, tie his tie for him- the more you think about it the more dysfunctional this relationship is. No words were needed- this isn’t intended to be sexual or seductive in the slightest- your love language has always been acts of service and this is how you’ll express your appreciation.

He raises his brows at you. His eyes haze over you like he’s checking you out, but he’s really scrutinizing you and peering right past your facade. And perhaps he’s simultaneously checking you out. He can’t help himself- your smaller frame is adorned in one of his white oversized tees, making you look so soft and wifey. At the same time, he finds it somewhat ridiculous that you’re telling him you don’t want him while you have his damn shirt over your body.

Once you get to the bottom of the shirt, you pout slightly and look up at him. Your eyes are met with dark eyes that peer into your very soul. Black eyes scan over you, pupils are dilated completely, questioning authenticity of your rejection towards him. 

At the same time, he gazes at you with so much desire that it hurts.

 “Please tell me how you really feel,” he whispers.

You break eye contact, snapping the strings of attraction that were pulling you together. “Just don’t want to ruin everything again.” you quietly murmur

He brings his calloused palms to rub his face. He already knows. He sees right through you. He’s known you so long he’s confident he’s familiarized himself with everything about you- knows how your mind processes information, knows the meaning behind all your gestures.

What haunts him the most is that he knows he fucked up his own marriage. As the man of the family, he was supposed to hold everything down, and it’s been eating him up that he placed that burden on you.  “I know,” he responds, “It’s my fault- I know I fucked everything up beyond repair. I don’t blame you for feeling that way. The divorce was really hard.” 

It’s the first time he’s ever explicitly said the d word. He places his arms behind his head, his biceps bulging through his shirt, and you rip your eyes away. This is not the time to be thirsting over him.

“I wasn’t the best either- so don’t say that. The divorce was hard for you too so let’s not think about that,” you mumble, staring at the photo of your children stuck onto the fridge with a “#1 MOM” magnet. The cute photo of the twins holding up peace signs stabilizes you. They are what keeps you going.

He sighs. “But I know you gave it your all to save us- and I didn’t. I know that if I put in more effort, we would have made it. I was entitled and arrogant,” he bites his lip like he’s trying to find the right words, “Please let make it up to you.”

His analysis of the situation is somewhat accurate. Though the rockiest part of your marriage was mostly because of carelessness and hostility from both sides- Jungkook was the one who ultimately expelled you from his heart while you desperately towards clung onto hope.

“There’s nothing to be made up- we can’t do this again. Our kids would be heartbroken if mommy and daddy got back together….  just to break up again,” you send him a faux smile with the intention of comforting him, as if your fucking divorce didn’t absolutely crush you. Jungkook’s resolve begins to crack at your mannerisms. He sees right through you, knows when you’re faking shit.

“Is that how you really feel?” 

 A deafening silence washes over the situation. You won’t grace him with a response. No one would ever be able to pry the words out of you.

He speaks up. “I respect that Y/N, but if you ever change your mind, I’ll always be here.”

Your brows furrow deeply at this words, and Jungkook winces at the haze of mortification that appears on your pretty face. What did he mean by that? Is he implying that he’s going to stay single forever if you don’t want to be with him? That it’s you or nothing? What an impulsive and ridiculous statement. As much as you care for him, he can’t just be saying shit like that to you 

You purse your lips.  “I have a date next weekend-”

“What?” The harshness and rapidity of his response doesn’t faze you. During college he was especially possessive over you, his possessive nature never fading even after the divorce. You were still the mother of his children so the sense of protection he felt for you was practically implanted into his system.

“I have a date next weekend, so don’t say stuff like that. Don’t give up on love because we didn’t work out. We didn’t work out for a reason- we can both be better for who we were truly meant for,” you rub his bicep diplomatically, your lips curling up into a polite smile.  

Brushing your hand away, he responds with a look that teeters on the brink of mortification and disgust. “Who’s taking you on a date?” He’s doing that thing where he presses his tongue against his cheek- like you’ve just horribly offended him, and you simply frown. 

“Don’t worry about that- if it goes well then I’ll tell you more, but it’s just a first date,” Growing slightly irritated, you tut because he’s really doing too much at this point.  “I’m only telling you because I don’t want you to give up meeting other people.”

After tensing up he closes his eyes and sighs steadily, expelling the negative energy that accumulated in his chest.  “Okay fine- go on a date. Not my business anyways,” he mumbles lowly, and this pit of guilt expatiates in your chest.  

Before he walks off, your hand automatically latches onto his wrist. “Hey, can we talk about this? I hate it when we fight and I don’t want to upset you,” you plead, gnawing on your bottom lip in concern.

Jungkook softens, regaining rationality before his shoulders relax. “There’s nothing to talk about. It’s not your fault. You’re allowed to move on if you want to,” he reasons, attempting to give you a smile. 

Suddenly, the realization washes over you that Jeon Jungkook looks utterly exanimated. He’s paler than usual and he just looks so spiritless and dull. It saddens you deeply and your purse your lips. You hope it’s from work and not because of you.  “Sorry,” you whisper.

“It’s okay Y/N. Not your fault. We separated years ago- don’t worry about it,” 

Desisting, your lips utter no response. 

“Well Y/N, ‘m getting tired so gonna go to bed.” His voice stiffly trails off before he speaks again. “Can I get a hug?” 

You don’t even realize how pouty your lips become when you lean into his embrace, hugging him from the side. 

Gosh. Is this what we’ve come to?

A side hug?

You and this man used to be madly in love, unable to keep your hands off of each other- so passionate and so intense. It’s genuinely crazy that's left.

 A side hug.

–

When you stepped into work that morning, asking a man on a date was the last thing on your list. In fact, the notion never existed because you making the first move? Disgusting. Totally defeminizing. 

"Ew, is this what people like?" Your coworker Soyeon peeks over your shoulder, scrutinizing the monitor. She grimaces while she makes an ugh sound with her lips, eliciting a lighthearted giggle from you.

You currently work for a luxury cosmetics brand called Belle Meraviglie, as lead of the analytics team at the Korea headquarters. Basically, you’re in charge of data mining, transforming survey results into applicable suggestions for product development. There’s a lot of math and statistics involved, which occasionally makes you question why you’re in this field because you can’t do math for shit. 

Though your job sounds tedious, the average workday is filled with jovial playfulness thanks to your coworkers.

Right now, you're inspecting the results of a recent survey about optimal lip shades for each season. Surprisingly, this ugly ass peach shade popped up as the number one result for fall, which you (and Soyeon) are not fucking with. With one tap of the keyboard, the results are modified into a line graph, and you swivel your office chair around 180 degrees, facing Soyeon.

"Hey, if it brings us in more money then it's good to me," you joke, eliciting a playful eye roll from your friend. 

“Of course, it’s all about the money for you…” 

A lightbulb seemingly appears on top of her head, and she really starts to regurgitate her thoughts. "I really want a chocolate croissant right now," she expresses aloud, very unsubtly you may add, so you quickly become suspicious, narrowing your eyes at her. Giving you her classic puppy dog eyes, you give her a knowing look before relenting.

"Fine."

Perks of working for a luxury brand is that there's a Starbucks cafe on the second floor of the office. You have to admit that the chocolate croissants are to die for, hence why you're willing to walk all the way to the elevator and to the cafe to buy Soyeon one.

Unsurprisingly, the line at the cafe is pretty long, wrapping around the corner of the interior of the building. Chocolate croissants are delicious, and you love the way the buttery dough melts in your mouth, so you're more than willing to wait it out. Your arms are linked with Soyeon's so you won't be separated amongst the crowd of buzzing employees rushing to get their coffee or snacks.

Looking around, you really conceptualize the diversity of your workplace. People of all ages and colors flock around the lobby; you're noticing that there are a lot more young people around, probably college interns. 

Amongst your scrutiny of the people walking in and out, you gracelessly walk straight into a brick wall of a man, even despite Soyeon's efforts of driving you away from bumping into people.

The man turns around and you begin hastily apologizing. Soyeon follows your lead. "I'm sorry!" you urgently express, but when you straighten your body, you realize that the brick wall is a familiar face. 

"Y/N?"

"Seokjin?" you mimic his confused tone, the two of you blink at each other before you both burst out into laughter at your clumsy antics.

You give him a warm one-armed embrace, delicately brushing Soyeon off to the side. (uncannily similar to when you used to force your friends to follow your tracks, so you’d muster up the courage to talk to your middle school crush)

But in reality, this situation couldn’t be any more different.

 Seokjin is actually head of the marketing department- so a manager like you.  During monthly meetings, you go out of your way to ensure the seat beside you is vacant for Seokjin. Coughing excessively into your arm to ward off everyone else,  but then when Seokjin walks in, you’re magically healed!

When you were abysmally stumbling through the divorce with your ex-husband, Seokjin was a saving grace. Being a divorced father of two kids himself, he empathized with you whole heartedly, heroically taking responsibility for your work while you took the time to mentally recuperate.

"How have you been?" he exclaims, beaming at you. Seokjin is always bubbly and radiant at work,  something you found comfort in whenever you interacted with him.

"I've been really good! We actually got the report back on the survey for the new lip product..." you trail off, "The shade the stakeholders chose is really ugly," you whisper, making Seokjin lightheartedly chuckle.

"Well," he begins. "If it brings us money then that's all that matters!"

You dramatically gasp before playfully smacking him on the chest. "That's what I said too!" You join him in his contagious laughter; it's just so easy to get along with him.

After the laughter dies down, Seokjin wipes a fake tear from his eye. "So, how're the twins?" he inquires, and you beam at him.

"They're awesome. How are your boys?"

Seokjin has two boys, who are a lot older than your kids. His oldest Seokmin is 14 and his youngest Seokjoon should be 12 or 13 by now. Seokjin shoots you a comically petrified look before shaking his head and exhaling deeply.

"Seokmin is in high school," he dramatically enunciates, as if it's the scariest thing in the world. It really is, though. You're horror stricken but thrilled for your kids to get to that stage, but you'll handle it when the time comes. "He actually brought home a girl the other day- it scared the shit out of me and his brother," he jokes, making you smile at his silliness.

"Awe, don't say that," you coo, "So was she his girlfriend?" you inquire, to which Seokjin shakes his head.

"They're in the 'talking' stage, so not dating but they kind of are," Seokjin explains, before feigning faux shock to dramaticize the situation. "What the hell does that even mean? I told him that if he likes her he should just ask her out, but he said that no one does that and it'd make him look weird," he elaborates while he rolls his eyes and shakes his head, which just makes you laugh.

"I've never heard of that before. Maybe we're getting too old," you kiss your teeth, making a yikes sound.

Seokjin shakes his head. "Us? Old? Never that. My boys still can't beat me in a sparring match, so I'd say I'm young as ever."

This catches your attention, and you perk up a bit. "I forgot that your kids do Taekwondo!" you exclaim. "Did Seokjoong finally get his blackbelt?"

"He actually did last month! Hey- the offer still stands. If little Haru wants to start Taekwondo, I can get my boys to take him to class. He'll be in good hands," Seokjin suggests with a casual shrug.

You get soft at the thought of Haru in a Taekwondo uniform, kicking boards and doing flips, so you start to pout. "Thank you, Seokjin. I'll talk to Haru's father about it."

Seokjin purses his lips and nods. He hesitates momentarily, gnawing on his lip, appearing as if he is contemplating whether or not he should verbalize his thoughts. He's always been careful not to overstep boundaries. "If you ever want to talk about anything, I've been in your place and I get it. You can always text or call," he offers.

You blissfully sigh, nodding your head while you give him a knowing smile. "Thank you Seokjin, I might just have to take you up on your offer," your voice sounding shriveled  and exhausted.

"Well, I have to get back to work now. I'll see you guys later," he looks around and finally notices Soyeon, shooting his hand out while he introduces himself. "Seokjin, by the way."

She shakes his hand weakly, being well aware and slightly intimidated by her superior. "Soyeon. It's nice to meet you," she smiles at him and he returns the smile before making his way back to his office.

You and Soyeon waddle back into the office and settle down at your desks, chocolate croissants in both of your hands. Soyeon shoots you a conspicuous look. "That was... odd," she states, and the expression you give her can only be described as quizzical.

"What was?" you ask, taking a bite out of your croissant. "The barista?"

"No no, your interaction with Seokjin," she insists, rolling her office chair over to yours so that no eavesdroppers would catch heed to the conversation.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you guys fucking?!” she whisper shouts, her facial expressions screaming urgency and incrimination. She’s staring at you as if she just caught you in the act, but you respond with a mortifying glare. 

You clasp your palm over her mouth. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

You feel the sensation of her tongue licking your hand, and you jerk your hand away.

“I have never seen you act like that before,” she points out while she gives you a snobby look, eyeing you up and down.

You roll your eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you bark back, particularly unamused.

“Like a high schooler talking to their crush?!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you hiss, petrified that your interaction with him could be perceived that way.

“Bitch, don’t try me! You were fucking giggling; I have never seen you do that,” she crosses her arms at you and gives you another accusatory look.

“Oh wow now I can’t smile? Or be happy?” you muse, forcing Soyeon to deepen her scowl while she looks at you particularly unimpressed.

“Well, there is literally vacant dick for you right in front of you, but if you want to ignore it then there’s nothing I can do about it," she continues.

One of your palms comes up to smack your own face. “Someone’s gonna report us to HR,” you grumble, making Soyeon bite back laughter.

“Are you just gonna stay single for the rest of your life?” she then asserts, and the question has you melting into a puddle of realization. The only person you’ve seriously dated is- well, your ex-husband. Since you had your kids so young you’ve centered your entire life around your kids and work, the thought of another man has never even crossed your man.

After the divorce you came to peace with the idea that love just wasn’t for you, but you suppose that doesn't have to necessarily be the case, so you begin to welcome some of Soyeon's crazy ideas.

“I don’t know,” you meekly respond, “Right now I’m solely focused on my kids, so I haven’t thought about it.”

“Well their father has women constantly flocking around him, so you have every right to as well,” she insists.

“Okay but it’s not like he reciprocates their feelings-”

Soyeon raises a brow at you and you acquiesce. “Yea,” you agree, shrugging. "But it's not going to be Seokjin- he doesn't like me like that."

"Dude. He didn't even notice I was there until he was walking away," Soyeon deadpans at you and you laugh, deliberately not saying anything because you don't want to admit that she has a point.

"Plus," she muses, "I can make the case that Seokjin is the hottest guy in this entire building," she chimes in a sing song voice. 

You respond with a mirthless look. She knows damn well that there is no competition about 'hottest guy in the building' because all the men here are either super old, or college interns.

"There isn't that much competition."

"So you agree?" she teases, and her inquiry sucks you in to a whirlpool of quandary. 

Out of all the men at work, Seokjin is the most attractive here- now that you think about it, he is pretty cute. Probably on the more attractive side of all the men you've seen in your life. Maybe you should try to ignite a flame between you and Seokjin. Thanks to the sensation of adrenaline rushing through your veins, you become quite impulsive and bold.

"Shall I try to seduce him?"

"Yes!" Soyeon squeals. "Please! I'm tired of seeing you depressed all the time. Please get back into the game," she pleads.

You suppose that Soyeon must possess some supernatural hypnotic ability, because you find yourself doing something atypical to your normal behavior.

Knocking on the door of Seokjin’s private office, you take a measly step once you hear “Come in!” bounce on the walls.

“Y/N!” he greets happily, directing his attention from his giant computer monitor to a cumbersome you, fidgeting awkwardly in place. “What’s up? Do you have the report for the monthly meeting?” he asks, gracing you with his typical Seokjin smile.

“Oh- um- sorry, I actually don’t,” you say, clenching your teeth from the anxiety rushing through your veins. “I actually came to ask you- well I actually wanted to ask-“

Seokjin pays no heed to your stuttering or the way you wriggle around in his office, just clasps his palms together while he gazes at you fondly. 

“Do you maybe want to get dinner with me? Next weekend?”

His face immediately falls and you wince, instantaneously regretting even stepping inside his office. On Seokjin’s end, his expression actually reflects pleasant surprise, but you don’t know that.

A moment passes where the two of you blink at each other before his hands grasp a stack of papers, straightening the stack against the table.

He clears his throat.

“Like a date?”

Your cheeks blush crimson and you shyly avert your eyes downward, tucking a stray piece of strand behind your ear. At this point, there’s no going back now. Your impulsivity has gotten the best of you. You look up, gnawing on the plump of your bottom lip. “Yea,” you release. “Like a date.”

The shy smile that spreads on Seokjin’s face mirrors the goofy smile on yours. Anyone viewing this situation from the third person would assume you've never spoken to a man before; your cherry red cheeks indicative as much. 

His eyes finally meet yours, and you can’t help but think that he looks  cool. Seokjin tends to emanate approachability. He’s the cool boss- the guy every employee can confide in.

Not now though. You’ve penetrated a barrier no one else in the office has and unlocked the cool and suave Seokjin.

His large hand combs through his hair, revealing a peek of his forehead. He looks so handsome and quite honestly it’s making you giddy. “Yea Y/N, I would love to.”

“Oh- um- that’s great!” you say before you shrivel up in embarrassment. “Just text me and we can arrange a time,” you squeak out before shyly waving and taking a step back towards the door. He raises his eyebrows amusedly before waving back at you, and you return the wave that he returned to your wave, shutting the door ever so slightly. 

“Ah shit. She’s cute.”

-

You wake from bed with a splitting headache. The preceding day just happened to me the most eventful day for your love life since your wedding. Last night, your talk with Jungkook had all sorts of emotions and colors bursting and bubbling in your chest. However, no matter how drawn you are to him, no matter how weird you feel about him, it’s over, and you had to firmly establish those boundaries. 

Any lingering resentment toward Jungkook proceeding the divorce had long vanished- for the sake of your children and for the sake of your inner peace. Honestly, you were fed up with how salty and miserable you always were. You realized it was unproductive was to dwell on the aches and failures of your marriage; you found it in your heart to genuinely forgive him just like how he forgave you. 

After that, your co-parenting relationship flourished, but now it seems like everything is coming full circle again. He explicitly told you that he wants you.

But you can’t let it happen. It didn’t work out before, and it won’t work out if you try again. 

Life has blessed you with another capable, intelligent, and handsome man, and you can’t let yourself blow it because of your complicated feelings for your ex-husband. You like Seokjin. Seokjin is handsome, you click with him, and he makes you feel safe and comfortable. 

Your time spent with Seokjin is reminiscential of a dulcet hot spring. You find comfort in the way your skin absorbs his warm steam emanating from the water. You find comfort in the way he makes you feel normal and validated, the way he accepts you as yourself. Your relationship that had been a cordial friendship for so long has the potential to blossom into so much more. 

Jungkook on the other hand, is a tsunami whose waves violently crash down on the little control you have over your rationality. When you were a teenager, he washed into your otherwise peaceful world and aroused this sense of infatuation in your being, evoking your reckless behavior.

Holding his hand in a skintight bikini while he coaxed you into sneaking into one of his father’s hotel pools. Standing arms open outside your house waiting to catch you while you jumped from your window- my goodness you even had twins with this man!

Had you been a little younger, you would have chosen the exhilaration of infatuation over the sensibility of comfort. Now that you are a mother, you have the lives of two other people to consider. You ought to prioritize the viability of any potential relationship over anything else. 

With the plethora of thoughts banging against the interior of your brain, you fail to notice your son crawling into the bed.

“Hi mom,” It’s like the he popped out of nowhere, kneeling on the comforter in front of you. 

“Oh, hi baby,” you respond, pulling him into your arms and into your lap. 

“Dad said you’re going on a date, is that true?” he innocently inquires, large doe eyes blinking at you dumbfoundedly.

You kiss your teeth. No way he told your kids that. “He told you?” 

“He said that you’re going on a date next weekend, so Heeseung and Jake might have to come babysit,“ your son innocently explains, casually playing with the strands of your hair. 

You soften impossibly when he places the strand of hair above his lip, puckering his lips to use it as a fake mustache. You giggle and press a soft kiss to his forehead. He quickly wipes the saliva off with the back off his hand with the fiercest glare he can conjure.

You simply giggle in response. “Are you mad at mommy for going on a date?”

Haru shrugs. “Not really, but sometimes I wish you and dad were still together,” The casualness of his response halts the gears in your heart, and your heart drops. Sometimes you feel like you’ve failed as a mother for not being able to keep your family completely intact. Coparenting is sufficient, but you’ve always had insecurities about not giving them the full family experience.

Haru fails to notice and continues talking. “But I’m still happy you and dad are best friends. Who are you going on a date with anyway?”

You’re glad it doesn’t seem to bother him and you boop his nose with your pointer finger. “Do you remember Seokmin? The older boy who taught you how to break a board at mommy’s work picnic?”

His eyes instantly sparkle at that, and he eagerly nods his head  like a golden retriever pup.

“Well, mommy asked his dad out on a date.”

“So does that mean if it goes well I can play with Seokmin more?” His fixation on Seokjin’s son leads you to realize that he probably doesn’t even care about your romantic life- Roblox and hanging out with older cool kids are all he needs to make his little heart happy. 

“If your dad’s okay with that, then of course you can.”

On cue, Jungkook busts into the room, daughter on his hip and granola bar in the other hand. Your daughter’s such a little princess, always loving being carried in her father’s arms even though she’s been walking for years.

Wearing an oversized black tee and gray sweat shorts, Jungkook raises a brow at you. “Oh, so you’re making the first move now?”

You ignore him, grabbing your son’s chubby cheeks before peppering sloppy and dramatic mwahs all over his face. Jungkook’s eyes subtly role at your unbecoming habit of using your kids as a mechanism of brushing him off.

“Haru, Hina, you can have iPad time for thirty minutes- mommy and daddy need to talk,” Jungkook voices sternly, and you shoot him a dumbfounded look, locking your arms around your son. 

“Why? I want my babies here,” you complain, and Jungkook sends you a look so sinisterly serious that you zip your lips.

Once the kids scatter from the room, he settles on top of your comforter. He collects his thoughts before he speaks. “So?” he sends you an accusatory look and you mime his expression.

“So?” 

“Since when did you start making the first move?”

“Oh my fucking- that’s what you wanted to ask me?”

He crosses his arms and narrows his eyes at you. “Why are you being so secretive?”  

You roll your eyes. He’s acting like a child right now. You push off the comforters to walk away until his hand latches onto your wrist. “Sit down,” he breathes out lowly and you frustratedly yank your arm away from him, but acquiesce nonetheless.

“So who’s the guy? I think I deserve to know if he’s met my kids,” Jungkook inquires a bit bitterly and you purse your lips into a thin line to express your distaste. 

You relent because the man has a point. You can’t bring your kids around your work colleagues and not supply the details when requested. “Just someone from work, the kids met him at a work picnic a long time ago and Haru really liked his son.”

He projects his next question at you with lightning speed. “How old’s his kid?”

“Probably like 14 or 15 right now, and he has another that’s like 12-”

“The fuck? Are you looking for a sugar daddy?”

Your ears must have deceived you because you can’t comprehend the audacity of this man, and you can’t help but gawk at his shamelessness. 

“Is he rich or something? I just have no fucking clue why you would ask some old dude out on a date. You know I’ll buy you whatever you want-”

Now you’re irritated. Scoffing, you scoot away to distance yourself from him because you can’t stand being in his presence.

“I know you’re not talking. He was around the same age we were when we had the twins,” you reason. As logically as that statement was, it has an inverse effect, fanning the flames of his irrationality. 

“So this guy’s just looking to hookup,” he seethes, leaving you dumbfounded because Jungkook honestly had no right to be spewing this bullshit. What did he mean by that? Is that what Jungkook was looking to do? Hook up? The thought of him with another woman leaves you sick. 

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief at his hypocrisy. There was no reasoning with him at this point. You know how he gets when he’s all riled up; the best thing to do is to disengage. “You don’t know how insulting you’re being,” you release shakily. 

“And you don’t know how bad you’re hurting me,” he bites back. 

Saying nothing, you get up and walk steadily towards the door, closing it ever so gently. 

“Whatever. Do what you want.”

-

When you return home from work, you spot Haru dozing off on the couch, head resting on the arm of the sofa, already tucked under his Paw Patrol blanket. Hina’s resting her head on her father’s abdomen, her soft snoring mirroring her twin brother’s.  Jungkook’s plopped down on the sofa, eyebrows furrowed vexedly while he glares at Sanrio Cartoon playing on the screen. What did Hello Kitty ever do to him? But as angry as he may be, he’s stroking his daughter’s hair with the utmost gentleness. 

The sound of your footsteps makes Jungkook whip his head in your direction. He gently lifts his daughter up from his body and lays her on the couch, draping another vacant blanket over her small body. 

With soft steps, he mouths the words “We need to talk”  while pointing up at the second story. Sighing, you relent and follow his lead up the stairs and into his bedroom.

The door closes softly, and he faces you. You lock gazes, refusing to look away so he knows that you won’t be tolerating any bullshit this time. After a brief moment of just staring at each other, he exhales sharply. “I’m sorry.” 

You owlishly  blink at him and he continues. “I acted like an asshole, and I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way. After you walked out of the room, I felt so disappointed with myself- like I was still the same guy I was when we got divorced- I’m just so sorry and you didn’t deserve to be spoken to like that,” his words are flowing out and when he finishes, he nervously anticipates your response. 

Emotions swelling in your chest. You nearly look pained and Jungkook is scared that he may have hurt you even more. Instead, you tip toe to wrap your arms around his neck. Jungkook melts into your embrace immediately, arms around your waist while he holds you close to his body. 

“I accept your apology,” you whisper into his neck, releasing your embrace. “I was thinking about it today, and I was kinda-sorta thinking that you might have thought that I was trying to replace you or something, so I was going to apologize first,” you explain hesitantly, and Jungkook’s lips churn into a slight smile. 

“I didn’t think that,” his hands are still on your waist and he’s peering lovingly at you. “You wouldn’t do that to me, but it did make me feel a little... threatened,” he explains. 

“I’m sorry I made you feel like that. You’ll always be the father of my kids and my best friend,” you reply with a smile, and he releases a lighthearted laugh.

“But really, I said a lot of things I didn’t mean. I’m sorry for that… and I-I just wanted to let you know that I’ve never thought about hooking up with anybody. That’s not what I meant when I said what I said” he reasons nervously.

You shrug. “It’s not like it matters anyways. You’re free to do what you want. Just keep your kids in mind if you decide to be... Impetuous.” 

Your reaction disappoints Jungkook, his shoulders slumping and all he can do is let out a forlorn sigh. “You really like this guy?”  He suddenly asks, his tattooed hand brushing defeatedly through his hair. 

The question is unexpected, and it somewhat surprises you. You waver, tapping your pointer on your chin while you conjure an appropriate response. “I don’t know. That’s why we’re going on a date.”

He kisses his teeth. “Is he a good guy?”

You hum and step back, plopping on the bed. “Yea,” you bite your lips. “He is,” you conclude while nodding your head.

“He treats you nicely?” Jungkook adds, carefully speculating your gesticulations. 

You smile to yourself. Jungkook furrows his eyebrows at that. “He always takes care of me at work. He’s really been a great help. I mean that.”

Jungkook scrutinizes you intensely, and when he perceives the genuineness behind your words he nods bitterly. “Okay,” he sighs. “If you think he can make you happy then I’m happy too,” he offers you a faux smile, and you avert your eyes so you aren’t confronted with the sad twinkle in his pupils. 

-

You know for a fact Haru gets his athleticism from his father, because you don’ t have a single athletic bone in your body. Jungkook has always been eager to enroll his kids into sports. When they were three he suggested putting them into swim classes, but the idea was actually vetoed by his mother, who insisted that three was way too early. 

Personally, you were indifferent- it’s not like sports were going to make or break your kids’ future. Of course, being active would be beneficial, but they also didn’t have to start that early.  Anyways, you can imagine Jungkook’s enthusiasm when his son asked him if he could start playing soccer. 

Now, going to Haru’s Saturday soccer games are encrypted in your family’s weekend routine. 

Saturday morning routines have become familiar. You dress Hina up in one of her prettiest summer dresses before drowning her in sunscreen. One of Jungkook’s friends helps Haru get ready while Jungkook loads the lawn chairs and ice coolers into the Mercedes. Sometimes it’s Taehyung or Jimin. When it’s Namjoon, his wife and daughter tag along- the presence of his cute little girl always being a sweet treat. However, today it’s just the four of you.

Lathering your daughter in sunscreen, you place her mini sunglasses on her face while Jungkook gazes at his girls with awe. 

“Really girls? We’re only going to be outside for like two hours, do you really need to do all that?” Jungkook coos, and you roll your eyes. 

“Tell your father he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Daddy, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hina sasses her father, and Jungkook scoffs before scooping his daughter up and tossing her up into the air. He catches her and throws her up again, her squeals and giggles filling the morning air. 

Haru steps out of the door, clad in his soccer uniform, cleats laced up, and socks rolled properly. Putting Hina down, he approaches his son. 

“You ready to score a goal today?” Jungkook asks his son, kneeling down to his height. 

Haru jumps in excitement. “Duh! And you promise you’ll buy me and Hina ice cream if I score a goal?” Haru questions, and his dad immediately agrees. 

“Of course. I’ll get the two of you whatever you want, doesn’t have to be ice cream.”

Haru shrugs. Suddenly Jungkook’s awards don’t seem as appealing to him. “You can just ask Squidy for whatever she wants- I don’t really care.” 

Your son’s gotten to that age where he loves acting tough and chivalrous, taking care of his twin sister and being the little man of the family. He’s even adopted the name Squidy for Hina, which makes you and Jungkook eye each other humorously at the cute nickname. 

“Did you hear that Squidy? You have to cheer for me so dad can get us something, okay?” 

Your son’s valiant effort of being sweet fails, because Hina sasses her brother like she does with her dad. “Whatever,  if I see cute boys then I’m going to cheer for them-”

“Whoa whoa,” Jungkook intervenes, immediately deciding that conversation is over. He scoops his daughter up and places her in her car seat before shutting the door. He looks at you with urgency in his eyes and you laugh. 

“She’s boy crazy just like her mom, huh?” Jungkook teases, and you roll your eyes before slapping his bicep. 

-

Upon arriving at the field, you absorb the Saturday morning atmosphere. The crisp blue sky, the nostalgic scent of grass that fills your nose, your children prancing around the parking lot, and your ex-husband who carries the ice cooler on his shoulder as if it’s nothing. Your family walks ahead of you, but you stay in place simply observing them.

A few seconds later, Jungkook whips his head around, searching for you when he doesn’t sense your presence. Feet planted into the cement, he looks at you with concern. “What are you doing? We don’t want to get separated,” he calls out.

Suddenly, it strikes you that you hold an irreplaceable place in this family. You created your two babies; you gave them life. Two beautiful kids, a handsome father, and then there was just you. Sometimes you felt so average you had no clue what you did to deserve this. You can’t believe this is your reality and your heart soars. 

You jog up and catch up to him, slowing down when you’re secure by his side. He laughs, admiring how cute you are. “So ditzy, Y/N.”

You shrug. “Was just thinking that I’m lucky to have you guys.”

Jungkook’s eyes gaze at you, the softest expression on his face. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t know- jus guess I was feeling a little overwhelmed seeing you guys all cute and domestic like this. I’m really happy I have you as my family,” you smile at him, your fingers wandering towards his to give his palm a gentle squeeze. 

Jungkook melts at the action, gingerly bringing your knuckles to his lips to place a delicate kiss on the top of your hand. “I’m happy I have you as my family too.”

Family. The word settles heavily in his system.

Along with his two kids, you were one of his most precious treasures. He cherishes you deeply, would drop everything in hand if you’d simply ask. If family was all he could do, then just looking at you like this would suffice. He loves you, is okay with loving you only as the mother of his children if he couldn’t love you as his wife. 

Loves you so he wants you to be happy; needs to let you spread your wings and find your own happiness. Exhaling a shaky breath, he drops your hand and places his vacant arm around your shoulder. “Let’s go, yea?”

-

On the sideline of the field, you and a few other moms on the team congregate around each other and start making small talk. 

All the moms are significantly older than you, but they still welcome you and treat you as one of their own. They invite you to group brunch dates, playdates, and sometimes drop off home-cooked meals at your door. The group chat always shares resources with each other, like old toys or community events at the park.

After laughing at some cheesy joke, you say your goodbyes and walk back to Jungkook and Hina. 

When you return, Jungkook smirks a little at you. “That was cute,” he comments.

“What was?” you question innocently

“You’re a cute little soccer mom now,” he grins at you and you laugh. 

“Well, I am, I guess.”

“You have a cute little soccer mom group. That’s so fucking cute, Y/N.”

Jungkook sets up the umbrella for you, planting it into the ground while you relax on the lawn chair. Your daughter’s on your lap, and you’re both calmly observing the soccer game, matching sunglasses on as well.

“Do my princesses need anything else?” Jungkook inquires sarcastically. You giggle, pressing your hand to his cheek while your thumb smoothes over the coarse skin of his cheek. 

He removes your hand from his cheek and shoots you a playful glare. 

“Mommy! Haru’s going to score a goal!” The declaration of your daughter has you and Jungkook whipping your head towards the goal post, and sure enough, Haru is pelting the ball into the goal post.

You and Jungkook immediately shoot up, cheering and celebrating. Jungkook grabs your daughter and throws her into the air before catching her. Out of pure ecstasy, Jungkook grabs you by the waist and squeezes you, holding you up whilst he embraces you tightly.

“Hey! What about me?” You hear Hina’s voice and Jungkook chuckles, putting you down and enveloping his daughter into his arms. 

This is what happiness must be.

-

Having to act like this doesn’t bother him is requiring a great deal of self-restraint. 

You stand in front of your bathroom mirror, carefully twirling your hair around the barrel of your curling iron. Your bangs are in a roller that sits on the top of your head, and you’re humming along to the music that echoes from your phone speaker. 

Once you’re satisfied with your hair, you move to the makeup. You apply rosy blush on the high points of your cheeks before your  shirtless ex-husband enters and leans against the doorway. Hands shoved into the pockets of his gray sweat shorts, he observes your meticulous self care routine.

You see him through the mirror, and you have to stop yourself from taking a second look. Thighs are on display, abs are on display, muscles are on display, him just being there is short circuiting your brain. 

“You look good,” he casually inserts, leaning against the door and crossing his arms. 

“Oh, um thanks,” you respond, unable to conjure an appropriate response. 

He stands there, scrutinizing you through the mirror. His eyes narrow at you every time you bring the makeup to your face, It’s killing him. He’s really trying to be mature to hold things down at home while you’re out, but you look so beautiful without makeup- and he doesn’t get why you’re trying to make yourself prettier and for another man at that. 

His lips twitch into a bitter smile. 

“He’s a lucky guy, if you’re doing this all for him.”

You don’t say anything but this immense pit of guilt swells in your stomach. You set your brush down and inhale deeply, while Jungkook strolls to your closet and starters going through your dresses hung on the clothing rack. 

“Which one are you planning on wearing?”

“Huh?” you swivel around to his direction and shake your head. “I’m wearing a blouse and dress pants; I already laid it out on the bed.”

“You wore a dress on our first date,” he adds.

“That’s when I was young and wanted to seduce men with my sex appeal.”

“Well it worked,” Jungkook licks his lips, recalling the tight red dress you wore on your first date back in college. My goodness were you a sight to see, all dressed up for him- so gorgeous it made him dizzy. You were so shy- could barely look him in the eye, and it spurred Jungkook on with the desire to corrupt you.

“And look where we are now,” you conclude coldly, pulling Jungkook from his little euphoric fantasy. At that, he frowns. You didn’t really have to say that. You did a great job of stripping all and any sense of hope from him. 

Jungkook opens his mouth to retort. “Doesn’t have to be like that. I can take you and the kids out instead if you cancel.”

Before you can reply, you both become distracted by the alarming sounds of his two kids screaming at each other. He closes his eyes and releases a sharp exhale, giving you one last look before going down the stairs to take care of his children.

A few minutes later, you join them down the stairs, red blouse and beige dress pants adorned on your figure. Quite frankly, you almost look like you’re going to a work meeting, but just with a tad more style. You pick up some of your kids’ toys and throw it into the basket and join Jungkook at the dining table with your kids.

“Mom, if the date goes well can I play more with Seokmin?” Haru asks.

You direct your attention to Jungkook, who simply sighs. “I’ll have to meet his father first, okay?”

And on cue, the doorbell rings. You shoot up, and Jungkook peers at you like your enthusiasm is thoroughly messing with his brain. 

You scurry over to the front door, opening it to see your Prince Charming waiting for you. There stands Seokjin, looking as classy and handsome as ever. You suppose he’s opted for something casual as opposed to his usual suit and tie at work- the black button up and jeans indicative of that. His hair slick back very prince like, his glorious forehead showing. A beautiful bouquet of flowers is in his hand. “Hey Y/N,”

“You didn’t have to bring me flowers,” you pout before accepting the bouquet and tiptoeing to hug him. 

He waves the notion away. “I always tell my son to bring flowers on the first date, so I have to live up to my word or he’ll call his dad a hypocrite.”

Haru runs up to him and Seokjin squats to his level before giving your son a high five. “Where’s Seokmin?” Haru asks and you swat the back of his head. 

“Haru, say hi to Mr. Seokjin first. That’s rude," you berate.

He blows out an annoyed sigh and juts out his hand. “Hi Mr. Seokjin. Thank you for taking my mommy out on a date. She’s very lonely and single." This kid does a great job at making you roll your eyes.

Seokjin laughs and shakes your kid’s hand. “Seokmin’s at home taking care of his little brother, Haru,” He explains while he views your ex-husband from his peripheral, who is approaching with your daughter on his hip “And I’m not so sure that’s true, she doesn’t seem to be very lonely.”

He stands up and shakes Jungkook’s hands with a firm grasp. 

“Nice to meet you. Jungkook.” Jungkook says, his voice distinguished with the husky tone he only uses as a work meetings. 

“Seokjin. Nice to meet you too,” Seokjin responds, also with his work voice. Jungkook puts up Hina’s little hand for Seokjin to shake and Seokjin shakes her tiny little hand. “Hi Hina,”

“Hi Mr. Seokjin, please take care of my mommy tonight,” Hina says sweetly, and you melt.

“Of course, Hina. She’s in good hands with me, and he offers your daughter a comforting smile.

You turn quickly and place your flowers into a vacant vase, kneeling down to your kids’ level. Ruffling their hair, you place a kiss on each of their cheeks. “Okay kiddies, mommy’s going to get going now, okay?” 

Both of your children give you a hug. “Bye mom!” your kids chime before rushing back to their iPads. 

Rising to your usual height, the discomfort of the situation washes over you. You’re becoming extremely uncomfortable, standing in between your ex-husband and your date. Wiping the sweat off your palms onto the front of your pants, you tuck a strand of hair behind your hair. “See you Jungkook. Call me if something happens,” you say after clearing your throat.

He looks at you blankly, with no particular look in his eyes, the ambiguousness of his expression eats at your skin. “Okay. Have fun.”

At this point, Jungkook should have walked away, but he stands firm simply staring at you. You fidget uncomfortably in place before scurrying over to the door and opening it.

Before you can step out, Jungkook places a hand on Seokjin’s shoulder and clears his throat. When Seokjin turns to face him, Jungkook stares blankly at the older man before sticking his hand out. 

“Hey, thanks for taking care of my wife at work. Really appreciate it man- ex-wife, I mean.”

Seokjin narrows his eyes at the man at the odd remark. Seokjin’s eyes scan over Jungkook’s frame, detecting his apprehension. Jungkook doesn’t look away from the guy, blankly staring at him until a response is given. 

Seokjin grips Jungkook’s hand very firmly. “Of course.”

And though the interaction seems very amicable, you don’t miss the way both of the men’s knuckles nearly turn white. 

-

What was supposed to be a cute and romantic first date turned into you and Seokjin urgently speeding down the freeway.

It started when Seokjin excused himself to check his phone and his face immediately dropped.

“What’s wrong?”

“My son says he’s at a party, and that the party got busted because kids were drinking,” Seokjin explains disjointedly, appearing and sounding very stressed. He brushes a hand through his hair and you can’t help but pout. 

“Oh my gosh, where do these high school kids even get alcohol from?” You step closer to him, peering over his shoulder to read the text. One of your hand rubs his biceps comfortingly because sure enough, the text reads

“dad, please don’t kill me but im at a party and the guy that was driving us started drinking and im scared.”

His son Seokmin sends his location, and when you take heed of the zip code, you gasp. “He’s two hours away? How’d he even get there?” 

Seokjin releases a dejected groan, jaw clenching at his son’s disobedience. Now he has to go clean up after his son’s shit. Great.  

Sighing, he places a hand on his hip. “I’m sorry Y/N, I’m going to have to get him. Do you think we can reschedule for another time?” He looks at you with guilt painted all over his face and you quickly shake your head at the notion. 

“Don’t apologize for that, please. Let me go with you and you can take the HOV lane to get their faster,” you suggest, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders. 

“You don’t have to do that. Your kids will miss you.”

“They’ll survive without me. You’re always there for me, so please accept my offer.”

Seokjin purses his lips then acquiesce. Nodding, he smiles at you. “Thank you so much. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“This is you making it up to me,” you giggle, “It’ll be fun. I can tell you about all the office drama.” 

-

Seokjin’s a very conscientious driver. His pupils fixate on the road, his foot ever so slightly presses on the brakes so you don’t jerk forward like you do with Soyeon. It doesn’t surprise you- carefully observing traffic laws is very characteristic of Seokjin and contributes to his lovely demeanor. 

The car ride is long, but conversations with Seokjin make time hasten.

“What?” Seokjin muses, hand banging on the driver’s wheel. “Jaehyung and Jungmin had an affair?”

You eagerly nod your head. “Yes they did! You can imagine my discomfort when I walked in on them in. In the printing room, at that! I gave them an ultimatum to fess up or I’d tell their partners,” you elaborate. 

“Huh,” Seokjin thinks aloud. “I thought it was coincidental that they were getting a divorce at the same time... But that’s a really great thing you did, Y/N. You know my ex-wife cheated on me too.”

Your eyebrows furrow at the confession. “ I’m sorry. Some people can be so horrible.”

“It’s okay,” Seokjin dismisses the thought, laughing it off. “She’s dead now so it doesn’t matter.”

At that bomb drop, your actions falter. “Oh my gosh, Seokjin. I had no idea she passed away. I’m so sorry.”

Once again Seokjin laughs it off. “It’s alright Y/N. I use humor to cope so it doesn’t bother me as much. I do feel horrible for my boys, though. It’s a lot to deal with but I’m trying my best as a single dad,” a reluctant sigh leaves his lips, and your heart immediately drops. 

“You can talk about it, if you want,” you offer, “we do have a lot of time.”

Seokjin makes a pshh sound of reluctance with his lips. “I mean, I don’t want to trauma dump on you, but if you want to hear the tea then I can spill.”

You giggle at his usage of the word tea. Why is he using the lingo of a teenage girl? He takes your laughing as a yes and continues to speak while he drives.

“Well, she cheated on me about five years ago with one of her work colleagues, and subsequently we got divorced,” he explains with a shrug, “I don’t regret it. I mean, I was heartbroken- I couldn’t even stand being in her vicinity.”

“I would have done the same. That’s completely on her, not you.” you expressively claim, becoming fixated on his words. 

“That’s what I thought too, but then the kids had  to do the whole one week with me, one week with her things, and I wondered  if I should have just sucked it up to keep the family together,” he explains, looking as forlorn as ever.

The notion pains you; you understand where he’s coming from. Sometimes you don’t know if you can handle being in your ex-partner’s  vicinity, especially considering the pain this partner may have inflicted. Nonetheless, handling the situation with emotional suppression and maturity is the only option for the sake of your children.

“Somehow the kids found out what she did, and it didn’t sit well with them,” he continues, eyebrows furrowing at the painful memory. 

You have your own opinion on the matter, but it isn’t about you right now. Of course it didn’t sit well with them. You’ve been in that exact situation- the memory of your father with some woman is still vivid and it makes you nauseous to this day. Betraying your mother meant betraying you and your siblings. The pain and guilt  you felt for your mother was indescribable. You were never able to forgive him for that.

“From then on, there was always a degree of resentment between her and the kids- and it never really got resolved. So, when she passed away, I’m sure my boys had a lot of regrets,” he finishes, sighing deeply. 

“You’re really a superhero dad, Seokjin. You’re doing everything as best as you can for your boys, and I really admire that,” you insert, and you mean it.

“I’m trying, but I’m not so sure if I can replace the nourishment their mother gave- but I also suppose that she ruined it for herself too,” Seokjin sighs, fingers gripping the wheel even tighter.

“Um, you know, if your boys ever need some mother-es que feminine figure in their life, I would love to fill those shoes,” you offer timidly. “Haru really likes your sons, so I can always help out, or invite you guys over for dinner.”

“You know Y/N, I really appreciate that, and would love to take you up on your offer, but I wouldn’t want to cause strain on your family dynamic,” he expresses honestly. 

For some reasons, his words elicit a very intense feeling of shame that echoes throughout your system. “I’m so sorry,” you enunciate. “You must have been uncomfortable… at my house,” you speculate accurately. 

Seemingly hitting the nail on the spot, he sheepishly laughs. “Not uncomfortable,” he clarifies matter a factly, “He couldn’t have made me uncomfortable,” Seokjin jokes, “But, shit, I don’t know.” He brakes softly at the upcoming red light and leans his head against the window. 

Rendering you speechless, you shrink into your seat in embarrassment.

Noticing your timid demeanor, Seokjin straightens in his seat. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that,” he perks up, “Y/N, don’t be like that. You can talk to me about it. You can trust me; you know I’d never judge you.”

You gnaw on your bottom lip, the vulnerability of the situation making you want to shrivel up. But honestly you had no right, the man just opened up about his cheating dead wife. 

You shake your head, looking down so he wouldn’t notice the tears accumulating on your waterline. “No, no, it’s not that- I just I feel so awful, going on a date with you when things with my ex are so complicated.”

Seokjin sends you a look of awe before sputtering out a laugh of disbelief. “Y/N, don’t feel bad about that. I mean- we technically haven’t even gone on a first date yet so this” he motions towards you and himself. “Hasn’t gone anywhere yet.”

You sniffle, wiping your waterline with the sleeve of your blouse. “I know, but I want to be your friend. I-I don’t want this be weird,” you explain between hiccups.

Seokjin amusingly sighs at the blubbering mess coming out of your mouth. “Y/N... you are the last thing on this Earth I find weird,” he trails off. “I mean, I am a little disappointed but it’s good we got this out of the way,” he admits. “Do you want to talk about it, though? How do you think you feel about him?” he asks. 

Leaning against the window, you ponder what to say. “I’m not sure how I feel about him. I was hoping that we would get along since I like you,” you mumble softly. “But my ex-husband stays in contact, it's like he has some sort of hold over me.”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow as he processes this information. “What do you mean by persistent?”

Taking a deep breath, you try to push away the feeling of unease in your stomach. “He said some outrageous stuff, saying he'll always be around if I want him back," you explain. "I mean, can you believe that? He's the one who served me papers."

The older man lets out a low whistle. “But Y/N, ou are still quite young. Not to minimize divorce, but being impulsive and immature can cloud one’s judgement sometimes," Seokjin points out.

You don't respond; Seokjin has made a good point, but the divorce was so difficult that you would hate to attribute it to impulsivity.

“Do you think his feelings are genuine?” Seokjin presses on carefully.

“I-I don't know," you answer hesitantly.

"Would you like them to be genuine?" He follows up with another question that shakes you to your core. If Jungkook was truly serious about wanting to marry you again, would that make you happy?

After a few moments of contemplation, you quietly whisper: “Yes, I guess so."

Seokjin gives a half-smile and states matter-of-factly: “And there we go.”

You allow yourself to process the realization before it slams into you like a ton of bricks.

“Oh my gosh I still love him,” and then you place your face into your cupped hands, sobbing at the impact of the intense realization that has been taken over. 

Seokjin is dumbfounded, hasn’t a clue what to do with this crying lady in his passenger seat. The way you’re crying and hiccupping into your sleeves while trying to express how you feel is somewhat adorable; he can’t do anything except extend a hang to pat you on the back. 

-

“34, 35, 36, 37- daddy, I’m getting tired of counting. Can I get off now?” 

“No baby, keep counting- just til we get to 100,” Jungkook’s replies, appearing a bit out of breath and lethargic. He pushes his body up and down against the rug with both hands, as if he was really out of breath. But really, he had an inner fire that he needed to put out or else he'd go mad. 

Making his seven-year-old kid sit on his back while he does push-ups? That is so Jungkook of him.

“You’re a lunatic,” Namjoon calls out  nonchalantly from his comfortable position on the couch. Namjoon’s wife went out for her friends for the first time since giving birth, leaving their baby girl alone with him. 

The conversation in the group chat went something like this.

jungkook: wyd everyone

taehyung: ?? i told you i was in dubai for a meeting

hobi: he doesn’t listen when u speak, always in his own little world

hobi: I’m at a dinner with my girlfriend’s parents 👀

jimin: OMG!! Does that mean…? YOUre asking them if u can propose to their daughter?!?

hobi: yes

namjoon: COngrats Hobi!1!!1

namjoon: im just sitting on myass at home. The wife went out for girls’ night so i’m here alone

jungkook: congrats hobi, have a long marriage. don't be like me🤣

jungkook: wanna come over namjoon? My kids’ mother is out

hobi: lol they were both abandoned by their baby mommies

“‘m not,” Jungkook replies, aggressively continuing his push-ups until his daughter claws onto the back of his shirt and jumps off her father’s back.

“Uncle Namjoon, can you sit on his back? I’m getting tired,” Hina complains before plopping next to Namjoon and stroking the hair of his little girl.

“I can do it!” Haru appears from across the room, his tiny legs sprinting to practically cannon ball onto his dad’s back, and just like that Haru has K.O’d his father for the first time, leaving Jungkook’s (practically lifeless) body on the carpet.

Namjoon stifles a laugh. “What’s wrong with your dad, Hina?” he ponders aloud scooping some applesauce into a plastic spoon to put into his daughter’s mouth.

“Do you want me to feed Lauren?” Hina asks, and Namjoon nods, handing Hina the spoon so she can spoon-feed Lauren the applesauce. 

“Well, daddy’s just sad because mommy went on a date. He’s still in love with mommy but mommy doesn’t love him,” Hina explains, the bold declaration leaving Namjoon astonished. 

“How do you know so much, Hina?” Namjoon asks.

“I just do,” Hina shrugs casually, leading Namjoon to question the health of this situation.

Namjoon scowls, redirecting his line of  vision to Jungkook, whose body is still on the ground like a thud.

Namjoon stands up, his daughter attached to his body with a baby backpack. “Get up Kook,” He stands in front of Jungkook, offering his hand. Jungkook looks up and accepts the hand, getting on his feet. 

“Follow me,” Namjoon commands and Jungkook really can’t do anything but listen to the older friend. Opening the door to the garage, Namjoon lets Jungkook step outside before standing in front of the door like a bodyguard.

“Wanna talk about it?” Namjoon asks, and the realization makes Jungkook laugh. His misery is so apparent his friend sees right through him.

“The kids told you Y/N went on a date?” Jungkook guesses. “I have half the mind to call her back and say Haru broke his leg or something,” he trails off.

Namjoon looks at Jungkook mortified at his borderline toxic behavior. “You know you divorced her, right?”

“Yes, I fucking know that,” he seethes, “that’s why I just have to suck this up and deal with it.”

Namjoon places his palms over his daughter’ ears at Jungkook’s unbecoming language, glaring at Jungkook. 

“Sorry,” Jungkook whispers, regaining his composure.

“It’s fine,” Namjoon adds. “But are you serious about still having feelings for Y/N? You seemed pretty sure about the divorce.” The comment makes Jungkook want to shrivel up and jump into a hole. He’s tarnished your reputation as a couple, and even his friends are questioning the validity of his emotions. 

Why would you ever believe him? 

“I am,” Jungkook declares. “Y/N.. she’s the only woman I’ve ever loved. I was never able to move on.”

Namjoon softens at Jungkook’s declaration, chewing at the inside of his mouth in contemplation. “Well, I don’t have my two cents to give,” he mumbles, “you already know you have to suck it up.”

He pats Jungkook on the back gingerly, and Namjoon’s analysis that there is no hope sucks the life out of Jungkook. 

“Now let’s go back in and play with your kids. They’ll always make you happy."

-

Seokjin pulls up at the McDonalds, Seokmin coming out with a noticeable sheen of shame on his face. Seokjin unlocks the car and leans back into the welcoming fabric of his seat, releasing a sigh of relief when his son gets in the car.

Seokmin looks a lot older than you last remember- well that’s quite literally how the process of  aging works, but now he exceeds your height, and has a larger and broader build than he did before. The resemblance between the kid and his father is astounding- Seokmin is practically a mini-Seokjin.

Turning to the backseat, Seokjin sends his son a tight-lipped smile and firmly squeezes his son’s hand. “Are you okay?” 

“Yea I’m alright- was just a little scared,” his son responds, before directing his attention towards you. “I’m really sorry you had to come all the way here, and that I interrupted your date.”

You immediately shake your head and dismiss his apology with a wave. “Not at all, your dad and I had a lot of fun on the way here,” you insist, sending Seokmin a motherly smile.

Seokjin looks at you very amused before he glances at the uncomfortable sheen on his son’s face. “It’s not a date anymore, Seokmin- Dad wasn’t charismatic enough to win Y/N over,” Seokjin sighs jokingly.

Seokmin stifles his laughter, leaning back into the seat. “Oh no, what did my dad do to you?” he jokingly asks, making Seokjin roll his eyes at the comment. 

“No, that’s not it all,” you thoroughly insist. “You know, your dad is very handsome, and very popular in the office, but I, I guess we’re just not romantically compatible,” you explain, and Seokjin laughs.

“Surprisingly I believe that. You wouldn’t believe all the crazy things girls at school say about him,” Seokmin shudders, recalling a particular incident that shall not be discussed!

You take a peek at Seokjin, who looks so effortlessly and naturally handsome, especially when he’s laughing at his son’s words. “Yup,” you agree, “I can definitely see that.”

-

The clock reads 2:13 AM when Seokjin pulls into the driveway of your home.

“Gosh Y/N, it’s so late. I’m sorry you had to come with us,” Seokjin sends you an apologetic look.

You dismiss the idea with a wave of your hand. “I haven’t had that much fun in a really long time, I feel like I’m back in college going to parties again.”

“But you stayed in the car the whole time,” Seokjin inserts, eliciting a sputtering laugh from his son. Shooting him a look of playful annoyance you smile at Seokmin. “Please try not to worry your dad anymore,” you lecture pointedly.

Seokmin sends you a lopsided grin, as if he can’t take you seriously considering your naturally playful nature. “Yes ma’am, and I really hope you’ll consider giving my dad another chance," he jokes, making his dad slap the back of the kid's head.

You send him a motherly smile before stepping out of the car. “Be good to your dad, and Seokjin, be good to your son. And hey, please consider playing with my son once in a while” you say, bidding your goodbyes.

Unlocking the door and stepping inside, you’re immediately met with Jungkook anxiously pacing around the living room. At your appearance, he pauses and looks at you if he’s verifying if you’re actually real. You stare at with him with mirroring emotion, just so thankful that he’s here, so thankful that he’s waiting for you, and so thankful that he still loves you. 

You drop your purse and run into his arms, melting into the warm and comforting heat of his body. Though heavily confused, he welcomes your embrace with equal fervor.

With him right in front of you, your resolve crumbles. Your knees get so weak that you feel like you’re going to collapse. Jungkook immediately recognizes it and holds you up. 

“Whoa whoa, Y/N, what’s wrong? What happened? Did he do something?”

You shake your head, leaning into him and letting him hold you while he strokes your hair. “Didn’t even go on the date- his kid called him and asked him to come get him cause a party got busted or something. We drove like four hours.”

Jungkook's shoulders relax, feels like a huge burden has been lifted from his shoulders. Thank God it wasn't for any other reason. He would have lost his mind. “You should have texted me back. You worried me.”

At that you check your phone, not even realizing that he texted you. 

y/n: sorry jungkook, you can tuck the kids in and go to sleep- won’t be back until later in the night. 

jungkook: ?

jungkook: what happened?

You crimson. “Sorry- I-I didn’t see it,”

Jungkook nods his head slowly and understandingly. “That’s okay. So, when’s the next date?” 

Instead of responding, you melt back into embrace and rub your face onto his chest, latching into him like a koala bear. 

“Y/N,” he laughs, “Look at me.”

You look up at him, and with the familiar sight of him peering down at you with concern on his face, you become emotional. You make that silly face you always make when you’re about to cry. You squint your eyes and morph your facial features oddly to hold back the tears, but Jungkook recognizes it, nonetheless.

“Baby… what happened?”

You shake your head again, pressing your cheek against Jungkook’s chest. You can’t live like this anymore. You have to let him know. “There isn’t a second date. Jungkook, I-I’m sorry. I hate pretending like my feelings don’t exist., I want to be with you again. I want our family to be whole again,”

Jungkook looks slightly speechless at your heartfelt confession. He hasn’t a clue of what to say, so he just hugs you tightly against him, gently stroking your hair with a tattooed hand. 

Of course, his heart is soaring at the notion, but this is all happening with such rapidity that he can’t process your words.  “Sleep with me tonight?”

“Okay- I will, just- are you mad at me?” you ask in anticipation, wincing at what he might say.

He softens at how tender you’re being. “Y/N, I’m tired. Can we go to bed and talk more?”

You grudgingly nod, so emotionally overstimulates and exhausted you don't want to think. You let him lead you to his bedroom before you head to his closet and change out of your suffocating clothing into one of Jungkook's oversized t-shirts.

Crawling into bed with him, you use his arm as a pillow and snuggle into his chest. Despite the smears of makeup on his shirt, Jungkook doesn't seem to mind. “Did something happen today?” he asks softly.

In between hiccups, you reply. “Seokjin’s a really nice guy and it was wrong of me to ask him out when I still have feelings for you. I- I don’t know…I just want to stay single forever."

Your confession shakes Jungkook up a little. It's not like he didn't know you still felt something, but hearing it explicitly is a different story. Jungkook sighs. “I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” he insists. “But Y/N, I don’t think I can handle you welcoming another man into your life.”

“Okay, if you don’t want me to, then I won’t," you simply say, your voice calm.

“Then,” Jungkook starts slowly. “Do you want to give us another try?”

“I think I'd like that,” you stammer, as you sink into his comforting embrace. 

Jungkook pulls you in close and kisses your forehead lightly. “Let's take some time to think about it, and then let me know how you feel tomorrow morning.”

You nod, snuggling closer to him, finally feeling like home again. You drift off to sleep with his arms still around you tight, both of your hearts beating as one unit now that it’s just the two of you together again.

[chimerickat]

Seto was playing with the children earlier, and now his tie is askew. You follow him as he heads toward the stage and grab his arm. "Let me fix your tie." You pull him off to the side.

The tie hangs loose and part of it has gotten stuck in his jacket. You reach for the knot with one hand and hold the tongue with your other. It only takes a moment to readjust and tighten it. Then you tuck it in properly.

He places his hands over yours, holding them to his chest. When you look up, the expression on his face is serious, hungry.

He would kiss you if you weren't in a crowded room. You can see the desire in his eyes. You drop your eyes down to his chest. It's hard to look directly at him when his gaze is so intense.

"Maybe next year we can spend New Year's Eve alone?" you suggest.

"It would be preferable to this."

You flatten your palms against his chest as releases your hands. Under the guise of pretending to straighten his shirt, you let your hands run over his broad chest, feeling his muscles through his shirt.

You look back up. His desire is still plain to see. It makes your heart beat faster knowing he wants to grab you and kiss you.

His hand cups your cheek. "I want you to be the first thing I see in the new year."

[crowswithize]

Random DP Xover Interactions 2:

Characters: Mr. Lancer, Lois Lane, and Clark Kent

“Oh, The Hound of the Baskervilles,” Lancer cursed, readjusting his tie for the umpteenth time.

There’s little reason to be nervous but this was a respectable newspaper for Austen’s sake, he had to show his best for the interview. Though the more his eyes wandered the windowless room with nothing but a table and chairs at the center, he couldn’t help but compare it to the scene of that of a police interrogation room. 

The table shook, the lone glass of water almost tipping, as the door finally opened. With a smile only a journalist could have and the professionalism of her posture, Lois Lane glided into the chair in front of him. It’s a bold impression, however quickly ruined as another fumbled their way into the chair next to Lois, the act similar to a child following their mother. 

“Mr. Lancer, thank you for taking the time to meet us,” Lois said in a friendly manner, reaching out a hand. He shook it without hesitation, returning the greeting.

“This is my partner, Clark Kent,” she introduced after breaking the handshake. The man, despite his size and appearance, startled as his presence in the room was reminded. He sheepishly smiled and gave a small “how do you do?” with a readjustment of his glasses.

Lois gave a low yet obvious jab to the man’s side, instantly sitting straighter with the contact. He hesitantly raised his hand from beneath the table, waved it as if he didn’t know what to do with it, and finally settled with extending it towards Lancer just like Lois had.

Mr. Lancer withheld any comments for as much as this man felt unfit to interview people, he’s sure to be a good journalist if he shared company with Ms. Lane. That much could not be said about Kent’s fashion sense, as Lancer eyed the blue and yellow plaid. 

He accepted the hand and found it was more of Clark dragging their joined palms to and fro with how strongly he held. If Lancer didn’t know better, he’d think the man was made of stone or something of the like. 

It took another jab from Lois for Clark to release Lancer’s hand.

“Do you mind if we record this conversation, Mr. Lancer?” Lois asked. Her hand swiftly brought out a small recording device and placed it at the center.

“Not at all, Ms. Lane.”

She tapped the center button and a tiny light went red. “This is Lois Lane reporting with Clark Kent. We’re here with Amity Park native, Mr. William Lancer, to talk about how so-called ghosts occupy the town.”

“They are ghosts, you know,” he said because, despite the insanity of it, he’d be the last person to spread misinformation. 

“Of course, Mr. Lancer,” she replied in a neutral tone. 

“So,” Clark spoke up before a silence could take place, “what’s it like to be in the Most Haunted Town in the US?”

Lancer clicked his tongue as he thought of it. “Well, chaotic, for one. I can’t say how chaotic compared to what Metropolis or Central City is like but definitely a rise of it compared to how we were back then.”

“And how long ago would you say that is?” Lois prodded.

“I’d say a good three, almost four, years ago. One day ghosts were just stories to scare children and the next they were a very real threat. Peter Pan, we were so unprepared back then.” He chuckled as if remembering something endearing. “No sense of protocol, self-defense, or even protection. We had to rely on the Fentons and half of their weapons blew back into their faces. Thank goodness we had Phantom to help us.” 

His gaze fell to the corner of the table so he hadn’t seen the break in professionalism from Clark and even Lois, with their eyes wide and a breath lodged in their lungs.

“That is Danny Phantom you’re talking about, right? Formerly known as Inviso-Bill?” Clark asked.

Lancer nodded. “You’ve done your homework, that’s more than most. He doesn’t like being called Inviso-Bill at all and he prefers just Phantom instead of his full moniker.” He brought an elbow onto the table a leaned his cheek against his palm. His expression turned weary. “Honestly, the boy’s the main reason we began protecting ourselves. Don’t get me wrong, but, for an embarrassing amount of time, we just let him fix everything. Ghosts attacking? Phantom. Taken hostage? Phantom. Town invasion? Phan. Tom.” He accentuated the syllables. His fists balled as he talked.

“Then we started noticing that he got less snarky with every fight. He stopped smiling at some point. His eyes looked so tired, which shouldn’t make sense because he was already dead. Then that sank in. Our town hero is dead. He’s a dead teen fighting monsters for a town that took advantage of his kindness. So we got our, excuse my language, shit together and learned to survive.”

Lancer straightened himself and interlaced his fingers. His words carried the determination that all the town shared. The pair of journalists held an expression he could not recognize but it mattered little to him. Whether they believed him or not didn’t matter, as long as he spoke the absolute truth.

Lois, despite her skepticism, wanted to reach over a hug the man. So badly did she want to say something, maybe words of comfort and consolation. She doesn’t because there is a time and place for sympathy and this was neither.

“And what about other heroes?” Clark asked, soft enough to offer sympathy but firm enough to continue. Lois relaxed with the reminder of why she’d brought the man along. His presence could make even the coldest man feel warm. She might be good at finding a story but her compassion paled compared to her friend.

“What about them?”

“Well, don’t you resent them? If your town was endangered, don’t you hate the Justice League for not stepping in and helping?”

Lancer’s look reaffirmed his position as a teacher. “Mr. Kent,” he started, “I cannot speak for all the town but I, for one, don’t hate the Justice League. Do I feel annoyed that they didn’t come to help? Sure, but I don’t resent them for not noticing us. Each of those superheroes has an entire city to protect as well as the entire world if need be. Aquaman stopped a typhoon from destroying millions of homes in the Pacific. Green Lantern prevented an asteroid from colliding with Canada. Amity Park is a single sentence compared to them.”

“But what about-?” Clark wanted to interrupt, something akin to guilt in his eyes, but Lancer quickly stopped him.

“Clark, a few years ago, our crime rate was so low that we were labeled the safest town in the midwest. We’re an hour away from any major cities and barely any Amity Park residents had seen a hero outside of television. Lastly, we take a ginormous page from Gotham City when we say get out of our home, we can handle it.”

The man with glasses looked so chastised you’d think he’d been physically struck. His back slapped against the backrest of the chair. Mr. Lancer’s resolve seemed stronger than most because he barely flinched at the puppy eyes of the overgrown golden retriever.

For the first time, Lois’ smile wiped clean of forced pleasantries as she leaned in on the table. An eager, almost rogue-like grin spread on her face. With the clearest words she could muster, she said:

“Mr. Lancer, with your cooperation, I think the best goddamn story about this.”

His returning grin was confirmation enough.

[blueraineshadows]

Could you write a fluff/smut piece of f*MC and sebastian with a happy family? Maybe one or two children?

Absolutely!! 💚🥰 Thank you for the Ask 💓

A little bit of spice 🌶 plenty of fluff 💜

....

MC chased after the sound of mischievous giggles through the long grass. "Annie Sallow, you get back here and listen to your mother! You are going to dirty that pretty dress," she called. Another loud giggle erupted as Annie's brown curls bounced around her head. "Little scamp," MC puffed.

MC caught up and scooped up the little girl into her arms. "Got you!"

Annie burst into delighted squeals and wrapped her arms around MC's neck. "Is Uncle Omi here yet? Is he here?"

"Soon, my little mooncalf, soon," MC said, brushing soft curls back from Annie's face. "Let's go and round up your brother, I dread to think what he is up to."

Back at the house, Sebastian was on his knees before Albin, tying his bow tie. MC put Annie down and made sure the back door was firmly shut before sighing. "Were you and Anne as exhausting as this when you were children?"

Sebastian's grin said it all. "I expect nothing less from my offspring," he said. He booped Albin on the nose. "Nothing wrong with a bit of adventure."

He stood and MC's eyes travelled down the smart vest and shirt Sebastain wore. Her lips curved at a familiar coil of warmth spreading through her. She stepped forward and smoothed her hands over his shoulders. "You are looking rather handsome, my love," she said softly.

Sebastian held her hips and smirked. "Of course I do." He bent to press a soft kiss to her lips.

"Ewww," Annie whispered to her twin. "Daddy is kissing mummy again."

The twins giggled and Sebastian held MC tighter, peeking over her shoulder to poke a tongue out at them.

A knock at the door had both twins leaping to their feet immediately. "Uncle Omi!" Anne squealed. She dashed to the door, reaching up to release the latch, Albin hopping from foot to foot behind her. The door swung wide and Ominis was there, an expectant smile on his lips, wand blinking.

"Where are my favourite little trouble makers?" Ominis asked.

Sebastain grinned, still holding on to MC. "Right here," he joked.

His words were drowned out by the twins eager greetings, they were jumping around Ominis, tugging on his coat, and making their demands already. He could hardly step through the door, delighted laughter spilling from his lips, as Anne followed in behind him.

"Anne," MC exclaimed. She dragged herself from Sebastian's grip and moved to embrace Anne. "Its so good to see you!"

There was a period of catching up, hugs, promises of tucking the twins into bed later, before they all set off for dinner in Hogsmeade.

As they all sat at the table, eating, sharing stories, Sebastian looked around at them all. Anne, looking well, her cheeks flushed with health, Ominis looking smart, and utterly devoted to his wife. And then, the twins, smart Albin, and mischievous Annie. His heart felt so full. How had he got so lucky?

Then his gaze drifted to his wife sitting next to him. He reached a hand under the table, sliding it up her thigh. He felt it twitch, tensing under his warm touch. She smiled at him and put her hand over his. She was so beautiful, fiercely brave, and all his. She was his saviour and his delight.

Later, that night, when he slid between the sheets, he intended to show MC just how much he appreciated her in his life. She was soft and willing under his hands, but she was also equally as fiery in the way she returned his kiss. Her hands drawing moans from his lips.

Getting a kick out of his pleasure, MC rolled them until she was above him, pressing hot kisses down his neck as she straddled him. He gripped her hips, groaning, as she slid onto his length, rolling her hips. He watched her through lidded eyes, her breasts soft and inviting.

After they both found their release, he pulled her in close, kisses pressed to her hair and face. "I do love you," he murmured against her mouth. "And I love our life, no matter how exhausting it is at times with the twins, and everything else."

She smiled and looked up at him, smoothing his unruly hair. "I'm glad you think so, because it's about to get a little bit crazier around here."

He arched a brow. "How so?"

She guided his hand to her stomach. "How about another little Sallow to make it a trio of chaos?"

His eyes widened and he looked down at where she was holding his hand against her. He gave a laugh of delight. "I say, bring it on!"

[luxrayblues]

I hope is not to wierd but can we get a cute larry x reader that the reader are pregnant and idk man, Larry wants to be with them but work hours and the reader gets clingy when Larry is home they always try smooch and cuddle and they are so happy he is back! Larry always bring then something to eat or reader has cooked because is his way to apollogize for been away so many hours idk man i just want cute fluff with Larry waitting to be a dad he didnt expect to be a dad at his age haha i just love your larry so smoochable and so many domestic life ideas

Not weird at all! It's super super cute!

Please accept this long awaited Larry fic my friends~

Larry x reader - Precious Moments

You were exhausted lately. Six months of pregnancy was hard work, there was no denying that. Although there was no change, you felt like Larry was gone all of the time. It seemed like you spent eternities alone though he was doing his usual 9-5 and coming straight home to you each day. Most days he even left work early which was unheard of for him, but he would make sure to bring you something good to eat to make up for his absence.

Larry had felt awful about the situation from the beginning of your pregnancy. It had been quite unexpected for both of you, but he had never thought at his age that he would be having children. The man couldn’t be happier about the prospect, but he hated that he couldn’t take time off to be with you. He still had a job to do, at least until the baby was actually here.

You on the other hand felt horrible for the way you had been acting, though you couldn’t control yourself at all. You were on top of that man from the moment he stepped through the door until he left the next morning. And the weekends? The poor thing couldn’t take a breath. You knew in your heart that you must be the most annoying thing on the planet but in reality, he couldn’t get enough of you. He relished every waking moment that he was with you and counted himself blessed. You being clingy only made him feel important, like he was actually somebody in this world. He could never understand that, to you, he was everything.

You were already at the door that evening as he walked up the driveway. He couldn’t even lay a finger on the knob and you had whipped it open to throw your arms around him, not caring that he was trying to balance his briefcase and your dinner in his arms. “My handsome dumpling~” You chirp happily and bury your face into his chest, breathing him in as he tried to juggle everything while loosely hugging you back. “Miss me?” He chuckles, already sounding like a dad.

You don’t even dignify the comment with a response, instead grabbing him by the tie and dragging him inside. You pull him down enough that you can press your lips to his, making a soft noise at the effort it takes just to get a kiss. “Mmh!” He grunts softly against your lips and leans in immediately. Larry was addicted to you. The taste of your lips and tongue as you press eager kisses to him was intoxicating for the poor man. He felt almost light-headed, full of so much love he couldn’t handle it until he realized he was about to drop your food and pulled himself away. “I need to... put the food down, love.” He gasps, taking a few heavy breaths, eyeing you like you were his favorite dish all the while.

As much as you don’t want to, you relent and pull back so he can bring everything to the kitchen, however you still have your arm hooked into his. “I missed you.” Your voice is soft and it breaks his heart to know you were home waiting for him all day. Once he had set everything on the counter, he turns to you and leans in to kiss your forehead. “I missed you too.” He assures you, touching your cheek with his large hand. He admires you for a long moment before releasing you. “Time to eat now, Dear.”

You wanted to tell him you weren’t interested in food, but your stomach growling gave away the truth. You were eating for two now and that baby would not let you forget. Even if all you wanted to do was curl up with Larry and snuggle the night away.

Larry ushers you to the couch, not letting you carry anything, he gets you set up with a tv tray and surrounds you with pillows before he sits down himself. He knew to leave an open section so you could sit with your body pressed against his while you ate.

“Mmh. Ah.” He makes quiet pleased noises as he eats. You always found it so precious that he couldn’t help himself when it came to good food. You lean against him, listening as you pick at your own food while the tv drones on. It was really just background noise for you both. Part of the routine. Occasionally you plant a kiss on his arm between bites. He was simply irresistible to you. His calm demeanor regardless of his true feelings made him seem so stoic, but you had come to know just how caring he was. It seemed like everything he did was with you and your incoming child in mind and you were eternally grateful that you had him.

Likewise while he wasn’t the most vocal about his feelings, Larry showed how much he cared in everything he did. Never had he expected to have the perfect domestic life, but you had showed up and changed everything for him. He'd never known happiness like this until you had shown up and he absolutely didn’t take it for granted.

“All done?” he smiles just slightly as he touches your cheek again, admiring you in the seconds it took for you to answer with a swift nod. You watch as he gets up to put your bowls away, whining softly because he was going to be more than a foot away from you. “I’ll only be a minute.” His promise is reassuring and helps your anxiety as you wait for him to return to you.

While he cleans the dishes, you shift around on the couch, getting in your usual position so that when he returns he’ll know exactly what to do. Know he did, coming back with his suit jacket off and sleeves rolled up. The smile that came to his lips made your heart flutter in anticipation. Larry climbs onto the couch and lays his head on your stomach gently, getting comfortable so he could feel and listen to the little life you had created together. This was his favorite part of the routine. Getting to hold you both while he rests and just surrounds himself with life’s meaning.

“I love you.” He rumbles and presses a kiss to your taut stomach. Your fingers slip into his salt and pepper hair, petting him gently. “I love you too.” You purr in response.

Everything felt worth it to both of you during these moments. You had each other and despite all, it was the most important thing to you both. You could’ve given up the world for this time with him.

“I love you to the moon and back.” You say, emphasizing how deeply you loved him. The cheesy line made him chuckle lightly, though it filled his heart to hear you say it. “I love you to the moon and back.” He nuzzles his face against you and lets out a soft, content breath.

You were both quiet for some time, relishing in one another’s company when he suddenly jerked his head up. It was a second before he pressed his cheek back to your stomach. “they’re awake in there.” He was beaming, his dark eyes sparkling with emotion as he felt for more kicks, rubbing his hand along you gently. His heart beat harder in his chest at the feeling of soft kicks against his hands.

“They hear their daddy.” You giggle as the baby seems to get more active, seeming to respond to his voice. You could feel the little kicks and hits as your baby squirmed around, responding to the familiar deep voice. You could see how proud Larry was as he nuzzled his face against you, talking quietly to the little guy. You could already tell your child was going to be spoiled on all fronts when they arrived, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You spend the rest of the night just like that with him gently petting over your stomach with those big hands of his. Your own fingers laced into his hair. Softly cooing over the baby and talking about how things were going to be when they arrived. You were both so caught up and in love with the soft moment that time got away from you that evening.

The things you wanted out of life were pretty simple, but you were both happy and that was what mattered.

[francesminos-tt]

Lucemond Time Travel AU Part 3

Part 1  Part 2

140 AC, Driftmark

 “Stay still.” Lucerys says and he leans in, one hand gently resting on Aemond’s shoulder to keep him in place, the other holding a small round sapphire.

Aemond tenses, not sure if it’s from anticipation of pain or Lucerys’s proximity.

“It won’t hurt too much, just sting a little.” Lucerys gives Aemond’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. He brings the sapphire to his lips, kissing it, using his body heat to warm the cold gem. He blows slightly at the gem before pressing it into Aemond’s left eye socket.

Aemond hisses, trying to flinch away, the sensation of an unfamiliar weight in his eye socket too foreign for him. It doesn’t hurt, like Lucerys said, just feels strange.

“There. Good boy.” Lucerys releases his shoulder and moves away, but not before planting a kiss on his forehead.

“I am not your child.” Aemond declares, wrinkling his nose a little.

“No. You are my husband,” Lucerys agrees, a mischievous smile on his lips, “who acts like a child.”

Aemond wants to retort, but Lucerys has already gone to the cradle near the balcony to check on the infant. Jacaerion, it’s called, only 8 weeks old, the new addition to the Driftmark family. The third born son between Aemond and Lucerys.

“Little Jace is a heavy sleeper.” Lucerys says fondly, rocking the cradle. The baby doesn’t even stir, just continue to drool over a small blanket, sucking on its index finger.

Aemond sticks out his tongue, pretending to throw up. He knows how ridiculous he must look, a grown man, father of three children, and apparently one of the most formidable swordsmen in the whole realm, acts like a grumpy toddler. He can’t help it. He can’t believe he actually agreed to name his son after Jacaerys, of all people. Sure, his son is not Jacaerys Jr, but close enough. They even have the same nick name, for Seven’s sake.

“Stop being so dramatic.” Lucerys says, his back still turned to Aemond, but he seems to know Aemond is being childish again. “I am still counting on you to look after little Jace while I am gone.”

“When will you come back?” Aemond asks, trying very hard not to sound too clingy. He doesn’t need Lucerys to babysit him, but he also realizes this would be the first time he stays alone in the room, with an infant no less.

“Already missing me?” Lucerys jests, tilting his head to look at Aemond. As soon as he sees Aemond’s face, stunning and scary with that sapphire, but so vulnerable at the same time, his heart melts. The brunette tiptoes to the armchair that Aemond occupies right now, and sits on the armrest.

“Don’t worry, you will be just fine.” Lucerys runs a finger through Aemond’s hair, gradually smoothing the strands out. “I just have to welcome the Pentos Prince to Driftmark, maybe have a little chat with him. I will be back before dinner.”

Aemond hums, leaning to the touch. He stopped fighting Lucerys’s totally inappropriate intimacy three days after he first woke up. He has to admit, touching Lucerys does calm him down.

Lucerys proceeds to tie Aemond’s hair into a low ponytail using a hair band from his wrist. The hair band is made from two strands of colorful silk, twisted together, one purple and one soft brown. According to Lucerys, it’s a gift from their twin daughter to Aemond. Vaela and Rhaella, both 4 years old. The girls look almost identical, chubby face and silver hair, but Vaela has soft brown eyes like Lucerys and Rhealla’s eyes are typical Targaryen violet.

“The girls miss you.” Lucerys whispers, proud at his finished work. He loves to play with Aemond’s hair, and he knows the girls love too. Sometimes they would beg Aemond to let them braid his beautiful hair. Aemond tells them repeatedly that he has to look tough to scare away bad men who looks at their mother funny, but he always gives in. Lucerys loves him for it. Aemond is such a good father.

Despite Lucerys’s belief in him, Aemond is not sure. He doesn’t know what a good father is because he never has one. Viserys might be a good king, but he was a lousy father.

“Am I, “Aemond pauses, carefully choosing his words, “a good father to them?”

“Of course you are.” Lucerys answers without hesitation. “They love you and you love them, unconditionally. That’s why I am trusting you with little Jace as well. Don’t doubt yourself, Aemond. Never.”

Lucerys says with such determination that Aemond believes him.

“Now be good while I am gone.”

Lucerys leaves their quarter, unaware that when he comes back, he will be met with the adorable scene of his husband sharing cakes with the twins while bouncing little Jace on his lap.

  121 AC Driftmark

 It’s a sunny afternoon, rare in Driftmark, which reminds him of the day his family go on picnic on the beach. Lucerys was heavy with child that time, so Aemond brought layers of soft blanket and fur to keep him warm and comfortable. They sat beside a huge rock, Aemond massaging Lucerys’s ankle to reduce swelling while the girls chased each other down the shore. Lucerys was eating his favorite lemon cake while rubbing his huge belly, the sun painted his brown curls gold. Aemond knows the beach is his husband’s safe heaven. That’s why he finds Luke on the beach again.

“I brought you cake.” Aemond says softly, not to startle his nephew, “Hope you like lemon.”

Luke’s little face brightens at the sight of Aemond and lemon cakes.

“Lemon cakes are my favorite!” The boy declares, standing up to hug Aemond’s waist. “And you are my favorite person!”

“I know.” Aemond hugs back. He knows Luke likes lemon cake and roast meat with gravy. He knows Luke enjoys a glass of good Pentos wine once in a while. He also knows Luke loves him. He knows everything about Lucerys.

They settle down on the beach. Luke pays no mind to the sands that get on his trousers, neither does Aemond. Luke pops a piece of lemon cake to his mouth, chewing while keeping his eyes on the ocean tides.

“Now, can you tell me what’s bothering you, nephew?” Aemond asks, breaking the silence.

“Nothing.”

“Is it because I will go back to King’s Landing tomorrow?” Aemond moves closer, lightly bumping Luke’s shoulder.

“Yes.” Luke admits after a long while. He turns to meet Aemond’s eye, his uncle still has bandages around the left side of his face. Luke dreads the day Aemond has to go back to King’s Landing and himself to Dragonstone.

“You know I will write to you. Everyday, if you wish.” Aemond reaches out to wipe away some cake crumbs on Luke’s chin. “I will fly on Vaghar and go to Dragonstone if you miss me too much.”

“The Hand won’t let you.” Luke laments. “And the Queen. I am afraid, uncle. What if you decide to hate me after all? I won’t be around to convince you otherwise.”

“I am a prince of the realm. I will do whatever I want.” Aemond says firmly. It is true. He defied his grandfather by asking for Lucerys’s hand. His mother was upset at first but came around after the twins were born. Otto has plans for him, Aemond is well aware; to make him into a solider full of hatred, to be used and disposed in the usurpation. He refused to be a puppet then, and he will do it that now.

“I wish I was confident like you, uncle.” Luke casts his gaze down, playing with the sand at his feet. “I am not good at anything. Except maybe flying with Arrax.”

Aemond almost forgets what an insecure boy his husband used to be. The charming and diplomatic lord of the tides was once a boy convinced he was no good at anything.

“Grandpa wants me to inherit Driftmark, but I don’t want it.” Luke continues before Aemond could say anything.

“And why is that?” Aemond puts an arm around the boy’s trembling figure in an attempt to provide comfort. Touching always calms Aemond down, and he hopes it does the same for Luke.

“If I am lord of the tides, that means everyone is dead.” Luke buries his face in Aemond’s shoulder, his voice a little bit muffled and sounds like he is holding back tears.

Aemond gently pats the boy’s back. He waits for a while before speaking again.

“Then you just have to honor their names by being an excellent lord of the tides.” Aemond says. He won’t sugar coating things for Luke; the boy is not wrong.

“I won’t be a good lord of the tides. I get sea green the second I set foot on a ship.” Luke sniffles.

“You will be.”

“How do you know?” Luke snapped his head up to look at Aemond. His nose is red and his eyes are teary.

“I just know.” Aemond brushes a stray strand of curls from the boy’s face. “Do you not believe me?”

Luke shakes his head violently. Aemond chuckles a little.

“Then that’s settled. You will be an excellent lord of the tides. I will make sure of it.”

[waklman]

Double Take

Chapter One: Mouse

synopisis: the hard-deck believes their prized solo artist needs to boost her social presence before a long awaited album release, with the help of a manager (babysitter). yet, you manage to ditch or chase away every artist manager that gets assigned to help you. as a last resort, the label contacts the only manager who was able to tie you down, the now retired Pete Maverick Mitchell, asking for a referral. lucky for you, the one person that comes to his mind is Bradley Bradshaw—who’s in need of a new job.

warnings: no use of y/n, mature themes 18+, explicit language. reader is 21 and bradley is 23.

word count: 3.1k.

next chapter | double take masterlist.

“Can’t you just tell me her name?”

Bradley’s tongue kisses his teeth, unsure if he wants to kick Jake right off the swivel chair he’s currently occupying or not. 

And Jake doesn’t make his contemplation any much easier, choosing to grab at Bradley’s knees, using them as an anchor to spin himself around the music studio–almost knocking Javy’s vintage Stratocaster out of its stand.

Originally, the pair turned up to make sure Javy doesn’t overwork himself–silently supporting him in the background while he tweaks some of his new projects for demoing, with the promise of getting lunch together afterwards. And like always, Bradley and Jake found it difficult to keep quiet, with Bradley one snarky comment away from laying his hands on Jake. 

Deciding against the display of violence, Bradley snaps at him instead. “What happened to–Oh I don't know. Hey! congrats man or I’m happy for you Bradshaw. Good luck on the new job?” 

Javy eavesdrops on the brewing argument going on behind him, unable to focus on mixing the last untitled track he’s been trying to work on. As expected, he hears the wheels on the blond’s chair come to a halt, followed by Jake starting to fire back “Maybe I would congratulate you if-” 

“Guys. Please.” Javy is exasperated, retracting his cramped hands from the soundboard in front of him. He lets out a deep sigh, swiveling around to face the two men who he sent into a deafening silence, giving them both a look of disapproval–like a parent would to their children. 

Bradley awkwardly shifts under Javy’s gaze, making the leather couch under his thighs squeak from the movement–while Jake sucks in his cheek from embarrassment, pushing himself up to fix his slouched posture.

Javy lets the pair soak in the punishing silence before deciding to speak up again. “Anyways. Congrats Bradshaw, you finally get to escape your shitty ex-client.” Bradley appreciatively nods his head, thanking Javy. “And Jake, if Bradley says over three times that he doesn’t know the girl he’s gonna work for, it’s safe to assume that he really doesn’t know.” 

Jake shoots the broad man beside him an elusive look, before entirely giving in. “Sorry, I was just excited you’re working for a chick instead of some greaser.” he admits. 

Across the studio, Bradley notices Javy has an expectant look on his face, encouraging him to respond. “It’s fine, Seresin.” he mutters under his breath.

Seeing that the mood of the room is still significantly low, Javy attempts to bring it back up. “Hey, so Mav didn’t tell you who it was?”

“Nope,” Bradley shrugs, enunciating the word. “..told me she’s kinda a handful though,” he recalls. “Can’t be worse than the dude you worked for before.” Jake puts forth. Bradley leans back into the couch at the mention of his last client. “Man, I hope not–cause he was a fucking dickhead.” 

“Didn’t he make you wait with him, while he got tested for chlamydia?” Jake asks, lips tightly sealed in a thin line—failing to conceal his amusement. 

Bradley lets out a brief laugh, shaking his head at the memory, “Yeah, and guess what,” He whispers, taking a pause to build suspense–smiling while the two other men both lean in curiously. “..it came back positive.” 

“I fucking knew it dude.” Jake shouts–stumbling in his seat, upon hearing the news. He had been begging Bradley to reveal the results for months now, but Bradley wasn’t able to tell anyone until he was released from his contract–which ended just last week.

The room brightens up again, with Jake celebrating his odd victory, while Javy and Bradley share a laugh at his reaction. 

“Jeez Seresin, I never thought I’d see the day you’re excited over chlamydia results.” Javy jokes, hinting at Bradley to join in. “Right? He looked bummed the last time he got back a positive test.” Bradley adds on, lips tugging into a smirk. 

“Yeah, Yeah keep the jokes coming, why don’t ya.” 

The instrumental leaking through your headphones does nothing to soothe the sting of your migraine.

Instead, the dulling ache just manages to double down under the blaring white light that oversees the room–causing the mild discomfort of waiting on everyone to worsen. 

Choosing to ignore the searing pain that now lines the front of your skull, you tightly shut your eyes to focus on the way the melody repeats itself again, making sure to pay close attention to the percussion that’s been added on this time. The production choice doesn’t suit the track, so you make a mental reminder to yourself: ask Javy to tone down those drums the next time you catch him in the studio. 

Bringing a hand underneath your hood, you cup the sleek shell of your headphones–pressing the pleather cushion tighter against your ear to properly listen for the beat counts. You begin to nod your head, following the beat for the next minute.

Impromptu lyrics start to come to mind, but before you could stick them to memory, you’re quickly interrupted by a light kick to the shin from underneath the table. In a jolt of surprise, your eyes rip open to see that Andi–your publicist, has been trying to capture your attention. She’s currently in the middle of saying something to you, but you can’t hear a word that leaves her mouth. 

“Sorry, what?” you hastily tear off the headphones, letting them fall forward into your lap—quickly adjusting your ears to all the sound that was previously muffled. 

“I said, it looks like you’re in trouble. Ms. Benjamin doesn’t usually make an appearance for team meetings...” All you can do is sigh at the reminder.

“Well, maybe if she met me in the middle, there wouldn’t be any problems.” you quip. The offhanded reply just makes Andi’s face fall flat.

Out of nowhere, someone tugs back the peak of your hood, allowing the unwanted light to flood your vision even more. With squinted eyes, you turn around to glare at the sly social media consultant–who just entered the room.

“Well, maybe you should learn to comply because you need the exposure.” Graham offers, amused grin on his face.

“God, she summoned you here too?” you ask, watching him throw himself into the seat besides you, carelessly tossing his slim legs over the table.

“Penny Benjamin spares no one, especially our little rockstar here.” he winks at you–crossing both arms behind his head to lean back. Graham always had a knack for not letting things get to him–creating an equilibrium amongst your team, his carefree attitude neutralizing everyone else’s overthinking tendencies.

“Dude, how are you so relaxed right now? I think I might hurl.” Micky–your agent speaks up, green in the face as if he's actually about to carry out his statement. Besides him, Andi is nodding in agreement, biting the lining of her inner cheek. 

“No vomit in my meeting room please.” a smooth voice calls out by the door. And there she is, Penny Benjamin, the bane of your existence, as of late. 

When she first launched her career four years ago, you were one of the first artists she managed to secure. Not long after your fresh debut, you were overwhelmingly adored by the public—securing your title as one of the youngest rising stars at the time, at only seventeen years old. And with that privilege, you received a lot of leniency, until recently. 

Sometime last month, Penny had strongly suggested you “dip your feet into the social scene of Hollywood”, the one thing you were promised you wouldn’t need to do when you signed a record deal in the first place. But everyone knows by now that, what Penny asks for, Penny gets–transforming her strong suggestion into a fully fleshed out set of PR moves for the next few months. 

You inwardly scoff, watching her strut in to take a seat at the end of the table, impatiently waiting as your team scrambles to get Graham to sit up properly–now that you’re in the presence of the person who employs you all in the first place. 

“Alright. Alright–I get it!” Graham yells back in a hushed whisper, waving off everyone’s stack of complaints with a dismissive hand.

“Now that you’re all settled,” Penny starts, voice tight, sending a warning look over to Graham.

You watch as a satisfied smile appears on her face, once he stills. Then you see it. There’s an unrecognizable glint in her eyes–sending an instinctive shiver to run down your back.

“I’d like to introduce you all to your new team member.” Penny announces, making direct eye contact with you, grinning. She clearly has a trick up on sleeve.

And there’s no point in hiding your distaste for it, because you’re sure it’s written all over your face–you were never one to hide your expressions well anyway. 

Around you, your team begins to stir–all three of them exchanging confused looks with each other. Why call everyone down to the building—just to welcome some poor soul who’ll just end up quitting after dealing with you for a few days?

“Excuse me, Ms. Benjamin? I don’t mean to interrupt but–we’ve already run through ten different managers this past month.” Micky meekly raises his concern.

“Oh, trust me I’m well aware,” 

“Which is why, I brought in a new hire recommended to us by Maverick.”

Your mind instantly reels back–determined to search through every possible person your old manager would have suggested. You’re too deep in thought to notice that the rest of your team follows along behind you, skimming through Maverick’s connections in their heads for someone that could possibly handle your tactics. 

“Tell him, he can come in now.” Penny requests, calling out to her assistant guarding the door.

All eyes trail over to entry way, and in walks the last person you expected to see.

You immediately stiffen, upon recognizing who it was, “Oh shit. Mouse?” he gapes loudly. Your mouth opens but no words seem to come out—all you can do is stare back at him incredulously.

“Bradley fucking Bradshaw.” Graham yells out in disbelief, standing up from his seat to greet him.

“Graham Cracker?” he gawks, fixing his attention onto Graham, meeting him in the middle for a hug.

Everyone seemed to be relieved to see him, except for you. 

You had only met Bradley a handful of times–your interactions were always brief but never pleasant, the first impression being the most unfortunate of them all. 

Back then, you let yourself into Maverick’s apartment since he was out of town, in search of a sweater you left behind–just to end up clashing face first into Bradley’s wet chest—because he’d been taking showers there until his own bathroom was repaired. 

By the second encounter, he’d even nicknamed you Mouse, because of the ridiculous Karen Smith mouse costume that Natasha made you wear—to match her and Bob at a Halloween bash last year. Bradley had made teasing comments towards you all night and you just took it—far too embarrassed to utter back a word, especially so soon after seeing him practically half naked. 

You wanted to kick yourself for not being able to figure this out right away. This made sense–Bradley was Maverick’s nephew who also worked in the industry as well. You had never bothered to pay attention to his conversations with Mav about his previous job, but now, you wish you did. 

As Bradley makes his way around the room, you look up in search for Penny but she’s already out the door. Your headache is quickly replaced by an onset of annoyance. 

“Miss me?” you’re immediately met with the sight of his crotch in your face. 

Blinking slowly, you stretch your stiff neck to look up at Bradley who’s standing in front of you now, blindly confident as ever. You don’t even know what to say–still trying to overcome your shock at his surprise appearance. 

“Look at you Mouse. You’re so happy to see me–you can’t say a thing” he falsely observes, bringing his rough hands forward to grab at the fat of your cheek. 

“Agh.” you squeak, softly rubbing over the skin he pinched, trying to soothe the pain. 

“There she is, you ready to kick back with me?” he coos. It’s like he doesn’t even consider the fact that you could punch him where it hurts, all it would take is one jab between the legs.

“Good luck Bradshaw, she’s a runner–managed to escape poor Tommy at a movie premiere last week. The kid quit because he said his anxiety meds weren’t strong enough to keep up with her.” Graham laughs, retelling the story of your last manager. Though, it only entertains him and Bradley, because Andi and Micky both share a look of apprehension–remembering how they failed to convince the last manager to give you one more chance. 

“Is that right?” Bradley looks at you, intrigued.

“You gonna be nice to me, Mouse?” There’s something about provoking you, that just elicits sheer joy out of him. He thinks it’s because you’re like a little sister he’s never had. But you think it’s because he has nothing better to do with his life. Your opinions clash. 

“No.” you snap, voice coming out weaker than you wanted. 

“What was that?” he teases, squatting down in front of you, leveling his gaze. 

You look right into his mischievous eyes and answer him again, more stern this time. “No.” 

“Wouldn’t expect any less.” Bradley’s smiles smugly, completely unfazed by your harsh reply. 

It’s like Penny staked her claims on you this month, selecting you as her victim of choice. 

Not only does she cover Bradshaw’s living expenses, but she also buys out your neighbor’s apartment–dropping the shiny keys right into Bradley's meaty hands, giving him a direct line of access to you. You always knew she was quite stubborn–but never expected it to reach this degree, which gives you a sickly feeling that Bradley might be harder to dodge than you had previously thought. 

And your intuition is proven correct, because he has barely left your side since yesterday–even with the knowledge that you didn’t have any events lined up until next week. 

“Delivery for, uh—Reese Witherspoon?” the uniformed man asks, confused by Bradley’s towering figure between the crack of your door. 

“This is she, thanks man.” he grins, oblivious to the delivery man’s uncertainty. 

Bradley shamelessly passes him a wad of ten dollar bills in exchange for the brown paper bag. The door shuts, and it takes him only four long strides to reach you in the kitchen. 

“When I said put a fake name under the order, that's not what I meant.” You make no effort to look at him, too focused on unzipping files on your laptop. Bradley just shrugs off your unamused comment, placing the bag onto the counter. “I think Reese Witherspoon is a good secret alias.” he answers, completely sure of himself.

“A secret alias is labeled secret for a reason.” He nods, taking in your reply before tearing right into the bag–dumping the contents out. The inviting smell disperses in the air, hitting both your noses in an mere instant. 

“I kept your identity a secret, did I not?” he turns to grin at you, but your eyes are still glued onto your screen. His grin disappears at the lack of attention. You already lost yourself in your work again, scrolling through all the tracks Javy sent over for approval. 

Too caught up in organizing everything you received, you fail to realize that Bradley planted himself next to you. With furrowed brows, you carefully move one of the songs over to the music application for further inspection. But, from the corner of your eye, you see a floating tin-foil wrapped burrito, carried by Bradley, starting to slowly block the view of your screen. 

“You’re my manager, not my nanny.” you shoot him down, slapping away the gluttonous burrito. 

“Just one bite, make your old man proud.” he attempts to sway you, already peeling back the wrapping for you. 

You snap your head in his direction. “You’re only two years older than me, Bradshaw.” You deadpan him, but all Bradley does is smirk at you in response, pleased that you had already dismissed your work to answer him.

“I know you’re hungry.” he drags out the word, already bringing the burrito up to your face again. 

“No, I’m not.” you reply firmly–but your body fails to line up with your statement because a loud rumbling can be heard from the pit of your stomach. The sound makes Bradley swipe his tongue over his lips, amused.  

“What was that? Can’t hear you over your tummy growling.” he leans in, playing into his bit. 

In no mood to put up another argument, you snag the burrito out of his hands, angrily taking a bite–but your chewing comes to a halt–because it’s so fucking good, you can’t even pretend to be mad. 

“Shit, you look so funny Mouse. Lemme take a pic for Graham.” 

He doesn’t even give you a second to react before he’s pulling out his phone for a picture. Struggling to work the camera app, he switches to instagram to take the picture instead. With one hand, he lightly grabs your jaw to point your face at his camera, chuckling to himself as he snaps an image. You just blink back him, obliging–brain scrambling from the burrito–to the camera–to him touching your face. 

Forcing yourself to swallow back the food, you slam down the burrito against the tabletop, reaching for his phone.

“Bradshaw, delete that,” you demand, embarrassment evident in your voice.

“No can do, Graham asked me to take pictures of you. He needs more content for your fans.” He gladly denies you, slapping his entire palm over your face so you don’t see him save the picture to his camera roll. 

You grumble unintelligibly into his palm. There was no point in fighting back—he never removes his hand until he's satisfied with himself. You'd seen him do it too often with Nat.

“What was that? Thank you for the food Bradshaw? Awe. You’re so welcome Mousey.” he runs his mouth, enjoying how you’re unable to respond to him. 

Bradley likes to think you settled down from your anger from earlier, but the spiteful glances you’re sending in his direction says otherwise. 

You’re both eating in silence, with you taking strategic bites, and Bradley beginning to sink his teeth into his second burrito. You uncomfortably watch as he takes a massive bite, flinching at the way he just swallows it after chewing just once.

Caught off guard by the sudden ringing of his phone, Bradley slightly chokes on a piece of chicken, sputtering forward. Taking the chance to relieve your grudge, you harshly slap a hand against his wide back–helping him cough it back up.

Bradley clears his throat, hand reaching for the device buzzing against your glossy countertop. With haste, he answers the facetime call—propping his phone up against a water bottle so you and him are in view. 

Both of you wait until the call connects, expecting to see Graham’s cheerful face appear—from seeing you two together. Instead, he loads in, biting his nails nervously. “Bradley, delete it.” Graham spits out right away. 

“What?” Bradley mumbles, with a stuffed mouth. 

“Delete what.” you snap your head at Bradley. 

Graham worriedly swipes his hand through his hair, “Someone took a screenshot of your story and shared it to a few news accounts online. I need to call Andi so we can get them taken down but you need to delete it–like right now.” he warns.

You’re still not comprehending what’s going on, but it finally clicks in Bradley’s head.

“Fuck.” Bradley whispers. You look over at his screen, watching him rush to open Instagram to reveal the burrito picture of you that had been accidentally posted on his story–and it has over 25,000 views.

note: thank you reading! please tell me your thoughts on double take so far, i would love to hear! :) that being said, reblogs are very greatly appreciated!

join the taglist for this series here or follow @waklman-library and turn on notifs to be notified when i post!

[libidomechanica]

And so say you

For Loyal Blood within. To them,     and so in spite of fruitless sleep becomes to be sealing?     Trod down the meadows where the Government it by the sublime,     be arch, or being low never seek to tell, whence our     lives, crossing tongue is banisht

man, found, would Curb my Spirit     confounds. They flee from me that close to mi, say she flies, and     all in haste, till that blood. Under whose great with those Eyes to     warre be train’d! If from Court, then, Israel’s monarch, as are taught     the sight again to fight;

thus on my fires underground where     Love is dumb. You came to have my body but a Spark too     much; I can create himself a Muse-In Sanhedrins be     taught him wiht new Plots, from duty, than flint, for best when the     sea hath refuse; tis much

duty; for in your hair: do you     hence, so form’d by Gods eternal lines to taste. From Expensive     angle myself in every blesse, though fled is even     by the Musk-Harvest of her breathes of loue to shield, his field,     so as thou grow wood, the

wretch, to over-rule us all     in love have prickles, yet ne’er seem’d as he sat, and make rejoin’d—     ’She was walking like a man, more wonder; in that we     have I, but live, an’ love my Nanie’s changing could be possest;     still to be Out-done.

What if evolution of youth     last and more friend. The guest, but because she darts beating with     thy inmost soul. From thence these enclaspëd hands his Truth Proclaim;     his Loyalty the waiter brought my plant in her hast     thou know’st not again, but

you have already dead.—Compares     to come: and, brib’d the Destinies, to cross till action, lust     is perjured, murderous and the worse for repetitioners:     whom, whereof are you so too; who had not say; the thing     it should certainty is

beauty. Oh, you are lost my mind.     And that: But thou talk? And guard the Sea where the power hast     thou to the East, far-folded mists, and this I’m sure a pow’r     again. Keep with too much preys make amends, tho’ even now     to tie the rain; I was

fix’d upon our Sex betraide, whole,     can in good faith releasing: pity, ’ she says, Tis so; ’ and     soul with fine Conceits your Sacred Life each several Sons     by such vnsuted speech did hotly overlooking form, and     Titan, tired in like

a flock as Israelites; whose     desperate the one with a Patriot Paint! And grandeur: and     do not so vigorously he made, or is for ill     desires: the Prostrate Vulgar Spright, and the Clouds and never     win the sun doth bring, such

a thing to offer to other’s     guise, sweet in sad, its salt and begins to woo him. Of which     is why you out. Drop heavily downe on me. Thus Prais’d, and     neighs, he bounds, when being fool to fancy i have died to     keepe no more, for you has

made me, cold and Philomel become     as much; loves all its reason, and has a crush on Myrna     Loy, and there was this turf, and floats their slave o’t! On,     and one seems built to bear upon an humbler promontory,     amidst life in her

heart with truffles. Each other, by     a specious love a world will commennd: they like water and     Place, was it not, or he will, to take by sap: but oh! And     kept? Then do their alter’d Hearts from them; and thinking grieves. The     owl, night’s baith kirk and rainy,

O; but I’m as blythe thatch see     blossoming Century. With womankind, a heterogeneous     mass of the woman who had power, but disturb     the fence, running children would well be, for the true Succession     ran: once more strong, that

we say and use good bits are slaves     his brows. Within thy heart throbbed to or laid down the rider     she was Lord and King of his wound, gainst the facts of life     at strife, there is thine, to which is especially upon     the page wondering the

colt that’s that reeves his crooked Counsels     brought for, and have knock’d my tongue; be wreak’d on his last limits     here? Save her? ’Er saw that we, enamoured of an     angry-chafing, down Adonis’ heart of gall, is fancy’s     spring doth yield, like those

Nicean barks of your hopes and Secure     they blot they might, as not at all. Life-poisoning     pestilence I grieve. As he was he to foolish I could their     presented joy though t is said to thee? And long winter     cave. I fear not at all.

[perkyparker]

Having Elias back was like a weight had been lifted from Matty’s shoulders, one he didn’t even know had been pulling him down. He wasn’t overly inclined to feel homesick – he loved his siblings (and the many small children that came as a package deal alongside them), but there had always been so many of them under one roof. Countless voices fighting to be heard, some quieter than others, Hero often overlooked and Matty the one to wipe away her tears and lift her spirits. With Eli, it was much easier. Whenever the other man was away, Matty would find himself switching on the television and searching for his face, in news reels and Best Bit highlight shows. Tiny moments of his best friend, usually clipped down to a 12 second flash of him on the track or a glimpse of his smiling face as he stood alongside Jax. 

Matthew had missed him in the way that a fight might miss the water; Eli was a phantom limb, the only thing keeping Matty entirely whole when he was around. It seemed dramatic and codependent, he knew that. It wasn’t that he couldn’t be happy without Elias around – not by any stretch – but he simply enjoyed life more when he was there. Matty was by no means a lonely person, but with Amira gone, Killian ghosting him, and a crush that he’d incorrectly assumed to be harmless, he desperately needed his best guy back.  

The second Eli’s flight had landed, Matty had been there, standing at the arrival gate with a bouquet of flowers so extravagant they obscured his face from view. He’d peeked through the assortment of roses and peonies, grinning to himself as he spotted his best friend, releasing a peel of laughter as he saw the look of embarrassment on his face. Eli hadn’t needed to see Matty’s face to know just who was hiding behind the flowers, he’d simply known that nobody else on this earth would have shown up with the intent of both lovingly greeting him as well as flustering him. 

Now, tucked safely into the comfort of Matty’s penthouse apartment, the whole city as their backdrop, the two of them were smartening themselves up for a night on the town. Or, rather, a Gala Evening courtesy of the speed demons that Elias was employed by.  

“Well, you look as dashing as ever,” Matthew noted, wandering towards his best friend, a warm smile on his face. Eli was getting suited and booted for the night, while Matty was still shirtless, water droplets dripping down his chest from his still-wet hair. “I’m really loving the tousled look, I have to say.” 

His friend’s fingers moved deftly at the fabric in his hands, securing his black tie to his neck. While he was almost fully ready – bar his cringey Ferrari blazer, as Eli had put it himself – his hair remained perfectly unkempt, appearing to be the very last thing requiring his care. Strands stood to attention every which way, with tendrils dropping low over his brow, in front of his eyes. 

“You think Ferrero Rocher would let you wear it like this?” he asked, reaching forward to comb a delicate hand through the soft tufts of Eli’s hair. He smirked, anticipating the eyeroll his slip of the tongue would earn him. 

[lifeinkinder]

Let's review my week, shall we:

Monday: echo, ECG, cardiologist at the children's hospital 1.5 hours away for little man.

Tuesday: pediatrician visit, and early intervention intake interview for little man. Therapy for me.

Wednesday: 6 week postpartum visit for me. Newborn photos for the twins. Trip to convienent care for me. Trip to the ED also for me. (No worries, I'm fine. CC was concerned about DVT because of significant swelling isolated to my left leg, but that has been ruled out).

Thursday: oral maxillofacial consult for little miss' tongue tie (talk to me about your experience with getting tongue ties released. I'm undecided on what I want to do since she's feeding well). Audiology appointment at the children's hospital an hour and a half away for little miss (passed with flying colors). Virtual visit for me for me because of course I have an abscessed tooth.

Friday: hip ultrasound for little man because he was breech and his pediatrician noted a hip click.

So far, next week we only have 2 things and I need it to stay that way.

[jungkookschin]

to err is to love part 2 preview

synopsis: after sharing a salacious kiss with your ex-husband (at your kids' super mario birthday party), you decide to establish boundaries.

word count: 1.6k

pairing: dilf!jk /ex husband!jk / ceo!jk x afab reader

read part 1 here

READ THE WHOLE THING HERE

"So you want me to pretend like it didn't happen?"

Your ex husband finally arrives home- his disheveled nature indicative of an exhausting day at work probably filled with tedious meetings and unexciting paperwork. He looks like he got the soul sucked right out of his body. His tie is loose around his neck, his hair is swept back sloppily, dark circles prominent, and there's a very obvious annoyed grimace hazed on his handsome face. 

It’s not like you enjoy contributing to his stress, but right now you have to draw the red line and establish boundaries. You hate the way your heart flutters at his mere presence- even when stressed out of his mind. You rip your eyes away from him so the notion departs from your mind;acknowledging your thoughts means accepting- or even embracing your feelings for him, and that’s just something you can’t do. 

After practically pouncing on him and salaciously shoving your tongue into his mouth after your children's Super Mario birthday party, you abruptly jolted from your sleep with regret plaguing your system. Instncitvely your fingers come up to alleviate the aching pain in your temples whilst you recall how sinful it felt to have his lips against yours. The butterflies threatening to erupt in your stomach irk you, and you despise yourself for craving him like you are right now.

Even when he’s blinking at you incredulously like you’ve cut him deeply- you can’t help but be soft for him. 

“Yes,” you enunciate sternly; the dramatic roll of your eyes effectively masks how you truly feel and it makes his heart ache painfully. “It was entirely inappropriate and I apologize for that- let’s just pretend it never happened.” You mumble pointedly before redirecting your focus back to the soapy bubbly plastic Hello-Kitty dishes piled in the sink.

You brace yourself for a response as hostile as the words you just spewed out. 

Perhaps he perceived the way your body visibly tense because instead of a sarcastic response, he acts opposite of what you’re expected. You hear the soft thud of his briefcase echoing through the room and as a gentle sigh falls from his lips. 

He makes calm strides toward you, placing a hand on top of yours; the soapy bubbles on your hands rub onto his- it even gets on the cuffs of his shirt but it goes unnoticed by him.  He just wants to help out. His other hand takes hold of the sponge as his body softly nudges you to the side. He begins to maneuver the sponge against the dishes, not gracing you with a single word.

Heart aching in your chest, you let out a concerned sigh. "Jungkook you don't have to do that, it's alright-"

"I'm sorry for coming home late tonight,” His soft words are spoken in a hushed tone, as if he’s trying to bring you down from how panicked and aggressive you were previously behaving. "Thank you for making the kids dinner and cleaning up."

"It's my job to do that-"

"I know. But you work so hard. I just want to let you know how grateful I am." His words encapsaulate the tenderness that has been stagnantly stinging his heart- and it sends an explosion of emotions to your stomach. He’s got this hold on you, and you find it unfathomable that he can reillumine the dull flame idly sitting in your heart. 

"Are you mad at me?" you squeak out, fingers brushing a stray strand behind your ear. He releases a soft chuckle, putting the last dish in the drying rack, turning and leaning back against the kitchen counter. He shakes his head to sweep the hair out of his face.

“Not mad, just a little sad,” the casual shrug of his shoulders enkindles a bubble of confusion in your heart. 

Your mouth dries up. You haven’t a clue of how to respond-especially when the situation isn’t combative in the slightest. You suppose that you adapted entirely to toxicity and hostility that you’ve become emotionally disfunctional. You hesitate, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I’m sorry,” is all you’re able to muster up.

He smiles bitterly to himself, his sharp jawline flexing as he looks away from you and at the ceiling. For a split second, you detect a hint of pain on his face, but he masks that by playfully pinching your cheek before swinging his hand back down- further adding to your confusion. “Don’t be sorry- you can’t change how you feel. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” 

Oh.

The response he gave you was exactly what your brain was looking for, but for some reason your heart is left completely dissatisfied. 

He suddenly begins undoing the buttons on his shirt, letting his chest finally breathe after being trapped in the confines of a tight suit all day. This wasn’t unusual for him to do. Jungkook often paraded around the house shirtless. After all, this is his home and he is entitled to comfort and privacy in the space of his own home. Besides, it’s not like you’ve never seen it before.  

Biting your lip, you swat his hands away and begin undoing the buttons for him. Though the action intrinsically seems questionable, you’ve basically been his little wifey when the two of you decided to cohabitat again (for the children). You wash his clothes, make him breakfast, tie his tie for him- the more you think about it the more disfunctional this relationship is. No words were needed- this isn’t intended to be sexual or seductive in the slightest- your love language has always been acts of service and this is how you’ll express your appreciation.

He raises his brows at you. His eyes haze over you like he’s checking you out, but he’s really scrutinizing you and peering right past your facade. And perhaps he’s simultaneously checking you out. He can’t help himself- your smaller frame is adorned in one of his white oversized tees, making you look so soft and wifey. At the same time, he finds it somewhat ridiculous that you’re telling him you don’t want him while you have his damn shirt over your body.

Once you get to the bottom of the shirt, you pout slightly and look up at him. Your eyes are met with dark eyes that peer into your very soul. Black eyesscan over you, pupils are dilated completely, questioning authenticity of your rejection towards him. 

At the same time, he gazes at you with so much desire that it hurts.

 “Please tell me how you really feel,” he whispers.

You break eye contact, snapping the strings of attraction that were pulling you together. “Just don’t want to ruin everything again.” you quietly murmur

He brings his calloused palms to rub his face. He already knows. He sees right through you. He’s known you so long he’s confident he’s familiarized himself with everything about you- knows how your mind processes information, knows the meaning behind every body language. What haunts him the most is that he knows he fucked up his own marriage. As the man of the family he was supposed to hold everything down, and it’s been eating him up that he placed that burden on you.  “I know,” he responds, “It’s my fault- I know I fucked everything up beyond repair. I don’t blame you for feeling that way. The divorce was really hard.” 

It’s the first time he’s ever explicitly said the d word. He places his arms behind his head, his biceps bulging through his shirt and you rip your eyes away. This is not the time to be thirsting over him.

“I wasn’t the best either- so don’t say that. The divorce was hard for you too so let’s not think about that,” you mumble, staring at the photo of your children stuck onto the fridge with a “#1 MOM” magnet. The cute photo of the twins holding up peace signs stablizes you. They are what keeps you going.

He sighs. “But I know you gave it your all to save us- and I didn’t. I know that if I put in more effort we would have made it. I was entitled and arrogant,” he bites his lip like he’s trying to find the right words, “Please let make it up to you.”

His analysis of the situation is somewhat accurate. Though the rockiest part of your marriage was mostly because of carelessness and hostility from both sides- Jungkook was the one who ultimately expelled you from his heart while you desperately towards clung onto hope.

“There’s nothing to be made up- we can’t do this again. Our kids would be heartbroken if mommy and daddy got back together….  just to break up again,” you send him a faux smile with the intention of comforting him, as if your fucking divorce didn’t absolutely crush you. Jungkook’s resolve begins to crack at your mannerisms. He sees right through you, knows when you’re faking shit.

“Is that how you really feel?” 

 A deafening silence washes over the situation. You won’t grace him with a response. No one would ever be able to pry the words out of you.

He speaks up. “I respect that Y/N, but if you ever change your mind, I’ll always be here.”

Your brows furrow deeply at this words, and Jungkook winces at the haze of mortification that appears on your pretty face.

What did he mean by that? Is he implying that he’s going to stay single forever if you don’t want to be with him? That it’s you or nothing? What an impulsive and ridiculous statement. As much as you care for him, he can’t just be saying shit like that to you .

You purse your lips.  “I have a date next weekend."

author's note: guys pls dont hate on yn. shes trying her best and is confused😭

[dojimakaichou]

SENT FROM @stingslikeabee​ ​​​​​ ―         ( from here / accepting )

040.   a dusty antiques shop full of relics . (Addams AU please!)

★. ―

Yayoi was at the head of the pack, hands shoved into the pockets of her dark, torn jeans. She nudged open the old, questionable door with the toe of her boots and peered in. The shop specialized in antiques and oddities ( or so the aged, peeling signage advertised ) ; by the look of it, it was more of a warehouse than a proper store.

          At the feeling of hands against her back, Yayoi raised a brow. “You sure this is where you want to go?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder. Another soft prod made the elder sister release the door and turn around. She immediately reached for the closest triplet and ensnared her as payback for the gentle shoving. Soteria squealed in surprise, giggling as Yayoi hauled her off of her feet altogether. 

          Yayoi was, by far, the strongest of the Addams’ children, and ( to her father’s delight ) the star of any wrestling team she joined. She wore the title of gym rat alongside Daigo proudly.  ―  this meant that she was also impossible to escape from. Yayoi gripping the fourteen - year - old Soteria was the equivalent of a fearsome bird of prey clutching an owlet in its talons.

          “Yes!” Enodie insisted. “We want to find a good present for Father. His birthday is in seven days.”

          “He’ll be 57,” Melinoe added.

          Edgar sighed airily. “  ―  one year closer to death. How lucky for him.”

          At once, three pairs of icy amber eyes snapped to the older brother. They narrowed simultaneously. Luckily for him, Edgar was too lost in day - dreaming about the promise of his own grave in the future to notice. Yayoi chuckled. She set her chin on Soteria’s head, drawing the girls’ focus to her. “Shush,” she chided, giving her captured sibling an affectionate squeeze. “Dad’s fine. C’mon  ―  let’s get your gift.” Yayoi set down Soteria and held open the door for Edgar and the girls. 

          Inside the store, there were piles of items with small white tags tied to them. The prices appeared to be handwritten, though there was no employee ( or real place to get service ) in sight. Only the hum of a few electronics that were plugged in to show they functioned and a bit of light orchestral music from an unseen crackling radio. Immediately, the girls started to search for what could possibly be worthy of their father. Yayoi shook her head at them fondly, hands on her hips.

          “Did you know Dad’s birthday was in a week?” Edgar asked quietly, scratching at the back of his neck.

          “Edgar Allan  ―  you did not forget  .    .    .  ” Yayoi answered incredulously, trailing off.

          Her brother cleared his throat hastily and absently straightened his tie. “Of course not,” he said rather promptly. He flashed her the sort of dazzling smile that his uncle claimed would get him out of trouble more often than not and stepped away. That he seemed suddenly very interested in browsing made his sister ( lovingly ) roll her eyes. It was hard to fault the girls for waiting : they were notoriously picky about selecting gifts but always seemed to come up with the best in the nick of time. Edgar simply liked to keep his head in the storm clouds too much.

          Yayoi cracked her knuckles and stretched. Her black hair, shorn off at her shoulders, was tucked behind her ears after. The witch yawned, revealing the stud in her tongue. Kids were definitely Hikari’s thing, not her’s. Yayoi knew that she was only this patient with her flock because they were related. 

          She chose to leave Edgar to his fate. It would be humorous to let him sweat for a bit ( who knew, he could discover something ). If he was unsuccessful, Yayoi would drop a few hints tonight about polishes and other items their father used for his guns. 

          “What did you find, ghostie?” Yayoi asked, tapping Enodie on the shoulder. The girls were huddled over something.

          They shuffled to the side of it to let Yayoi see. Between their six hands was clasped a significant painting. The frame it was in was dark wood and had a curious texture, as if there was sand or salt under the finish. Its subject was two creatures circling each other in what appeared to be deep water. They were reaching for a smaller entity, who was coiled up into a little ball at the center of the piece. 

          “Mermaids?” Yayoi ventured.

          Soteria pointed to the largest of the beings. “Merman,” she corrected. Her eyes were red. “It reminds us of a story we heard from another place once. This one  ―  ” She indicated the second of the adults, which appeared to be a beautiful mermaid with striking black and gold colors. “  ―  was a human.”

          “She was the most feared pirate captain on the seas,” Melinoe continued. “Her crew caught the merman in a net. Instead of butchering him, she saved him. Inevitably, they fell in love.”

          “The merman searched the ocean with her until they found a mermaid who could turn the pirate into a merperson. They were inseparable after that.” Enodie laid the tip of her finger on the child - like entity in the middle as she spoke. “Their family was numerous. The pirate and the merman taught all of their children to hunt any humans who came into their territory.”

          Yayoi leaned in closer to inspect the painting. “Y’know, these two look a lot like  ―  ”

          “Mother !! ” Melinoe gushed suddenly. The triplets set down the picture and flocked to the Addams matriarch, who had unexpectedly appeared in the shop with them. As always, the witch was a vision in her usual form - fitting black gown ; silver, onyx, and amethyst glimmered at her neck and fingers. She gathered the girls against her and kissed their hidden horns. They snuggled up to Melissa for a moment, practically cooing at the sight of their beloved mother. Melissa whispered compliments to them about their story in between the press of her lips.

          Yayoi crouched down to look at the painting. Lost in thought, she failed to notice the girls separating from Melissa. Their mother glided to her elder daughter’s side, fingers lowered to trail through Yayoi’s hair tenderly.

          “Hey, Mom,” the twin acknowledged.

          “What is it, my little black scorpion?” Melissa asked softly, using the familiar term reserved for her husband’s shadow. She allowed her hand to brush the back of Yayoi’s neck. It was uncharacteristically cold, and Melissa hummed appreciatively.

          “It just  ―  looks so much like you and Dad,” Yayoi said, voice somewhat distant. “Almost like  .    .    .  it could be you guys. Somewhere else.”

          Melissa smiled as she fixed Yayoi’s hoodie and brushed the wrinkles out of the fabric. These small, easy touches served a greater purpose : to remind the second raven of the family that she was not alone as their magic unfurled for her, like the rare, beckoning bloom of a corpse flower. 

          “I’ve thought about that,” Melissa mused. “Every so often, I dream of them : my other lives, whether they have ended or are just beginning in another place. Your grandmama has said the same. Sometimes, the magic overwhelms us in our deepest moments of rest, and we’re given glimpses of existences we should not see. I find them  .    .    .  comforting.”

          Yayoi glanced up at Melissa then. “You do?”

          The witch cupped her daughter’s chin with a hum. “I do,” she confirmed. “Your father and I always meet, no matter what iterations of our selves I see.” Melissa offered her arms to help Yayoi up, which the twin took. “Now, you four go fetch your brother. Your Uncle Edgar and the rest of your siblings are waiting with the car.”

           Yayoi nodded. She squeezed her mother’s forearm in silent gratitude, inhaled, and gestured for the girls to follow her. They fell in to step neatly, holding onto different portions of Yayoi’s shirt in solidarity with the witch. 

          Melissa watched them leave, the curve of her lips deepened. As they rounded a corner, she half - turned back to the painting. Her husband really was handsome in every iteration.

[detectivemaker]

hattercrow  horror au part 1 scarejuice

The tetch siblings sit in a semicircle in front of a lit candle, " though we know we should be wary" the oldest sibling dorfy begins, " still we call on something scary" one of the twins Louis continues " ghostly haunting we turned loose" the other twin Lenore finishes," scary juice, scary juice, scary juice!, all the siblings say in unison as the flame of the candle burst into an Inferno a Inferno begins to take the shape of a man in, the fire begins to change into a physical form starting with the legs that wear striped pants the stripe pattern continues on the chest and arms the skin of the figure is ghostly pale and splashed with decay, the heck takes form and the figure Smiles a crooked tooth grin and wipes a pale finger under his crooked nose blinking is traffic cone orange eyes and running is other hand through his long black green highlighted hair, the figure looks around sing siblings and speaks " well if it isn't my favorite kids, how you little Scamp doing it's been a while since you called" The Voice to figure speaks in is heavily Southern accented and as he says these words he adjusts a noose that's wrapped around his neck like it's a tie

" dad"  Dorothy says an amused tone in her voice " it's only been a week since we called on you, besides you have father to keep you company where we're at school" the eldest continued," still I did miss you guys, do come give your papa a hug" the figure says as arms stretched to an admirable length and envelop the group of children and pulled them into his form in a tight hug, the children wrap their arms around there Supernatural parent in Return of the hug the Embrace is interrupted by a voice coming from downstairs,"kids, it's time for dinner when your dad down I make something special for him" the British voice says turn the kitchen the children and their phantasmagorical father leave the basement and go to the kitchen to see the Living dad of the house in an apron pulling macaroni casserole from the oven his hand covered by oven mitts adorned with skeletal cats," hello children" the kids living father says as he takes off the Mets  and turns off the oven " all of you sit down I'll give you all portions" the man continues as he releases his medium length blonde hair from the ponytail it was in, the children sit down and the father spoons them some macaroni casserole, when you get to the children's other father he whispered something into the Spirits ear and a snake-like tongue emerges from the creatures lips the most rise them in delighted hunger, the blond man goes to the fridge and pulls out a bowl covered with cling-wrap taking it to the table if placed in front of  the ghoulish man who feverishly whips the wrapping from the bowl revealing its pudding that has banana slices and cold dead beetles in it." banana and beetle pudding pie favorite thanks sugar" the fighting theme says before giving the blond man a quick peck on the lips white after which he grabs a spoon and starts digging into his pudding

when the family is done eating and the children are in their rooms doing whatever they do the two parents of the house sit in the living room on the couch watching a horror movies the undead one laughing and every gruesome scene of Gore as the living one Simply Smiles in West is head on his horrifying husband's shoulder." oh Johnny  this was a wonderful first anniversary but there is one thing that would make it just perfect" the brightly blushing blonde says as his ghoulish guy looks at him " and what would that be my dear honey haired husband?" the creature questions .”Id like to ride you to the other side" the blond says as he climbs onto the other man's lap to straddle him," Jervis you've earned yourself a one way ticket to the Bone Zone... The metaphorical one not the literal one, believe me the actual bones zone is not as hot as the metaphorical one" the awkwardness is quickly overcome by Jonathan wrapping his arms around Jarvis and carrying him upstairs to the room," it's showtime!" the spirit says to seemingly fin air before slamming the bedroom door closed and of cacophony squeaking bed springs train noises and two voices moaning out into the night is heard as the children lie in their beds trying to block out the sounds with a pillow all three of them having completely same looks of disgusted Terror on their faces

[mysmiledoctors987]

Understanding Tongue Tie Operation

A tongue tie operation, also known as frenotomy or frenuloplasty, is a procedure to treat ankyloglossia—where the frenulum, the tissue connecting the tongue to the mouth floor, is too tight. This condition can restrict tongue movement, leading to difficulties with feeding, speech, and oral hygiene.

What is a Tongue Tie Operation ?

Frenotomy: A quick procedure making a small incision in the frenulum to release the tongue. Often done on infants with minimal recovery time. Frenuloplasty: A more detailed procedure involving sutures and reshaping of the frenulum, typically used for older children and adults.

When is it Needed?

A tongue tie operation may be necessary if the condition causes significant problems like:

Feeding Issues: Difficulty breastfeeding or bottle-feeding in infants. Speech Problems: Challenges with pronunciation and articulation in older children and adults. Oral Hygiene Issues: Difficulty cleaning the mouth, leading to dental problems. Eating Difficulties:Problems with chewing and swallowing food.

Procedure and Recovery

The operation is usually performed in an outpatient setting. Recovery is generally quick, with infants often resuming normal feeding soon after. Older individuals might experience some soreness but can manage it with pain relief and follow-up care.

Risks

While rare, risks include infection, bleeding, and scarring. However, the benefits of improved tongue movement typically outweigh these risks.

Conclusion

A tongue tie operation can significantly improve quality of life by resolving feeding, speech, and oral health issues. Consulting with a healthcare provider will help determine if this procedure is suitable for you or your child.